A/N: I seriously think we should start a countdown here. Four chapters to go before I can WRITE.

Flashback to 'Squid vs. Jarhead'

(Mac's POV)

I gripped hard against Harm's shoulder as a clatter resounded from the door across the hall. I sent Harm a panicked stare as he edged towards the door, slowly and intently, his arm reaching forward for the door knob. I closed my eyes, clenching my fist hard against the sleeve of Harm's shirt, as the magnitude of this moment built up into one stimulating –

Harm threw the door open, bounding inside as I flew in with him – a scream cutting the night air, as it hollowly echoed through the empty office.

Bat, my ass

0812

JAG Closet

Harm's POV

"Ah! Get it off me! GET IT OFF ME!" I holler, thrashing about wildly as I slam myself into one of the metal shelves built into the walls. My hands flail about my head madly, as I swipe dangerously into the air, connecting with something small hairy and flying.

"It's alright, Harm!" Mac hollers over the ruckus I'm creating. "It's just a bat!"

"GET IT OFF!" I scream myself hoarse as it begins to pick at my hair that's already too short to protect my head from demented flying creatures. Mac begins to swat the air around me as these unearthly screeches now ensue from the bat's mouth, echoing around the cramped room.

"HOW!" Mac hollered.

"HIT IT!" I screech.

"Harm, you're over six feet tall! I can't take it off your head!"

Her practicality does nothing for me. I thrash around madly as his claws dig into my scalp. "Open the door!" I scream shrilly. "It's eating me alive!"

There's rattling as Mac jiggles the doorknob. "Dammit, Harm, it's locked!"

I swore loudly, running through the darkness that clouded my vision over to the door. I pounded against the overgrown wooden plank that separated me and Mac from bat-free area. I'm pounding, I'm hollering, and the bat has freaking landed on my HEAD. And the irony of it all? I'M the one that suggested to investigate the freaking supply closet, Mac wanted to go to dinner and instead we're trapped in a closet with a BAT and she's looking AMUSED! WHAT PLANET ARE WE LIVING ON?

"Harm, calm down," Mac says soothingly. "It's just a bat."

"Bat, my ass," I snarl pounding on the door. "SOMEONE else has to be in the building!"

"Harm, it's EIGHT O'CLOCK!" Mac hollers in my ear. "WE'RE not even supposed to be in the building!"

"Hell will freeze over before I spend a night with a bat and a marine in a close!" I replied, shoving against the door with his shoulder and elbow jutted out, my face a mask of frustration. I slammed my body against the door, immediately succumbing to the sharp pain that now stabbed across one side of my body.

"You've offended me and Mr. Pip right to our very cores," Mac replied, sitting down on the floor, her arms crossed across her chest as she watched me push myself against the door.

I pause in mid-shove. "Mr. Pip?" I stare at her as if she's lost her mind. "What the hell is a Mr. Pip?"

"The bat," Mac says with a tone that suggests this is the most obvious thing in the world. "I thought, if we're going to spend the night together the least I could do is find out his name . . ."

I look at her incredulously. "How can you joke at a time like this?"

"Who says I'm joking?" My god, she's completely serious. "It's a Pipistrelle bat. And you know, maybe if you get to know him, Harm, you'll like him." She shakes her head discouragingly. "You judged him before you even met him . . . shame on you."

But I've toned her out. "There's a broom," I said, pointing at the long wooden pole next to Mac.

She stares at it and then me. "Planning on calling up Harry Potter to fly us out of here, Harm, or just do a little bit of sweeping?"

"Good-bye, Mr. Pip!" I hollered, grabbing the broomstick and beginning to flail it madly in the air, swiping at Mr. Pip as he screeched in alarm, swooping down low as he flitted by our heads. I jump up, swinging the broomstick back and forth in the air, as Mr. Pip managed to dodge ever yone of them. "Say your prayers, Bat!"

"Harm, don't!" Mac screamed at me as I leaped into the air, samurai-style brandishing my latest weapon. "You'll hurt him!"

"Uh, Mac!" I holler as I knight-like brandish my wooden sword and plunge into a deep swipe at Sir Pipistrelle. "That's kind of the point!"

Next thing I know Mac's hands are on the broom stick and she's pulling it AWAY from me. I mean, who does she think she is? Does she think she can just get locked in a closet with me and a bat that she NAMES and prevent me from carrying out my masculine duties of defending the women and killing the predator? I swing the stick around but Mac holds on, swinging with the stick as I twirl around almost ballerina style – dragging one unhappy Marine with me.

"LET GO!" she hollers, tugging the broomstick back and jolting my arms with it.

"Over my dead body!" I scream back, pulling the broom stick up. Mac's now literally hanging off it, her feet no longer touch the ground. "Or should I say . . . MR. PIP'S dead body!"

She's shocked. "That was uncalled for!"

"It's a BAT, Mac!" I holler, the practicality flying in front of us. "We are TRAPPED in a CLOSET with a BAT!"

WHY THE HELL DOES SHE NOT FIND THIS AS ALARMING AS I OBVIOUSLY DO!

"Harm, it's a poor innocent defenseless bat!" Mac screamed back. "You can't hurt it! Think about your conscience! How will you be able to sleep at night if you kill Mr. Pip? He's never done a thing to you!"

"Thanks to him I'm going to need a haircut," I growled, throwing tufts of torn out hair at Mac who promptly shoved them away. "ANOTHER haircut – my hair still hasn't recovered from the gum induced cut."

"Oh, you'll live," Mac snapped. "But Mr. Pip won't if you keep swinging around like that!"

"Like this?" I challenged, and then – straining all my muscles against Mac's spectacular force, I throw the broomstick up, the wooden pole flying out of both Mac's and my grasp. And for a minute time ceases to exist. Our heads crane up to the sky as we watch the broomstick arc almost acrobatically in the air and sore towards . . . the window?

CRASH!

Glass shatters over the floor and above our heads as I grab onto the back of Mac's head, pulling her away from direct impact against the shards. We sit there for a moment, kneeling against the floor with our backs turned to the now broken and open window – Mr. Pip promptly taking this as his cue to exit.

"Hey, Flyboy," Mac said from beside me, her face now completely visible due to the flow of moonlight seeping in from the window. "Your knee's in my stomach."

"My knee's no where near your stomach."

She jumps away about a foot as I laugh, "Just kidding."

Mac scowled in retaliation as I pick myself up off the floor and shake off all the loose shards that had nestled their way into my clothing. "Okay, here's the plan," I begin but Mac cuts me off.

"Before you get started, does this plan involve you swinging a stick around our heads because if that's the case, I'm out," Mac said, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes smiling.

"Cute, Mackenzie, real cute," I rolled my eyes. "Now, get on."

Mac can only stare at me, her eyebrow cocked up to the sky as she did so. "Harm, we could be discovered at any moment . . ." She looks around the room, "and it's kind of cramped."

I stare at her in aggravation as I kneeled down on the floor and cupped my hands out. "Very funny, but I'm going to give you a leg up, you reach the window, and then pull me up behind you. And then we're out."

"On the roof."

I scowl at her. "Do you want to be stuck in here till morning?"

Mac sighs, leaning her arms against my shoulders while stepping carefully into my hands, "Good point. Now boost me."

I grin as I suddenly lift her up, one arm snaking around her waist as the other still pulls her from under her feet. I watch as Mac fervently tries to grab hold of the window sill, her fingers straining as she catches onto the rough wooden edge. I release my hold from under her feat as I gently ease her body up, her hands scratching against the surface of the wall.

"Harm, your hand's on my six," Mac growled from above me, shifting in position. "And is riding very high."

I flash her a guilty grin. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Mac said, pulling herself up a few more inches. "Just move it."

I obeyed quickly. "You got your footing?"

"Uh huh."

"Should I let go?"

"This would be the opportune moment," Mac retorted as I slowly removed my hands, she managing to flip herself almost acrobatically onto the sill.

"Alright, my turn," I said, stretching my arms out vertically towards her.

Mac just stared at me. "What are you doing?"

"You've got to pull me up with you," I said, extending my hands once more. "Come on . . ."

Mac looks at me incredulously. "Harm, I can't pull you up! You're heavier than me, and I'll end up falling off the sill!"

"I'm not THAT much heavier . . ." I argued pitifully. Mac just lifts an eyebrow. "Well, then what are you going to do? Just leave me?"

"Yes," Mac replied briskly. "I'm going to go through the window, get off the roof, enter the building and unlock the door."

"That takes too long," I complained. "Just pull me up now."

Mac sighs in exasperation, reaching down and slipping her hands into mine. "How much do you weigh, anyway?"

"Red light."

"There was nothing sexual in what I said," Mac bit back in easy retaliation. "I want to know what brute force I'm dealing with before I attempt to pull it through a window."

"Little enough for you to manage," I replied, rolling my eyes as I felt Mac grip my hands hard. "That is . . . if you've got any muscle in that body of yours."

Mac wrenches me up, grimacing as she does so. I stretch my legs out to perhaps catch some footing on the wall but I only end up slipping. I lean forward but that doesn't seem to help the situation any. "You lie like a dog . . ." Mac snarled as she pulled me up, my feet now an inch off the ground, "you're not light."

"Just pull," I muttered back, pulling her arms forward so I could get a better grip. "If I just swing this way . . ."

"Harm . . ."

"Yeah, and I put my foot up here," I muttered as I leaned more, my foot stamping hard against the wall as I pulled on Mac's arms a little more.

"Harm . . ."

"And if I just . . ." I began, pulling Mac forward as I tried to grip on harder, "then you can pull me up onto the . . ."

"HARM!"

Mac falls forward, her hands shooting out before her to grab onto something . . . apparently that something is me. Her legs flail out as she tumbles off the window sill, her body crashing against mine and sending us both for what seems to be the hundredth time to the ground. Her arm grabs onto my shoulder sending me spinning into the paved floor, her legs entangling on mine. Our heads bash against each other as Mac tumbles onto me, her elbows digging into my stomach.

"Dammit!"

As Mac reels off into a string of swear words that can only be compared to that of sailors who haven't seen port in months, the door flies open, and through the obscurity that is now my very painfully clouded vision, I can see the shadows of two young adults, both smirking rather obnoxiously. Oh shit.

I leap up to my feet and hit my head on a metal cabinet. "Mother of F –" I begin but my voice is instantly dampened by –

"Taron, Connors, what the hell are you doing here?" Mac gasps painfully as she struggled to her feet.

Zach's smirking too much to respond, but Terry – obviously the quicker thinker of the two – hastens to their defense. "We were outside in the courtyard going over stuff for tomorrow when we heard screaming and thumping . . ."

I roll my eyes, "where were you fifteen minutes ago?"

Zach's still grinning.

"Oh for god's sake, wipe that smirk off your face," Mac snarled. She turned back to Terry, "mind letting us out of the closet?"

"Oh, no problem," Zach said, immediately leaping out of the way. "I think it's good you're coming out of the closet." He casts a wary eye at Mac's and my disheveled appearance. "Though I'm having a hard time believing it . . ."

Mac opens her mouth to reply but Terry beats her to the punch. "Stuff it, Blondie." She turned back to us, "We'll get out of your way . . ." She grabs him by the tie and pulls him down the hall, "see you tomorrow!"

I sigh heavily, leaning against the doorframe, a pained expression etched into my face. "As much as I like you, Harm, these little visits are going to cost me a fortune in hospital bills." I groaned a little as I straightened myself, "and my reputation's taking a steep nose-dive, I hope you know."

"They're just kids, Mac . . ." I trailed but am cut off by her stern glare. I shrug my shoulders, "What harm can they do us?"

"They're kids, Harm," Mac rebuts as we begin to walk down the hall. "They don't need to do us harm, just annoy us to death . . ."

I grins in retaliation, "But what a first impression we must have given them, huh? Little action before class, and then after . . ."

"Red light!" Mac exclaims, suddenly stopping in her tracks.

I grinned at her, "And this coming from the lady that said 'aren't we past the point where we need traffic signals?'"

Mac rolls her eyes furiously at me and begins to walk off down the hall. I smiled at her, standing in my place. "Hey, Mac!"

She turns around, "Yeah?"

I flashed her the flyboy grin. "You're blushing."

"Shut up."

A/N: Damn polls . . . do they always have to be different? I suppose it would be a little boring if they were all the same. Soooo, until i come up with some more polls, feel free to vote on any of my previous polls. Maybe your answers have changed. You can rate Harm and Mac scenes, how much you hate Pants. You can offer suggestions for future HM scenes, for plot details. Vote on the Roberts kid's name, the gender. Whatever you feel like doing.