Rating: T for occasional language
Summary: Set in early season 5 when Harm was out flying. This story gives Harm a different (better!) reason for changing his designator than the show provided. And may just open the way for him to find his happily ever after – with a little trouble along the way, of course.
Disclaimer: JAG was created by Donald P. Bellisario and is owned in whole or in part by Belisarius Productions and Paramount Network Television (CBS Studios). This is a work of fiction playing with the characters that I have loved for more than twenty years – I make no money from this and no copyright infringement or disrespect is intended.
Letters Home: Doin' It Their Way
By: visions2share (a.k.a. Vi)
Saturday, June 5, 1999
U.S.S. Patrick Henry
Mediterranean Sea
Mac,
I spent twelve hours in a Tomcat today – it was wonderful! Skates is good at her job and seems good humored too. Even Tom might like her – or at least learn to. Eventually. I think I probably got really lucky to pull her as my RIO – all the others, regardless of gender, strike me as very immature. The pilots are too. Tuna, my new roommate, is the only exception. But I think it's because he's just quieter in general. I've been trying to remember since the ready room this morning if the Jaguars were that rowdy when I flew with them. I can't be sure if my memory is playing tricks on me, but I don't think they were. Then again maybe I'm just getting old – the other pilots certainly think so. They chose my new callsign, 'Pappy', because I'm "old enough to be their father," an assertion I categorically deny.
Callsigns are usually in jokes among a squadron or at least bestowed to reflect something about the pilot's life or personality before that point. I wasn't fond of my original callsign but it'd be better than Pappy.
Back story: I made the mistake as a young man in confiding in some of my academy classmates that my mother didn't want me there and had an entirely different future all mapped out for me. I know I've told you before, she wanted me to go to art school and become an artist so she could promote me through her gallery. Some of the guys started calling me Picasso or Rembrandt. I really didn't like it – I wanted to be seen as tough and capable – a future pilot not some wimpy artist. The final fight I had with Diane was over her insistence on calling me Picasso in any number of uncomfortable and embarrassing situations. Eventually, when the time to get a callsign came some smartass suggested Rembrandt and it stuck. I learned to answer to it but I never did like it much. Did you ever have any nicknames other than Mac?
I did find an e-mail from Harriet when I got in tonight. AJ is so sweet! Keeping up on his life is really going to make being away from home easier.
I would be pleased to take you out for a fancy date the first night I'm home even if you do order a steak. Hopefully your case schedule will allow us to leave the next morning for Gran's farm. She IS a great cook! No, she never cooks tofu – yes, every meal always includes beef, chicken, turkey, or pork – even breakfast – every day. And, no, she gives no consideration for my preferences and still always insists I clean my plate. To be honest, part of the reason I mostly avoid cooking meat myself, or ordering it out, is that it never tastes as good as hers so I'm always disappointed. And why would I want to waste calories on something that isn't good for me if I'm only going to be disappointed? We will eat well on the farm.
Gran doesn't have a computer or use e-mail – I'll write her a long-hand letter every week while deployed and can't guarantee regular calls. But I managed to secure a private 10 minute phone slot at 1220 zulu tomorrow for ship to shore so I can call her this week. I'll try to get another slot in the next few days to call Mom – although since she's still pissed I'm out here, maybe I'll just send a letter and call you instead. Would that be okay? What's your court schedule look like?
As for JAG – I hope Bugme likes the office, it's always ten degrees either hotter or colder in there – whichever is worse. Seventy degrees in the bullpen? Eighty in that office. Furnace broken? Fifty degrees in the bullpen – thirty-five to forty in that office. Bud may think he wanted it – but despite the nice size he really didn't. I still can't believe you let Bugme take you out to dinner after the way he treated you while he was prosecuting you.
Who is this guy who requested you defend him? What did he do? Allegedly do? Maybe he knew you were at JAG from reading about you in the Navy Times for one of your promotions or coverage of another case? Why does him knowing where to find you make you uncomfortable?
Tuna is complaining about the light from the laptop screen even though I turned off the desk lamp – he's also whining about the keys clicking too loudly. Sheesh – I didn't bitch about his snoring or singing out of tune while he dressed this morning. He's trying to sleep and I'm trying to avoid that cramped bunk as long as possible. Better than a submarine, and I don't have to hot bunk. Still the bunks only six feet long. In my excitement to get back in a tomcat I kind of forgot about – or at least overlooked this part. Oh well – I guess I'll try to sleep while the fishman isn't murdering Bob Dylan.
Miss you! Hugs and kisses for Little AJ.
Hugs!
Harm
Saturday, June 5, 1999
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown, DC
Harm,
I hope you replied to Harriet to thank her for the photos. Bud said they were worried about "bothering" you. I told him you wouldn't think that but I'm not sure he believed me.
Funniest thing happened at the end of the day yesterday. Brumby stopped the admiral in the bullpen to complain about his office being too hot. Chegwidden told him, and I quote, "Rabb never complained – but then the two of you ARE very different. Aren't you?" and walked on. Brumby was already a little red in the face – the heat I assume – but as the admiral walked away he was red like a tomato. Hilarious! I doubt he complains about it again – he might even think twice before continuing to chase after the assignments he seems to think should go with the office. It has already gotten annoying in the repetitiveness.
Looking back I can't believe I accepted his dinner invitation either – and I definitely regret it. He acts like he thinks because I went out to eat with him once that we're dating now. It's very uncomfortable. I'm having a hard time remaining polite when we speak. Last night he showed up at my door with takeout as if we had plans. I didn't even know he knew where I live. I guess this is one singular instance in which I should have listened to you and never agreed to dinner in the first place.
My new client is Sgt Phillip Gaffney – he was Farrow's yeoman, so when I was in admin we crossed paths a lot. He's accused of sexual harassment, aggravated assault, sexual assault, and murder. He told me flat out he'd requested me since having a "girl lawyer" will help his image. I obviously can't tell you about the rest of the conversation – except he left me in no doubt he knew about my affair with Farrow. Before the meeting I wasn't looking forward to defending him because I didn't want a reminder to a part of my past I'd prefer to forget – now I think he's a creep. I'll do my job to defend him, as I would any assigned client, but I'm betting it won't be a pleasant experience.
I think Rembrandt would be a great callsign for you because he was creative and you are a creative pilot – at least that's what Boone says – I know you're a creative lawyer. If anybody makes any more cracks about you being old enough to be their father you just tell him that means its no wonder why they fly the way they do – being too young to even take driver's ed. Or something like that – it ought to shut them up.
No, I've never been called anything other than Mac as an adult. As a kid I was Sarah to everybody except my Dad when he was sober. On those rare occasions he called me princess – I don't remember if I ever knew why. Maybe I'll ask Uncle Matt next time I call. Want to know a deep dark secret? I always dreamed of having a relationship with a man who would love me enough to know me well enough to have a special name for me that was truly personal. Not the generic 'sweetheart', or 'honey' or 'baby' or whatever. How silly is that? I suppose that isn't something a manly man like you would think about, huh?
When you know for sure when you're coming home I'll put in for leave to go see your grandmother and make dinner reservations, now that I've been assured there won't be tofu on your grandmother's table.
I've been writing this while really procrastinating working on Gaffney's file and avoiding Bugme. That really fits him by the way – how'd you come up with it? I need to be careful not to become too used to calling him that in my head – wouldn't do for it to leak out of my mouth.
Sounds like the only thing about your deployment you like so far is the flying, what with the roommate and all those young whipper-snapper pilots. Are you going to get enough flight time to make it worth it?
Miss you,
Mac
P.S. My court schedule is attached.
P.P.S. Did you mean to refer to our fancy dinner as a date? Or was it an accident?