I had some trouble deciding whether or not to post this ficlet. It's much more AU, so it's a little different, but I hope you still like it. Please let me know what you think and thanks for reading!

"Guys, wait up!"

Eight-year-old Sarah MacKenzie ran as hard as she could to try to keep up with the three long-legged boys ahead of her. Her arms and legs were pumping with all her might, but the boys still beat her to the tree house, two of them clambering up the limbs and then looking back at the third who remained on the ground.

"Sturgis, come on! What are you doing?"

"I can't come up there, Harm."

"Why not?"

"I'm in a submarine. Submarines don't fly."

"Sturgis, you're not really in a submarine," Harm said logically.

"I'm pretending!"

"Guess you can stay down there with the girl then," the other boy laughed.

"Maybe I'm better off with her than you, Keeter," Sturgis shot back.

But Mac had no intention of staying on the ground. When she reached the tree, she didn't even pause before starting to climb up after them. Quickly, she swung from one branch to another, and she was almost to the top when she grabbed on to a branch and lost her footing. She let out a shriek as she dangled precariously from the tree limb.

"Harm! Help me!"

"Mac!" Instantly, Harm dropped to the floor of the tree house and stretched out his hand. "Give me your hand, I'll pull you up."

She did, kicking her legs against the tree trunk to push off as his fingers grasped her arm. With Harm's help, she scrambled up into the tree house, and the two kids fell on top of each other in a tangled heap on the floor.

"Ow!" Mac yanked her arm away from Harm with a squeal.

"Mac, don't be such a girl," Harm grumbled.

Mac rolled up her sleeve and rubbed her arm, and Harm's eyes widened when he saw the nasty purple bruise. It was dark and deep, and it was much bigger than Harm's hand — maybe the size of an adult handprint.

"Mac—"

"I'm fine," she said stubbornly, pulling her sleeve back down and forcing herself not to cry in front of her friends. "It wasn't you."

"Then who?"

"No one," she snapped. "My mom said he didn't mean to."

"Way to go, Rabb," Keeter interrupted, playfully punching his friend on the shoulder. "Now you brought the girl up here. Why do you always have to play the hero?"

"I wouldn't have needed help if you guys had waited for me," Mac said indignantly. Without warning, she spun around and landed a neat karate chop on Harm's forearm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For not waiting for me!"

"You could have stayed down in the submarine with Sturgis," Harm pointed out.

"I'm pretending to be a Marine. Marines can do anything that Navy avi...avi—" She stumbled over the word.

"Aviators," Harm supplied.

"That Navy aviators can do," Mac finished.

Harm rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, ninja girl."

"Mom?"

Later that evening, Harm peeked into his mother's bedroom and found her examining her reflection in a mirror, putting on some pretty gold earrings.

"Yes, darling?"

"Did Dad leave because I did something bad?"

Trish turned around in surprise. "Of course not," she said reassuringly. "Harm, why would you think that?"

"Because he didn't come home," Harm explained.

"Harm, the reason your father didn't come home has nothing to do with you."

"If I did something bad, he didn't have to leave forever," Harm insisted. "He could have just hit me, and I would have been good."

"Harmon Rabb, Junior!" Trish exclaimed sharply. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Harm looked down at the floor. "Mac's dad hits her," he said quietly.

Trish studied her son carefully. "Harm, that's very serious."

"I saw it today, Mom. She has a huge purple mark on her arm."

"Well, maybe she hurt herself horsing around with you guys. Didn't she try to karate chop you earlier this afternoon?"

Harm examined his arm. Although he would never admit it to Mac, his arm did hurt a little bit, but it didn't look anything like hers.

"Did Keeter and Sturgis see Mac's arm?" Trish asked patiently.

"No, Keeter wasn't paying attention, and Sturgis was down in the submarine."

"Harm, it's possible that she just bruised herself climbing up that tree after you. She wants to do everything you do, you know."

Trish patted her son's hand as she stood up and smoothed her dress.

"Where are you going?" Harm asked.

Trish smiled. "Out to dinner with a very nice man named Frank."

"Oh." Harm's face fell and then suddenly brightened as he had another thought. "Can Mac stay over?"

"If it's okay with your grandma."

"Evening, Trish." The warm baritone voice of Harmon Rabb, Senior, on a recorded tape filled the living room later that night. "We just got back from a reconnaissance mission, and it's time to get some dinner. Tonight we're having...well, I'm not really sure what this is, to be honest. What I wouldn't give for some of my mom's vegetable lasagna right about now. You tell Little Harm that once he can make a decent batch of vegetable lasagna, not only will he impress all the girls, but he'll impress entire squadrons of Navy pilots. Well, I'm gonna go force down whatever this is and call it a night. Mom, Trish, Harm...I love you, and I'll be home soon."

"Your dad would have liked dinner tonight," Mac said as the tape ended.

She and Harm were sprawled out on the floor while Harm's grandmother held the tape player in her lap in the rocking chair.

"My grandma makes the best vegetable lasagna," Harm declared.

"It was good," Mac agreed. "It would also be good with some meat in it."

"Like what? Dead cow?"

"Okay, you two," Grandma Rabb interjected with a chuckle. "Off to bed with you. Mac, you can sleep on the extra mattress in Harm's room. Harm, grab a blanket for Mac from the closet, okay?"

It didn't take long to put together a makeshift bed for Mac alongside Harm's bed. Both kids crawled under the blankets and settled in.

"Good night, Harm. Good night, Mac," Grandma Rabb said. She pulled the covers up over Harm and kissed his forehead. She did the same for Mac, thinking that she had become quite fond of the little girl who lived down the street and had befriended her grandson so easily. Then she switched the light off and quietly closed the door, leaving the two kids alone in the dark.

"I like your house," Mac said after a moment. "Your dad doesn't yell at your mom. Or your grandma."

"My dad isn't here," Harm pointed out.

"Yeah," Mac said, as if that were her point entirely. "My dad yells all the time. Sometimes I wish he wasn't here."

"Mac, did your dad hurt your arm?"

She didn't answer.

"Mac?"

"Yes," she finally said.

"Mac, your dad shouldn't hit you."

"It's okay, Harm."

"No, it isn't."

"It's fine!" Mac snapped. Angrily, she rolled over, turning her back to Harm. She squeezed her eyes tight, trying to hold back the tears, and he heard her sniffle sadly.

"Mac, I'm sorry—"

"Harm, I said it was fine."

He let out a soft sigh. "Mac, go to sleep."

"Harm?"

"What?" he asked irritably. He opened his eyes to find Mac leaning over the side of his bed, her brown eyes peering intently into his.

"Can I sleep with you?"

"Can you be quiet?" Harm muttered, shuffling over to the other side of the bed.

"Yes," Mac whispered as she slipped under the covers beside him.

And when Grandma Rabb looked in on them a few hours later, she found the two best friends curled up next to each other sound asleep.