A/N: Although Harm was born in La Jolla, I still let the Rabbs live at NAS NI, cause I find it unlikely that Tom Boone would live really close by if they were living outside a base, yet I need him to.
A/N: I don't have a clue when Mattie's mother died (apart from the fact that it must have been in winter), but to fit it into the story I assumed it happened some time close to Christmas.
Memories
12/24/1968
2243 Zulu
NAS North Island
North Island, California
The house was quiet except for the soft Christmas songs playing in the kitchen. Trish Rabb hovered over the counter of her kitchen, preparing the last bits of the Christmas meal for her family. Her husband stood by her side, just out of her reach, so he wouldn't be in the way. Harmon Rabb watched his wife with loving eyes. He enjoyed every moment of the few days he was home. Him being here this Christmas had been a surprise.
He let his eyes sway into the living room. They came to rest on his son, little Harm. The boy of five sat next to the tree, staring transfixed at the colorful small planes he and his father had decorated the tree with barely an hour ago. He loved how the light drew small pattern on the wooden toys. A huge smile played over his face. A smile that was an exact replica of his father's as much as everything about little Harm was his father's.
"Harm," his father called and the boy turned his head to face him. "Do you want to accompany me to Tom's?"
Immediately the boy was on his feet.
"We'll be right back," Harmon said to his wife as he kissed her cheek.
"Send my greetings, would you? And when you're back dinner will be ready."
"Will do." The father took his son's offered hand and wrapped it with his much bigger one.
So hand in hand the two Rabb men walked across the street and down three houses before they walked up the short way to the house of the father's friend. They walked in silence through the evening sun.
A man about Harmon's age opened the door.
"Merry Christmas, Tom," Harmon greeted his friend.
"Merry Christmas to you as well. And see who you brought." The man leaned down to greet the small child. "Well, hello young man."
"Merry Christmas, Uncle Tom," the five-year-old chirped.
"Come on in, guys." Tom Boone, a fellow pilot and friend of Harmon motioned for his two visitors to enter. "Anna, look who's here."
The called woman entered the hall from the kitchen, where she must have been preparing the upcoming dinner.
"Ah, Harmon and little Harm. How are you sweetie?"
"Fine, ma'am," the boy responded.
"Trish sends her greetings and apologizes; she still has something in the oven that needs monitoring. We however wanted to give you guys this." Harmon presented the small package he had carried over.
"Thank you; we have something for you as well. Tom, would you get it?"
"Here you go," Tom said handing a similar package back to his friend. "And this is for you, young man. Santa had accidentally misplaced it at our house." He handed the little boy a wrapped present.
"Thank you, Uncle Tom." Then Harm's eyes switched to his father silently asking whether he could open his first present right there.
"Go ahead."
In no time the boy had discarded the paper and now looked at a brand new toy in his hand.
"An F-4 Phantom just the same you and daddy fly. Thank you." He was practically jumping up and down with the toy plane in hand.
"Look at this," Tom pointed out while he smiled about the joyous child.
The boy checked out the tiny number that was imprinted on the tail of the wooden plane. "This is your plane, it has the same number. Just like the one I have at home with daddy's number."
"That's right. Now you can play properly." Harmon ruffled his son's hair. "We better get going, Trish will be waiting. See you the day after tomorrow?"
"Count on it."
"Merry Christmas for all of you," Anna Boone said to their friends as she let them out of the door.
All the way back to their house little Harm let his new plane fly high above his head.
And the moment they entered their home, he ran to his mother to show her what he got. "Mommy, see I got Uncle Tom's jet for Christmas."
"That's fine Harm, but now set it down, dinner's almost ready."
But instead of doing what his mother said Harm ran up the stairs to his room, the plane still 'flying' above him.
"Harmon Rabb Jr.," his mother called after her son.
"He'll be back down in no time," Harmon grinned. "Can I help with something?"
"You can take this bowls to the table."
"Aye, aye ma'am."
"He's only like this because of you, do you realize that Harmon?" Trish asked teasingly.
"And that's why you love him even more," Harmon responded placing a quick kiss on his wife's cheek.
And just like his father said, little Harm was back down right away, now two planes cruising above him in perfect formation.
"Harm, please land the planes, daddy and Tom will need to eat something before their next mission."
Harm circled the coffee table one more time before he asked, "Who lands first daddy?"
"That's up to you." Harmon and Trish watched as their son used the empty table like the deck of a carrier and simulated first his father's perfect landing and after that an equally good one of his Uncle Tom. He even took care that the first jet taxied into a proper parking position before the second landed.
"Now come here and sit down."
"Yes, sir," Harm answered slipping onto the chair next to his mother.
12/24/1970
2337 Zulu
Marine Corps Air Station Yuma
Yuma, Arizona
A three-year-old Sarah MacKenzie sat on her chair in the kitchen of her family's home. She watched as her mother prepared the annual Christmas dinner with all the goodies the little girl liked best.
"Sweetheart, would you run to daddy and ask him whether he wants chocolate or vanilla pudding for dessert?"
"Sure, mommy." Sarah slipped from her chair and hurried across the hall into the living room.
When she entered, she stopped dead in her movement. She was captured by the shining lights of the tree in the corner by the window. She'd never seen anything more beautiful.
Joe MacKenzie for once was sober and he had somehow gotten hold of a rather pretty tree. It wasn't big, but it was big enough to impress his little daughter. And the marine took care to decorate the tree especially nicely. He wanted this Christmas to be prefect for his daughter.
So now that he was almost finished, he took three steps back to admire the tree, oblivious to the little girl that stood in the doorframe doing just the same.
Only when she spoke did he become aware of her presence.
"Daddy, do you want chocolate or vanilla for dessert?"
Joe turned facing his daughter and with a smile on his lips asked, "And what would you like, princess?"
Sarah didn't have to think about it and like on cue they both answered in unison, "Chocolate".
The two of them smiled broadly at each other. Sarah loved the days when her daddy was like this, calling her princess and laughing with her.
"Then chocolate it is," her father said.
The girl was about to turn around and inform her mother when Joe called his daughter back.
"Come here, princess." His voice was soft and clear, not torn by alcohol.
So Sarah hurried across the room.
"Do you want to place the angel on top?"
Sarah just looked at her daddy with bright eyes. He had never before asked her to do that. She nodded eagerly. Joe MacKenzie reached for the golden angel and placed it in his daughter's hands. Then he gathered her in his arms and lifted her up to reach the top of the tree.
"Careful now, princess."
Slowly Sarah placed the precious angel onto the tree, her father holding her steadily.
"Does it sit straight?" she asked when she pulled back her little hands.
Joe tilted her head to the side and narrowed his eyes. "Yes," he finally answered.
"Perfect."
He let his daughter slip down in his embrace so she came to rest on his hip. "You did good, Sarah."
"Thank you daddy," she answered before she placed a wet kiss on her father's stubby cheek.
Placing a kiss on his daughter's forehead Joe put her back on the ground.
"Now go tell your mum that I want chocolate pudding."
Immediately the three-year-old turned around and ran towards the door where she found her mother leaning against the doorframe. Deanne came wandering to the living room when she wondered what kept her daughter for so long.
"Mommy, I placed the angel on the top of the tree," the girl explained excitedly.
"I've seen it, sweetie." The mother enveloped her daughter in a hug.
12/24/1994
2351 Zulu
House of the Johnsons
Blacksburg, Virginia
The town of Blacksburg lay calmly beneath a fresh cover of snow. And still soft snowflakes were drifting down to earth. The big house looked dark except for the one window that was alighted. Inside you could see the orange light of a warm and comforting fire. The warmth enveloped the small family in the room – a father, a mother and a child.
Mathilda Johnson sat on her father's lap. She inhaled the scent of his aftershave. It made her feel safe. Her small hands were covered by one of his as his arms were wrapped around her. With the free hand Tom softly tickled his daughter's cheek. Mattie, as her parents called her, leaned into her father's touch.
They were passing time with teasing and tickling Passing time while they waited for Santa, because the six-year-old was desperate to wait for the old man to arrive. This year she would wait till she heard the bells ring on his sleigh, till she saw Santa come down their chimney. She wanted to watch him as he put the presents under the tree, she wanted to see the twinkle in his eyes and the way he touched his nose to get back up the chimney. Mattie wanted to see all of that.
The girl's mother walked into the room carrying a tray with cookies and milk.
"Here, Mattie, you can place these over there for Santa."
The girl slipped from her father's knees and walked over to her mother where she carefully took the tray into her hands. Her mother settled down beside her husband who wrapped his arm around her. Both of them watched as Mattie placed the tray onto the small end table by the fireplace. But before she hurried back to her parents, Mattie threw a suspicious glance towards the burning fire.
"Santa won't burn his feet in the fire, we promise," her mother assured her little girl with a smile before she could even voice her thoughts. They'd gone through the same questions ever since they began starting the fire in the evenings.
"'Kay," Mattie mumbled while she climbed back unto her father's knees facing her mother. She snuggled back against his chest.
"Will you read me a story while we wait, daddy?"
"Sure," Tom replied gently when his wife got up to get the book.
And hour later, his voice still wavered softly around them as he read to his wife and daughter. The three of them truly enjoyed the night.
However, it was getting harder for Mattie to stay awake. Tiredly she rubbed her eyes before she asked, "How long?"
"You do remember that Santa has to travel all around the world tonight, don't you, sweetheart?"
"Mhmm," was a barely audible response as Mattie snuggled back against her father's chest, closing her eyes.
Softly Tom ran his hand over his daughter's head, trying to smooth her curly hair. It wasn't long before the girl was fast asleep.
"She looks like a little angel," he stated lovingly.
"I love nights like this and I hope all our Christmases are like this. A peaceful and perfect evening spent with the family." Tom wrapped his arm a little tighter around his wife as she spoke. He knew he was a happy man.
12/26/1969
2312 Zulu
NAS North Island
North Island, California
Little Harm sat in his parents' living room, next to the tree. The decorations reflected the light of the electric candles into the whole room. With every soft breeze that came in through the slightly ajar window the patterns of light danced over the floor and the walls. But the young boy was unaware of these things. He was occupied with his new toys he had gotten the day before, while his father's newest tape played in the background. It had arrived three days before and Harm already knew it by heart. So now he quietly muttered the words along with his father.
After a while he grew tired of the cars and started to roam the living room and the kitchen. For some minutes he watched his mother prepare the meal for tonight, when she would host a Christmas Party. The moment Trish wasn't looking, Harm snatched a cookie from one of the plates and quickly stuffed it into his mouth. When his mother turned back around, she only found a grinning boy. She just ruffled his hair and said nothing.
But then she took hold of one of his hands and gently pulled his face up, so he was looking at her.
She said, "Harm, for as long as your father's on the Tico, you're the man of the house and you have to behave your best when our guests get here tonight. I know your father and I can count on you. Can you do that, sweetie?"
Trish knelt down to be on eye level with her son.
"Yes, mommy," he replied. And he meant it. His mother had called him on his pride so he would willingly comply.
After that Harm went back into the living room and settled down by the window. He didn't know what to do now. Normally he would have simply played with his planes, the planes of his father and his Uncle Tom, but today he couldn't, because there was no way that the jets could fly. At least not his father's jet – she had a broken wing. It had broken two days ago, when little Harm struggled and the F-4 crashed onto the wooden planks of the porch. He would have to wait for his father to come back home so he could fix it.
So instead he just sat there watching nothing and everything. Then his eyes settled on a dark sedan, which made its slow way down their street. Harm watched as the car came to a stop in front of their house. His father's voice invaded his ears as his eyes followed the two men that got out of the car as they walked down the short way for the door of his home.
He counted the bars on their sleeves. Both were Lieutenants. They rang the bell.
Harm got up and walked to the door of the room. He was curious what these men wanted.
Trish opened the door, unaware of what lay waiting behind it. If she had known, she would never have opened the door. Yet nothing could keep her safe from what she was about to learn.
Harm heard the men speak to his mother, but the words didn't register in his mind. He saw her back away from them. The Lieutenants remained standing at the door. His mother sat down on a chair that stood in the hall. She buried her face in her hands and then Harm heard his mother weeping softly. He took the few steps that separated him from her. When he arrived by her side, his mother wrapped her arms around her son, the only person she had left.
And when Harm felt his mother's tears on his cheek and her arms tightly around him, he suddenly understood what the two Lieutenants wanted. He understood why his mother cried.
Quickly the young boy freed himself from his mother's hold and ran up to his room, reached for his father's broken jet and settled down on his bed – Indian style with the toy pressed to his chest.
12/25/1975
2207 Zulu
Marine Corps Air Station Yuma
Yuma, Arizona
Sarah MacKenzie was eight now. She sat in her room – in the darkness, alone. She hugged her knees close to her, her arms wrapped around them. She gently rocked herself back and forth, like a parent would rock a crying child. But no one rocked young Sarah.
Downstairs she heard her parents' voices. Not half an hour ago her father had angrily kicked over the fake Christmas tree, which resulted in a loud clatter of the whole decoration. She could almost see the precious golden angel, the one she once had put onto the top of a real tree, lying broken on the floor. Sarah was sure that the mother was rushing around, trying to tidy up the shattered ornaments. She heard Deanne trying to calm her husband. She heard Joe yell for another beer, like he always did. And the young child knew that he wouldn't stop yelling until his wife would bring another canteen.
So Sarah sat upstairs in her bed, the moon that shone weakly into her room her only company.
She would have wept if there were any tears left. But she had cried so much; she now only sat and waited for her parents to calm down.
Instead she silently told her pain and fear to the bright moon outside. She wished so much for Santa to come, to come just once, just this year. Yet she knew he wouldn't, for she now was a big girl and knew that Santa wasn't real. Sarah had learned the hard way when two years ago she hadn't found any presents under the plastic tree. When she had run into her parents' room, totally confused and close to tears her father had solemnly trusted a teddy bear into her arms and said, "You won't get anything more," before he turned his back on her.
Deanne led her now crying daughter out of the room and tried to comfort the child. However, with this one sentence Sarah understood that the days of Santa were gone and they would never return.
But today, as she said alone in the darkness, Sarah MacKenzie wished for Santa to fly by her window with his reindeers. She so much wanted to ask for the happy Christmases to come back. The Christmases when her father had called her princess, and when they had chocolate pudding for dessert, because she liked it. Now they only ever had vanilla, if anything at all.
Thus Sarah sat in her bed, staring at the moon and listening to her parents' voices from downstairs.
12/28/2002
2349 Zulu
House of the Johnson's
Blacksburg, Virginia
Mattie sat in the living room engrossed in the new book she got for Christmas. The music of her equally new CD invaded her ears through the headphones she wore. The girl was lost in her own world.
She was alone, for her parents had gone to a party at friends. Alone that was apart from the babysitter that sat across from her on the sofa. Mattie still didn't understand why a fourteen-year-old needed a babysitter. She had tried to talk her parents out of it, wanted them to understand that she was old enough to spend a night on her own. But her parents just wouldn't listen.
So now here she sat, trying her best to ignore the other girl. However she found herself glancing at the sitter every now and then.
The next time Mattie looked up at the girl she saw her stand up. Her eyes followed the young woman as she walked to the telephone. She didn't hear it ringing. The sitter spoke a few words with whoever was at the other end. Mattie turned her music off and slipped the headphones from her ears. She wondered whether it were her parents checking if everything was okay. And if so, she wanted to speak to them herself. The person on the other end must have asked something because the sitter shook her head but motioned for Mattie to come closer. With a sympathetic look she handed the phone over and then retreated back to the couch but keeping a cautious eye on Mattie.
"Are you Mathilda Johnson?" a woman asked.
"Yes."
For a moment there lingered silence.
"What is it?" It was getting on her nerves.
"Miss Johnson," Mattie shivered, someone calling her Miss Johnson never meant anything good. "We're sorry to inform you that your parents have been in an accident."
For a second Mattie's mind went blank, she wasn't able to form any words.
"Are they alright?" she finally managed to utter.
Again there was a deadly silence.
"Mrs. Johnson died at the scene. Mr. Johnson is alright as far as we could tell; he left to get home. We're truly sorry," the woman informed her.
Mattie just shook her head; this couldn't be true. Her mother couldn't have died. This had to be one hell of a mistake.
The girl forced herself to ask the next question, "What… what happened?"
"We don't know. Maybe you should ask your father."
Mattie muttered a barely audible "yes".
The next thing she heard was a "goodbye" that seemed miles away and a click that indicated that the line had been disconnected.
Instantly Mattie jumped to her feet and ran up to her room, she needed to be alone. She needed to cry for her mother, for the unbelievable loss she suffered.
12/24/2006
2134 Zulu
Rabb-MacKenzie household
London, England
It was their first Christmas in a new country. It was their first Christmas as a family. It was all new to them. So each of the three wanted to make this Christmas special. And not because it was the first Christmas in London or because they would celebrate it all together, but because each knew about the others' experiences on Christmas.
So every little corner of the house was decorated, but not so it looked crowded or stuffed. It was just perfect, at least as perfect as it could get. Harm had bought a tree that barely fit into the room and they all had helped decorate it with the decorations each of them had brought into the household. Therefore it was a wild mixture of old, traditional stuff and new things. But still it fit; just the way the three of them fit.
With dinner finished, Mattie, Mac and Harm settled down in front of the fireplace – a glowing fire warming their feet. Mac snuggled up close to Harm, leaning her head onto his shoulder as she stretched out her arm to get her marshmallow-ed stick closer to the fire.
"You think we could make this a tradition?" Mattie asked, placing a new marshmallow onto her own stick.
"Grilling marshmallows in the fireplace?"
"Yeah, that as well. But I meant spending time like this." Her voice had dropped low, not sure whether she had asked for too much.
"We would love that," Mac answered and felt it was true with every fiber of her being.
Harm replied in a heartfelt way as well "We are family now. You're stuck with us kiddo. Quality time included." He grinned at his daughter.
"Thanks, dad," Mattie smiled. And all of a sudden she felt the need to hug him.
"Huh, you know I can't breathe when you hug me like this." Harm kissed her cheek when the girl backed slightly away.
"And I don't want that," she teased. However she let not go completely but settled comfortable against his chest.
That way Harm was now trapped between his two favorite women, unable to move.
"You know girls, I can't eat that way." He moved his stick helplessly around, far from the fire.
"We can feed you, can't we Mac?"
"Sure we can," Mac answered and Harm spotted a mischievous glint in his wife's eyes.
So he thoughtfully replied, "I could live without the marshmallows."
"Then why did you buy them?" Mattie moved her head so she could look at him.
"Because the two of you love them. And I love when you love something."
Mac picked up a freshly roasted marshmallow and moved it slowly before Harm's eyes. "So you're telling us that you don't want to eat this delicious melted something?" she whispered.
"You know how much sugar there is in one marshmallow? Heck, this whole thing is pure sugar." Yet still his eyes followed Mac's fingers and the white mass that stuck between them.
"Ah, sugar sweet." Mattie watched her parents play.
The piece of sugar touched Harm's lips briefly before Mac pulled it away. She moved it around in his line of sight a few times and then returned for his lips. Only this time Harm was faster. Once he felt the contact, he opened his mouth and inched his head forward. When he closed his eyes again, he had not only the marshmallow but Mac's fingers trapped as well. He took his time licking her fingers clean while Mac watched mesmerized.
"Hey, could you leave your foreplay until I'm at least out of the room?" Mattie teased.
Both Harm and Mac blushed. For a moment they had completely forgotten about Mattie being there. Quickly Harm let go of his wife's fingers.
"Anyhow, that reminds me that I should go to bed. After all I want to be up bright and early tomorrow morn." The girl leaned away from Harm sitting up straight.
"Ahh, kids," both Harm and Mac replied in unison grinning at each other.
Both adults got up before they helped Mattie onto her feet. Slowly, with one of her parents on either side Mattie made her way through the room. She'd made a great deal of progress in the last eight months, although it was a long way to get back her full abilities. But the still somewhat limited usage of her legs now was the only physical reminder of her accident. And she was proud of that.
They stopped half way down the corridor to Mattie's room, so she could catch her breath to complete the way. However in one swift movement Harm lifted his daughter into his arms and carried her to her room. Had it been any other day, Mattie would have complained, but today she let it happen and snuggled against her father's chest. She felt content in his arms.
He only let her down when they were in the girl's room.
"Here you go."
"Thanks, dad."
Harm smiled. He still smiled each and every time she said "dad". He would never get enough of that.
While Mattie continued into the adjoining bathroom on her own, Harm and Mac waited for their daughter to return. They continued to tease each other and just enjoyed the wonderful time.
Once Mattie was all settled, the three of them were gathered on her bed. They just sat there in silence. For right now simple presence seemed to be enough.
Finally Mattie spoke, "Love you both."
"We love you too, Mattie," Mac answered tenderly.
"Yeah, we love you too," Harm confirmed.
After that Harm stood up, holding his hand out for Mac to take. Hand in hand they walked towards the door.
"Dad, mum?" They turned to face their daughter. "Merry Christmas."