"Reality Intrusion"

Author: Haruo Chikamori

E-mail: hhchikamori

Rating: M

Classification:

Spoilers: N/A

Summary: The safe, but neutered Harmon Rabb has always been her fallback guy…

DISCLAIMER: The characters Harm Rabb, Jr., Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie, Meg Austin, AJ Chegwidden, Bud Roberts, Harriet Sims-Roberts et al. belong (in concept if not name) to CBS/Bellisarius. Animal and all OC characters are the property of Heather and Hugo Chikamori. No profit is being made from this story, nor is any infringement intended.

Author's Note: In between laundry and spring cleanup…there are all sorts of weird things that come to mind. Yes…this MALE knows how to do laundry – whites with whites, colors separate (if they bleed), linens…etc… Blah blah blah…

8541 Miguel Vista Pl, San Diego, CA, 2008, Saturday Morning

The blue sky heralded what looked to be another perfect San Diego morning. The cul-de sac of the quiet little neighborhood only heard the twitter of song birds in the branches of trees – the staccato chirps of cardinals, the noisy chatter of a great tailed grackle.

Mac sighed as she stretched her arms over her head and let the sounds of the birds entice her from a light sleep. It had been three years since she had made the decision to leave Washington and take on command at RLSO – San Diego. It was the right move for her and she knew that any lingering doubts were just the meandering thoughts of a discomfited mind. For the first six months, she had misgivings about the decision she had made, the fact that she had flat turned down Harm's proposal of marriage in favor of the new challenges that she would face in San Diego; after all, the prospect of command was much more shiny and appealing than a nine year tarnished friendship that was being forcibly turned into marriage through mutual orders to separate postings. She had ignored his constant calls to her – the costs of picking up the phone were astronomical compared to just letting the answering machine take the message.

The misgivings over Harm, didn't stunt Mac's dating any. She dated several men in quick succession trying to find Mr. Right, not that her attempts yielded any fruit in the form of a decent relationship, but at least it had kept her on the social scene. Whether it was the specter of Harmon Rabb looming over her relationship or not, she didn't know, but none of them had turned out.

She knew better than to date anybody in uniform – her experiences with John Farrow had taught her that much at least. And she made sure that she didn't; none of the men that she had dated and sometimes spent the nights with were military, one was a civilian defense lawyer, another was a trauma surgeon; all equally unavailable to her at any rate due to their hectic schedules – a quick liaison was usually the result of a frantic hookup, carefully calculated to quell any hormonal longings for a long since dead relationship-that-never-was back in Washington.

Abruptly curtailing the stroll down memory lane, she got up out of her bed, walked over to her kitchen, and set the Keurig machine on to brew a nice cup of hot coffee. The Keurig was her one vice – but she drank the coffee Marine strong. Once she was finished her early morning coffee, she strode to the door to pick up her newspaper on the front doormat. At least the sight of her would titillate the neighbor across the street who never failed to look out his window.

She picked up the Saturday edition off her front step – which she would read after she finished showering and placed it on the kitchen table, after which she walked down the hallway, stopping at the hallway closet to pick up a freshly washed, dried and folded towel, pausing only to drop her panties and tank top in the laundry hamper and gathering a fresh pair of panties and another tank-top. Laying her clothes on the change-table next to the shower, she stepped out of her sandals. Setting the tap to hot, she adjusted the temperature so that it was comfortable enough to get into. Stepping into the shower, she sighed – during the week she had to grab Navy Showers, as she had to get dressed quickly in her Marine uniform and head for the base. On the weekends she luxuriated in a Hollywood shower – to hell with summer water restrictions.

Tilting her head back she luxuriated in the feel of the water pounding her scalp, the hair plastered to her skull. Keeping it short and manageable was her mantra when it came to being a US Marine. It enabled her to save on shampoo and it looked strac when covered by a US Marine Corps cover. The rivulets of water streamed down her fit and tight body as she rubbed the soap all over and her mind took an unwanted detour as she wondered how Harm's hands would feel running all over her body. She closed her eyes and moaned softly indulging in a fantasy of what could have been, while her hands roamed places unmentionable. Her soft cry of "Oh…Harm…" jerked her out of her fantasy. It never was going to come to fruition and she frustratedly shook her head and then finished her ablutions, although the fantasy never failed to coax her body to fruition, unlike those other men she had dalliances with.

The welcome cooler air against her overheated body was refreshing as she dried herself with the towel and hung it on the towel rack to dry before she would place it in the laundry hamper. She picked up the tank top and slipped into it, the feel of the very light cotton touching against her breasts, and then slipped on her panties, then grabbing a pair of cotton lounging shorts, she hastened to the kitchen to brew her second cup of coffee of the morning and to sit down with the morning paper.

About six pages into the morning paper she came across the article.

Captain Harmon Rabb Jr. USN, becomes Deputy Commander of Naval Air Station North Island. A former officer with the Judge Advocate General Corps, he is also a former naval aviator and will be overseeing the naval air station and its activities and interactions with the Coronado area community. He and his wife Jennifer C. Rabb have called London home for three years and are looking forward to coming home from overseas after a three year tour of duty as Force Judge Advocate in London.

Mac didn't even notice her favorite cup shattering on the tile of her kitchen floor and the splash of coffee against her legs as the words blurred on the page.

For a brief second the birds in the neighborhood stopped their incessant birdcalls as an anguished "NOOOOOOOO!" rang out, causing several neighbors to briefly wonder for a second about the cry then go about their daily tasks.

Life went on as usual in that quiet neighborhood unaware of the fact that for one resident, life had come to an absolute standstill as she sat in her chair unmoving while the tears dripped down her face.