Wings of the Morning

Chapter 5

Disclaimers: I don’t own any of the JAG characters; I don’t own any product or label mentioned for the purposes of telling this story.

Spoilers: Anything up to and including A Tangled Webb II in Season Nine.

A/N: Many thanks to Jaggiegold for proofreading for me and for her kind words of encouragement.

0515

Monday

June 6, 2003

Harm’s Apartment

North of Union Station

The sun was just beginning to rise, filtering diffuse light into the room. The light caused Harm to wake long enough to sense Mac’s sleeping warmth beside him, and immediately he turned toward it. She was lying on her back, her arms resting above her head, the sheet wrapped loosely around her.

He opened his eyes only slightly and turned to her, sliding down just low enough to rest his head in her middle. Mac woke and smiled drowsily, cradling his head in her arms as she wove her fingers into his thick and shortly cropped hair.

“G’ morning, Sailor”

“Mmm…g’mmng.” His ‘good morning’ was barely discernable, as he willed himself to slip back into the deep and comfortable sleep that he’d enjoyed all night.

It was not to be though, Mac’s voice, full of common sense and gentle authority, pulled him out of his slumber.

“Come on, Harm….We should probably get up, even if it is early.”

Harm cuddled in further, making Mac laugh softly.

“Nah...not yet” She was going to have to work a lot harder than that, to get him out of bed.

“Jet lagged?”

“Unh uh…jus’ like it here.” He was to trying to make this time last as long as possible so he drew a contented sigh, just for effect.

Mac smiled and kissed the top of his head.

“We did get to bed early. Maybe still have enough time to go out to breakfast…or get a run in.”

Harm grinned slyly, “Yeah, we did go to bed early at that, didn’t we?” He lifted his head and looked at her through sleepy eyes. “It was nice to find you here, I thought since I got home so early in the afternoon that…you might not be waiting….here.”

Mac frowned but in a teasing voice asked, “So…my presence was…unexpected?”

Harm rolled onto his side and rested his head on his hand, “Let’s just say…it was a very pleasant surprise.”

“You know the old adage, Harm, ‘Early to bed….” And then, too late Mac remembered the rest of the saying and thought better of finishing her thought aloud, only to find it was too late.

Harm’s face reflected feigned curiosity. “What was the rest of that Mackenzie?”

Mac laughed and started to get out of bed, “Make me breakfast, Harmon.”

He stealthily slipped his arms around her waist before she escaped him. “What is the rest of it?” His voice took on a deep and sensual tone as he gently pushed her back onto the bed, “Tell me….I forgot.”

“Early to rise….” Mac was already drawn back into his seductive game as she watched his face from beneath him, waiting.

“Makes a man,” he kissed her.

When she came up for air, Mac continued the game as she reached for him, lacing her fingers into the soft short hair at the back of his neck, she whispered in his ear. “Mmm...healthy”

“Wealthy,” he countered.

“And… wise.” She spoke the words just before he kissed her deeply this time and when he broke his kiss, the words he murmured in her ear were, at once, sweet and sexy, immediately making Mac forget anything but being there with him, in that moment..

Sometime later….

Harm lay on his back with Mac turned into his arms, his fingers making lazy circles at the base of her spine.

“We really should get going Harm.”

“I know...15 more minutes…never enough time….for this.” He pulled her more tightly to him. Who knew what kind of assignment they’d both be given this week? Chances were, as they had been since the Admiral was made aware of their relationship, they would be as far away from each other as could be arranged.

Mac was quiet for a moment then finally decided to ask him about his visit with his mother.

“Do you mind my asking…. were you able to settle things…. with your Mom?”

“No…you can ask. She, uh… still doesn’t want to give me the letters.”

“But you only need the envelopes, not the letters themselves.”

Harm lowered his voice as though he didn’t quite understand what he was about to tell her. “She doesn’t believe Sergei is my brother, Mac. She doesn’t want to give up anything, even the envelopes, which is really all we need for DNA. She resents this…. a lot more than I thought.”

Mac rose up on one elbow and looked at him, surprised at what Harm had said.

“I’m sure she feels conflicted about it, to say the least….but I have to say, I didn’t expect that. Are you okay?”

Deep in thought, Harm traced the tip of his finger on her forearm where it rested across his chest.

“Yeah, I’m okay….I’m not really sure about my Mom though, I didn’t expect her reaction at all; we talked about it…right after I spoke with you and she did give me something. She gave me a lock of his hair, from when he was about 2 years old. It turns out my grandmother gave it to her, for safekeeping until I…uh, settled down. We were getting along okay before I left… but this hurt her, Mac….a lot more than I realized.”

“But the lock of hair may not reveal anything Harm. If the lock of hair was cut…”

“I know, I didn’t argue the point with her; she was more upset than I have seen her in a long time. It was a peace offering, and I took it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her quite this way…about anything. Even speaking about Sergei really made her angry...I don’t think I’m ever going to bring the subject up again.

“I’m going to give Terry Coulter a call tomorrow, if she’s still in country; maybe some of the strands include the root and we can get enough of Dad’s DNA to verify Sergei’s parentage. . . If I can’t contact Terry, I may give forensics at NCIS a call.” He looked down at her, with an expression of pain now so familiar to her. “It’s all I can do.”

Unable to find the words to comfort him, Mac reached up to caress his cheek.

He looked into her eyes. “I don’t think I ever really understood what they lost when my dad went MIA, I mean, aside from the obvious. They were close, Mac, really close.” He grasped her wrist and turned his head into her palm and kissed it.…"like us.”

Mac was slightly taken aback. She always saw the relationship she had with Harm, as rare and special…but she hadn’t thought of them as being closer than a married couple. She lay back down and snuggled close into him. His acknowledgement of what they had warmed her heart, but at the same time, it was still a little overwhelming.

Harm sensed how she was feeling and was self conscious for a moment, “I mean, they were friends…too. That isn’t always true, when people are married…I mean.”

Mac smiled secretly at his ability to read her and said, “I know what you mean. Not having you…in my life… ever again… would be a nightmare.”

Harm glanced down at her relieved to know she felt the same way he did. He placed his hand over hers. “It would.”

At that same moment…

Burnett residence

La Jolla, California

Trish walked through the darkened house. It had to be after 3 am, but she didn’t need or even want the light. She’d found the box of letters, she’d known exactly where they were. Other than the dim lights she kept on in her kitchen, the house was in total darkness. Somehow, tonight, the darkness calmed her, comforted her. Whereas, the light, would be harsh and make her thoughts too painful…too real.

Harm’s visit still weighed heavily on her mind, since he’d left for Washington. His visit made her mind turn toward a box she had hidden away, the box she had just carried into her dining room. A box of letters from Harmon, a box she hadn’t opened since she married Frank. In all the moves she had made, since Harmon was MIA, in all the changes that took place from that time, until now, the box remained with her and since her marriage to Frank

She had never opened it.

No matter how many things she had to keep track of and catalogue in her mind, all the little details of the Gallery, the everyday things that were her life as she knew it…the location of that box was always clear. Special care was always taken that it never be lost, though any observer watching her would never have known her concern.

She never spoke of it to anyone.

Trish carried the box into her darkened dining room and sat down at one of the chairs. The light from her kitchen was reflecting on its polished surface providing a little light of its own. She sat with the box of letters on the table in front of her. She had gone to bed at her usual time, and had been unable to sleep all night. She could only lay on her back...staring at the ceiling for hours after Frank had fallen asleep. Dear Frank…dear, patient, steadfast and loving, Frank. She did love him too, but her heart would always be divided, and for the first time since she married him, she decided to stop denying that simple fact, to herself, at least. It was then she decided, she had to see them…the letters…to open the box and look at the letters…the lifeline…she had kept hidden away all these years.

Now Trish looked down at the box, her hands trembling as she started to lift the lid. She stopped herself and placed her hands on both sides of the box. She shook her head, mentally admonishing herself. What did she think would happen? Would the ghost of Harmon Rabb rise out of the box and haunt her without mercy?

“No need to worry about that,” she said aloud. Harmon was always with her on one level or another…she would accept it now. Maybe accepting it would make it all easier to bear; God knew she’d tried everything else. No matter how many years passed, something always brought Harmon back to her and when that happened, the pain of his loss was still something she couldn’t deny.

She ran her finger over the tops of the letters, pulling them back just enough to see the postmark. She smiled to herself, thinking that she could probably look at the dates of each letter and recite every word on the page. She was glad the room was darkened just now. Opening the box had been enough; she couldn’t open the letters, because if she did, she would hear his voice, ringing clear, loving and true inside her head. She didn’t have the strength for that tonight. After Harmon was MIA and before she’d married Frank, she had read them until they had nearly fallen apart, even now she wondered if just taking the letters out of the envelopes would leave them in pieces. She hoped Harm understood that she couldn’t let them go, not even the envelopes. She would have had to open the box, and take out his letters…how insane did that sound?

Thinking about it now… Harm’s request sounded so off the cuff and casual to her, he’d never understand, but it was as though he’d asked for his father’s ashes. She hoped he understood…she hadn’t expressed it well. Trish began to rub her temples and then she scoffed aloud… “Understand?…I don’t even understand.”

She removed the lid of the box and looked at the letters. The box was full, front to back and Trish had organized the letters, from Harmon’s first letter to her while he was in the Academy until the very last letter she ever received from him. The later letters were shorter, full of inconsequentials; he saved the best of his thoughts to her, when his letter tapes. The tapes she had given Harm, all but one. She questioned the wisdom of that decision, again…but it didn’t matter anymore, it was too late. The dye was cast. Harmon was almost too real to his son, so real that Harm had spent most of his life, living with this all consuming need to find his father.

Suddenly Trish felt an overwhelming regret and helplessness. It seemed all the things she tried to do to help Harm, to make the loss of his father easier, all the things she had tried to do in the past when he was a child to protect him, had the opposite effect. His desire to find his father had driven him most of his life, making him risk his life over and over, searching for answers to questions that would never be answered.

She looked down at the box of letters again. They were their letters; hers and Harmon’s. No passage of time and no circumstance would ever change what they were to each other.

She spoke her thoughts aloud, “I can’t do it…I’m sorry, son…I just can’t.”

Trish suddenly felt so tired she could barely hold her head up. She flattened her palms on the surface of the table on each side of the box and then slid them forward, placing her arms around them gently. Slowly, she lowered her head and rested it on the open box of letters, and as she slipped into the sleep that had evaded her all night, she whispered a prayer.

Dear God…whatever comes of this…please… give my son…peace.

Give us both…peace.

Monday

June 6, 2003

0915

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, Virginia

Staff call was just winding down, with Harm and Mac being given their assignments. His case looked pretty interesting. NCIS had been called in to investigate the murder of a Navy reservist, Petty Officer 1^st Class Bartley Collins. Petty Officer 2^nd Class Petit, also a reservist was charged with his murder. Bud was prosecuting and he would defend. A task he didn’t relish, at all. There were extenuating circumstances. Those circumstances being that Petty Officer Petit had also been found to be fraudulently wearing awards he had not earned. NCIS believed PO Collins knew about it and that he killed PO Collins to silence him.

Harm glanced across the table at Bud, suddenly envious of his assignment to prosecute.

Before dismissing everyone the Admiral told them he had an announcement to make.

“As some of you may be aware, I have been considering retiring for some time. Officially effective 31 May, I notified the CNO that I intend to retire from my position here at JAG and from the Navy.” Most of the officers at the conference table sat in stunned silence. “Before any of you begin plans to celebrate, understand it will most likely be six months to a year before I transition out and my replacement can be appointed.”

Harriet was unable to keep still. “Oh, sir…we’re not going to...”

The Admiral looked her, an easy smile on his face. “I understand Lieutenant…I wasn’t speaking about all of you.” For reasons he wasn’t even sure of, he glanced at Harm.

Harm started to give a protest of his own when the Admiral dismissed them all. “You have your assignments people…dismissed.”

The Admiral was up and out of the room in what seemed like seconds. Harm was still standing where he had stood at attention, as everyone else began filing out of the room. Mac looked back at him curiously as she started to walk out of the room.

“Harm?”

“Does he really think I’m going to celebrate?”

Mac chuckled softly, “Harm….I’m sure it was just a joke.”

Harm caught up with Mac and opened the conference room door, and as she preceded him out, she couldn’t resist teasing him, “But remember…you are the son he never wanted.”

“Funny, Marine.”

“That’s ‘your honor’ to you, Commander.” Mac would be on the bench for 6 weeks, filling in for Judge Helfman, while she was on extended leave.

Harm was glad he hadn’t been chosen to go to the judiciary. He really was the hunter- gatherer type, and Mac had laughingly agreed when he told her about it.

“When do you report to Admiral Morris?”

“Ten hundred.”

“Catch up with me before you leave?”

“Buy me dinner...and I’ll think about it,” tossing the comment over her shoulder as she sauntered into her office.

That same day…

0630(Pacific time)

Burnett Residence

La Jolla, California

Frank Burnett woke to find his wife’s side of the bed empty. He went in search of her, vaguely concerned, when the house was still and quiet. He walked into their kitchen, thinking that he’d find her there, but only found it empty. Just when he was beginning to feel anxious about her, he walked into the dining room and found his wife, with her head resting on an open box of letters. He’d known she’d been upset since Harm’s visit and though he’d never seen this box of letters before, he knew they were from Harm’s father.

He placed his hand on her back, wanting to comfort her, hoping she would finally allow him to, when it came to this.

“Trish,” he whispered softly.

She startled and seemed disoriented for a moment. “Oh…Frank....I’m…”She looked down at the box of letters and suddenly felt as though she’d betrayed him. “I’m sorry…I...”

“It alright Trish…it’s been a difficult few days for you.”

“No, it’s not alright.” She replaced the lid on the box. “This is terrible. I’ll put these away; I really didn’t open any of them. I just….I don’t know…why I even…I shouldn’t have taken these out. I swear to you, Frank…since we were married…I never opened this box…not once.” She stood quickly, slightly off balance, but Frank caught her and gently guided her back to her chair.

“I know. Please, Trish…stop. Sit down and talk to me about this.” His voice even and patient, putting her at ease, as it always did.

His kindness to her made her feel even guiltier about having reached back into her past to try to reconnect with her first husband. “I love you Frank…you have to know I do.”

“I do know, I believe you, darling…please don’t upset yourself over this. I know you love me. I’m just not Harmon Rabb….I never even served in the military…I’m not like him at all.”

Trish clasped his hand in both of hers. “I never wanted you to be; I don’t know if I can explain so that you will understand, but if you had been… like him….I couldn’t have loved you…..I’d still have been….”

Frank finished her sentence, “thinking of him.”

“I’ve tried so hard to be a good wife to you. You have been so kind to me, I wanted to put Harmon behind me.”

Frank sat down next to her and pushed her tousled hair back from her face. “May I tell you something?”

Trish nodded.

“When you and I first began to see each other, besides feeling like the luckiest man on earth, I loved the way you confided in me. You talked to me about everything, every concern…even the loss you felt where Harm’s father was concerned. Your trust in me meant everything.”

“I do trust you, darling…I always have.” She implored him, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

“But after we married you stopped confiding in me…stopped leaning on me when you needed to.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was anything but happy and, Frank, and I was….”

“Most of the time.” He finished her sentence for her. “I know you too well, my darling.”

“I didn’t think it was fair…I felt as though I was failing you.” She looked down at her hands, still clasping his.

“Trish, I never expected you to forget your first husband ever existed. I can’t say I would have wanted to talk about him every day…” Frank tried to smile and lighten Trish’s mood and somehow…her heart.

She smiled and shook her head. “I didn’t need to every day…I really have been happy; we’ve had and still have, a wonderful life together.”

Frank leaned in and kissed her lightly. “I’m so glad you feel that way…but dearest...please, talk to me. What has you so troubled that you can’t sleep?”

Trish told him about the details of Harm’s visit, that she’d gotten angry with him and that truthfully, she still was angry with him. Frank was well aware of Sergei’s existence. The week she’d found out about him, Trish had been more distant with him than she’d ever been. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she’d acted as though nothing had changed and never spoke of Sergei again.

“Harm’s visit brought it all back?”

“Yes…he wants his fathers letters, the envelopes really…for the DNA.”

“And you refused?”

She was unable to meet his gaze when she nodded in the affirmative.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t believe it…I’d never told him so, in the past, when he told me what he believed about him. I don’t know why I didn’t tell him. I think I was so stunned when he told me…I just reacted.”

“The DNA test can only prove what you believe, Trish.”

“I can’t do it, Frank.” Her voice was quiet, but her resolve was firm.

“Alright…I’m not going to press the issue; the letters are yours, darling…but, can you at least help me understand…why?”

Trish suddenly felt tears start…sharp in her eyes. She drew a deep breath, trying to keep them at bay. “Because…if that’s true…he was alive…when I believed he was dead….and if that’s true…I can’t bear it.” Ashamed, she still could not hold his gaze. “If he was held prisoner in Russia…then he was alive when I married you….I betrayed him…I betrayed Harm….and even you.” She began to cry in earnest now, turning away from him, covering her face with her hands.

Frank took her into his arms and pulled her close to him. “Darling…. darling…there is no way you could have known….you didn’t create the situation you and Harmon were in, please stop tormenting yourself about things you have no control over.”

All of Trish’s fears came pouring out. Every emotion Harm’s visit had brought to the fore came rushing out. “I’m afraid I did everything wrong.…I shouldn’t have let Harm have the letter tapes…his father was too real to him. He couldn’t let him go, he still can’t.”

She drew a deep breath.

“It’s ruining his life. He nearly ruined his career, trying to protect Sergei… and it’s all my fault.”

“Trish…”

She wiped the tears from her face and tried to calm herself. “I’m being silly about this…I know.”

“No, you’re not, it’s just something you’ve held inside for a long time….I’m so glad you told me.”

“I love you, Frank. I don’t know what I would be without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out.” He stood and gently helped her up. “Come on…let’s get you to bed.”

They walked arm in arm out of the dining room and upstairs to their bedroom. “I really do feel tired. I’m glad I talked to you about this...I feel so much better.”

Frank helped her into bed and kissed her. “Get some sleep, darling…we’ll have a late breakfast together.”

Trish did sleep, better than she had in some time. She lay down in her bed and in spite of all that had happened in the last 24 hours, her heart felt lighter. Instead of feeling wracked with guilt….she felt humbled by Frank’s love and patience…and then unbidden, the thought came to her. Even though she’d survived some terrible difficulties in her life…

At this moment….she felt blessed.

TBC

A/N: I am delving deeper into Trish and Harmon’s story, because I have always been in love with their love story, too. Harm and Mac are at the center of this story, but as I’ve said before, I’m fleshing them out a bit.