Rating: over 13
Background: written post season 10 Christmas episode and Automatic for the People. First posted January 2005.
Summary: The affects of one little thing done differently.
A/N - I haven't posted here in a long time - I need to know if there is an audience who hasn't read my stories elsewhere and would like me to post the rest here. Thank you.
Chapter One
Friday Night Harm's apt near Union StationHow did things go so wrong, again? They were getting along so well since the accident. Mac had apologized for pushing him away. They were spending more time together when they weren't out of town on assignment. She even found Megan's kiss an amusing story.
Harm hadn't meant to push too far. He didn't intend to insinuate anything had to happen. He just thought it would be a good idea for them to go away for the long weekend, spend some down time together. The next thing he knew they were arguing about... what were they arguing about? God, he didn't even know that! All he knew is Mac ran out of his apartment at mach one and was half way down the street before he could catch up to her.
Slamming the phone down, this would be the tenth time he'd called her in just over an hour. She wasn't answering her home or cell phone. Glancing at the phone he debated if it wasn't time to go over and talk to her in person. Okay, so maybe it wasn't the best of ideas after four beers. He could certainly hold more than four beers, but drinking and driving was not something he took lightly.
Four hours and half a bottle of bourbon later, Mac still wasn't answering her phone. Harm knew she must have really been furious with him. He'd spent all evening rehashing their nine years of friendship and trying to pinpoint the first place their relationship veered in the wrong direction.
He'd gone through all sorts of possibilities. His first mistake was probably sandbagging her in court all those years ago, although he'd never admit that's what he'd done. Things would probably be in better shape if he hadn't left to return to flying a couple of years later. That didn't sit well with anyone. It only made coming back to JAG, and to her, much more challenging. Of course, letting Brumby follow her scent definitely hadn't been the brightest move in the world. Why Harm had to add 'except me' when telling Mac 'no man wants to be just friends with a woman who looks like you,' was beyond even him. If he had just admitted then that he wanted to be more than friends with her, maybe things could have been different. He just didn't want to lose the friendship in order to have her. Was that so terribly wrong?
No, he had to admit, of all the screw ups, big and small, from not being one hundred percent honest on the admiral's porch that chilly May night, not confiding in her about Singer's baby, to not telling her how he felt about her in Paraguay, the nail in the proverbial coffin was definitely the ferry ride in Sydney. If one event could have drastically changed their lives, that was it.
Wobbling his way into his bedroom, he agreed to himself, if she didn't answer his calls in the morning, he would park himself on her doorstep until she talked to him.
Falling into bed fully clothed, in a fitful state of sleep, Harm's head started spinning with visions of that fateful night.
February 2000
"Harmon Rabb you're a prude!" Mac almost grinned.
"I am not! Look, I don't care if you want to go topless." Harm tried to cover how much it really bothered him.
"You do if it's in front of Mic." Mac didn't think this was the right time to point out she hadn't actually been topless earlier that day.
"You work with the guy, Mac! You wouldn't go topless in front of me would you?" Harm's palms were starting to sweat. This conversation couldn't go anywhere good.
"Is that a request?" Mac moved in closer to Harm.
"You know, they wrote eternity on this bridge in lights on New Year's Eve." Harm looked up at the bridge they were passing under. Anything was easier than looking at her dark eyes and soft bare shoulders.
"Is that how long we're going to wait?" Mac's eyes were burning a hole to his soul.
"Mac," Harm didn't want to do this, not here, not now.
"We're not in Washington. We're not even on the same continent." If she couldn't make Harm see her now, she never would.
"Mac, this has nothing to do with what continent we're on and you know it." Harm's voice came out in barely a whisper.
"Then what's it all about?" Mac was practically pressing herself against him.
Harm took a deep breath, he couldn't bare the thought of losing Mac's friendship, of losing her.
"What happens when we go back to Washington?" Harm's eyes hadn't left hers.
"What do you want to happen?" Mac moved her hand to rest on Harm's, her fingers slowly caressing the top of his hand.
"I don't ever want to lose you." Harm wasn't sure he was breathing.
"I promise you, no matter what happens, you won't lose me." Mac's heart skipped a beat, maybe they were finally going to get this right.
"Even if I do this?" In an instant Harm's lips were devouring hers. His arms reached around pulling her tightly against him. Within minutes his body was reacting to her soft curves, molding perfectly to him. He shouldn't have done that. Tentatively, his lips released hers, his hands dropped to his sides, and he gradually leaned back against the railing.
"Especially if you do that." Mac let out a short sigh. "Don't you understand, I've wanted this for a long time." Mac didn't understand why he'd pulled away from her, why he stopped.
"I can't do this. I want more than one night with you, more than a few days. If we do this, Mac, I won't be able to let you go again. I can't go back to just being friends." Harm's mouth felt full of cotton.
"You still don't get it. I'm not offering you a one night stand. I'm asking for eternity."
Before she knew what happened, Harm had scooped her into his arms and was kissing her as though they were the only two people on the ferry. The soft flimsy fabric of her blouse shifted teasingly under the motion of his heavy hand. Her fingers tangled with the hair on his head while her other hand slipped under his jacket.
Every nerve inside him was suddenly alive, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he had to stay on a short leash. He couldn't very well make love to her on the deck of a public ferry, at least he didn't think he should, not if they still wanted careers when they got home. Careers! That sobered him quickly, once again he pulled his lips away from hers.
"We better slow down before someone starts selling tickets." Harm tried to smile. "Besides, I believe I owe you dinner."
As if on cue, Mac's stomach began to growl. "I suppose I'm hungry for dinner too."
At Luna Park they ate hot dogs and discussed the murder case he was working. With his arms around Mac, Harm leaned over and kissed her before reenacting the struggle. At every opportunity he lightly kissed her cheek, her lips, her shoulder, and any other body part close enough to nibble.
"You realize there's no way the struggle happened this way," Mac chuckled.
"Well, maybe there wasn't any kissing but there also wasn't anything to trip over." Harm stole another kiss.
"It couldn't possibly have happened the way Lee said it did. Dunsworth should have fallen into the harbor, not on the deck. Your client is a liar." Mac stepped away to look in the water. This case was becoming more and more complex.
Standing at her hotel room door only a few short hours later, Harm was suddenly at a loss for words. They'd walked around the park holding hands, discussing the case. They'd ridden the ferry back and taken a stroll along the hotel grounds. Somehow despite the brief foray into the future, neither had mentioned the previous conversation again that evening. Now he stood at her door unsure of what to expect, of what she wanted.
Her door now open, "Would you like to come in?" Mac asked, her voice unusually timid.
"I'm not sure I should. We just went from colleagues to eternity in less than three hours. Maybe we'd better take this a little more slowly." Harm knew this was probably best, even though every fiber of his being wanted to drag her off to bed and show her exactly how he felt.
Mac's eyes dropped to the floor as she searched for courage. "You're probably right, but still, I think..." this time she closed her eyes. "I think I'd like you to stay." Mac kept her eyes shut and her fingers crossed, until she felt his finger hook under her chin and lift it up closer to him.
"Are you sure?" Harm didn't want to screw this up.
"Yes, maybe... yes. I think." Who was she kidding, standing this close to Harm with his eyes reading into her very soul, how could anyone possibly be expected to think clearly?
"You don't sound very sure to me." Harm's mouth was full of cotton again. He wanted very much to stay, but he wanted very much more to do this right.
"I'm sure I don't want you to leave. I don't want to wake up and find this entire night has been a dream."
Harm leaned over and kissed her forehead. "It's not a dream. If I came in and just held you in my arms, would that be enough?" He hoped he could do that.
"Thank you."
Harm followed Mac into the room, her hand firmly entrenched in his. Without letting go of her, he toed off his shoes and reached for the remote control. Watching her kick off her shoes and sit down on the bed, without even removing his jacket, Harm crawled onto the bed beside her. Turning on the TV, he shifted his weight pulling her against his chest and into his arms.
Kissing the top of her head, "Good night, Sarah."
"Good night."
Chapter Two
Harm was holding onto his pillow for dear life. He never wanted to let Mac go, he wanted to hold her forever. This is how his life should have been. His nights should be shared with the one true love of his life.
As he pulled the pillow tighter against him, he was overwhelmed with the feeling he wasn't alone, the feeling he was being watched. Not wanting to awaken from the warm place he'd been slumbering, he snuggled into the pillow, trying to go back to his dream of Sydney and holding Mac in his arms, the way it should have been.
Unable to shake the feeling someone was with him, he grudgingly opened one eye, then both eyes sprang open as he shot up in bed. Blinking tightly, Harm took in the sight before him. Surely he was still dreaming. Two little boys in matching Boston Red Sox pajamas were standing on either side of a large, panting, golden retriever.
Rubbing his eyes, Harm tried to wipe away the last fog of his dreams. A loud bark snapped his eyes open again, at the same time he felt several sticky fingers come to rest on his thighs.
"We fixed our own breakfast." The shorter blonde haired little boy announced proudly, still leaning on Harm. From the look of the two children, they were wearing more than they ate.
Startled by the golden retriever nudging the boy out of the way and licking, what smelled like marshmallow from his legs, Harm struggled to find his voice.
"Good morning." He had absolutely no idea who these children were, and looking around, he had no idea where he was, either. He knew he'd had too much to drink last night, but he didn't remember going out anywhere, did he? He had fallen asleep at home alone, hadn't he? His mind was racing faster than he could process the answers.
Looking down at the bright-eyed children watching him intently, Harm took a deep calming breath. He was long past the age of meeting a woman in a bar, flashing his gold wings and going home with her. Surely, he hadn't done that last night?
Well, looking around him, he obviously couldn't deny he'd done something last night, whether he remembered it or not.
"Where's your mommy?" Harm asked, shooing the dog away.
The two boys looked at each other a minute before the dark haired one answered, "Fornia."
"Fornia?" Harm repeated. The dog was back again licking what little remnant of marshmallow sauce was left on Harm's legs.
With a grin as broad as his face, the little boy smiled proudly, "You know, Fornia." Both boys nodded in affirmation.
"I see." He didn't really, but he couldn't very well ask anything else until he figured out what or where Fornia was? Maybe, if he knew that, he could figure out who mommy was and what he was doing here.
Looking around the room, Harm decided the first thing he should probably do was find his pants. After all, the dog had already washed his thighs for him.
It was actually a very nice room, painted in a light sandy color and
trimmed in white. Several beautiful paintings were strategically
hanging around the room. An oriental rug lay in front of the
fireplace by a couple of overstuffed pale green chintz chairs. Now why
did he know that was chintz?
Shaking his head, and ignoring the pounding headache he suddenly became
aware of, he continued his scan of the room in search for his
clothes. At least he was wearing his t-shirt and boxers. He'd
have hated being caught naked by someone else's children. Ah
ha! Pay dirt. On the opposite side of the bed, there was a
Victorian chair in the corner of the room. His clothes were neatly
draped along the back. His brows curled into a curious frown, for a
night of drunken debauchery, he certainly had been awfully neat about
caring for his clothes.
Walking around the bed towards the chair, he was suddenly struck by how quiet and well behaved the children were. The two boys were still standing in the same spot. If he remembered anything about AJ Roberts at that size, it was that standing still was not something he did often. The dog had followed him, tail wagging, over to the chair and sat at his side as Harm quickly put on his pants. He considered looking for his shoes, but discarded that idea. He'd better not waste anymore time. He needed to start looking for 'mommy'.
"Did you get enough to eat?" Harm asked, his eyes still scanning for some sign of who this bedroom belonged to.
"Uh huh," the two small voices echoed.
His eyes stumbled across a large 8 x 10 frame on one of the dressers. It was a recent photograph of the dark haired boy. His smile was somehow familiar. Then, as if on cue, just as Harm's eyes fell to the smaller figure in the young boy's lap, a loud wail filled the room.
"Soosee's up," the dark haired boy grinned.
Something about the young boy's smile was very unsettling and yet disarming at the same time. Another wail pierced the room, forcing Harm into action.
"Susie?" Harm asked of the two boys.
They nodded in agreement.
"We'd better go get her." It was almost more of a question than a statement. Silently, his mind kept screaming, where the hell is Fornia?
Briefly he wondered if maybe he should call Mac and beg for help. Mac! Oh heavens, that's how all this started. Looking at his watch, it was almost 0700, he had to find a minute to call Mac, and soon.
Following the two boys, he ended up in a pretty room at the end of the hall. The room had obviously been decorated with loving detail. The walls were a pale yellow with Winnie the Pooh scenes painted on two sides of the room. The crib had pretty pink and peach linens and a very sad little girl whose arms shot out at Harm as soon as he came through the door. Well, at least it didn't look like he was going to have to worry about scaring her half to death.
Picking the toddler up as though he were lifting a sack of potatoes, Harm glanced around the room. There probably wasn't much hope of her mother appearing anytime soon, and something told him he just inherited diaper duty. To his relief, the dark haired boy came running up to him with a disposable diaper. Spotting the changing table where the boy had pulled the diaper from, Harm carefully deposited the child on the padded top and began struggling to remove her sleeping attire.
He really needed to find her mother. How could any woman who put this much love into a nice home, leave her three children alone with a total stranger? Something just wasn't making sense.
Finally free of the one piece footed pajama, Harm slowly peeled off the diaper, very relieved to find it wet, but unsoiled. He'd watched Harriet and Mac change enough of AJ's diapers to know he was supposed to wash her bottom. Harriet had a white tub with a pink top she used. The oversized yellow tub must have been the brand this woman preferred. Pulling the top open, Harm retrieved a few wipes to clean the now quiet baby. Holding the wipe in his hand and steadying the child with the other, Harm froze. Somehow he felt almost indecent. It just didn't seem right to be cleaning a strange little girl's bottom. Glancing at the boys, he realized they were somewhat dismayed by his behavior, although still silent. Taking a deep breath, he barely wiped her and then struggled with the diaper.
Why didn't it look so hard when Mac did this? Obviously, he'd taped one side too tight as the diaper barely covered the child's right leg. Undoing the tape tabs, Harm recalculated the position of the diaper in an attempt to create a better balance and pressed the tabs closed again. This was definitely going to be a long day.
Struggling a little less than before, Harm attempted to put the pajama back on the little girl. Every time he went to put her foot in the pajama leg, she'd kick him lightly and giggled. Finally he caught on – this was some kind of ritual game for her. Maybe he'd be better off finding something else for her to wear. No, better stick to the pjs, he decided. Finally getting one foot in, he couldn't resist the satisfied smile that crossed his face. As soon as the little girl saw him smile, she clapped her hands, laughing gleefully. Apparently, him smiling back was another part of the ritual. Once he'd caught onto the game plan, dressing her went more quickly.
Lifting Susie off the table, Harm was surprised at how tightly the little girl wrapped her arms around his neck. It had startled him at first, but in only a few seconds he was filled with an unexpected warmth. Without giving it any thought, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then smiled to himself when she snuggled her head against his shoulder.
By now the boys had lost patience with his less than skillful attempt
at a morning routine and had gone off to do their own
thing. Feeling the need for some caffeine, Harm ventured
out on his own in search of the boys and breakfast, after all, how hard
could it be to locate two little boys and a large dog? Harm just hoped
wherever they were, it didn't involve more marshmallow or burning the
house down.
Chapter Three
Finding the kitchen was fairly easy. Harm just followed the dog who had been patiently waiting for him outside the bedroom doorway. From where he was standing by the counter, he could see out the window at the two boys playing on the jungle gym in the yard. He suspected allowing them to play in their pajamas probably wouldn't make their mother very happy, but then again, how particular could she be? At least they'd put on their jackets.
"I don't suppose you want to tell me what you eat for breakfast?" Harm asked the little girl. "I didn't think so," he answered himself when she stared back at him blankly. "I know, I need some coffee, so what do you say we put you in the high chair while I figure out what to do next?"
Opening all the cabinets, Harm ignored the battle zone left behind by the boys' attempt at breakfast, and managed to get everything together for a decent cup of coffee. Next step – what to eat? He considered calling Harriet and asking if eggs would be okay for a little girl in diapers, but somehow he wasn't up to explaining why he was in a strange house, who knows where, alone with someone else's children.
"Well, young lady, I can't see that scrambled eggs will do you any harm. I think we'll make some for everyone."
When breakfast was all ready, Harm called out the back door, "Boys, I've made breakfast. Come and get it!"
"We had breakfast already," the blonde haired boy called back.
"Well, I've made more. Come back inside." Harm started to turn into the house, and then decided, maybe it was better if he waited for them by the door.
"Wipe your feet before you come in." Gees, he sounded like his mother! "And wash your hands too." In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. His mother would be so proud of him.
"Do we have to eat again? David made us both breakfast," the dark haired boy said.
Ah, so one of them is named David, Harm thought.
"Mommy lets me get my own breakfast sometimes. But Daddy says I'm not supposed to use the marshmallow sauce." David looked down at his feet.
Well, apparently there's a daddy somewhere too.
"Do you have a picture of your mommy and daddy?" Harm asked. He hadn't had time to go looking for family photos yet.
"At my house," David answered.
"Your house?" Good grief, not only did this woman leave him alone with her children, she'd left him with someone else's child. How in the name of God was he going to explain that? Visions of explaining he wasn't a pedophile to the local police were suddenly flashing through his mind. At least that explains why only one boy was in the photo upstairs with Susie. It also explains, why two children were dark haired and one was blonde.
"Do you know when your mom or dad are coming to get you?" Harm hoped the boy could help him out.
"Not till Aunt Sarah comes back. I'm supposed to help you with Matt," the boy announced proudly.
Well, at least now Harm had a name for the other little boy, Matt, and he guessed Aunt Sarah would be Matt and Susie's mom.
"How come you didn't put Susie's juice in a sippy cup?" the dark haired boy asked, pointing at his sister.
"In a what?" Harm looked over at the little girl just as she poured most of her juice down her front.
"Sippy cup. She doesn't use big boy cups yet." The little boy proudly held up his own juice glass.
Scrambling to his feet, Harm leapt to prevent what little juice was left in the glass from spilling further. Grabbing the nearest rag, he began wiping down what was now a teary eyed child with a quivering lower lip. If memory served him correctly, that lip meant she was most likely going to erupt any moment into ear-piercing sobs.
His memory was perfect. The two boys chuckled loudly in their seats. The dog, being ever helpful, jumped up on the high chair and began licking up the juice.
"What are you anyway, the designated garbage disposal?" Harm flustered a little more loudly than he'd intended.
"No! That's Ginger," Matt announced, as though it was something Harm should have known.
"Yes, Ginger." Harm smiled back at the boy somewhat insincerely.
Harm didn't notice the boys veer off into the mother's bedroom while he headed into the nursery to clean up the baby. Searching for appropriate attire, he wondered how old she was. When he put her down, she remained standing and followed him around the room as he gathered clean clothes. Okay, she wasn't extremely steady on her feet, but she seemed to have a firm grasp of the concept.
Successfully removing the soaked pajama, a task considerably easier when he remembered the earlier routine, Harm carried the now neat and clean toddler around the room, searching in earnest for some more information on this family.
He found several photos on her dresser of Susie as an infant, and some with her brother Matt. There was a lovely embroidered blanket he hadn't noticed before, hanging on the wall with her name: Susan Patricia, her date of birth: November 17, 2003, her weight and size: 8lbs 1oz and 19 inches long. Nowhere was there mention, or photographs, of her parents.
Harm had tried to put the baby down to search the home in earnest for clues, but Susie would have none of it. Carrying her down the hall, he stepped into what must be Matt's room. The first thing Harm spotted, similar to Susie's room, was an embroidered blanket with his name and birth date: Mathew Harmon, March 15, 2001.
Wow, Mathew Harmon. It wasn't often he ran into someone with the same name as him. At least Mathew left less room for teasing. Just like his sister's room, the only photographs were of Matt as an infant, and a few with his new sister.
The only other rooms upstairs were a beautiful guestroom done in blue and peach, a hall bath shared by the children, and of course, the bedroom he'd woken up in.
Returning downstairs, Harm came to a screeching halt when he discovered the quilt that had been neatly in the master bedroom upstairs, was now draped across the kitchen table, over several chairs, some Rice Krispies, what was left of the juice glasses, and of course, eggs and toast.
Now, Susie squirmed happily, anxious to climb out of Harm's arms. In only a few seconds she had scurried under the not so clean blanket and taken her place in the fort beside her brother and David.
Harm stood horrified, his head beginning to throb again. This was chaotic hell. How could two such innocent looking kids create such bedlam in only a few short minutes? Seeing no other options, he let them play happily while he cleaned the rest of the kitchen. If Mommy Dearest didn't make her appearance by the time he was done, Harm was calling social services. They were cute children, but he had his own problems to deal with.
When he finally got out of this mess, he was going to have to remind himself never to mix beer and bourbon again.
Listening to the children having fun under the table while he wiped the countertops, Harm didn't know what to do. They seemed like such nice kids. How could he turn them over to the social services system? His mind drifted back to the horrors of poor Annie and Darlyn. Of course, nothing as unseemly as that was guaranteed to happen to these kids, but still, the social services system was overloaded and he knew it.
No, tossing the dishrag across the counter, Harm went off through the rest of the house in search of names and information. Surely this Sarah had some bills with her name on it, a phone book with family, friends etc. Phone book?
"David, do you know your phone number?" Harm paused by the kitchen table.
"I'm only three." Came his almost apologetic voice.
"Wow, that's a big boy! I didn't realize you were so old. Can you help Matt take care of Susie for me?" Harm hadn't meant to upset the young boy.
"Sure!"
The family room was absolutely perfect. Large leather sofas, lots of bright colored cushions, sheer curtains under heavy winter drapes. The room was friendly and inviting, comfortable and sturdy, the perfect mix of masculine and feminine. None of it made sense. This wasn't the home of a person who would just abandon her children to anyone.
Walking up to the mantle, Harm found himself frozen for the umpteenth time this morning. Aunt Sarah looked just like his Sarah. Taking a deep breath, he slowly reached out to pick up the photo of the smiling woman surrounded by her two children dumping fall leaves over her head. Who would have thought there could be three women in this world who looked so much alike? When he'd first met Mac, he had been more than speechless at her resemblance to Diane. Now, this Sarah, not only did she look like Diane, she had the same name as Mac. His Mac, his Sarah.
Maybe that would explain why his drunken alter ego had allowed himself to go home with a perfect stranger?