Hi, everyone! This little two-shot actually started as a challenge to myself to write more character thought and less dialogue – but without getting bogged down in too many words. I wanted to get a little more inside Harm's head, but I also wanted to keep a good flow to the story. I have to say, I'm not sure if Harm's head is the easiest place to be!
I love the good-bye scene in the season four finale and I enjoyed writing this little tag. I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!
Did you think you'd sneak away without saying good-bye?
Why good-bye and not good luck?
Didn't I say that to you once when I was stupid enough to leave JAG?
Yes, you did.
You said you were happy for me.
I was. But that was different. You were in love.
And you're not?
It's eerily quiet north of Union Station this evening, and it mirrors the mood of the Navy lieutenant commander who returns home to the loft apartment alone.
The elevator gate bangs closed behind him, and somehow he manages to balance a cardboard box in one hand while he unlocks his apartment door with the other. Once inside, he sets the small box of possessions down on the counter, precariously balancing his prized model Stearman on top.
He stands there for a moment, mindlessly spinning the propeller on the toy plane, his expression weary as if there's not just a single thing but many things weighing heavily on his mind.
Suddenly, he yanks at his collar, wanting to escape the uniform he wears. He makes his way into the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes. As he shrugs it off his shoulders, his hand catches on one of the shoulder boards, and he pauses to trace a finger over the JAG insignia.
There's a small pang inside his chest as Harmon Rabb acknowledges what he left behind that afternoon.
A love for the law.
A promising career in the courtroom.
And half of the formidable team known as Rabb and MacKenzie.
It's MacKenzie and Brumby now.
Harm shudders inwardly. It doesn't quite have the same ring to it.
He changes into a clean T-shirt and jeans and sinks down on the bed with a heavy sigh. He falls backwards onto the mattress, rubbing a hand over his face and trying to process the emotional roller coaster that has been his life for the past few weeks.
He admits that it hadn't been easy to walk out of JAG that afternoon.
While they had their differences, Harm respects Admiral Chegwidden and it had truly been a pleasure serving under his command. But the look in the admiral's eyes and his abrupt dismissal had felt like a harsh slap in the face. On paper, he may have approved the change of designator, but Harm can tell that the admiral strongly disapproves of his senior attorney's decision.
Former senior attorney.
In contrast to the admiral's stone cold demeanor, Bud had looked completely lost.
What the hell am I going to do without you? I'd rather lose to you than beat anybody else in court.
He's still green and a little unsure of himself, but Harm knows Bud will do great. The lieutenant has a good heart and he works hard. He'll make a fine lawyer someday, and Mac will help him out if he needs it.
And Mac will keep Brumby in line, too. Harm knows the Marine major isn't going to put up with any crap from the Australian commander, and it helps soften the blow of giving up his office to the self-serving, arrogant bastard.
Former office.
Harm has a new office now, and it's waiting for him in Pensacola.
He smiles. He can't explain the thrill that races through him, the sheer anticipation that he's about to go back on a carrier and back into the cockpit of an F-14.
All I've ever really wanted to do is fly.
He's in love with flying and always has been. The crushing moment when it had been taken away from him still remains burned in his memory forever.
He had been hobbling up and down the hallway within the intensive care unit, desperate to escape that damn hospital bed but wincing in agony every time he put one foot in front of the other. The doctors and nurses had rushed to help him back into bed, and that's when he had noticed their grim expressions.
Night blindness. His days as a fighter pilot were over.
Angrily, Harm punches his fist into his pillow and his mouth hardens in a determined line. Jordan just doesn't understand. His friends at JAG don't understand. They all don't realize what had been taken from him and what he now has the chance to take back.
Feeling unsettled by his sudden introspection, Harm picks himself up off his bed and heads to the kitchen.
He flips through today's mail and it vaguely registers in his mind that he should forward his mail while he's away. He notices a pretty white envelope addressed to Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb, and he slides his thumb under the flap to open it.
It's a photo from little A.J.'s christening. Harriet has already gotten the film developed.
His eyes light up with happiness as he studies the photo of Harriet holding little A.J. Bud stands next to her, glowing with fatherly pride, and both of A.J.'s godparents stand beside them.
Harm is honored that Bud and Harriet asked him to be little A.J.'s godfather. By the time he returns from the carrier, he's sure he won't even recognize the new baby. A.J. will have grown so much already, and he'll probably be running circles around his parents.
And Harm and Mac have been entrusted as godparents of the little terror.
Harm chuckles to himself. He thinks he'll take godparenting over full fatherly responsibility. He's not ready for that yet.
Maybe someday.
There's a lot of time for stuff like that, he assures himself.
With Jordan?
He's not so sure about that part.
As if on cue, there's a knock at the door, and Harm carefully places the photo back in the envelope before going to answer.
"Jordan." He steps back to let her in.
She's still in uniform, her cover tucked under her arm.
"Hi," she says quietly, fidgeting nervously and refusing to meet his eyes.
She knows.
"So you heard."
"I did." She nods brusquely.
"I report to Pensacola in 48 hours." He comes right out with it because he doesn't think there's any reason to delay where he knows this conversation is going.
"Then it's true."
The look in his eyes confirms it.
"Jordan." He takes a step towards her, and she backs away with dangerously watery eyes.
"I've never been dumped for an airplane before," she says bitterly. "That's not a break-up story you hear every day."
"I'm not dumping you," Harm argues. They've had this fight before, and he doesn't really want to do it again.
"No, you're not." Jordan squares her shoulders and stands a little taller. "Because I'm dumping you."
Harm recoils slightly, and he can almost feel the iron walls reconstructing around his heart.
"It's for the best," Jordan reasons, and Harm isn't sure if she's trying to convince him or herself. "I fell in love with Harmon Rabb the lawyer, not the fighter pilot who's more in love with his plane."
She's lashing out because she's hurt, and Harm thinks he should feel more guilty than he does. Instead he's overtaken by a sharp stab of irritation.
"What does love have to do with anything?" he finally asks.
"Apparently not as much as I thought," she whispers, her lower lip trembling. She turns away and barely chokes out her final words. "Good-bye, Harm."
It's not until after Jordan is gone, slamming the door behind her with a force that shakes his entire apartment, that Harm finds the ability to take a step forward.
He slumps against the door and for a very long time, he stands silently with his forehead resting on the cold, hard surface.
He doesn't know how much time passes before another knock breaks the silence.
Jordan?
Harm's fingers freeze on the doorknob, unsure why she would come back and unsure if he wants to face her again.
But it's not Navy white on the other side of the door, and Harm is almost relieved to see Marine green.
Mac smiles at him and holds up a couple of take-out containers. "Hi," she says. "I thought you might want some dinner."