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Working On It
Authors: Pixie and The Captain Rating: PG Category: Missing Scene – takes place after the end of “Coming Home” Spoilers: Anything in season nine is fair game, particularly “Coming Home.” Disclaimers: Not ours, never will be. We’ll put them back when we’re done… Though if peanut butter is involved, Harm might be returned a little messy. AN1 (Pixie): Call this a twisted version of a round robin. She wrote, then I wrote then…wait…maybe that was the other way around. I honestly don't remember. Things have been a little foggy since Harm said "Yes." AN2 (The Captain): Finally, Pixie got me to post something. ;) See if you can tell where one of us left off and the other began, because we sure can’t. Aren’t shared brains great?
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After Mattie left for the night, Harm spent a few minutes tidying up the already spotless kitchen. An aimless moment spent rearranging the salt and pepper shakers followed a half hearted swipe of the counter. He swept up a few invisible crumbs, then decided there were too many fingerprints on the door of the fridge, so he sprayed it with glass cleaner, and rubbed the cloth over it, his mind only half focused on his task. While his hands were occupied, he replayed his conversation with Mattie. Why weren't he and Mac dating? What was really keeping them apart? Webb? Well, yes… That was a pretty big boulder between them at the moment. O.K., so this wasn't the time to pursue her romantically. There shouldn't be anything standing in the way of their friendship, though. Admittedly, Paraguay had blown a pretty big hole in the landscape of their relationship, but somebody had to take the first step toward putting it back together, and for once he wasn't going to let his pride keep him from making an effort. Mind made up, he folded the towel and laid it neatly on the counter before lifting the cordless telephone from its base. He took it into his bedroom and stretched out on the bed, fluffing the pillows behind his head and stretching out his legs before punching in the seven familiar digits. After three rings, Harm began to worry that she was asleep and he was disturbing her. Finally, he heard her voice on the other end, weary, but alert. “Hello?” He smiled. “Hi, Mac. It’s me.” The silence that followed his greeting was deafening. “Harm? Is something wrong?” A sharp stab of hurt sliced through him. Were they so far apart that the only reason she’d think he’d call her now was if something was wrong? “No, Mac. Nothing is wrong. Are you busy?" A twinge of nervousness washed over him, and he rushed on. "I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have called you this late.” There was another prolonged silence as Mac processed this. “No, Harm. I’m not busy.” Faced with the actual sound of her voice on the other end of the line, Harm stumbled to a stop. He hadn't thought this far, hadn't considered what they would actually talk about. He'd only wanted to hear her voice. Now her puzzled silence hummed down the line at the precise moment his brain decided to go on strike. He fought down the urge to swear at himself in frustration, then offered up the first conversational trivia that floated into his mind. "What did you and Bud find out about that flak jacket? You were working with him on that, weren't you?" "You called me at 2330 to ask about a flak jacket?" Her voice carried an edge of incredulity – not that he blamed her for it. He decided to take the bold approach. "Sure did. That funeral today was really draining. I want to be able to tell the mother something as soon as possible." Phew. He'd gotten out three…well, two, at least…coherent sentences. Things were looking good. “Harm, you’ll be able to see our preliminary report at staff call in the morning.” So much for that idea. His opening salvo had been skillfully countered. “Oh.” Well, that was brilliant. It was a source of never-ending frustration that his courtroom eloquence seemed to stay in the courtroom, leaving him in the lurch in personal conversations. Mac was going to hang up on him if he kept this up. “Harm, what’s this all about? You didn’t call me to talk about our flak jacket investigation.” There was a pause, as concern seemed to override her annoyance. “Are you sure you’re all right, Harm?” He swallowed, and then cleared his throat. “I’m fine, Mac. I just… I wanted…” God, why did this have to be so hard? “Can we talk, Mac?” Amazingly enough, she chuckled. “We are talking, Harm.” Then her voice grew more serious. “What would you like to talk about?” He shifted the phone to his other ear, and then tucked his free hand beneath his head. “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.” When she didn’t respond, he pressed the phone to his ear even harder, as though he could somehow push his way through the phone and end up at Mac’s. He wouldn’t blame her if she questioned his sanity. He questioned it sometimes, too. Like right then. "Harm?" she prompted softly, her voice concerned. "What's going on?" "I…" He hesitated, wished he was coordinated enough to kick himself, and then went on. "Listen, it's nothing. I'm sorry I called so late. I probably woke you up." He scrubbed his free hand through his hair before going on. "You should go back to sleep." "Harm." Her voice suddenly sounded wide awake. "Talk to me." Silence descended again as she waited patiently and he struggled desperately to force his chaotic thoughts into something vaguely resembling intelligence. He cast about for a safe topic of conversation. "Have you noticed anything odd about the admiral lately?" "Admiral Chegwidden?" "Yeah." "Not really. He's been a little testy lately, but that's not unusual for him. Do you know something I don't know?" "No. It just seems like he's distracted – not really paying attention to what's going on in the office. And he's forever looking at the sports pages. That isn't like him." "He's always loved baseball." "Yes, but he didn't used to use it as an excuse for not doing JAG work." "When did he do that?" Harm smiled as he realized they were, for all intents and purposes, gossiping. It was a nice feeling. “He had Jen draft a press release during General Watson’s hearing. Apparently his solution to the world’s problems in the press release was for all of us to come together and work on bringing Major League baseball back to D.C.” The giggle that escaped from Mac surprised both of them. “You’re kidding. How did you find that out?” “I had to get a file from Jen, and she had just come from the admiral’s office when I found her. She looked a little bewildered, and when I asked why, she told me. Even she thinks he’s been acting odd lately.” Mac sighed. “Well, if things had gone differently, we’d be getting ready for his wedding shortly. He’s probably just working through things in his own way. He’ll be back to normal eventually.” Harm snorted. “Mac, when is anything ‘normal’ at JAG?” “It happens.” “Name one time.” Silence followed his challenge. “See?” “Harm, shut up. I’m thinking.” “’Shut up’? Fine.” He began humming the “Jeopardy!” theme. Loudly. Her response was rude, to the point, and probably anatomically impossible. He roared with laughter. “I knew it. ‘Normal’ for JAG is chaos and mayhem for everyone else. And we wouldn’t have it any other way.” Mac’s answering laughter was music to his ears. "Fine. Five points to you. And since we seem to have dropped into gossip mode, do you think Bud's going to be ok?" "What do you mean?" "He took the Smithfield investigation pretty hard." "I noticed that." Harm hesitated for a moment, thinking. "You know, Bud amazes me." "How so?" "Think about it. Do you remember what he was like when you first came to JAG?" Mac laughed again. "Sure do. As I recall, he had to be reminded of correct protocol for entering a car." Harm laughed with her. "Remember the look on his face? Priceless. Poor Bud." "Yeah, but you're right. Look at him now. He's got a wonderful marriage, two great kids… He's a lucky man." Her voice sounded wistful. "It hasn't been easy for him, though. Afghanistan took a lot out of him. Changed him." "It changed us, too." "I know." Harm felt a band tighten around his heart as he thought about it. "I really thought we might lose him that day." "I never knew that. You seemed so certain." "Pure denial, Mac. I couldn't imagine him not making it, so I refused to believe it was possible." "I think we were all a little guilty of that." "Maybe. Thank God we were right." "I'll say." Mac tried to lighten the conversational mood. "How dull would life be at JAG without Bud's antics?" "You mean you'd miss having poisonous snakes in the office?" She laughed. "Well, ok, there are certain things I wouldn't mind giving up." "What else wouldn't you want to give up at JAG, Mac?" His tone was teasing, but there was a serious undercurrent running through the question. As if sensing hidden landmines, Mac took a few moments to respond. “I wouldn’t want to give up the family we’ve formed over the years.” The waters were getting murky, and Harm hadn’t planned on having a deep conversation. Perhaps another time, but not tonight. Instead he chose to lighten the moment. “Me too, Mac. Dysfunctional as it is.” His words achieved their intended effect, as Mac chuckled. “At least we’re never bored.” The silence that ensued was, for the first time in months, comfortable between them. Their breathing and an occasional crackle of static kept the silence from being absolute. Finally, Harm couldn’t stop the yawn that escaped, and he smiled as Mac’s answering yawn made its way through the phone line. “Guess the day is catching up with me,” he said, suddenly feeling weariness washing over him like a wave. “Yeah, me too.” They were quiet again, like two teenagers who just can’t hang up the phone and say goodnight, even though they’d see each other the next morning. “Mac?” “Yes?” “Thanks for… For talking.” “Anytime, Harm. I mean that.” Harm shifted against his pillows; loathe to hang up, even though they’d both be asleep shortly if they didn’t say good night. Apparently, Mac was thinking the same thing. “Harm?” “Yeah?” Her giggle gave away her state of exhaustion, as Mac was not normally a giggler. “Harm, we need to hang up and go to bed.” His flyboy grin lit up his face. “I know. Good night, Ninja Girl.” The almost-forgotten nickname was a warm reminder of the friendship they were both apparently now trying to mend. “Good night, Flyboy. Pleasant dreams.” “You too.” Mac hung up, and placed the handset back in the charger on her night stand. She stared at it thoughtfully for a minute. Where had that come from? Her relationship with Harm had been…uneasy at best since that ill fated trip to Paraguay. Now he was suddenly calling her in the middle of the night 'just because?' It didn't make sense. Warmth flooded through her and she smiled to herself as she remembered the way his deep laughter had made her spine tingle. No matter how bad things got between them, the deep timbre of his voice never failed to have an effect on her nervous system, and Mac shook her head ruefully. Who was she kidding? Sure, things had been rocky between her and Harm lately, but honesty forced her to admit that, while Harm had been guilty of strewing a lot of rocks in their path, she had managed to place a few boulders of her own along the way. She curled on her side, and snuggled her favorite pillow close against her chest. As she drifted off to sleep, one last honest thought fought its way out of her subconscious, drifting almost soundlessly into the darkness of the night. "God, I love that man."
***** The End *****
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