SATURDAY, 3 AUGUST 2002
HARM AND MAC'S HOUSE
ROSSLYN, VIRGINIA

"Hey, little girl," I say in a quiet tone as I lift a sobbing Tori out of her crib, cradling her against my chest. "Daddy's got you." I can't help but smile as she immediately stops crying, her blue eyes focusing on mine as I carry her to the changing table. "That's right. You know Daddy will take care of you."

It is almost impossible to describe what I felt a month ago when I stepped onto the dock in Norfolk and Mac placed Tori in my arms for the first time. As I had gazed down at my baby girl and whispered, "She's beautiful," her eyes had moved from her mother's face to mine. All the singing to Mac's stomach before I deployed, as well as a pair of headphones – one of my Christmas presents to Mac – so that Mac could play my message tapes to Tori post-deployment had obviously paid off. As our eyes locked, every fear I'd ever had about my baby girl not knowing me evaporated. Despite being gone for the first twelve weeks of her life, Tori knew who I was.

"Definitely time for a new diaper," I say as I pull her sleeper off of her and toss it towards the hamper in the corner. I keep up a dialogue with her as I gather what I need. "Mommy's silly, you know. Now that Daddy's home, she thinks she can be lazy and sleep in while Daddy takes care of everything. Not that Daddy minds taking care of such an angelic baby. But Daddy never thought he'd see the day when he'd beat Mommy out of bed in the morning, what with her internal clock. What did you do, wear her out for the last few months?"

Tori laughs as if she understands everything I'm saying, wiggling around on the table as I try to remove her diaper. I quickly learned after I got home that she likes to move around – a lot. Mac jokes that it is because Tori got so cramped up in the womb at the end. As predicted early on, she inherited my long limbs, plus she tipped the scales at just under nine pounds at birth. She apparently likes having the freedom to move around now. My mother has already warned me to just wait until she starts crawling and later walking. I was told that if Tori is anything like me, she'll be near impossible to keep up with.

I get her diaper changed with an efficiency that belies how short a time I've been doing this, and then balance her on my right arm while I rummage through the closet for her clothes for the day. Mac has said that she never imagined that I would take such delight in picking out our little girl's clothes. I just want my beautiful baby girl to look her best, I said at the time.

Who would have ever imagined that Harmon Rabb would be turned into a big marshmallow by a baby? Mac had teased.

I stop on a yellow dress with lots of ruffles and hold it out for Tori. "What do you think?" Of course, Tori doesn't reply and just looks up at me with a toothless grin.

"Maybe not," I say, putting the dress back. "Probably a little too much for August. It's supposed to be hot and humid today, as usual." After going through a few more dresses, I come upon a white sundress with tiny purple flowers and a matching headband. Tori reaches out and grabs at the dress. "Looks like this is the one then."

With her constant movement, it takes a few minutes to settle her enough to get the dress and headband on. Once that's done, she promptly reaches for her head and tries to push the headband off. "No," I laugh as I reach for her hand, her fingers curling around one of mine. "Leave it on so you can show Mommy how pretty you are."

I glance at the baby monitor with concern. I would have thought Mac would hear us in here and come join us. I know she has been exhausted, doing so much on her own for so long, and she has been sleeping more than usual since I got home. It's not exactly my area of expertise, but I would have thought she would be more rested now after almost a month with another pair of hands. Tori is not that fussy a baby thankfully, and she is almost sleeping through the night already.

"Well, why don't we go see if we can get Mommy up?" I tell Tori. "I'm sure you're ready for breakfast."

Mac looks dead to the world as Tori and I enter the master bedroom. She's sprawled on her stomach, her arms wrapped around a pillow. I sit down on the bed with Tori in my lap and brush Mac's hair back from her face. She stirs, but doesn't wake up.

"Up and at 'em, Marine," I say using my best command voice.

Mac's eyes flicker open for a moment before closing again. "Harm," she murmurs wearily. "What time is it?"

"Having a baby has really messed with your internal clock," I tease. I've noticed that it's not the first time she's lost track of the time since I've been home. Under other circumstances, I might be worries, but she's been through a lot the last seven months. "It's 0654 according to the alarm clock."

"So tired," she says, reaching out blindly towards us. Tori giggles and grabs at her mother's hand, trying to grasp the diamond of her engagement ring. Mac opens her eyes again and slides closer to us, putting her hand on Tori's tummy. "Don't you look pretty this morning?"

"Tori helped me pick out her dress," I say, grabbing Tori's other hand as she tries to push off her headband again.

Mac laughs weakly. "Daddy, you're fighting a losing battle there," she says. "She plays with her headbands more than she wears them."

"Well, since Mommy has now seen you and complimented you on your looks," I say with a grin, "I guess it's okay." Tori suddenly stops trying to take off her headband and starts fussing. "Oops. I guess she remembered that it's breakfast time."

Slowly, obviously still sleepy, Mac pushes herself up, propping herself against the headboard with pillows at her back. As she unbuttons her pajama top, I gather Tori against me, trying to soothe her until Mac is ready. "It's okay," I whisper, rocking her in my arms. "Mommy's going to feed you in a minute."

Mac holds out her arms and I pass Tori to her. As Tori settles in to nurse, I slid closer to Mac and drape my arm over her shoulder. She rests her head against my shoulder as she yawns heavily.

"Hey, Mac, are you okay?" I ask.

"I don't know why I'm so tired," she admits. "I guess I'm not bouncing back as quickly as I thought I would, especially now that you're home and taking some of the middle of the night feedings. I hope now that she's sleeping more at night, I'll get caught up soon."

"Have you mentioned it to Doctor Miller?"

"Harm, there's been a lot going on," Mac says insistently. "I just had a baby a few months ago and you were gone for six months. That's enough to throw anyone out of whack. I don't need my OB to tell me that."

Typical. I'm sure she's been dealing with this the same way she dealt with things during the long months while I was gone – by being the strong Marine who won't admit if she needs help. I heard from more than one person – Harriet, Chaplain Turner, Sergei, my mother – that Mac's standard response when she was asked how she was and if she needed anything was that she was just fine and would let them know if she needed something. Not knowing her as well as I do, I'm sure everyone took her at face value.

"What about your workload?" I ask. Since she had an uncomplicated pregnancy and delivery, she got the standard six-week leave the military grants all new mothers, so she's already been back at work for over two months except for the week of vacation she took when I returned from deployment.

Unfortunately, I haven't been able to help with the workload. The Admiral has been trying since before I returned to get me back at JAG, even if "unofficially" in a way similar to Harriet's position with the IG's office, but he's gotten resistance. Although I'm not sure, I wouldn't be surprised if that came from the SECNAV - he never has liked me. I'm sure he wouldn't mind seeing 'Harmful' Rabb left in career purgatory for a while….a long while.

The most the Admiral has been able to do so far is keep me assigned to Washington flying CAP out of Andrews AFB, which didn't exactly please the CAG on the SeaHawk, who wanted to keep me attached to VF-31, as we had developed a good working relationship during my time as XO of the squadron. He did back down when I made it clear that I was willing to take a career hit to stay with my family since Mac is not looking at a transfer anytime soon between having Tori and there being no open O-5 slots in Norfolk's JAG office. My aviation career has already cost us a lot. This time I'm putting Mac and our daughter first.

Anyway, that business with the dirty nuke back in May made me take a hard look at my career as an aviator. I almost orphaned my month-old daughter before I'd ever laid eyes on her. Hell, I even questioned my Navy career in the back of my mind after Bud stepped on that landmine. Being in a "safe" designator didn't save him from losing his leg. I would never leave the Navy – at least not until my twenty is up in a few years if it comes to that - but I can do everything possible to break the cycle of Rabb men leaving their families way too soon. I'm not the same man who would have done a HA-LO jump with SeALs without thinking in his younger days.

"It's not that bad," she says. "The Admiral has been keeping me on a relatively light workload since I returned to work. No out of town investigations, obviously. Having Sturgis around has helped, as has Commander Manetti who transferred in after you left. We're short a junior attorney again now that Singer is replacing Bud on the SeaHawk, but the Admiral and I have been looking over personnel files this last week so we can fill that position. I've actually been catching some of the less major cases that Singer or Bud would have handled, which helps me out a lot."

"I wish I could help out," I say. "Aside from getting to see you at work every day, sounds like you guys can really use the extra pair of hands."

"Unfortunately," she says wistfully, "that's not going to happen, at least not right now. " She looks up at me, her brown eyes still clouded with sleep and she unsuccessfully tries to stifle another yawn. "Has there been any word on that?"

I shrug. "Not really," I reply. "The Admiral is getting resistance from above when he tries to present any options that would bring me back to JAG, even unofficially. I think he's looking for a position at the Pentagon that might interest me, like the one I was being considered for before September 11th. Until then, I keep flying CAP out of Andrews and do some side work modifying their RoE as new situations come up."

"I'm sorry, Harm," she says, stretching up to kiss my jaw. "I know flying CAP isn't exactly your speed. But I would think saving over 5000 lives with your stunt would help buy you a favor or two." She looks down at Tori, who has finished nursing and is just resting her head against Mac's breast. "Can you get me a burp cloth?"

"Here, I'll take her back," I say, draping the cloth I'd brought in with me earlier over my shoulder. Mac hands her over and buttons her top back up. I settle Tori against my shoulder, gently patting her back. "I guess the Navy figures that a Silver Cross is enough repayment for that stunt, as you call it."

"Silver Cross?" she muses with obvious pride in her voice. "So is that official now?"

"The CAG officially notified me yesterday," I explain. We've known this was possibly coming – the CAG told me he had put me in for the award the day the ship docked in Norfolk. It's just that now everything has been signed off on. "So what do you think of showing our baby girl where Mommy and Daddy met?"

"Another White House ceremony?" Mac says with a slow smile spreading across her face. I know the memories are replaying for her just as they did for me when I was told. In a way, it's like we're coming full circle, going back as a family to where it all began.

"It was a highly-publicized incident," I say. "The Navy feels they can generate some positive press with a public ceremony, especially now with all the tension over possibly going into Iraq. Sturgis will be receiving a Bronze Star for his role on the Watertown, as will the other pilots involved in the incident."

"So when is the ceremony going to be?" she asks in the midst of another yawn.

"I'm not sure yet," I reply. "Now that everything is official, I imagine they're trying to coordinate with the President's schedule. I've been told maybe a month or two."

"Good," Mac says with a sigh. "Maybe I'll finally have lost these last ten pounds by then and will fit into my dress uniform, especially since my PFT will be coming up soon after that."

I look at her quizzically. "You look fine to me." Okay, maybe there is still a little more to her now, but she isn't fat by any means, or even close to being overweight. She did just have a baby. I don't think it's enough to put her over the weight limit according to Marine regs, since Mac has always leaned towards the thin side that I've noticed.

"Good answer, husband dear," Mac laughs. "Seriously, though, I'm supposed to be ready for my PFT six months after giving birth, which will be mid-October, and these last few pounds just won't go away."

As she yawns again, I suggest, "Why don't we get out the jogging stroller and take a jog around the neighborhood before it gets too hot out? Maybe it will help you wake up, too."

"Sounds good, I guess," Mac says, but without much enthusiasm in her voice. That's odd. Jogging is something we've always enjoyed doing together almost from the beginning, not to mention the fact that she was just complaining about needing to drop a few more pounds.

"Mac, we don't…"

"No, it's okay," she says, climbing out of bed, running her hands through her mused hair as she heads for the bathroom. "Maybe it will help wake me up. I know if I don't get up and do something, I'll just fall back asleep."

Maybe Mac's right. Maybe this is just residual from having a baby, doing so much on her own for so long and everything else. "What do you think, Tori?" I wonder as she tries to stuff the corner of the burping cloth in her mouth. "Think there's something we can do to make things easier for Mommy?"