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)
1404 zulu Sunday, June 13, 1999
somewhere over the no-fly zone
"Fucking moron," Harm didn't even realize he'd spoken aloud as he immediately reacted and kicked on the after burners.
"D-man, Beaker – report back to the ship now!" Harm knew he was screaming in tone though not in volume, "You are both grounded – effective immediately."
"Harm? What are we…?" Skates asked obviously terrified and holding onto her professionalism by the skin of her about-to-be-chattering teeth.
"Keep an eye on the convoy, and the children, if anybody moves you tell me!" Harm didn't bother to answer further – she'd figure it out and Harm needed her eyes focused on the other players. At speeds pushing Mach two he needed to focus all his attention on that missile. Harm knew that by the time he was close enough to take out the missile he'd be too close to the Israelis to risk use of another missile for the intercept. He'd also be well within range of the escorting fighters and they would be perfectly justified, required even, to return fire.
Harm brought his tomcat into range about thirty decrees to port off the butt of the missile. In training this was never done at anything less than forty degrees and always with missiles.
"God, please, let this work!" again Harm's thought passed his lips without his notice. Harm switched to guns, took aim directly at the missile, and fired.
Harm was distantly aware of a lot of back and forth on the radio and part of his mind even logged it as between his pilots and the Patrick Henry – but no details were penetrating his concentration.
Suddenly the missile detonated in a huge fire ball and Harm pulled up into a pure vertical climb to try and avoid the fireball.
Even as he was still climbing Harm clicked on his radio to once again attempt a hail and try to mitigate the damage, "Friends on heading two-three-zero. Sorry about that unscheduled exercise. This is U.S. Navy four-seven-two wishing you a good day and a safe flight."
Harm stopped climbing and waited to see if the escort fighters would engage – if they did, he'd have to try to outrun them as he could not fire on U.S. allies. It was only a few seconds but it felt as if it might have been hours and even with the continuing background chatter, some of it coming from Skates now too – good girl, she'd pulled herself together – all Harm could think was, 'Mac, I love you. Please be with her, God,' over and over on repeat.
The voice that broke through the background noise and his swirling prayers was heavily accented, obviously Israeli, even though he offered no identification, "That was quite some shooting. Thanks for the show, Navy four-seven-two. Fly safe, over and out."
And just like that, it was both all over and only just beginning.
Author's note: Just a brief chapter today. But not a cliffhanger. I like cliffhangers. A cliffhanger in fanfiction is like a commercial break on TV. I'm old enough to remember when the only option was sitting through the commercials or flipping through the other eleven channels. Don't miss those days. And now I feel old. Thanks for reading! ~Vi