Narrator: But we do have to give them a campfire so that they can cook whatever they catch. And they are going to have to go hunting, or designate someone as the main hunter.
Meg: I’ll go tend the garden.
Phil: And I’ll go pet the fish…
Keeter: Good for you, Phil.
Narrator: so...Meg would harvest the apple tree and the lettuce plant and hopefully the deer wouldn’t go after the lettuce plant while they were asleep because if they lose that lettuce plant, life is really going to suck for them.
The rest of them would go and fish for their dinner. It’s now 12:08 PM in Hidden Springs and Meg will make her way to the bookstore to get 7 copies of the handiness skill book as well as the same number of the inventing skill book. Mainly because they all have to get those skills up before they can do anything regarding putting up any form of shelter.
Meg: Y’know, it would be a lot easier for me to just take a taxi.
Narrator: Look at it this way, you’re saving money.
Meg: With §17,500,000...we have to save MONEY?
Narrator: And you see, when everyone is forced to walk or run, you get to meet people that way. See how many people are getting out and getting some exercise?
Meg: You’re a sadist.
Narrator: You say that like it’s a bad thing. Now Meg ran back and had to fish for her dinner that night so she didn’t waste any time. Keeter now has two anchovy and two sea sludges and a red herring. He’s also got a opportunity to sell three fish for money. If he sells the anchovy and the red herring, he’s gonna really have fun because last I knew, sea sludges aren’t edible. Even if they were, they eat from garbage left on the bottom of the sea bed.
Keeter: Ugh...really?
Narrator: Yeah, really. You mean you weren’t paying attention in Gr. 10 Biology class?
Keeter: No, not really...you see there were a lot of hot babes in high-school.
Meg (fishing): OMG...this is absolutely boring.
Narrator: It’s 3:29 in the afternoon, I would have thought you’d caught something by now.
Meg (sarcastically): ...other than an extremely fatal case of boredom?
Harm (trying to be helpful): I’ll share my fish with you, Meg. I’ve got plenty.
Meg: You don’t have to, Harm.
Mac (sarcastically): Yeah, I’m sure that’s not the ONLY thing you want to share with her.
Narrator (pulls up a chair and eats popcorn): Oooh, this is going to get interesting.
Hi everyone! I haven’t really been inspired to write a Harm/Mac ficlet in a while - I was hoping that the appearance on NCIS: LA might inspire me, but it didn’t. Then @choosingyou and I started talking about Harm working as a crop duster and how we needed more Harm and Keeter on the show - and this little ficlet happened. It actually has nothing to do with Harm’s time as a crop duster on the show - it’s completely AU! @choosingyou, this ficlet is for you - thank you for the ideas!!
Just as the sun began to sink below the horizon, an elderly woman leaned against a cane on the front porch of her old farmhouse, watching two youthful figures make their way along the winding dirt path that led from the barn.
The work never ends on a farm, Sarah Rabb mused, so it certainly doesn't hurt to have some help.
Her grandson’s lean, six-foot-four frame was easy to spot. Harmon Rabb, Junior, wore faded jeans and a white tank top with his favorite leather flight jacket slung casually over his shoulder. His friend, Jack Keeter, nearly matched him in height, but Jack had a bulkier figure that filled out his own well-worn jeans and T-shirt. Both men were sweaty and well-tanned from spending time in the summer sun, looking more like a pair of country farmhands than U.S. Navy fighter pilots.
Harm and Jack were both spending their summer leave on the farm, helping Sarah with the chores and crop dusting in Harm's prized Stearman. The little yellow biplane had belonged to his father, and Harm had taken extreme care to restore its condition and add a crop dusting mechanism so it could be used on the farm. He had spent so many hours working on the plane out in the barn that Sarah had finally started calling it an airplane hangar.
“Did you boys finish that corn field on the far edge of the farm?” Sarah called out as Harm and Jack approached the porch.
“Sorry, Grandma,” Harm said. “We didn’t make it there before the sun went down.”
Sarah eyed her grandson suspiciously. “I see,” she said. “Too busy flying those fancy stunts over the MacKenzie cow farm?”
Harm cringed guiltily. “You saw that, Grandma?”
“I didn’t need to see it,” Sarah informed him. “Joe MacKenzie’s cows were making such a ruckus that I could have heard them in the next county over.” She sighed heavily. “Well, it's getting too dark for you to fly now. You'll have to get to it after the sun comes up tomorrow. Why don't you boys come on inside? Dinner is just about ready.”
**********
“Nothing like downing a cold beer after a long day’s work on the farm,” Jack declared, taking a long swig of his frothy drink and reclining lazily in one of the chairs on the porch.
After a hearty dinner, Sarah had retired for the evening, leaving her grandson and his friend to share a drink and relax on the porch as the harsh heat of the summer day finally cooled down.
"You know it," Harm agreed, clinking his bottle against his friend's. "Crop dusting is a real glamorous business."
"Well, you just need to put some missiles on that Stearman and pretty soon they’ll be asking you to land it on a carrier next to the Tomcats."
Harm rolled his eyes and took a sip of beer. "I told you, Keeter, I'm done flying for the Navy.”
“So now what? You're just gonna dust crops for the rest of your life? I don't buy it,” Keeter said, shaking his head. “That ain’t you, Harm. Your grandma says you just got accepted to law school. You ever decide if you’re going or not?”
But Harm didn’t get a chance to reply as their conversation was interrupted by the loud rumbling of a truck engine and the sound of tires crunching on gravel. In the fading twilight, Harm had to squint a little, but he quickly recognized the rickety old truck sputtering up the driveway.
"Mac?”
Harm was surprised to see the pretty brunette jump out of the truck and hurriedly pull on a baggy sweatshirt over her dusty blue coveralls. Sarah MacKenzie ran the cow farm next door with her father, and she and Harm had known each other for years. As Keeter so bluntly put it, Harm had ‘fallen hard and fast for the girl next door.’
Mac gave Harm a warm smile. "Hey, Harm. Welcome back to the farm. Sorry I'm so late with your grandma’s milk delivery. Hello, Jack."
Keeter’s eyes brightened. "Well, what do you know? The little lady remembers me.”
Mac laughed. "Now how could I forget the guy who dumped me in the cow trough last time he was here?"
"Jack Keeter would never do such a thing," he swore solemnly. "That was all Rabb...oof!” Jack let out a loud grunt as Harm punched him solidly in the arm.
Harm set his beer on the step and hopped off the porch to help Mac bring in the milk. "So how have you been, Mac?”
“Busy,” Mac replied. “My father got a few new cows last week, but they're not producing any milk. I think they're terrified by the new crop duster who’s been buzzing their pasture. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
The knowing smile and the mischievous twinkle in her eye instantly kept Harm from making up any excuse. Mac simply knew him too well. Instead he just flashed her an innocent grin and reached for one of the milk crates, accidentally bumping into her arm.
“Ouch!” Mac gasped and jumped back, clutching her arm and grimacing in pain.
“Mac, are you okay?”
When it took her more than a moment to catch her breath, Harm quickly reached for her arm, pulling up the sleeve of her sweatshirt until he found a dark purple bruise with an ugly yellow tinge developing around the edges.
Mac immediately yanked her arm away and pulled her sleeve down. "I'm fine, Harm."
“That bruise doesn't look fine, Mac,” he argued. “Did your father do that to you?”
He expected her sharp tongue to fire another nasty retort back at him, but she surprised him when she just shrugged silently and turned away, refusing to meet his eyes.
It was no secret in town that Mac’s mother had abandoned the family years ago due to her husband's heavy drinking and abusive behavior. Although the authorities could never prove that Joe MacKenzie inflicted the same abuse on his daughter, Harm had always suspected it – and feared it.
"Mac..."
"Let it go, Harm."
Mac’s tone was flat, and her brown eyes clouded over with sadness as she snatched the milk crate from his hands. She made her way up the steps and into the farmhouse, letting the door slam in Harm’s face behind her.
**********
The last trace of daylight was completely gone by the time Mac emerged from the house, but even in the dark, she could recognize the silhouette of a familiar figure sitting on the porch steps.
“You’re waiting for me,” she said accusingly. “What happened to Keeter?”
“I sent him down to fix the plane so it’s not as loud next time we fly over the cows.”
Mac scoffed. “Something tells me the problem has more to do with the pilots and less to do with the plane.”
“It’s possible.”
Mac could just picture the smug look on his face, and she could feel her lips starting to form a smile. There was just no way to ever take the fighter pilot out of him. And when he made her smile like that, she couldn’t stay mad at him for long. Finally relenting, she lowered herself onto the porch steps next to him and leaned in to give him a gentle nudge with her shoulder.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Hi.”
“How’s the crop dusting business?” she asked.
“Not bad considering my career as a naval aviator is over,” Harm admitted.
He didn’t have a response for her, and they were quiet for a few minutes, both lost in their thoughts while enjoying each other’s company underneath the stars. When Harm reached over and gently ran his fingers up and down her arm, tracing the jagged purple bruise, Mac sighed just a little, deciding that she liked the pleasure that coursed through her arm at Harm’s touch rather than the searing pain that had shot through it when her father had twisted it so violently.
“I’m going to law school in the fall, and I want you to come with me, Mac.” Harm broke the silence in one rushed breath. “We’ll get as far away from here as we can and get away from your father. Make a life somewhere else. There has to be more to life out there than crop dusting and cow farming for you...” He took a deep breath and then added softly, “...for us.”
Harm threaded his fingers through hers and caressed her palm with his thumb, feeling his heart beat a little faster as Mac squeezed his hand and rested her head against his shoulder.
She didn't say anything for a long time, and the nerves were beginning to knot inside Harm’s stomach when he felt her pull back just enough to gaze at him with wondering eyes. "Every time I think the pieces of my life are jumbled beyond repair," she said, "you always show up to put them back together. Will you always be there?”
“Yes.”
There was no hesitation in his answer, but Mac still sighed a little sadly. “Harm, don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” she warned.
But Harm’s resolve didn’t waver and his reply was strong and sure.
Narrator: Here’s a 64x63 lot out in the middle of nowhere on the outskirts of Hidden Springs.
It’s nice sunny day and Admiral Tosh Nakamura is standing in the middle of the lot wearing a flightsuit and chaps (a g-suit).
Hopefully it makes sense to somebody, because it sure as hell doesn’t to me. Having finished up their term of service in the United States Navy, he’s decided that he’s going to settle down here and earn some money in order to live comfortably for the rest of his existence. Considering the fact that he’s done his forty years of service, he pretty much can’t get called up again.
Evidently he won’t be alone either.
Vice-Admiral Meg Austin, former Judge Advocate General is now retired after thirty years of naval service and she’s decided that she’s going to take some time and spend it with friends while she figures out what she’s going to do with the rest of her life. Does nobody figure this stuff out while they’re in the service?
Accompanying her are Captain Kimber Benton with twenty years in (who is still subject to call-up), Lieutenant Colonel Sarah “Mac” Mackenzie, Captain Harmon Rabb Jr. Lieutenant Commander Jack Keeter and Commander Phil Burrows. Yes, it’s an odd-numbered situation, but well, Phil’s nuts. That pretty much explains everything he does.
It should be fine as long as he’s not haranguing the commode. But one thing I still want to know is: Who the hell decided to let him in the cockpit of an F-14 Tomcat?
The Watcher has given them pretty much nothing other than five apple trees and a lettuce plant. Yeah, that’s going to really help them out. And they’d better nurse that lettuce plant because if it gets eaten by deer, they’re not getting another one.
But thank goodness for the Navy and their pension. They will receive the equivalent of §2.5M each for their separation and they will receive §18,500 a month for the rest of their lives, which means §55,500 a season. That should be enough to get them started. But the only thing is that they can’t build their house without getting good at being handy around the house. Frankly gaining the handyman and inventing skills is the only way they can start building and the inventing work table. That means that for every wall section they create they have to have at least a Level 2 skill level and unfortunately it would have to be one section a day, no matter how much money they have. If they have mastered the handyman and inventing skills, then they will be able to complete a room in a week, which means that they will have to all work together at getting this done. Each of them will have to learn how to become handy and invent things. Nope, it’s not going to be easy.
But where will they sleep? How will they eat?
I guess they’re going to have to pick a spot on the ground...and if it rains, it’s going to be miserable. C’est la vie.
ADM Nakamura: My back is going to hate me in the mornings.
Watcher: Looks like he finally got out of that flight gear. That's half your problem, Admiral, 50 pounds of flight gear on your torso's bound to make your back ache.
CAPT Benton: What exactly did I get myself into?
LCOL Mackenzie: I don’t know how I’m going to work this around, but I know Harm’s to blame for this.
CAPT Rabb: I’m so dead.
CDR Burrows: Oooh...I can go fishing, and biking and…
LCDR Keeter: Oh, man, I stepped in it...now. This is not going to be comfortable even with Meg around.
VADM Austin: Texans are supposed to be tough, but camping out in a temperate rainforest isn’t one of them. The temp is going to get down to 42 at night. This is going to be miserable.
