A/N: Every time I start binge watching a new show, I have to write a piece of fic. And JAG has been the newest show on the docket. As of now, I am only in the middle of season five, but I have the broad strokes of what happened between these two, so if it seems vague on the details or incorrect in any way, I apologize. Once I finish the series, I may review and rewrite as needed.
All I knew when I started this story was I wanted Mac to win the coin toss. But I wanted a reason for her to concede to Harm. The rest just kind of fell together.
Lastly, please forgive my brushing over all the specific of adoption/international adoption process. And I chose the name Morgan mostly because I just watched Rainbow Tribe where DJE plays a character named Morgan Roberts. Then I looked it up and it means "Sea Defender" and what better name for a Navy baby? And Mackenzie is his middle name, it is not a hyphenated last name. (not that, that matters but I wanted you to know)
Enjoy and please review!
Harm was bone tired. Transcontinental flight had a tendency to do that to a person, even if they weren't the one at the controls. His 6' 4" frame was never conducive to commercial air travel, even when he was in his best form. Now that he was on the downhill slope towards 50, with a career riddled with hard traps, punch outs, and numerous other injury inducing behaviors under his belt, the seven hour flight had his joints screaming in protest. He winced as he shouldered the duffle the cabbie handed him. He offered the man a tip for his efforts and started towards his front door.
He was only marginally surprised to find the house dark. It was just past nine, and while there was a time in his life he considered that to be early, that was no longer the case. Especially in the last eighteen months. He deposited his duffle bag in the laundry room to be dealt with at a later time and peeled off his dress uniform before trudging into the bedroom. The sight before him was what made the long flight bearable.
Mac was in the middle of their bed, fast asleep. Curled against her side was a dark haired little boy in airplane pajamas. Harm smiled, but it quickly fell away as he noticed his son's flushed cheeks and ragged breaths. He reached one large hand out to confirm his suspicions. The boy was still feverish. He'd hoped the croup would pass in his absence.
"Harm?" Mac's sleep addled voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Hey," he greeted, his face lighting up with his signature smile.
"Hey yourself," she rasped, shifting slightly, but not enough to disturb the toddler. "How was DC?"
"Same old, same old," he replied, leaning down to give her a quick kiss. "Bud and Harriet send their love. You should see our godchildren." Something danced playfully in his blue eyes. Mac had no doubt Bud and Harriet's kids were huge. She was nothing short of envious.
"I wish I could have," she smiled wistfully. When the Navy requested Harm's presence in DC, Harm arranged for all of them to go. But their son came down with croup and his pediatrician advised he not travel until he was well.
"I wish they could have met their godson," Harm countered, scooping the child into his arms and claimed the now vacant spot next to Mac. The boy stirred slightly, but quickly settled against his father's chest. Mac nodded in agreement as she reached out to stroke her son's matted hair. She frowned as she realized what her husband had moments earlier. The fever had yet to break. He could probably use another dose of Motrin, but she hated to wake him.
"We'll take him soon," she promised, more to herself than Harm. She missed her friends and wanted them to have the opportunity to meet the newest member of their family.
Not surprisingly, fate brought Morgan Mackenzie Rabb into Harm and Mac's life. In fact, he was the reason they ended up in London. Mac had won the coin toss, so after they married she was supposed to report to her post in San Diego. However, they got the call that the premature infant son of two Navy officers was in need of parents. His father, a naval aviator, was killed in action before he was born and his mother, the public affairs liaison who would have worked under Harm in London, hemorrhaged during child birth. As a healthy way to cope with her abusive past, Mac had been involved with children's legal aid charities for years and her desire to become a mother, biological or otherwise was not unknown amongst them. So when Morgan's case fell to the Coram Children's Legal Centre, a friend of a friend suggested they reach out to Colonel Sarah Mackenzie.
Harm hadn't even heard the specifics before he was arranging for the appropriate leave and looking for transport to London. This was their son, he could feel it. When he found out he would be fathering the son of a fallen aviator, he knew his intuition was correct. He'd hesitated for nine years and nearly lost Mac. He had no intentions of making the same mistake again and losing his opportunity to have a family with her.
They were only supposed to stay in London long enough for Morgan to be able to travel and for the legal proceedings to be handled. Unfortunately, complications from his prematurity kept him in the hospital longer than they expected and there were some hang ups in the courts over citizenship, so what was supposed to be weeks turned into months. It was easier for Harm to pick up his command in London and Mac to resign her post. She had no regrets about the decision. The second she set eyes on that little boy in the hospital, she knew her only want was to be his mother, she would give anything. That had been eighteen months ago, she hadn't been stateside since. Once Morgan's health stabilized, Mac went to work for the organization who'd brought him into their lives. She joined the legal aid team, providing assistance for all types of children, refugee, orphaned, exploited, or otherwise.
"Is he feeling any better?" Harm asked.
"Well, he's sleeping, so that's something." Mac chuckled. Harm nodded, seeing her point. When he'd left four days earlier, Morgan had been inconsolable. They had been taking turns sitting with him in hot showers hoping to ease his discomfort and retain their sanity. And from the exhaustion he saw on his wife's face, things hadn't been much better while he was away. He hated the idea of leaving her with a sick child, but Navy orders were just that, orders. "He went back to the doctor today. He's on steroids now so he should be coming out of it soon," she reported. Harm reached an arm around to tuck her tighter against his side. He could hear the worry in her tone, something he'd grown familiar with since Morgan's initial hospital stay. The doctors assured them their son would outgrow the health issues that came from being premature, but the concern lingered.
"I'm home now, you can relax. Go back to sleep. I'll be here if he wakes up," he offered. She smiled lazily at him, dark eyes heavy. She craned her neck to kiss him, only catching the corner of his mouth.
"Night, Harm," she sighed, wriggling down beside him to get comfortable.
"Night, Mac," he chuckled, letting his head fall back against the headboard. He was going to be even more sore in the morning, but he wasn't going to risk waking Morgan, especially if this was the best he'd slept in days.
Mac jolted awake at the sound of her son's scream, just like she'd done countless times over the past few days. She reached out to pull the child into her arms, finding nothing but empty sheets. For a moment panic struck her. Until she remembered. Harm. Harm was home. He's flown back from the US the night before. And with that she realized two things, first being that is was morning and the second being that her son's scream was not followed by more screaming, but instead by laughter. Her heart leapt in her chest. For the first time in days, Morgan was laughing. And apparently he'd slept through the night. She tossed the covers back to go investigate.
Harm stood in the kitchen, in the midst of making breakfast. Morgan was alert and happily babbling in the crook of his left arm. For a moment, Mac watched them. Harm was no longer the wiry young man she'd met all those years ago outside the White House, but that by no means meant he was any less handsome. His large frame had filled out, making him broader and more formidable. His expressive face was lined around the eyes and lips, but that devastating smile still caused heat to coil in her belly. She smirked as she noticed the tension across his shoulders as he took Morgan in both hands. He would never admit it, but he had to be stiff and sore from whatever coach seat the Navy stuffed him in on his return flight from the states. However, that didn't stop him from hoisting the child in the air and blowing a noisy raspberry against his soft belly. Morgan shrieked in delight before letting out another peel of laughter.
"Four days with me and all you do is scream and cry. Daddy comes home and you're all smiles," she mused, announcing her presence. Harm's face lit up. She sidled up next to him and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
"Well that's because pilots have to be tough around other pilots," he explained. Morgan babbled something in agreement. Mac affectionately rolled her eyes.
"He's only 18 months old. You can't be sure he's going to be a pilot. He may be a Marine," she countered.
"Nope, Naval aviator all the way, isn't that right?" he addressed the little boy in his arms, blowing another sound raspberry against his cheek. Morgan giggled again.
"Harm, stop. You're going to give him a coughing fit," Mac admonished gently as she noticed the telltale rasp in her son's breaths.
"He had some cough medicine this morning, he's just a little wheezy," Harm mentioned. "And his fever broke."
"And he slept through the night?" she asked. Harm nodded. "All good news. If I knew all it would take was you coming home, I'd called you back days ago," she chuckled.
"No Mac, you did all the heavy lifting. I'm just taking advantage of all your hard work," his tone was all cheek, but his eyes were full of affection, conveying that he understood how hard the last few days had been.
"That sounds like the Harmon Rabb Jr. I know," she teased. Harm stuck his free hand out to tickle her ribs. With a yelp, she jumped away from him, swatting at his hand. In a quick move, he caught her wrist and reeled her back in. He ducked his head and kissed her slowly.
"If you take him, I'll get you some breakfast," he offered as they broke apart. Mac smiled up at him.
"I'm glad you're home," she admitted, taking Morgan.
"Glad to be here, ma'am," he replied with a wink before turning towards the stove to plate their breakfast. He glanced back as he heard his wife whispering nonsense to their son. His breath caught in his chest like it usually did when he watched Mac with Morgan. She was a beautiful as ever, but motherhood gave her a glow that made her almost ethereal. He often wondered how he'd gotten so lucky. He'd kept her at arm's length for so long, he never imagined he be able to actually have her. But fate kept him in good favor. Without it, he would likely be alone in this flat and Mac would be off in San Diego. Who knows what would have happened to Morgan.
"Flyboy, come in for a landing," Mac called for his attention. He blinked out of his reverie, realizing she'd already put Morgan in his highchair and was ready to eat. "Where were you?" she asked.
Somewhere lonely, he thought, shaking it off. "Just taking a moment to appreciate fate," he grinned, setting a plate in front of her. "Love you, Mac," he added, kissing her again.
"First I can't get you to say it, now I can't get you to quit," she smirked. He pinned her with a glare. "Love you too," she conceded. Morgan shrieked and reached for the food in front of his mom. It appeared that his appetite returned with his good spirits. "And I love that you're feeling better," she cooed, pulling apart a slice of her toast and setting the pieces on the tray of her son's highchair. With that, Harm tucked into his own breakfast, basking in the gifts fate had given him.
A/N 2: I may do a follow up once I finish watching the series and I know all the players. I just have a vision of Harm walking into JAG holding Morgan who would of course be dressed like a mini fighter pilot and it may need to be put on paper.