Title: The Only Constant
Author: Papergirl (ambino1111@prodigy.net)
Rating: PG
Classification: Vignette
Spoilers: Up through 'Shifting Sands'
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: The only constant is change.
*****
His apartment had stayed the same.
The guitar was in the same spot, still a little out of tune and still in need of new strings. The bottles of beer were still in the same corner of the refrigerator, still next to the orange box of Arm & Hammer which was still cleaning the air. The one floorboard by the bathroom still squeaked just a little when he walked on it to use the toilet whose handle still had to be wiggled for it to flush properly.
At least his apartment hadn't changed.
But it was the only thing that hadn't.
Though, Harm could argue, he himself hadn't changed either. That was how he had gotten here in the first place, wasn't it? He was still obstinate and roguish and driven by emotion. He was still a bachelor, still inept at romance, still unable to let down his guard and truly connect with another human being. Hell, he was still the brokenhearted boy who snuck into Vietnam to chase after his dad, to fulfill the irrational hope he had fostered for years. Even though he discovered the truth, deep down, even now, he still fostered that dream. Deep down he would open the door one morning and his father would be there, alive and happy.
A sense of hysterical belief flooded his system. How could he have never noticed it before? Harmon Rabb, Jr. was as static as a dead man.
'No, no,' Harm corrected his thoughts immediately. 'Even a dead man changes, decays. I am worse than that. I am more static than death.'
He had been fooling himself all along, thinking he had grown as a lawyer, as a friend, as a person… but, in essence, he was the same. He would never change because he could never change.
It was the most comforting feeling in the world when Harm came home and found his apartment exactly how he had left it. It was a reassurance beyond words to come home from a terrible trip, a horrific hospital visit, and a crushing office visit to find some small part of his world unchanged, unaffected by Harm's perpetual stasis.
Harm grabbed a beer and sat on the couch with his guitar. He would not change, but that had been fine for years. But now, suddenly, it wasn't good enough for anyone and everyone.
He wasn't good enough for Mac, he wasn't good enough for the Admiral, he wasn't good enough for the military.
He wasn't even good enough for himself.
He listened for, waited for, the squeak of the floorboard as he went to the bathroom. It didn't disappoint. When his first two bottles of beer were clear from his body, he headed back to the couch. But instead of sitting down, he picked up the lamp next to it and hurled it across the room. Then he picked up the mail and magazines from the coffee table and whipped them in every direction. Next he tossed the coffee table on its side. He took the small potted plant from Bud and Harriet and threw it against the wall, watching with no satisfaction as the pot shattered and dirt spilled onto the floor. He went into the kitchen and banged some pots and pans around. In the bedroom he knocked down some picture frames and stunted the efficiency of his alarm clock. He returned to the living room to survey the results.
His apartment hadn't really changed. It would take a lot more energy and a lot more anger for that. He had just made a mess that he would have to clean up later.
His apartment was the same.
But Harm was ready to change.