Disclaimer: Not mine

Burnett Residence
La Jolla, CA
Friday
1140 Local

Harm walked onto the deck in search of his mother. He found her standing by the table, setting places for an early lunch. She seemed far away in thought.

"Hey, mom," He kissed her and gave her a hug. He was worried about her but didn't know what to do about it. "Morning."

"Good morning, darling." She favoured him with a smile and patted his cheek. Harm studied her for a moment before deciding it was genuine. She looked much better than she had last night.

"You look good," He said as he turned to folding the napkins.

"Thank you. Did you sleep well?" She asked. It was her turn to study him carefully.

"I did." He said. Sharing a bed with Mac did wonders for him. But that wasn't something he was about to share with his mom.

"Good." She paused, fiddling with the forks on the table settings before looking directly at him. "Harm, promise me you will not worry about me."

He looked at her, startled. "Mom—"

"No, Harm. Really. It is not your job to worry."

His gaze dropped to the ground. How could she ask that of him? She put her hand on his arm.

"Look at me, darling."

He reluctantly obeyed, and was met with her muted resolve and the silent strength he'd come to admire.

"Harm, I'm happy. I'm doing well. A part of me will always hurt at your father's loss. When you found him, I grieved again as if it were the first time—"

He was quick to interrupt; he hadn't known, "I'm sorry I put you through that—"

"Harm," She said firmly. "You are not allowed to apologize for that. That grief is something I carry with me; it is not your fault anymore than it is mine. And I wouldn't trade all the good memories we shared, I wouldn't trade the wonderful son we made together for anything." She cradled his face in her hands, and repeated emphatically, "For anything, Harm."

He nodded. He would try to believe her.

"Thank you for telling me." She said.

His eyes widened with disbelief. "You're thanking me?"

"I know this was hard for you," She told him. "And this time you came to tell me in person."

He felt a twinge at remembering their phone call, when he'd finally found out his father's fate. He hadn't been able to come tell her in person, not wanting to relive all that pain, preferring to get through it alone as he'd done most his adult life.

He thought of Mac, and of the hug he'd shared with his mother yesterday. How things changed.

"I know learning that your father..." She searched for the words that would maybe make this easier, "Well, that his having lived a life apart from us hurt you, but I don't want you to be angry with him about that."

"He stopped looking, Mom." Harm replied, the words spilling out before he could think about it. He hadn't expected his mother to be so forgiving.

"You don't know that, darling." She soothed. "I can't blame him for making a life for himself anymore than I can blame myself."

He pulled away from her touch, taking a step back and putting his hands on his hips. "That's just it," He said impatiently. "I was such a jerk to you and Frank. I was terrible to you. And I thought dad ... I mean, he ... he..." Harm shook his head, unable to even look at his mother. "I shouldn't have done that to you."

"Is that what's bothering you?" Trish looked at him in surprise. "Harm, Frank and I don't hold anything against you."

"C'mon, Mom. How could you not?"

"How could we? You went through the kind of trauma no little boy should experience." She replied. "Frank understood that. He never wanted to replace your father, Harm. He only wanted to be your friend."

He wasn't convinced. "It's not like I gave him much of a chance. He should hate me."

She laughed, to Harm's surprise, her eyes filling with warmth. "Well, I guess Frank is just more stubborn than you are."

He couldn't help but grin at his mother's sense of humour. He shook his head, still not ready to forgive himself, whatever his mother might say. He was also uncharacteristically nervous about talking to Frank about all this. Where would he start?

"Harm," His mom put her hands on his waist. She looked at him with a mix of affection and exasperation. "You're spoiling for a fight again. Remember: some things can be simple."

"But how do I apologize for so many years of being a complete asshole?" He asked. Immediately, his eyes widened in horror at his less than stellar language.

"Sorry," He said contritely.

Trish just grinned up at him. "I've heard worse from you, boy." She said with mock sternness, before turning serious. "Frank doesn't need an apology, Harm."

"But I need his forgiveness," Harm replied. He looked towards the far end of the shoreline, deep in thought. He smiled slightly at the flitting warmth of awareness that brushed over the back of his neck.

"What?" Trish asked at his sudden change in demeanour.

He nodded towards the distant figure jogging along the shoreline. She was barely discernable from where they were standing.

"Who is that?" Trish followed his gaze, squinting against the sunlight.

"Mac."

Trish moved to the edge of the deck and stared hard. "It is not. You can't tell if it's even a woman from here. It's barely a dot."

"I told you I always know where she is," He said smugly.

His mother turned around and looked at him, battling between incredulity and wonder.

"You're pulling my leg."

"Would I do that?" He crossed his arms over his chest, all arrogance.

She shook her head at him, turning back to look at the figure. She was closer now; it was most definitely Mac. His mother's jaw dropped.

"Well I'll be..." She trailed off. "That is remarkable."

He grinned. "It is."

"You know," She said, looking at him again. "She is remarkable, too."

"She is," He nodded. He could sense where this was going.

"Have you done anything with the ring?" She asked. His mother, Harm thought, the master of subtlety.

"I got it polished," He replied with a grin, wilfully obtuse.

"Harmon Rabb Jr.," She berated, "Don't mock your mother."

He laughed.

"When will you ask her?" She went back on point.

Harm sighed, toeing a groove in the wooden floor of the deck. "When the time is right." He repeated the stock answer he'd been telling himself since his last visit to La Jolla.

"And when would that be?"

"I'll know," He said, more to convince himself than anything.

"So all these months, the time has not been right?" She persisted.

"Oh, look," He said quickly, pointing towards Mac who was now a dozen meters away. "Here comes Mac. We'd better finish laying the table."

His mother only rolled her eyes. "Right. Changing the subject will definitely work with me." She raised an eyebrow at him. "I wasn't born yesterday, Harm."

He didn't say anything, but he did wish Mac would run a little faster.

"Just do it before I'm too old to enjoy grandchildren." His mother said before heading back to the kitchen to check on breakfast.

He watched her go, and then turned to admire Mac as she jogged towards him. She looked radiant, he thought.

"Morning, Flyboy." She called to him with a smile that blew him away. More than radiant, he decided; she was positively glowing.

"Morning, Marine." He greeted. He waited as she climbed the steps, and then reached for her. She sidestepped him with an easy grace.

"I'm all sweaty, Harm!" She protested.

As if he cared.

He grabbed her, and pulled her in for a hug. "I happen to like you all sweaty." He said, holding her close, enraptured by the sparkle in her eyes. There was something different about her. She looked somehow ... lighter.

She opened her mouth to reply when her eyes darted over his shoulder, and she blushed to the roots of her hair.

"Uh, Trish," She stuttered. She quickly untangled herself from his embrace, and shoved Harm away from her.

Harm laughed at how red Mac was – he'd never seen her blush this ferociously before. He turned around to see his mother standing at the door with a towel in her hand and a wide grin on her face.

"Here, Sarah." She handed Mac the towel. "You can get some of that sand off before you head inside to shower."

"Yes, Ma'am," Mac fell back on formality in the face of her embarrassment. She took the towel from Trish with only fleeting eye contact. Harm looked at his mother over Mac's head, and caught her wink. He grinned, eyeing Mac who was still blushing. This, he thought, opened up a whole new avenue for teasing the hell out of his Marine.

"Need help showering, Mac?" He asked solicitously. "Sand can get in all sorts of hard to reach places."

She glared at him, her blush deepening. His grin widened.

Trish laughed. "Harm," She said, "Make yourself less of a nuisance to Sarah, and come help me in the kitchen."

"Yes, Ma'am," He mimicked Mac's earlier reply. It earned him another death glare. He winked at Mac before following his mother into the house.

That was fun: He finally got in the last word.