Title: Hobson's Choice
Author: Pixie
Category: Futurefic/AU
Rating: PG13/IM15 (language and violence)
A/N1: If you're looking for fluff, this isn't the story for you.
A/N2: The phrase "Hobson's choice" refers to the choice of taking either that which is offered or nothing; the absence of a real alternative.
A/N3: My thanks to Aerogirl for her beta help and advice, and to Captain for putting up with my convoluted writing practices. Also, I've not posted my JAG work here for a very long time, but everything I've written is available at my website.
Summary: Harm and Mac have retired from military life and settled in a quiet community in the mountains of Virginia. They plan to live out their days surrounded by friendly people and beautiful scenery, free from the stress of their hectic prior lives. Unfortunately, fate has other plans.
For the time when a boy is in danger of going a little bit wild, is when he's too young to be married, too old to be known as a child.
Anonymous
Prologue
The room's occupant lay on a pair of mattresses stacked one on top of the other and shoved beneath the window. A twisted puddle of fabric at his feet had probably been sheets and blankets in another life. Now, worn soft by age and ragged by too many days hanging on the clothesline, they barely suggested even the illusion of warmth.
Jeremy turned toward the window and concentrated on the rain, straining to pick out the sounds of individual raindrops. It was an exercise that usually helped him block out other sounds.
Only it wasn't working tonight. Tonight nothing worked - not the thunder, or the pounding rain, or even the thin pillow he'd pulled over his head. In spite of all of it, his parents' knife-edged voices tore through the floorboards to find purchase in his soul, ripping great gashes that bled and healed and bled again until the scars layered one atop the other like the rings of a tree trunk.
He and his brother never talked about the fights, as though by their silence they could make them stop. The only acknowledgement that something was amiss came in the form of a quiet knock at the door.
"Jeremy?" The voice, barely a whisper, floated through the lightning-slashed darkness, and the older boy rolled over in his bed, feigning drowsiness.
"Yeah?"
"I can't sleep."
At eight years old, Billy was small for his age, and all elbows and knees. He had a blanket wrapped around his head and shoulders so that his eyes peeked out between the folds and his hair spiked out the top, making him look like a displaced alien from an old science fiction movie.
Jeremy sighed and reached for his own covers, waving a hand at the floor and yawning as though he hadn't a care in the world. "It's all yours," he said.
Billy shuffled in and closed the door, then dropped to the floor beside the bed with a mumbled word of thanks. It was a long time before either boy fell asleep.
Chapter 1
Harm wrapped his arms around Mac's waist and rested his chin on her shoulder, smiling into the silk of her hair when she relaxed against him with a sigh of happiness
"Whatcha' lookin' at?" he asked, nuzzling the skin just below her ear.
She rewarded him with a low hum and a tilt of the head, giving him better access. "Fireflies," she said.
For a moment, they watched the tiny lights blinking beyond the glass. "Nice," he said, "but I'd like a better view." He pulled her to the patio door, and they stepped through it and into a summer wonderland.
Their house had been built into the side of a hill so that the first floor in the front became the second floor in the back, and the deck they now stood on overlooked a small pond and the woods beyond. Harm had cut the grass earlier in the day, and the fresh clean smell of it mingled with the scent of pine and the faint perfume of the wild rose that had made itself at home on the northern side of the simple cedar home.
"Look," he said, as he pulled her into his arms again. And he could've sworn he heard her smile.
Cicadas, crickets, and the occasional bullfrog provided a musical background for the dozens of fireflies that drifted through the yard, their tiny lights blinking on and off in the early darkness. A scientist would insist that the lights were no more than visual mating calls, their patterns designed as a sort of locator beacon for the opposite sex, but Harm knew the shimmering dance had been crafted solely for their benefit.
"I can't decide," she said, breaking the companionable silence.
"Can't decide what?"
"Which I like better, fireflies or the sunrise."
He considered it carefully for a few seconds, and then answered with a quirk of his lips, "Think we can persuade any fireflies to join us in the morning?" Their daily sunrise jog had been a habit for them for years, one they hadn't left behind with their move to this small town in the mountains of Virginia.
She laughed quietly. "Good luck with that."
They settled into a comfortable silence. Behind them, a single lamp cast a golden glow, but even that seemed peaceful, the pool of light sliding silently around them to highlight their blended shadows against the wooden railing.
The chime of the doorbell brought them out of their reverie, and Mac turned a quizzical glance on Harm.
"Not a clue," he said, answering her unspoken question. He dropped his arms from around her waist and slid the glass door open, holding it for her and then closing it again before moving across to the front door. He glanced through the window, his curiosity growing when he recognized their visitor.
Opening the door wide, he smiled warmly at their friend. "You making house calls now, Bill?"
Bill wiped his feet on the mat and tucked his sheriff's cap between elbow and ribs before stepping inside.
"Hello Harm… Mac," he said, and there was something about his tone and the way he held his body that caused them to exchange a concerned glance. They'd known Bill for three years now, since shortly after they'd moved here, and they'd often commented on how unusually cheerful the man was for a law enforcement officer. But tonight the ready smile was gone from his face, and with it the twinkle they'd thought a permanent resident in his warm brown eyes.
"You're working late tonight, aren't you?" Mac asked as she gestured him toward the living room. "Can I get you a drink? A cup of coffee, maybe?"
Bill perched on the edge of one of the easy chairs, his edgy demeanor and stiff posture making Harm more uneasy by the minute. "No, thanks. I'm good."
Harm and Mac sat down on the couch, but neither relaxed, sensing that whatever their friend was about to say was going to bring an end to their peaceful evening.
Bill twisted his cap in his hands, turning it over and over in a nervous motion that was so totally unlike him that Harm found himself wanting to grab the thing and throw it across the room. "Bill?" he said, when the silence had moved through the awkward stage and was well on its way to uncomfortable. "What's going on?"
Bill finally looked up, his gaze troubled. "I need your help."
Chapter 2
Bill McDonough wasn't the type to be easily frightened. He preferred to be the one doing the frightening, and as a child he'd been well known around town for his practical jokes. Even back then he'd been bigger than his peers, though whether that was because of his Irish heritage or the fact that he loved fresh spinach was anybody's guess. His legs and arms had sprouted like kudzu starting when he was about ten, and hadn't stopped until shortly after he'd bought his first bottle of beer.
Despite his size and his love of pranks, Bill had never been the bullying type, and he'd often found himself as a sort of monkey in the middle between those who would steal a kid's lunch money and those who would gladly hand it over rather than risk yet another black eye or split lip. As a result, nobody in their small community had been surprised when Bill had decided to pursue a career in law enforcement. In fact, many would say that Bill's presence in town was a big part of the reason why they left their doors unlocked at night and allowed their kids to roam the town freely by day.
Bill liked to think he could handle just about any kind of trouble that might come his way, so he was as surprised as anybody to find himself sitting in Harm and Mac's den, nervously twisting his hat in his hands and wondering how to explain why he was there. The silence stretched, but neither of his friends seemed inclined to speak, evidently preferring to wait while he ordered his thoughts. He sighed. Sometimes, he thought, the only way to get to the other side of a briar patch was right through the middle.
"You remember my sister?" he asked at last.
"Pretty girl, right? About half your size but with twice the temper?" Harm's grin was lopsided.
Bill smiled. "Lisa. Yeah."
"Is she in trouble?"
"No, but her nephew is." Bill hurried to explain. "Jeremy's thirteen. His father died about five years go. Sharon remarried, but the new guy's a real piece of work. He and Jeremy don't get along too well."
Mac shook her head. "Lots of kids have tough childhoods."
"I know that, and you know that, and someday Jeremy'll understand it too, but right now, he's a little…"
"Difficult?" Harm offered.
"Something like that." Bill shook his head. "Lisa would kill me for even mentioning this to you." His sister was a proud woman. When she found out he'd brought this problem to Harm and Mac, there'd be hell to pay. Still, he knew he needed help from somebody he could trust - somebody who wasn't burdened with a badge.
"I was hoping things would sort themselves out, but it's gone too far now, and if I don't do something…."
"What do you mean by 'it's gone too far now'?" Harm asked.
Bill felt the worry knot his stomach again, and took a deep breath. Jeremy was a good kid at heart – a little misguided at the moment, yes – but still a good kid.
"He's taken to running with a bad crowd. Tough kids. Closest thing this town has to a gang. Up till now, it's just been petty mischief – loitering, a little graffiti now and then… But they crossed a line tonight."
"What happened?" Mac asked, leaning forward. Harm reached for her hand in a gesture so natural that Bill doubted either of his friends was even aware of it.
"I was on my way home when a call came in on the radio. There'd been an accident. A car headed down the mountain had gone off the road and through the guard rail."
Mac frowned, and he knew she was thinking about the steep drop-off along some stretches of the roadway. "Nobody was hurt," he said quickly, "unless you count the totaled Chevy and the mangled guard rail."
He realized he'd been toying with his hat, turning it over and over in his hands. Annoyed with himself, he set it down on the seat beside him. Damn the kid for putting him in this situation. "Turns out," he continued, "Jeremy and a few of his new buddies had hot wired it."
"It's a big leap from graffiti to grand theft auto," Harm said.
"The kid who was driving swears he had permission."
"And the car's owner?"
"Jeremy's stepfather." An image of the irate stepfather in question flitted through Bill's mind. Overweight, balding, and red of face, he'd been halfway to his shotgun before Bill had been able to bring the situation under control.
"Is he pressing charges?" Mac asked.
"No. I was able to talk him down from that, but Jeremy's going to have to get a job to help pay for a new car."
"I don't understand," Harm said. "If you don't need a lawyer…"
"I need you to help me find a way to defuse this situation before I end up having to put somebody in Juvie."
"We aren't therapists," said Mac. "I'm not sure what you think we can do."
"I'm not looking for a therapist. I'm looking for somebody to find out more about this gang - somebody who can earn Jeremy's trust." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Look. My gut's telling me that this thing could get out of hand in a hurry. I need you two to help me keep that from happening."
"What makes you think tonight won't be the end of it?" Harm asked. "Going off that mountain must've been pretty scary."
Bill stood and crossed to the stone fireplace, his gaze on the collection of framed photographs on the mantelpiece. In one of them, a young woman in cap and gown saluted the camera with her rolled up diploma. In another, the same young woman wore a wedding dress and smiled at her adoring groom. He knew the pictures were of Harm and Mac's adopted daughter. Would he ever see similar ones of Jeremy?
"There've been some other problems around town of late," he said finally. "Small stuff, mostly – breaking and entering, a stolen TV or two, that sort of thing." He turned back to his friends. "At first I thought they were isolated incidents, but now I think they're connected, and I think these boys are involved. I'm afraid if I don't find a way to put a stop to it pretty soon…"
He waved a hand at the pictures on the mantle. "I've known these kids all their lives. Hell, I grew up with most of their parents. I see what's happening, but short of throwing them all in jail, I can't figure out how to turn the tide." He looked at Harm, meeting his friend's eyes. "I want to help them, Harm – not punish them. But if I don't sort this out soon, my responsibilities to the citizens of this town are going to force my hand."
His radio spluttered to life, interrupting the conversation. "Bill? You there?"
He unclipped it, pushing the mike button down as he brought it to his mouth. "I'm here, Shirley. What's up?"
"There's a bit of a fuss over at the diner. Something about a trucker not wanting to pay for his dinner."
Bill sighed. "I'm on my way."
Clipping the radio back on his belt, he looked at Harm and Mac.
"You don't have to give me an answer right now, but I sure am hoping you'll give me a hand with this."
"Can we get back to you tomorrow?" Harm asked.
"Sure. Just give me a call. You know the number."
"Will do."
The men shook hands, and Bill nodded goodbye to Mac before following Harm. At the door, he turned back. "I know this isn't the kind of stuff you and Mac are used to dealing with. There are no bombs to defuse, no murder mysteries to solve… But it's important to me… To this town."
"I understand. We'll be in touch sometime tomorrow."
"Thanks."
Knowing he'd done all he could, Bill walked back to his car. If he was lucky, maybe he could weasel a free cup of coffee out of Cooky.