Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!
A/N: Terribly sorry about the delay in posting this last part. It was not at all intentional. Real life just made me extremely busy all of a sudden, and I had to make other things a priority.
However, in keeping with my July 25th stand-in for Dec. 25th schedule, … that would mean Aug. 6th would stand in for January 6th. And January 6th is Epiphany (aka 12th Night or 'Little Christmas'). It's the celebration of the visit of the Three Wise Men (aka Magi or Kings) to baby Jesus.
In my family, we literally celebrate our 'Little Christmas' as a mini-Christmas. Everyone exchanges gifts again (albeit on a much smaller level – like little bags of snack food). But we also use it for all those gifts that were being made, but didn't get finished for Christmas itself, or ordered, but didn't come on time. So, in keeping with that tradition … I'm actually on time for celebrating 'Little Christmas' in August!
Also, on the plus side, this last part is very long (at least three parts worth), and there are loads and loads of Christmas references (and some you'll think are for another holiday, but they really aren't) … and of course, you get see our favorite couple … being a happy couple.
--Teacup (of JAG)
Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!
Where we left off:
He helped her up a little and pulled back the covers. This all seemed like such forbidden territory to him. This was Sarah MacKenzie's bed.
He made his way to the other side, but paused, trying to decide whether to hold her when he got in or just lie close. He took in the view of her in bed, in her teddy bear print PJs. How the woman could make even those look sexy was a phenomenon. Yeah, this definitely felt like forbidden territory.
"So, you gonna let me snuggle with all of your teddy bears?" he asked, trying in a round about way to see if she wanted him to hold her.
Mac smiled, being a bit more coherent since Harm came out of the bathroom and interacted with her. "Well, … I was going to let you snuggle with me. … But if it's just the bears you're interested in, … I could take off my top and let you sleep just holding that instead."
"Haha," laughed Harm, getting into bed. "… Trust me, if you take off your top, … it's not the teddy bears I'm going to be interested in."
Mac laughed this time. Then she rolled over and draped her arm around him after he put the flashlight on the nightstand.
Harm pulled the covers up and cuddled close with Mac. "Do I need to worry about you getting up bright and early Christmas morning?" he asked.
"Mmm, … it's already Christmas morning," she told him, based on her innate knowledge of the time. "… And no," she answered, "I want to stay in bed as long as possible." She was entwined with Harm; of course she would want to prolong that experience.
"So we can settle down for a long winter's nap," Harm stated.
"Mmm-hmm," Mac agreed. "A Christmas nap." She raised her head and gave Harm a quick kiss.
He took that as being a Christmas wish from her, so he summed up, in toast format, "Merry Christmas to us."
Ready to give in to slumber, Mac added, "And to us … a good night."
Harm's heart felt so full, as he whispered, "A great night, Sarah."
----
Part 25 – The End
He couldn't sleep. In a strange bed for the night, he had a hard time finding slumber. And when he had drifted off, the dreams came, … the central focus of which was a certain beautiful girl. But the dreams were bittersweet and left him with an odd, fearful feeling. So now he lay with his eyes open. … It was dark. And he had to use the bathroom.
Trudging his way back from the head, a noise caught his attention. Cautiously, he approached the living room, which he found alight with a soft glow. And there, standing by the Christmas tree was a portly old man, with one hand resting on his belly and the other holding a can of Coca-Cola, which he proceeded to take a swig of.
"You know, caffeine will keep you up all night."
The older man startled upon hearing the voice, almost splashing the drink. "Damn it all, Mikey! Don't sneak up on your old man like that!"
"Shh," Mikey Roberts hushed his father. "We don't want to wake everyone up."
Big Bud agreed with a grunt.
"Seriously though," the young midshipman told his dad, "you won't be able to sleep if you keep drinking that."
"That's what I'm hoping," was the mumbled response.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, fine," Big Bud gruffly answered. "What are you doing awake?"
"Had to use the head. I heard noise in here, so I came to check it out." Then, slightly embarrassed, he admitted, "… And … I was having some wacky dreams."
"Bad dreams?" asked his dad with more concern than Mikey would have expected.
"Not entirely bad. … Just weird mostly."
"Weird how?" Looking a little uncomfortable, Big Bud, added, "… I, uh … I got time … if you wanna share."
"No, that's alright," Mikey declined, wary of this softer side of his father.
"Oh, come on," pleaded Big Bud, trying to sound chipper. "I could use the company, and you look like you could get it off your chest."
Mikey hesitated, but eventually sat down, and his father did likewise.
"Well, I'm pretty sure I was dreaming about Christmas of last year," started the younger Roberts. "Chaplain Turner had been preaching. And I had just heard about getting into the Academy. But the first thing I really remember … is a big room. It was all white in my dream. Everything was white. … And then there was this group of girls. They were all real pretty, … wearing these tight, white formal dresses with long gloves and everything. They were from the south, I think. … Yeah, they were southern belles … all done up."
"Sounds like a pretty good dream to me," his father interrupted.
"Well, it was at first," agreed Mikey. He got a wistful smile on his face, as he said, "And there was this one girl … Her name was Carol, and she was the prettiest of all the belles. I caught her eye and she smiled at me. She stretched out her hand for me to take, … and I fell in love."
Mikey was in a daze, thinking about his fantasy girl, as he continued to describe his dreams. "Then the white room turned into a white, sandy beach. It was an island, I think. Yeah, … Christmas Island. I held onto Carol's hand and invited her to walk on the beach."
"Was she in a bikini now?" asked Big Bud, hoping for that mental image.
"No, … shorts and a tank top."
"But the other women on the beach, … they must have been in bikinis?"
Mikey creased his brow as he remembered. "The beach was full of people, … but not lying in the sun. They were getting ready for a race. There were dogs … and those … inflatable figures that people put out on their lawns as Christmas decorations. The dogs were going to pull people riding on those things."
"You stopped dreaming of a beautiful woman to see dogs and blow-up Santas instead?"
"No, Dad. It's all connected. See, … Carol wanted me to enter the race so I could win money to get us to California, where she could meet up with her father. So I saddled myself up to a big inflatable snowman that was attached by two lines to a group of Huskies. … The race started, and the dogs took off down the beach. The snowman skimmed along the sand for awhile, but eventually lifted up in the air. And then the dogs ran into the water and somehow they changed into boats, and I was … almost parasailing, except it was like the snowman that I was hanging on to was flying on his own. We were soaring above the ocean, … above the world."
"So, did you win the race?"
"Yeah, I did. … But I ended up losing what was more important. … We somehow ended up in California. Carol appeared there. We spent Christmas Day together. … I gave her my heart last Christmas."
Mikey now looked very glum. "But the very next day, she gave it away. The day after Christmas I got up feeling like a king, because I was so happy. But then I looked out … and found her laying about, feasting on breakfast with this guy, Stephen. He was rubbing suntan lotion over her tanned skin, … so deep and crisp and even. … It turns out that it wasn't her father that she wanted to find. It was her ex-boyfriend, who she wanted to get back together with. … She was just using me."
For a fictional scenario, it left Mikey feeling very emotionally devastated.
"That's what women'll do to you," said the older Roberts. "Best thing is not to ever give them your heart. … But we can't seem to keep from doing that anyway."
"What's worse," said Mikey, "is that there was a man in the race, … father of three of the other belles. But they weren't from the south, … they were from some poor country. Those girls, … they were pretty enough, but their clothes weren't as nice as the rest. It turns out that their family lost their money. The father wanted to send his daughters to another country for a better life. He knew that if they stayed … his daughters would probably end up … working the streets." Mikey's voice was full of shame and pity.
"They were the ones who should have gotten that money," he continued. "I had wasted it on Carol instead. … But then, … in my dream, I suddenly had more money, … bags of it. So, I found the father of those girls and tried to give it to him, but he wouldn't take it."
"What kind of idiot doesn't take free money?"
"It was his pride. He wouldn't accept charity. He shut the door on me and closed all the windows to his small house. But I couldn't leave like that. So, I came back at night, climbed up on the housetop, and threw the money bags down the chimney. … It was the only way I could get the money to that family."
Big Bud looked surprised and confused. "Haven't you learned that if someone refuses a gift, you don't question it?"
"Dad, come on, I had to do something, … especially after I'd been played like that. … I really was a fool in that dream of last Christmas. … Maybe you're right; it's better to hold onto our hearts."
Big Bud noticed the disappointed and tired look his son wore and tried to be more optimistic. "… Why don't you try going back to sleep and dream of this Christmas instead. But to keep you from tears," his father advised, "… this year give your heart to someone special."
"I don't think I've met that special girl yet," Mikey replied. Then he turned things around. "So, what's keeping you up?"
"Nothing."
"Come on, Pop. … I told you what's keeping me up. Maybe you'll feel better if you talk about it?"
"I'm fine," insisted the master chief.
"Okay," Mikey gave up. "… I guess I'll just go back to bed then."
He began to stand up, when he heard his father ask, "Do you ever have really bad dreams?"
"Nightmares?" Mikey settled back down on the couch. "… Sure. Everyone does sometimes."
"I, … uh … I get these nightmares before Christmas every year," admitted Big Bud.
"What kind of nightmares?"
Mikey's father closed his eyes for a moment and recalled the images. "It's nighttime," he began to describe his dreams, "and I'm in an apartment, – a lot like the one we had when you were just a little tyke. … Anyway, there's this baby there with no one to look after it. And the baby starts crying and just won't stop. … I pick the little guy up and find this stuffed animal on the floor, … an oversized mouse, so I give it to the kid. He grabs it, quiets down, and finally starts to go to sleep."
Big Bud began to look more agitated. "That's when the dumb doorbell rings. I answer, and there's this very old man. He's a bum off the street, and he's got a hat out, … begging for change. I tell him to get lost. He says, … 'Please sir, just a penny.' I tell him I ain't got any, and I slam the door. But I hear him yelling from the hall, 'God bless you.'"
He continued the story, complaining, "The baby wakes up, of course, and starts to cry again. … I think maybe he's hungry, and I see there are some raisins on the table. I try to feed them to him, but he throws them down. … That's when I start hearing music … from people outside. There are carolers at my door … singing something about Peter and Paul and … soul cakes. … And that's when things start to get really weird," said Big Bud before taking a long pause.
"What happens then?" Mikey prompted.
"I open the door to tell the carolers to go away, … but I've never seen carolers like this before. They're not people. They're … figures that look like they were made of clay. … The first one was an angel, and while the others sang she looked at the baby and asked me, 'What child is this?' … I said, 'How the hell should I know!'" Big Bud exclaimed with frustration.
He went on. "Then there was this king, and he demanded the baby for himself, so I handed the kid over. Hell, I didn't know what to do with the kid anyhow."
After a moment, Big Bud swallowed nervously. "But the king … started hitting the boy. And then I … I changed my mind and tried to get the baby back. But I only managed to grab the damned stuffed mouse and knock the crown off the king's head. Then the mouse … grew big, … really big until I realize it was a human-sized rat! It bends over and picks up the crown to put on his own head, and he draws a sword on me!"
His hands began to clench, as he proceeded with the story. "So, I look around for something to use as a weapon, but all I could find were the raisins, which suddenly seem to be made of that weird clay too. They began to grow legs and arms and … and grew big too! The carolers kept singing, … some new song now, … and the raisins started … dancing. And suddenly we're in a forest."
Mikey noticed his father was beginning to sweat. The older man stared at a point on the floor, not hiding the fear on his face.
"They all gather and start piling rocks around this one tree -- a Christmas tree. But there was another tree, which they named. They called it Jesse. It, … you know, … looked like a Christmas tree, but it was bare. Then this white bird flies over me. … I thought it was going to crap on my head, but it just heads to that … Jesse tree. And then an apple falls from the branches, even though it's not an apple tree."
Big Bud hesitated, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "I try to pick the fruit up, when I'm surrounded by … monsters."
"Monsters?" asked Mikey.
"Yeah," his father confirmed. "… Don't laugh, but they were creatures from old horror films. Zombies, Dracula, … that hunchback guy, Wolf-man, … even Frankenstein. … They were all clay-creatures too. … I thought they were gonna come after me." Big Bud rubbed his neck protectively. "…But they were busy with their new play. … They planned to rob Santa's sleigh."
Mikey would have expressed amusement at that idea if his father didn't look so terrified.
"And there was this one guy with a jack-o'-lantern head running around. I'm not sure what he was doing, but I think he wanted to … hijack Christmas or something. … Other creatures were going to blast the North Pole, and attempt to drill into Santa's workshop."
With a distant look, Big Bud recounted, "… That's when I see the rat king again; … he had the baby, which had turned into that clay stuff too. I tried to go after the kid, but some of the singers got in the way. I realized that one of them … was the devil."
After another gulp, the retired master chief whispered, "He … he told me not to bother. And then I saw that a new figure had the child. It had been with the carolers too, … wearing a hood. I realized then that the figure was … Death."
He risked a quick glance at his son, before insisting, "I tried to tell him to leave the kid alone. The baby was innocent, hadn't done anything to deserve to be hurt. But he … when he saw me coming near, he … ripped the leg off the child, … just like it really was clay. And there was a horrible scream … I don't know if it was the baby … or me."
Big Bud closed his eyes. "I found myself back in uniform. I was deployed … and for some reason, I was in Sarajevo that Christmas Eve. When the sound of screaming stopped, … it was totally quiet. I knew there had been a lot of blood spilled."
For a moment, he paused. "…The next day, Christmas Day, I looked out onto the river in the morning, and I saw three ships come sailing in."
"Then what?" asked Mikey. "Who or what was on those ships?"
"A guy named Emmanuel captained the first boat. Other than that, I don't know," his father admitted. "That's where I always wake up." He tried to recover, and dismiss the nightmare. "I don't know where that nonsense came from. It must have just been some undigested meat, or bad cheese, or something else I ate before bed."
There was still a look of terror and guilt on Big Bud's face. Mikey knew that the dream had shaken his father and that it was far more meaningful than the simple manifestation of some food substance, -- though it would have been more likely to have been the influence of the alcohol his father had consumed prior to bed than from any bad meat or cheese.
"You know what I think?" said Mikey. "I think you should take your own advice and go back to bed."
"No, thank you."
Mikey tried to lighten things up, suggesting, "Maybe there's a happy ending to the dream after all. You know, … like Santa thwarts the monsters' efforts to rob his sack by giving them presents of their own, – a new cape for Dracula, a razor for Wolf-man so he can shave. Maybe the monsters will learn about the Christmas spirit."
Big Bud did not find his son's comments amusing.
So Mikey tried again. "Maybe something very good is on those ships. Something that represents how everything can be saved."
"Oh, yeah, I'm sure everything will work out in the end," said Big Bud sarcastically. "Countries will see the light and declare, 'War is over. Happy Christmas.'"
"No, but maybe the baby ends up okay after all. Maybe that child will be able to overcome Death. Good does have a tendency to triumph," said Mikey. "We just have to have faith."
"I guess," his father reluctantly agreed.
"Go back to sleep," Mikey encouraged. "Nothing bad will actually happen. We're all safe here, … surrounded by family."
"I'm glad I'm here," Big Bud admitted.
"Yeah, … there's no place like home for the holidays," Mikey reflected with a smile. Being with his brother's family made that statement really true this year. "… Now let's get some rest before little AJ comes waking everyone up."
The two Roberts' men made their way back to bed. They had only pleasant dreams the rest of the night.
----
The next morning Mac thought she registered Harm get up to use the bathroom and brush his teeth before coming back to bed, but she was not awake enough to know for sure. Content that he was by her side again, she fell back to sleep.
Forty minutes later, she was ready to get up. She glanced at the clock, which was blinking 12:25 at her. The time was wrong, of course. It simply indicated that the power had come back on twenty-five minutes earlier.
When Mac emerged from the bathroom, she gazed at the empty bed. Harm had been there when she got up, hadn't he? For a brief second she questioned whether she had dreamt all of what happened the night before. But her anxiety did not last long. Mac could feel him nearby. She could see the sheets tangled and the impression left in the pillow he had slept on.
She figured he might be in the kitchen, but he wasn't. A quick search found him, eyes closed, lying on the floor underneath the Christmas tree, resting his head on his hands.
Mac approached him, and when he opened his eyes, she exclaimed, "Look what Santa left me! Are you my present?"
Harm laughed as Mac sat down next to him. "Maybe," he answered. With a look of mischief he asked, "Are you going to unwrap me?"
This made Mac laugh too. She leaned down to kiss him, before responding with a smile, "Not today. But, with any luck, … soon. … What are you doing lying out here anyway?"
"Uh, … checking to see if any presents were delivered while we slept."
"I thought you weren't expecting Santa?" she questioned.
"I wasn't, … but I thought he might have given you a visit."
With a slight trace of sadness, Mac told Harm, "Santa hasn't come for me since I was a very little girl."
It nearly broke Harm's heart. He noted, sympathetically, "You stopped believing, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I guess I did," Mac said.
She paused, remembering the previous evening and Harm's words. 'Yes, MacKenzie, there is a Santa Claus,' he had declared, as a confirmation of his love.
"… Until last night," she amended.
This made Harm smile. "Well, I guess that made the difference." He pointed to an envelope that Mac had not noticed under the tree. It had 'Sarah' written on it.
She eyed Harm skeptically, but picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside was a creased piece of paper cut into a shape.
Upon unfolding it, she discovered that it was a heart. And written on it was:
"HR + SM
Forever"
Mac raised her eyebrows as she looked at Harm. "This is from Santa?"
"Well, I didn't hear anyone else sneak in here last night, did you? He's the only one who could have gotten in without you noticing, don't you think?"
Mac was beaming, as she told Harm with some surprise, "You are a romantic at heart."
Seriously, Harm noted, "Only with you, Sarah. …" He couldn't help the tug of a smile on his lips though as he added, "'Cause you're part of my heart." He pointed at the paper still in Mac's hands.
"Corny, sailor."
"Too corny?" he checked.
Mac's eyes were twinkling, during her brief pause. "… No, … I'm enjoying this new side of you," she decided. "Are you ready for some breakfast?"
"It's my job to give that to you, isn't it? … Since we spent the night together?" He had never forgotten her comment from years ago, the morning after they had to spend the night in the Appalachians when she had been shot in the leg.
Mac vaguely remembered joking with Harm at some point after they had to 'spend the night together' that she expected breakfast the next morning, so she conceded, "I guess it is." However, she insisted, "But I'm making the coffee."
She got the brew going and went to shower and get dressed. Mac spent a little more time than usual selecting an outfit. Something casual and 'Christmassy' that she would look especially good in – for Harm.
Walking into the kitchen, Mac inhaled the scent of cooking food. "Smells good," she said. She immediately noticed bacon lying out, ready to be fried up. "And you're making …"
Mac stopped talking when Harm, with a bare chest, came into her view.
"Bacon?" Harm finished for her. "… Yes. I figured you might want some, since it was in your fridge."
"Uh, … yeah," Mac agreed, only partly paying attention to what he was saying. The image of him in nothing but the airplane PJ pants she had given him had her mentally drooling. She had imagined him in only this attire when she purchased the pants, but the reality was so much better. And so distracting.
"Is there a reason you're shirtless?" she asked, without really thinking the question through.
"Now that the heat's back on, I got warm, … so I took the sweatshirt off," he explained.
"Yeah, but … you should … put a t-shirt on or something," Mac told him.
"This bothers you?"
"… No." She shook herself out of her daze, and answered with more focus. "No, … it's just … the bacon splatters. … You could burn yourself."
"I'll be careful." He smirked a little with the knowledge that she was covering for the fact that she found his current state of dress distracting. That was okay. Truth be told, he was finding her in her Christmas outfit quite pleasantly distracting as well.
Mac's attention was drawn to Harm's current activity. "What's this?"
"Pancakes."
"I know that." She was referring to the shapes that he was making with the batter. "Are those … socks?"
"Stockings," Harm corrected. "For Christmas."
"Ah," said Mac, understanding. "What's the one you're working on now?"
The one he was playing with in the skillet was certainly more complicated than a stocking.
"This one," he replied, "is an angel." Then he added, "… In honor of you."
Smiling despite herself, Mac shook her head. "Sappy, Rabb."
"I was trying to be romantic," he defended himself.
Mac looked at him in an amused manner. She seemed to be reflecting over something.
"What?" asked Harm, referring to the way she was looking at him.
"Just you … becoming a romantic."
He grinned. "Certifiably so."
"Oh, you're certifiable alright," teased Mac about his sanity. She approached him, and added, "But I love you anyway." She put her arms around him and let her hands enjoy the feel of his bare skin. She was about to give him a kiss when they heard a knock at the door.
"Why is it, … when you are about to kiss me, someone has to knock at the door?" Harm asked, slightly frustrated.
"I don't know, … but you'd better put a shirt on."
"Why?"
"… People might get the wrong idea."
Harm's face contorted. "And what would the wrong idea be?"
Mac didn't have time to banter with him at the moment. As she made her way to the door, she pinned him with a glare that left no room for dispute. "Shirt, … now," she demanded, pointing at him and then to the bedroom.
As he headed to find the shirt he had on last night, he glared back. "Since you're my girlfriend, you get to boss me around now?" Harm inquired with a smile.
Mac, who had just peeked to see who was on the other side of the door, looked back at him and smirked. "And don't you forget it," she joked, before pulling on the handle.
"Merry Christmas!" said Kelly when she saw Mac.
"Same to you," Mac greeted.
Seeing that Mac was dressed, Kelly noted, "Good, you've been up. I was afraid we'd come too early. Bobby insisted -"
Mac started looking around to see if the boy was also in the hallway, so Kelly interrupted herself. "Oh, he's coming. He ran back to get something."
Mac nodded and looked at her neighbor to continue.
"In the meantime," said Kelly, "I can return your cookie pla-" She stopped mid-word, as she saw Harm come out, pulling a shirt on. She was enamored with the view.
"Hi," said Harm, breaking the trance the visitor was in.
"Hi," Kelly responded brightly. "Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas to you," Harm replied. There was an awkward moment of silence, until Harm noticed the empty plate. "Cookies gone already?"
"Almost. There are a few left, but they'll be gone before lunch. Thought I'd bring the plate back before I forgot." She started to hand the dish back to Mac, but Harm intercepted it.
"Here, … I'll take that to the kitchen," he offered.
"Thanks," said Mac.
Kelly's eyes trailed after Harm as he walked to the kitchen.
"… Stop that," Mac ordered lightly, with the hint of a grin.
"Stop what?"
"Checking out my boyfriend."
Kelly tried to justify herself, "Hey, he's hot and there's no - … Wait. … What happened to 'we're just good friends'?"
Mac smiled. She wanted to share the news with someone. "We talked after you left last night, … and realized that we both … want more with each other."
"Of course you do. Sooo, … talking wasn't the only use of your lips last night, was it?"
Mac blushed. "There may have been … some kissing," she admitted, knowing it was an understatement. Earth shattering, incredible, and wonderful would not even do justice as descriptions of last night's kisses.
"And?"
"And … our change in relationship is new," she cut off Kelly's line of inquiry. "I'm just so …" Mac was floating on her happiness and couldn't find the words. "… He loves me," she finally said. "I'd always hoped, but … he really does."
Kelly recognized the significance of what was happening. This was not just about dating the hot guy.
"This is serious," Kelly realized. "Like, 'he's the one' serious."
"Yeah," Mac admitted.
"Wow, no wonder you're glowing. I figured it wasn't that you broke out the feel-good liquor this early in the day," Kelly joked. "Otherwise, I'd ask for some."
Not wanting to address her alcoholism, Mac simply smiled and declared, "I haven't had a single drink this morning."
"But you're all lit up like a Christmas tree," Kelly pointed out, referring to Mac's blissful state.
Harm came in just in time to hear the last part of the exchange. "There'll be no lighting of any trees here," he said. "Once they catch fire, you've got less than 30 seconds before the whole room is ablaze. A few seconds more and you're dead from smoke."
Both Mac and Kelly looked at him incredulously. It was Christmas day and he was talking about death?
He sensed that they wanted to get back to happier things. "So, how's Frosty?" he asked.
"See for yourself," answered Bobby, who appeared in the doorway.
"Well, look at that," said Harm. "Frosty's free." The bird was no longer bandaged up as he had been the night before.
Bobby walked into the apartment and Mac reached to stroke the back of her finger along the parrot's wing. "Almost good as new," she commented.
"Thanks to you guys," Bobby admitted.
"Harm's the one who always manages to pull something out of his magic hat and make things better," said Mac.
Frosty suddenly burst out with a loud squawk, followed by, "Happy Birthday!"
Mac jumped back, and Harm was equally surprised.
"I told you he could only say one phrase," Bobby told Harm.
Kelly explained, "My husband taught Frosty that for Bobby's last birthday. I'm afraid it doesn't make sense most of the rest of the year."
"Oh, I think it's very appropriate for today," said Mac. "This holiday is really about celebrating a birthday, after all."
"I guess that's true," said the boy's mom. "Bobby, you got the gift?"
Confused, Mac pointed out, "We already exchanged gifts."
"For Christmas," Kelly agreed. "But this is a thank you for last night."
"That's not necessary," Mac objected.
"Bobby wanted to get you something."
"It's nothing big," the boy said. "You two helped Frosty, and Mom says thank you gifts are appropriate." He shrugged. "… Plus, we had one of these leftover from what Mom had me give my teachers this year."
Harm and Mac were again amused at the boy's forthrightness. Come to think of it, maybe they owed him a gift for inspiring their 'what if' game the night before, which had led to so much more.
Mac politely accepted the three-inch square box wrapped in pretty paper with pretty ribbons of blue. "Thank you. That was very nice of you to think of us."
"No problem," answered Bobby, just as Frosty started knocking into the boy's head with his beak.
"We'd better go," Kelly decided.
Her statement was followed by another loud squawk from the bird.
Bobby decided to translate. "Frosty wants to wish you a merry Christmas from the bottom of his heart."
Harm was about to thank Frosty for his 'wishes,' when the bird gave out another squawk. Then the parrot surprised everyone, saying, "Feliz Navidad!"
Kelly looked at her son. "When did you teach him that?"
"I didn't," admitted Bobby, equally shocked.
"Maybe Spanish is his native tongue," joked Harm.
Bobby's mom suspected it was actually the cleaning lady who was responsible, but kept her thoughts to herself.
"I wish Dad was home for Christmas, so he could hear this," said Bobby.
His mother ruffled her son's hair. "He is home with us … if only in our dreams." Kelly then declared it time for them to leave.
When the neighbors had gone, Mac looked to Harm. "You want to open it?"
"Nah, you go ahead."
"Okay." She unwrapped the box and found inside a glass ball ornament with the words 'Adeste Fidelis' inscribed upon it. She read it aloud.
"What does that mean?" asked Harm.
Mac shot him a look as if to say that he ought to know.
"What?" he questioned defensively. "You're the language expert, not me."
"Do you at least know what language it is?" she asked him.
"Of course I do," he said. "It's … Latin."
"Very good," she told him.
"Hey, I picked up a thing or two in law school."
"Well, you'd better be able to tell me what 'fidelis' means, or I'm revoking your honorary Marine status," Mac threatened.
That, of course, gave Harm the hint he needed for the meaning of that word to click in his brain. "The Marine Corp motto – 'Semper fi,'" he stated. "… 'Fi' is short for 'fidelis.'"
"Uh huh," Mac encouraged him to continue.
"The motto means 'always faithful,' so, 'fidelis' must be the word for faithful," he declared with triumph. "Do I get to keep my honorary status?"
"For now," Mac answered with a smile.
"So, what does 'adeste' mean?" he asked.
"It's sort of a call to follow or join, … to be present," said Mac. "'Adeste Fidelis' is the title of the song, translated as … 'O Come All Ye Faithful.'"
"I know that song," said Harm.
"I would think so."
"That ornament will look nice on your tree," Harm told Mac as he scanned her Christmas tree for an open spot.
She pursed her lips for a moment. "You know," she said, "… Bobby gave this to both of us."
"What are you suggesting?"
Mac held up the ornament. "It means we have joint legal custody …"
One side of Harm's mouth raised in a lopsided smile. "Like the picture."
"And frame," added Mac. "… Since that pair of items gets to stay at my place for Christmas, I think the ornament should go to yours. … It can be the first decoration we hang on your little tree."
"Okay," Harm agreed. "We switch off, so you get it next year?"
"… Maybe by next year," suggested Mac with hope, "… we won't have to switch off for physical custody."
Harm smiled at her shyly and quietly agreed, "Maybe we won't."
It was the twinkle in his eyes though, that made Mac want to jump up and down with delight. She refrained from doing so, but Harm saw how happy she was, and that filled him with a joy he had never known before.
"I'm going to finish getting breakfast ready," he said, remembering he needed to feed her.
"Sounds good," Mac agreed. She went to place the ornament box on her coffee table to take to Harm's place later. It was then that she noticed the little bell she had left on that table the night before, … the bell that couldn't jingle. She had forgotten to throw it out with all the mess from the s'mores.
She picked it up to discard now, when to her surprise, it made a noise. She shook it, and, lo and behold, … it jingled.
"Hey Harm," she called to him as she walked to the dining room where Harm was placing something on the table. The bell went jingling all the way.
"Yeah," he answered.
"It jingles today," she said, baffled.
"That's the broken bell from last night?" he asked for clarification.
"Yeah. … How do you suppose that happened?"
Harm was surprised as well, but suggested "… Maybe the thingy inside was just jammed. Stuck or something. We must have loosened it up."
"I guess." Mac laid the bell on the dining room table next to her Advent Wreath and followed Harm into the kitchen.
"You ready for food?" he asked.
"I'm starving," she said, stealing a piece of bacon.
"I'll take that as a yes." His hands were full with serving-plates of bacon and eggs. "… You wanna grab the pancakes?"
"Sure," Mac answered. Harm had warmed the pancakes up and put them on a platter. The 'angel' was atop the stack. The rest appeared to be 'stockings,' though one of them caught Mac's eye, because it looked like something else.
"I'll be there in a minute," she called to him. "Go ahead and sit down."
As he waited, Harm thought about what Mac had said to Bobby about Harm pulling things out of a magic hat. "You know, it wasn't magic last night that helped with Bobby and Frosty," Harm said, loud enough for Mac to hear.
"No?" she responded.
"No. It was just a matter of convincing Bobby that his bird would live and be fine. That was the tricky part."
"I never doubted you for a minute," Mac called back.
"Of course you didn't," Harm took on his false bravado. "You saw me using my incredible lawyering skills of persuasion."
Mac rolled her eyes though Harm couldn't see her in the kitchen.
"It even makes sense to believe in me now. I mean, I must be a pretty good lawyer. I take a very skeptical little boy who's convinced he's a failure and that he's killed his father's prized possession, and I prove that he's not guilty of anything. I convince him that all he has to do is be calm and confident to pull his bird through to be healthy as ever. … That's just good lawyering skills," said Harm.
"Magic, on the other hand," he continued as Mac came into to room, "would be if I could snap my fingers and make a candy cane appear before me."
Harm snapped his fingers to demonstrate that he did not have magical powers. At the same time, Mac used a spatula to serve him a special pancake, putting it on the plate in front of him.
Upon seeing what was instantly before him, he stopped. "… Or maybe I didn't do such a wonderful thing after all," he relented. "… How did you know I was going to say that?"
"You did do a wonderful thing with Bobby," Mac assured him, "… but you had help." Placing her hand on his shoulder, she told him, "… I guess you're going to have to accept than when it comes to the two of us, Flyboy, … there is magic."
"No arguments there," he agreed, with something of a suggestive look. Then he accused her, "You used one of your visions, didn't you?"
"No, I just thought the shape of that particular pancake made a better candy cane than a stocking. … So, I decided to fix it up for you. It's not as good as the angel you made for me," she admitted, "but I figure the candy cane represents how 'sweet' you've been being." She caressed his cheek and then went to sit down.
Harm was moved by her thought and gesture, but did not let himself outwardly react too much. Instead, he turned his plate around and examined the shape the other way. "It could be a stocking," he persisted.
"Well, before I added the stripes, it looked like something that should be on the end of a fishing line," Mac argued, as she filled her plate.
"Maybe I meant for this one to be a hook," he objected, with a mischievous grin.
Mac stopped what she was doing and smiled up at Harm. "Because you finally 'hooked' me?" she guessed.
"Because I'm 'hooked' on you," he corrected.
Mac looked at him in an odd manner, and then flippantly declared, "It's a good thing you've got jelly on that pancake, because you sure don't need any syrup."
"Why not?"
"Because you're already dripping with sap," she pleasantly observed.
They enjoyed breakfast. Afterwards, Mac told Harm to get dressed while she did the dishes. He objected, but she insisted on cleaning up since he had cooked.
Harm had decided not to bother getting the sea bag from his car. He would just throw on yesterday's clothes for now. Later, he would shower and put on clean clothes at his apartment to get ready for his evening 'date' with Mac.
"Mac, do you know where my shoes are?" he called to her from the bedroom.
"You took them off by the fireplace last night," she replied.
"Oh, right. Thanks." He suddenly had a feeling that he would be experiencing similar moments many times in the future, when Mac would know where his things were better than he did. He realized that he considered that to be a nice thought.
He found his shoes by the fireplace, but as he picked them up, he realized that there was an envelope in one of them. It had his name on it.
Harm opened it up to find a folded paper heart, just as Mac had received, although this one was made of red paper.
He unfolded it to find 'SM + HR Always' written on it. He smiled, put his shoes on, and went into the kitchen where Mac was just finishing the dishes.
"This," he held up the envelope, "was in one of my shoes."
"What is it?" asked Mac.
Harm opened the heart up to show her. "Know anything about how it got there?" he asked.
"Hmm, … Santa must have left it. Looks like he found you last night after all."
"And left it in my shoe?"
"Sure," said Mac. "That's a traditional place for St. Nick to leave gifts. And since you don't have your own Christmas tree here, he had to leave your present somewhere."
"He gave us matching gifts," Harm pointed out.
"I think he just gave us an assurance of what we already know." Mac looked intently into Harm's eyes. "What we already share. Santa knew we just needed some faith."
Harm smiled brightly. "I guess so."
Something in the way he was looking at her made Mac ask, "What?"
"You believe in Santa Claus," he said.
"Yeah," Mac agreed. She thought they had already covered this topic earlier in the morning. "More importantly," she told him, "… I believe in us."
She was leaning up to kiss him when there was a knock at the door.
"Oh, come on!" Harm exclaimed in frustration.
Mac started to move away from Harm to open the door, but then changed her mind. Quickly, she pulled on Harm, bringing his mouth down to meet hers, and they shared one much too short, but intensive, kiss.
When they finished, it left them both a little stunned. They did not release their holds on each other. But the knocking persisted. "Your visitor is getting impatient," Harm whispered to her.
"Serves them right for lousy timing," said Mac, brushing her lips across Harm's one last time before pulling away to answer the door.
She peered through the peephole and then informed Harm, "It's the maintenance man."
Mac opened the door. "Noel, hi."
"Merry Christmas, Ms. MacKenzie!" the young man greeted.
"Thanks. Same to you."
"I have just come to check that everything is okay after last night's outage."
"Yeah, everything seems to be back on and working fine," Mac assured him.
"Do you mind if I take a look at your heaters?" he asked.
"… Uh, no. Go ahead." Mac did not know what the man needed to check, but figured it didn't matter.
As Noel entered, he began to converse with Mac. "So, do you have plans for today? Because if not, I'm planning -" he stopped mid-sentence when he spotted Harm standing in the background.
"Hi," said Harm, realizing the man had just noticed him.
Noel's demeanor completely changed. He nodded slightly at Harm, but then walked past without saying another word.
"That's odd," Mac commented quietly to Harm when Noel was out of earshot. "He's usually quite friendly."
"I don't think he likes me," Harm stated.
Mac just shrugged.
"He's got eyes for you," Harm pointed out. "… I'm competition."
"There is no competition," Mac gently protested.
"He was flirting with you."
Mac smiled at Harm. "Well, he's not nearly as bad as Noel, Sr. is"
"Noel, Sr.?"
"His father. Noel is a junior, like you."
"And his dad lives here as well?"
"He's the building manager," answered Mac.
For some reason, Mac found that Harm's criticism of men showing interest in her was cuter now that he had actually laid a claim. Before, she had always been too frustrated at his constant disapproval, considering he had never been willing to step up to the plate.
"And how does the first Noel treat you?" Harm inquired.
"Pierre Noel? … He's always giving me things. Calls me cutesy nicknames." Mac cocked her head at Harm. "… You jealous?" she checked.
"Should I be?"
"No."
"Then I'm not," Harm assured her.
"Ms. MacKenzie," said Noel, coming back. "Everything looks good."
"Thanks, Noel."
The young man stared at her, seemingly entranced.
Though he may not have been jealous, Harm did not appreciate the young man practically salivating over Mac. Harm took it upon himself to usher Noel out. "Yeah, thanks for coming by. We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year."
Noel resisted Harm's urges to leave. "Ms. MacKenzie, I need you to sign this piece of paper. Just to say I was here and checked on things."
"Okay."
Noel motioned toward the dining room table to take care of the paperwork.
He reached the table first and picked up the little jingle bell to move it out of the way so that Mac had room to sign the paper.
As Mac signed the page, Noel shook the bell to ring it.
"Here you go." Mac handed him back his sheet of paper.
"Thanks," said Noel. He jingled the bell again in front of her. "Do you need another bell?" he asked.
"No, thanks," Mac answered, unsure why the man thought the bell needed a partner.
"That's too bad, it's broken. … You sure you don't want me to find a replacement?" he asked.
When she didn't respond, Noel added, "I might be able to find one that actually rings in my father's collection."
Mac and Harm looked at each other apprehensively.
"Uh, … no, thank you," Mac finally answered Noel.
"Okay," said the young man. "If there's anything I can do, just let me know," he told her.
"Thanks, Noel. Merry Christmas."
When the young man left, Harm picked up the bell and shook it.
"You hear it, don't you?" Mac asked.
"Yeah," Harm hesitantly admitted. "You too?"
Mac nodded.
"You think he was playing a joke on us?" Harm asked.
"I think … this … is a special bell," Mac decided, taking the item from Harm. "I think we should hang it on your Christmas tree right next to our new ornament."
"Even if the bell is actually broken?"
"Do you believe it rings?" she asked.
"Yes."
"If you believe it rings, and I believe it rings, … does it matter what the rest of the world believes?"
Harm shook his head no and came close to hold Mac. She put her arms around him and looked up at his face.
"Adeste fi, Harm. Do you believe in the spirit of Christmas?"
Harm considered it. Despite the pain due to his father's capture many years ago when Christmas was nigh, he did feel the goodness of the holiday.
"Yes," he said. "I believe in the spirit of giving and of love." With a grin he added, " … Especially of love." He was so much more at ease than Mac had seen him in a long time. "But more importantly," he quoted her from earlier, "I believe in us."
Mac's heart ballooned for the umpteenth time in the past twelve hours. "I want to kiss you," she whispered.
"What's stopping you?" asked Harm.
"I'm afraid someone is going to come knocking on the door again."
He smiled at her. "No one will interrupt us this time."
"How can you be sure?" she asked.
"I have faith," he said.
Mac slid her arms up around Harm's neck, and decided, "I have faith, too." They came together in a slow, gentle kiss. And with no knocks at the door or any other interruptions, they embraced tighter and, once again, indulged in the best Christmas gift ever. A beautiful present of love wrapped up in each other.
---
And so we now leave the whole JAG crew
With Christmas dreams: past, present, and new
Wrapped up in family, supporting each friend
Cautions of vices that cause hearts need to mend
Lessons from presence of Spirit or wraith
And all is much better … when you come with true faith.
The End
Author's Note: Thanks for being patient with this story and for the reviews from the 'faithful' readers. Please tell me what you thought of this part or of the story as a whole. It really does encourage me when I know people are reading. Putting these stories together and formatting them for posting actually takes a lot of time and work … at least for me. And feedback gives me some much needed happiness!
So, at the beginning of this last part, how many people thought it was Harm walking in on Santa? And did you think it all ended ok? Though I have had some fleeting ideas for a sequel, I do not have any plans to write one at this time. I do plan to get working again on 'JAG Continues,' but you probably won't see more of that for awhile yet. I might do a short story here and there in the meantime. We'll see what my schedule allows.
Merry Christmas in July (and into August)!
Challenges: When I started posting, I set out two challenges. The first one was for me to post daily. I was doing really well on that until the very end - when I failed miserably.
The second, and far more interesting challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to make a list of all the Christmas song/movie/story/tradition references that you can spot in this story and email me at: you can do better on that challenge than I did on my daily postings there at the end. Let's say, if you're interested – get the lists to me by September 30th, and I'll see who did the best.
Eventually, I will post my own list, which will be more of a crediting/explanation of the various references. (So, realistically, your deadline is any time before I post that … which won't be anytime soon.) Wish I could offer a prize, but I can't – except to grant you bragging rights!
Disclaimer: In case you forgot, the JAG universe, unfortunately, does not belong to me. However, Bobby, Kelly, Frosty, Noel Jr. were all characters I made up. So don't go hunting for references to them on your JAG DVDs!
-- Teacup