Disclaimer: I don't own JAG. I wish I did, we'd have some happy shippers if that were so. But alas, I do not. I'm not making any money off this or any other fan fic I write.

A/N- I'm not sure if this kind of storyline has been done before. If it has, then this is my version. If is hasn't, then I'm happy to be the first.

And just for clarification. Harm Jr. will be referred to as Harm, and Harm Sr. will be Harmon.

The Growing Up Of Harmon Rabb Jr.

Belleville, Pa

Rabb Farm, 3:30pm

November 27, 1964--

"That's it Harm, come to daddy!" Lt. Harmon Rabb Sr. said it his son, Harmon Rabb Jr..

Harm toddled over shakily, but never once fell, he was too determined to make it.

"Good boy!" Harmon Sr. picked his son up. "Do you want a cookie?"

"'Ookie!" He said excitedly.

"Let's go tell mommy what you did."

"'Ookie!"

Harmon Sr. laughed, this was most certainly his child. At 13 months, Harm was the spitting image of his father, right now to the piercing blue eyes.

Rabb eyes, as Trish Rabb called them.

Harmon's mother had the same blue.

"Tell mommy what you did, Harm."

"'Ookie!"

"That translates to "I walked all the way across the front porch. And I now I get a cookie."."

"Come here, sweetheart." Trish said to Harm.

"You heard the boy, Harmon. He wants a cookie!" That came from Harmon's mother, Sarah Rabb.

"Yes ma'am."

"When does Harmon leave again?"

"Next week. He'll be out on the Ti Con for 4 months."

"It scares you, doesn't it?"

"To death."

"I was the same way with my Harmon. Everytime I watched that B-17 take off."

"'OOKIE!!!" Harm screamed. His father handed the young boy a peanut butter cookie. "Dada" Harm held his arms up to his father.

He picked him up and Harm snuggled into him right away, nibbling on his cookie.

"I think someone is sleepy." Harmon said.

"Noo."

"Yes, you are. And I am too, so hows about you and me go take a nap."

Harmon took Harm upstairs and layed him in he crib, which made him cry. "Alright bud," He picked Harm back up and layed down on the bed. "just don't hog the blankets."

Same time,

downstairs--

"If you want me to come out to Miramar for a while, I can. Marty Stevens can watch the farm while I'm gone."

"It would be nice if you could come, if for nothing else than to watch Harm while I'm at work. He hates that daycare center so much." She sighed.

"It would save some money too, having you watch him instead of paying someone."

"I'll wrap up the loose ends after thanksgiving." She smiled.

"Thank you so much, Sarah."

"It's no problem. I don't have the animals anymore, so the only thing that will need doing is the mail. Marty can come pick it up.

All my bills are payed automatically thanks to the bank."

Trish yawned. "I think I'll go join my husband in that nap."

"Alright. Dinner will be ready at about 6."

"If we aren't up, just come get us when it's ready."

"Will do."

Trish climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom that had been her husband's since he was 3 months old. She found him singing Harm to sleep with a lulluby.

"Is it working?" She asked.

"Yeah, I think so."

She carefully got into the bed beside her husband. She looked at her son, sleeping on Harmon's chest. He was a mirror image of his father in every way--dark hair, blue eyes,

and already a smile that made everyone melt.

"What time are we having dinner?" Harmon asked.

"6."

"Good, that gives me plenty of time for a nap."

"Us. Maybe sleeping in the arms of my husband will relax me." She snuggled into his embrace.

"How could you not be relaxed out here?"

"I'm very relaxed when you're getting ready to go to sea."

"Everything will be fine. I'll be back to you and Harm soon. After this time I can request shore duty, as an instructor or something."

"I don't want to take your dreams away. I know how much you love flying."

"I love you and Harm more than flying. I'd give it up in a second for you both."

"I'd never ask you to do that."

"I know. But if you ever did, I want you to know I'd give it up if it will make you happy."

"But you wouldn't be happy."

"I don't care abour me. I care about you and our son. And hopefully another 1 or 2 eventually."

"Count on it." She stroked Harm's soft hair.