Title: I Am
Author: Kat
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harm/Mac
Summary: During and after Harm's little trip to the Phillipeans in Secret Agent Man. He reflects on the events of the last few days.
Spoilers: "A Tangled Webb I" "A Tangled Webb II" "Shifting Sands" "Secret Agent Man"
Distribution: Want it? Take it. Just please keep my e-mail with it and tell me where it's going.
Reviews: PLEASE! I'd do the same for you! My e-mail is werevamp13yahoo.com
I AM
'Damn it, Damn it. Damn it! Harm thought as his car sped away from the scene. He'd lost her. The case had gone to hell in the space of ten seconds. Why did he send her to make the diversion? Why couldn't he have been faster? Why...
Stop! Harm commanded himself, what's done is done. Now find a way to fix it. With a sigh and a squeal of tires, he turned the car into a parking space outside a small store. If he was going to get O'Neil back, he'd have to wear clothes that actually fit.
They were looking at him. He knew it. The two women who ran the store were staring at him with barley concealed grins. He knew that he looked like an idiot. He felt like an idiot. But he didn't need them reminding him of it! He felt a surge of anger toward the women suddenly. How dare they laugh at him. Didn't they know who he was? He was a lawyer. He was a Comm... suddenly Harm stopped. What was he? He was Harmon Rabb Junior... CIA? He was in the Philistines wearing a shirt and pants both way too small for him, planning to go and bribe a Milan Official to let his partner out of jail. With a violent yank, Harm grabbed a pair of pants off the rack. CIA. Boy had things changed.
There are two things the back seat of a car is good for: transporting things and taking off clothes. Putting them on, as Harm found out, is a slightly different story. He had pulled the car into a small alleyway and was currently attempting to maneuver his naked body into the new clothing that he had bought.
"Damn! This is why I have a convertible!" Harm muttered when he hit his head on the roof of the car. The car was too small and he was too big was all it came down to. Laying on the seat, Harm tried again to maneuver his pants on. When it didn't work, he seriously wondered what the Milan equivalent for indecent exposure was. With a grunt and another severe head butt against the roof of the car, he managed to get one leg partway into the pants. Next, he angled himself toward the front of the car, fighting to get the other leg in. Successful, Harm gratefully opened the car door and jumped out, zipping his pants at the same time. He threw on the shirt and began to walk back toward the street. It was time to go rescue O'Neil.
HARM'S APARTMENT
Harm laid on his bed, starring up into nothingness, wondering how many times he would have to pretend to be married to someone in the CIA. Wondering how many times he would have to lie, and deceive to do his job. Would he have to lie to Mac?
"To lie to her, you'd have to talk to her!" Harm told himself with a harsh laugh. It was true. He hadn't seen her since...since he told her that he had been accepted into the CIA. She hadn't looked pleased. He hadn't expected her to.
Through the darkness Harm saw his guitar. He stared at it, asking it the same question he had asked himself. Who is he? Harmon Rabb Jr., the son of Harmon Rabb. An ex-Naval Pilot. Ex-Commander. Ex-JAG. He has a law degree. He has naval uniforms. He has minimal clearance for CIA Intel. He has a convertible that he and Sturgis built. He doesn't have a television. He doesn't have an office. He doesn't have a girlfriend. Or a wife.
"I don't have Mac." He whispered into the darkness. Is that what determines who you are? What you have and what you don't? A voice that sounded strangely like the Admiral asked. Harm shook his head. What was wrong with him? He was flying. He was a CIA. Millions of little boys and girls in 50 states wanted to be him right then. He could fly. Travel. He didn't have to salute anyone. He wasn't subject to court-martials. And he could be with Mac. He didn't work with her anymore. They could...
"Back to her. It always goes back to her." With a heavy sigh he flopped back onto his bed. Mac. Lt. Colonel Sarah Mackenzie. She wouldn't get out of his head. Suddenly, Harm sat up straight.
"Who am I? I am Harmon Rabb Jr. and I am in love with Sarah Mackenzie." He suddenly declared. "I am a CIA Agent, who will not, under any circumstances lie to her. I am a pilot who would fly her to the moon and back if she asked it. I am...going to go tell her that right now." His mind made up, Harm reached for the phone.
Author: Kat
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harm/Mac
Summary: During and after Harm's little trip to the Phillipeans in Secret Agent Man. He reflects on the events of the last few days.
Spoilers: "A Tangled Webb I" "A Tangled Webb II" "Shifting Sands" "Secret Agent Man"
Distribution: Want it? Take it. Just please keep my e-mail with it and tell me where it's going.
Reviews: PLEASE! I'd do the same for you! My e-mail is werevamp13yahoo.com
I AM
'Damn it, Damn it. Damn it! Harm thought as his car sped away from the scene. He'd lost her. The case had gone to hell in the space of ten seconds. Why did he send her to make the diversion? Why couldn't he have been faster? Why...
Stop! Harm commanded himself, what's done is done. Now find a way to fix it. With a sigh and a squeal of tires, he turned the car into a parking space outside a small store. If he was going to get O'Neil back, he'd have to wear clothes that actually fit.
They were looking at him. He knew it. The two women who ran the store were staring at him with barley concealed grins. He knew that he looked like an idiot. He felt like an idiot. But he didn't need them reminding him of it! He felt a surge of anger toward the women suddenly. How dare they laugh at him. Didn't they know who he was? He was a lawyer. He was a Comm... suddenly Harm stopped. What was he? He was Harmon Rabb Junior... CIA? He was in the Philistines wearing a shirt and pants both way too small for him, planning to go and bribe a Milan Official to let his partner out of jail. With a violent yank, Harm grabbed a pair of pants off the rack. CIA. Boy had things changed.
There are two things the back seat of a car is good for: transporting things and taking off clothes. Putting them on, as Harm found out, is a slightly different story. He had pulled the car into a small alleyway and was currently attempting to maneuver his naked body into the new clothing that he had bought.
"Damn! This is why I have a convertible!" Harm muttered when he hit his head on the roof of the car. The car was too small and he was too big was all it came down to. Laying on the seat, Harm tried again to maneuver his pants on. When it didn't work, he seriously wondered what the Milan equivalent for indecent exposure was. With a grunt and another severe head butt against the roof of the car, he managed to get one leg partway into the pants. Next, he angled himself toward the front of the car, fighting to get the other leg in. Successful, Harm gratefully opened the car door and jumped out, zipping his pants at the same time. He threw on the shirt and began to walk back toward the street. It was time to go rescue O'Neil.
HARM'S APARTMENT
Harm laid on his bed, starring up into nothingness, wondering how many times he would have to pretend to be married to someone in the CIA. Wondering how many times he would have to lie, and deceive to do his job. Would he have to lie to Mac?
"To lie to her, you'd have to talk to her!" Harm told himself with a harsh laugh. It was true. He hadn't seen her since...since he told her that he had been accepted into the CIA. She hadn't looked pleased. He hadn't expected her to.
Through the darkness Harm saw his guitar. He stared at it, asking it the same question he had asked himself. Who is he? Harmon Rabb Jr., the son of Harmon Rabb. An ex-Naval Pilot. Ex-Commander. Ex-JAG. He has a law degree. He has naval uniforms. He has minimal clearance for CIA Intel. He has a convertible that he and Sturgis built. He doesn't have a television. He doesn't have an office. He doesn't have a girlfriend. Or a wife.
"I don't have Mac." He whispered into the darkness. Is that what determines who you are? What you have and what you don't? A voice that sounded strangely like the Admiral asked. Harm shook his head. What was wrong with him? He was flying. He was a CIA. Millions of little boys and girls in 50 states wanted to be him right then. He could fly. Travel. He didn't have to salute anyone. He wasn't subject to court-martials. And he could be with Mac. He didn't work with her anymore. They could...
"Back to her. It always goes back to her." With a heavy sigh he flopped back onto his bed. Mac. Lt. Colonel Sarah Mackenzie. She wouldn't get out of his head. Suddenly, Harm sat up straight.
"Who am I? I am Harmon Rabb Jr. and I am in love with Sarah Mackenzie." He suddenly declared. "I am a CIA Agent, who will not, under any circumstances lie to her. I am a pilot who would fly her to the moon and back if she asked it. I am...going to go tell her that right now." His mind made up, Harm reached for the phone.