TITLE: Pall
DEFINITION: PALL
Pronunciation: 'pol
Function: verb
Etymology: Middle English, short for appallen, to become pale
1 to lose strength or effectiveness
2 to lose in interest or attraction his humor began to pall on us>
3 to become tired of something
4 to cause to become insipid
5 to deprive of pleasure in something by satiating
(Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary
RATING: PG-13 or R. R to be safe. Mostly for language to begin with, maybe for... other things... later on.
SUMMERY: After an attack on a graduation ceremony at Annapolis the JAG office is thrown into a state of flux.
SPOILERS/TIMELINE/ALTERATIONS I'VE MADE
-A little AU. Please see previous chapters for more details.
DEDICATION: To my readers. I'm writing this for you.
NOTE 1: I realize that there hasn't been much Harm/Meg time, but, believe me, their time is coming up fast. There is a true method to my madness, even if no one else has been able to spot it.
NOTE 2: Harm's overprotective insanity will be explained momentarily. I know a lot of you thought that was weird and, after reading over what I wrote, I have to agree with you. So this chapter was altered a little and has, hopefully, explained his insanity. I have one word for you: DISPLACEMENT.
NOTE 3: Sorry about the Mac/William part in this chapter. Again, patience is appreciated. Just give me a little time and there will be more Harm/Meg moments than you can handle.
NOTE 4: The lullaby that Harm sings does not belong to me. My cousin sings it to his triplets to get them to go to sleep when he's not diving for the USN. It does not belong to me, and I thank whoever wrote it originally for composing the words that seem to be the only thing that can put the three adorable terrors to sleep.
HARM'S APARTMENT
NORTH OF UNION STATION
0345 (EST)
WEDNESDAY, JULY 21
When the phone started ringing again Harm thought of his fears about Meg and suspected the worst. It had barely been an hour since he had last spoken with her and they weren't due to talk again until at least after sunrise.
The more logical part of Harm, however, reminded him that it could be any number of people calling him for whatever reason, so he tried not to sound too distressed.
"Rabb," he said bluntly.
"Sir… I'm sorry if I woke you…" Harriet said. Her voice was shaking and Harm felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He'd never heard her sound like that before.
"No, Harriet, it's alright. I was awake. What's wrong?" Harm said gently, hoping to soothe the younger woman.
"It's Bud," Harriet said softly. "I just… I really need to talk to you."
The feeling of dread that had come over him when Meg first called had, he'd assumed, been linked to her situation.
He should have been worried about his best male friend instead of the woman he was lusting over.
"I'll be over in fifteen minutes," Harm said as he grabbed the line of things and hung up the phone. Cell phone. Pager. Keys. Once he was sure he had everything Harm left his apartment.
It was a thirty minute drive to Rossyln.
He made it in ten.
Harriet had the door open before Harm even got to the top of the steps and before he could even check her over to make sure that she was alright Harriet had thrown herself into his arms and was sobbing into his shoulder, holding onto him with a death grip that was akin to the restraints in a Tomcat.
Harm held onto Harriet, refusing to crumble until he knew what was happening. He had yet to see Harriet really express her emotions about what had happened to Bud and he knew that it was only a matter of time before the stress found a way to release itself.
Needing to believe that that was all this was, stress relieving itself, Harm held one of the people he loved most in the world and let her sob and wail and cling to him so tightly that there would probably be ugly bruises and half-moon shaped craters in his back from her manicured nails.
When the dark clouds that had been looming over the majority of the Eastern Seaboard and surrounding areas finally gave in and let loose Harm couldn't do anything. Harriet was rooted to the ground in her fuzzy slippers and blue terry-cloth bathrobe with brightly coloured butterflies adorning it. The rain came down in sheets, the water hitting his exposed skin like pellets from a BB gun.
Just when he was about to try to figure out a way to get Harriet inside and out of the rain without disturbing her the sound of a baby crying tore Harriet from her own grief. She pulled a baby monitor out of the pocket of her robe and looked at it for a moment before making the connection to her son. A second later she was running to the nursery. Harm followed her, pulling the front door closed to keep out the cold night air. By the time he got to the nursery Harriet had little AJ quietly hiccoughing in the aftermath of his brief crying session.
"He doesn't like the rain," Harriet explained as she crossed the room to make sure the window was shut tight. "Bud sings to him when it rains. It makes it less scary," she said sadly. AJ sniffled and whimpered, waiting for the comforting singing to start.
It didn't come.
It couldn't.
"I tried singing him to sleep one night," Harriet went on as she eased her tired body down into the rocking chair in the corner. "It just made him cry even more," she said with a sad smile.
"Why don't you go get into some dry clothes and I'll sing the little guy back to sleep," Harm offered gently as he shed his wet coat and rolled up his damp sleeves to protect AJ from the rainwater that had collected in the fabric of his clothes.
Harriet smiled. "Thanks," she said softly. Harm scooped up the child and cradled him in his arms with all the care in the world.
Once he and the baby were alone Harm pulled out his cell phone and made a quick call to get reinforcements while gently bouncing the baby to calm him down. Once his call was finished Harm started singing a lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when his father was away—before he got shot down. The last time he had heard it was the night before his father went MIA, but the words would never leave his memory.
"Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew
Where are you going
And what do you wish
The old man asked the three
We've come to fish
For the herring fish
That swim in the beautiful sea
Nets of sliver and gold we have
Said Wynken, Blynken, and Nod
So all night long
Their nets they threw
To the stairs in the twinklin' foam
Then down from the sky
Came the wooden shoe
Bringing the fishermen home
'Twas oh so pretty
A sail it seemed
As if it could not be
And some folks thought
'Twas a dream they dreamed
of sailing the beautiful sea
But I shall name you
The fishermen three
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod
Wynken and Blynken
Are two little eyes
And Nod is a weary head
And the wooden show
That sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle bed
So shut your eyes
While Uncle Harm sings
Of the wonderful sights that be
And you shall see
All the beautiful things
As you rock in that misty sea
Just like the fishermen three
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod
Just like the fishermen three
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod"
AJ had fallen asleep about halfway through the song and Harm smiled as he lay the child down in his crib.
"Cute song," Harriet said softly from the doorway. She was wearing flannel pyjamas that were a bubblegum pink with brightly coloured cartoon ducks all over them, her feet covered by thick wool socks that harm suspected belonged to Bud.
Harm blushed. "My mom used to sing it to me. Before my dad went MIA. I had nightmares about him being shot down… about something going wrong with the plane… and there was a recurring one that I still don't understand," Harm said with a slight smile.
"What about it don't you understand?" Harriet asked as they made their way down to the living room.
"It was just… well, funny, I guess," Harm said. "When I was about four or so there was a visitors day on the Hornet. Dad showed me all around the ship… I kept tripping on the knee knockers so he picked me up and I got my first contusion from the top of the hatches on a carrier," he said with a smile. Harriet grinned at that, having seen Harm ducking on the Seahawk. "He showed me his bunk. There was a picture of me and mom stuck to the bottom of the upper bunk. He said that he felt better with mom there to watch over him."
"That's sweet," Harriet said.
"Yeah, I guess it was. I thought it was a little weird, but, again, I was only four and I had mom watching over me all the time so I didn't get his need to have her right there," Harm admitted. "I remember he had to go help Tom Boon with something… I stayed in the cabin. I was lying on his bunk, looking up at the pictures mom had made me get all dressed up to have taken at some department store… and I kept thinking that the top bunk was going to fall on me." Harriet laughed. "Hey, I was still sleeping with a nightlight and getting mom to check the closet and under the bed for monsters before I went to sleep. Irrationality kinda comes with being four," Harm said, not really feeling defensive but hoping that he could keep Harriet laughing because it was easier for him to be around a giddy person than a sobbing one. "After that… I kept having nightmares about Tom's bunk crashing down on my dad and squishing him in the middle of the night."
"Death by bunk bed. Not a fun way to go," Harriet commented.
Harm nodded his agreement. Not that the way his father had died was any better, but Harm figured there was probably less pain in being shot in the chest than there was in being slowly smushed between two Navy-issue bunks.
He hoped.
"I… um… I did actually have a reason when I called you tonight," Harriet said rather awkwardly. "I need a favour."
"Anything," Harm said without hesitation.
Harriet took a deep breath and then started speaking.
MAC'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN
0400 (EST)
WEDNESDAY, JULY 21
Insomnia, a constant in the life of Sarah MacKenzie, had come to visit her yet again.
Torment her yet again.
Vodka had once been her way to escape from the draining sleeplessness. Passing out drunk wasn't the optimum way to get some Z's but she had always thought it was better than the alternative.
But alcohol wasn't what Mac needed. Beyond the years of sobriety she had under her belt and the fact that she didn't even have cough syrup in her apartment, Mac didn't feel the need to lose control of herself. In fact, Mac was feeling a very strong need to stay in control that that moment.
Spending the day with Harriet hadn't quite been fun, but it was something that they had both needed desperately. It was a testament to how close their relationship was, though, that Harriet would actually take her advice to go home and spend some time with little AJ instead of absently tapping her toe against the linoleum in time with the beeps of the heart monitor her husband was hooked up to. Mac had felt a lot better after Harriet had asked her to drop her and AJ off at the house instead of going back to the hospital.
Harriet Simms was by far the most full-of-life person Sarah MacKenzie had ever met, and seeing her so defeated and lost was eating away at Mac like the flesh eating virus that she'd seen on the Discovery Channel a few weeks before.
The medical video of the different stages of the virus' attacks had made her lose her lunch, one of her oh-so-treasured Beltway Burgers.
The feeling she was getting now, though, was a hundred times worse than the nausea that came from an overly graphic documentary whose warning tags she hadn't taken seriously.
The phone had started ringing half an hour before, startling Mac just as she was about to go drill-sergeant on her mind's ass to get it to shut down so she could get some sleep. On the other end of the line was Special Agent Marilyn Rowe, FBI, with an update on the interrogation of the surviving shooter. Apparently even the FBI knew that Mac rarely slept through the night because it didn't bother Marilyn one bit that it was three-twenty-fricking-one-in-the-godforsaken-morning and that Mac wasn't technically the JAG contact for the case and shouldn't really be hearing anything unless Meg felt it was knowledge worth sharing.
"You do realize this isn't my case, right?" Mac said as she pulled her blankets a little closet to her chin in hopes of quelling the shivers that she knew had nothing to do with the temperature.
"Of course," Marilyn replied. "But I don't have a contact number for Lieutenant Commander Austin and I didn't wish to disrupt your Admiral's retreat."
"That still doesn't rule out Harm… Commander Rabb," Mac said. "He's senior to me and is acting JAG for the time being. You should have contacted him when you couldn't get in touch with Commander Austin."
"I'm sorry, Colonel MacKenzie," Marilyn said a little icily. "All I know is that you wanted to be kept in the loop. I'm keeping you in the loop. I'll courier the written report over to the office in the morning. Will Lieutenant Commander Austin be in or should I address it to Commander Rabb?"
"Send it to Commander Rabb. Meg's in Norfolk on an investigation. As far as I know she'll be out there for a few days," Mac said. He rubbed her hand over her face. "Um… look, I'm sorry. It's just… it hasn't been the best week, ya know?"
Marilyn's tone softened. "I know. And I should have called Rabb about this, or tried to get a number on Austin. I just thought… well, that William would tell you anyway and that maybe my telling you would…"
"Would what?" Mac inquired.
"Look, I know you've got history with him and that's fine. But he's my partner and if you screw around with his feelings I'm the one that's gonna be hearing about it on stakeouts for the next god knows how long," Marilyn said. "His track record with women isn't exactly something to write home about and I know you two have only really gone out once but he really wants to make something work with you and if you two don't work out because of some other reason that's fine by me but if it's because of the job… then there's something I could have done about it. I've screwed up enough of my own relationships because of this job. I don't need to start ruining other peoples too."
Mac smiled softly. She was glad that William had someone to watch his back like Marilyn obviously did. "Marilyn, you don't have to worry about that. If whatever William and I are starting doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. I've been where you are right now and I've tried stepping back and I've tried getting involved and the truth is that nothing you can do or not do is going to drastically alter the course of a relationship that you're only peripheral to," she said honestly. "But thank you for caring enough to make the effort."
After she had hung up the phone Mac had thrown back the covers and gone out to the living room and curling up on the couch to think.
Being with William was so nice. Easy but not boring. Fun but not without some semblance of decorum. And there was something inside of her that came to life when he was around.
But they hadn't seen each other in so long and Mac was worried that what she was feeling was just a reaction to seeing an old crush after a long time apart. Like seeing the guy you had a crush on in high school and going out with him only to find out that the guy you liked in high school grew up into the polar opposite of who you had a crush on or that, even worse, the guy you liked in high school hadn't grown up at all but had been in some kind of time capsule holding pattern for the past however long because high school is the best time of your life and what works for the prom king behind the gym has to work later in life even when the prom king is pushing forty and has doubled in mass and made up for it in loss of hair.
Normally Mac would go to Harriet for advice. No matter what time it was Harriet had always found time to council Mac in the past. Mac had even picked up the phone and had her thumb hovering over MEMORY 3 when her common sense kicked in.
New baby at home.
Husband in a coma.
Emotionally exhausted Ensign.
Calling Harriet for advice on her love life was not only a bad idea, it would be downright mean, and Mac knew it. Talking about her date earlier that day was one thing. Mac hadn't been the one to push the topic beyond her apology for not coming to the hospital the night before. Harriet had been the one who wanted to engage in some good old fashioned girl talk. And Mac felt that maybe it had helped Harriet a little, if only because for a little while she wasn't agonizing over Bud's condition. But seeking Harriet out in the middle of the night because she needed a sounding board was wrong for so many reasons. Mac was pretty sure she would go to Harriet eventually, but she would find the right time and place for it.
Harm had always been able to ferret out the guys who were bad for her in the past. The two that came to her mind first were Dalton and Mark. Dalton Lowne and his tenacity that had turned into stalking. Mark 'Falcon' who had almost gotten them killed in Alameda and then in Russia because he didn't want the world to know that Russia had POW's from Vietnam. Harm had never liked them—never liked anyone who liked her, actually, but that was another story—and was, despite her complaints, always good at spotting someone who wasn't right for her.
"I'll talk to Harm at work," Mac said aloud, making a verbal contact with herself because she was afraid she would chicken out if she didn't verbalize her plan.
She was just about to go back to bed to try to get a little bit of sleep before another day of work when the phone rang again.
She answered it before the end of the first ring. Harm was on the other end of the line. He told her about Harriet's frantic call and how she had broken down completely when he got there. He didn't know what he could do to ease Harriet's pain. The lawyer with the silver tongue, the man who could talk his way out of anything and who could win every case he tried if he put his full effort in, couldn't find the words to comfort one of his best friends.
"I'll be right over," Mac said without giving it a moment of thought.
Not even bothering to get dressed—USMC sweat pants and a tee shirt with a raincoat over top were enough for Mac—she grabbed her keys and stuffed her feet into her running shoes that were sitting by the door feeling neglected because she hadn't felt the motivation to run in the past week and then she was out the door.
I promise Bud's fate will be declared in the next chapter. So will the results of Meg's investigation.
M