The muscles twitching under the man's left eye made her even more certain the toad was lying.
"You're lying." she stated flatly, her voice taking on a threatening edge "You can either cooperate or I can go to the local authorities and we will make you cooperate."
Who was this sweaty, pudgy man to lecture her on how she treated those around her? HER? The Chief of Staff of JAG HQ, she who had so many connections in the Agency, she who...
"Oh, you can try." the man interrupted her thoughts, smiling patronizingly "But you won't get far. You see, people here and especially the government, the military and the police, have no love for the US or it's bully citizens. Sure, they do cooperate from time to time when the decision comes from high-up and is deemed important to the country, but they're not really happy about it. Or quick..."
"Listen here, you little..." Mac started her rant, but a familiar voice cut her off before she could say anything that might later come back to bite her on the ass.
"It's okay, Titus, I'll handle this." said the calm voice from behind her, gving away no feeling, then thanked his boss for trying to protect him "Thank you, old friend."
Titus de Jong nodded grimly in greeting and acquiescence, then turned and left for his office. Where he would keep a look out to determine what sort of first aid his friend would need after this.
Mac turned around, ready to rail in on the former Commander, when her eyes landed on him. Even though she knew she should've expected it, Harm wasn't in his uniform, nor was he in the only casual clothing she'd ever seen him in, jeans.
He was all dressed up in khaki, long pants tucked in combat boots, shirt with it's long sleeves rolled and pinned up mid-bicep, and a forest-green wide-rimmed hat.
It wasn't an American style hat, either. It was the type of hats Mic had had in his collection at home in Australia, a felt slouch hat. It even had the right side rim pinned to the crown - something she didn't know had been originally adopted by ANZAC as their official hats to ease carrying and use of rifles.
Since when is he wearing hats? Mac wondered, though with the powerful sun the answer should've been obvious.
The most surprising part of his new self and the brightest beacon of how different his new life was from his old one with the Navy, the AK-47 in his hands, was held with such familiarity it made her wonder just what had he been doing since they'd parted in Paraguay. Maybe he'd switched sides? That would explain his choice of weapon...
"Mac." he said, eyes guarded, the single word screaming he didn't really want to deal with her and that she should say what she was there to say and go home.
Tough luck for him. She was there to get through his thick skull that it was time he stopped acting like a child, from running away to pouting, return home and do what he was supposed to.
"Watched too much Crocodile Dundee?" was the first thing to come flying out of her mouth as she snorted derisively, her first instinct kicking in too fast to realize being antagonistic wouldn't help her case any.
Aquamarine eyes darkened, lips pressed into a thin line, but he remained calm and civil even as he quirked his eyebrow "Came all this way just to insult how I dress?"
Some people have in the past claimed that he and Mac were too alike to coexist peacefully, but they were wrong with one part. While it was true, he and Mac could've never coexisted peacefully, it was because they weren't so alike at all. Not only was Mac too tense and aggressive while Harm was too laid-back and easy-going, a difference that would definitely create a lot of friction in a relationship; but Harm was also capable of learning, growing and maturing. He had done plenty of that in the last several years, most of it in the last 18 months, while Mac, quite obviously, hadn't.
Watching her steam for a couple of seconds, he resigned into his cruel fate. Seeing he wasn't going anywhere he put his right arm through the strap on the automatic rifle and slung it over his shoulder, barrel pointing to the ground, for a second uncomfortable as the clip dug into his back before settling into it's usual spot.
"What are you doing here, Mac? Better yet, how did you know where to find me?"
Mac sniffed in disgust as she looked around at the shabby surroundings. Harm knew what she was seeing, it was the same thing he saw himself when he first found his way here. Buildings in Africa were unlike their counterparts in the US and Europe, their owners and inhabitants were usually poor people and even if they weren't, while not being stinking rich diamond/oil/wood/drugs/guns barons or descendants of wealthy European settlers, their homes' function wasn't to be a decoration, they were utalitarian and functional while being as simple as possible. Even the compound of the Reserve was like that; brick buildings with large open windows and low tin roof, their purpose to provide shade from the oppressive sun while being airy. Even though he had lived in a lot of places during his run with the Navy, the longest in DC, Harm was still a Californian boy at heart and Namibia's climate suited him just fine. Even sweating like a pig he felt great, the best and most relaxed he'd felt in a long time, the sun and the heat were the best therapy and stress relief for him.
This was home now.
"Bud and Harriet saw you on TV and let me know." she edited the truth a bit "Now that you've had your time to sulk and bemoan your cruel fate and how everyone was unfair to you, you can leave your Tinkerbell and the rest of your little friends, grow up and come home, back to the real world. There's plenty of work waiting for you, it's been piling up while you've been off wrestling alligators."
Repeating, but also meaning and believing, the Admiral's rant in his office when she'd told him what she'd found out from the Roberts.
Harm's eyes hardened as the most familiar effect of his and Mac's conversations, sting of hurt, returned like an old, unwanted friend.
"You would think that, Mac." he retorted, to his disappointment losing the hold on his emotions.
He really should've been used to Mac shooting down and belittling every single thing he did, everytime he tried to help someone or be useful, presenting it as something ridiculous or meaningless or just a flight of fancy.
If anything, this time away from her had given him a lot of clarity on a lot of things.
"Then what is it exactly that you're doing here?" Mac snorted derisively, obviously humoring him.
"Something that makes me feel like I haven't felt in a long time." Harm said, turning around and striding away, knowing that was the best decision at that point. Their talk was escalating towards another fight and today had been a good day, he didn't want to ruin it even more than Mac's sole presence there had.
Mac, mad at him for just walking off on her again, yelled after him "Like what?"
Harm turned around and continued walking backwards as he threw his arms wide and yelled, a smile lighting his face, just before he disappeared between the huts "Alive."
Exasperated that he just couldn't be left in peace, Harm made his way between two buildings and took a right turn at the end of one, then stopped in surprise.
"Niki!" he greeted surprised, not having expected to find her there today.
A dirty look.
"You here alone? Where is she?"
Another mutter, then Niki turned her back on him and walked off.
Looking after her in bewilderment, Harm sighed and shook his head, not able to believe his luck today "Damn women."
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