Chapter Text
Rating: PG-13 (no smut, just romance- sorry! LOL!)
Timeframe: Totally AU - Sequel to "Second Chances" - begins 5 months after the end of that story
Disclaimer: I don't own the JAG characters. Don't have any money, either, so please don't sue me. I promise to return them relatively unscathed in due time. Any non-JAG characters are mine.
Disclaimer2: These characters are fictional, and don't have to worry about AIDS or any of the STDs out there that can be really nasty in real life. In real life, *please* practice safe sex and to take responsibility for your own actions. Don't do the things that these fictional characters do.
Archiving: Archived at Slashfanfiction.com, jagslash@yahoogroups.com and menofjagslash@yahoogroups.com. Anywhere else: Ask first. I'll probably say yes, but I really like to know where my stories end up.
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Mac looked up from where she and Mattie were stringing cranberries and popcorn for the tree as Clay came down the stairs carrying a battered looking cardboard box. "You need some help?" she offered.
"No, thanks," he said, entering the living room and placing the box on the coffee table. "Found it in the attic. I *think* its Christmas decorations. There are a couple of light bulbs out up there that need replaced," he explained, putting a hand to the small of his back and groaning. "I'm getting told old to be digging around in attics."
"I offered," Mattie reminded him, putting the string of popcorn she was working on down to inspect the contents of the box.
"And Harm said that he didn't want you up there until he gets the flooring repaired," Clay reminded the girl. "He's right. It's in bad shape."
"When's Harm due back, anyway?" Mac wondered, glancing toward the doorway. "It's 3:37," she told Clay as he lifted his arm to look at his watch.
Clay's eyes narrowed. "How *do* you do that?"
Mac shrugged, smiling. "Something I was born with," she told him as Mattie lifted a crystal angel trimmed with gold out of the box and stood staring at it. "You okay, Mattie?" she asked.
Mattie nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Mom got this last year after Christmas," she explained. "At an after Christmas sale at Donovan's."
Clay put his arm around the girl, comforting her. "We'll put it on the tree first," he promised.
"That's a good idea," Mac agreed, frowning again as she looked at the door. "Didn't Harm say that they'd be finished by 2?"
Nodding, Clay released Mattie and went to the telephone, picking it up to dial Harm's cell phone. "I'm sure he's fine. You know Harm always late. But I'll call and see -" But before he finished dialing, they all heard the sound of Harm's SUV pulling into the driveway. "Speaking of the devil -"
Mattie was out of the door first, throwing her arms around Harm before he was halfway across the yard, almost knocking him over. "Thank goodness you're home," she said, still sniffling a little.
"Hey. I'm sorry. Things took a little longer to resolve than we thought they would. And then I had some Christmas shopping to finish up -" he looked up to see Mac and Clay standing on the porch. "Everything okay?" he asked.
"You could have called," Clay pointed out.
"Battery went dead on my cell," he explained. "That's another reason I stopped. To get a new charger," he said as they all went inside. Giving Mattie's shoulders an affectionate squeeze, he looked into her face and told her, "I could use something to drink."
"Tea?" she asked.
"Hot coffee," he decided, removing his coat as he went to the fireplace. "I think it's getting colder out there." Pausing as he passed Clay, he gave the man a kiss on the lips, sighing as he saw those hazel eyes were still accusing. "I'm sorry. Next time I'll stop and find a pay phone." Resting his forehead against Clay's he asked, "Forgive me?"
"I shouldn't," Clay said, shaking head. "But I will."
"How did it go in town?" Mac asked, stringing cranberries again.
"AJ and Lydia settled with all four plaintiffs. No admission of wrongdoing, but they still have the fines to deal with."
"I heard from some sources in town that he's laid off most of his staff," Clay told them.
Harm nodded as Mattie brought a cup of coffee in for him. "Lydia's idea. She's keeping AJ on a *very* tight rein these days."
"It's about time," Mac said. "The man's a menace."
Harm watched as Mattie went to the box on the coffee table and pulled out a glass ornament. Catching Clay and Mac's looks, he understood Mattie's emotional state upon his late return. "What's that, Mattie?" he asked, moving to sit down on the sofa.
"Something Mom bought last January," she explained. "Clay found this box of ornaments in the attic."
"Which reminds me," Clay noted, looking directly at Harm, "you're right about the flooring up there." Harm noticed something else in his expression, and frowned with concern, but Clay shook his head. "I'm fine. But it needs repaired."
"I'll take care of it after Christmas," Harm nodded as he joined Mattie. Clay wasn't very handy with a hammer and nails, he'd discovered, but he more than made up for it in other areas - such as cooking. He and Mattie began removing the ornaments from the box, finding a few that Mattie wanted to use, others that she said they could put back into the box for storage.
"I'll go check on dinner," Clay announced.
Watching him go, Harm told Mattie, "Keep out what you want to use. I'll take the rest of the things back upstairs later. I'm going to go talk to Clay for a minute. And get a refill," he said, lifting his almost empty cup.
Clay was standing in front of the stove, stirring something, when Harm entered the room. Slipping his arms around his lover's waist, he nuzzled Clay's neck, pressing his lips to the spot he knew would make Clay crazy. "I missed you."
Clay moaned softly, resting his back against Harm for a moment before turning his attention back to the contents of the pan. "Keep doing that," he warned, "and dinner will be late."
"What're you making?" Harm asked, his arms still around Clay.
"Don't worry. Even though Mattie and Mac begged, there's no red meat."
"Smells good," Harm said. "What was that look for out there a minute ago?"
"Harm, the attic floor isn't that bad. But I think I understand the reason you want Mattie to think it is. I found some packages up in the attic - already wrapped with Mattie's name on them."
Harm nodded. "I saw them a couple of months ago. Kate was one of those people who usually had her Christmas shopping finished by June."
"A couple of them have Ed's name on them. And some have yours and Mac's."
"Can you get Ed's to him? With your connections at Bradenhurst -" Harm suggested, and felt Clay take a deep breath. The action caused Harm to release him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just- I think maybe it might be good for Mattie to see him over the holidays," Clay finished quickly as Harm was already shaking his head.
"Clay, the man killed her mother. She doesn't want anything to do with him. He's a drunk -,"
"Who's been sober for six months and who really wants to see his daughter, from what I've heard. You might at least suggest the idea to her. He *is* her father."
"Biologically, maybe. But he never *acted* like her father," Harm insisted, taking a deep breath to keep his voice from reaching beyond the kitchen.
"It was just a suggestion," Clay nodded at last, turning back to the stove. "I'll get the packages to him."
"Let me talk to Mattie first," Harm said, going to refill his cup from the machine on the counter. "But if she refuses to consider it -"
"I'll go along with whatever decision she makes," Clay agreed. "Did Bud and Harriet agree to come for Christmas dinner?" he asked.
"With bells on," Harm said, grinning as he pinched some rice out of the dish Clay had put it in.
"Stop that," Clay said, slapping at Harm's hand. "So that makes eleven so far, with the three of us, Mac, Mother, Jen, Jason and the Roberts. We're going to need a larger table."
"Why not do it buffet style?" Harm suggested. "Put the food on the table in here, and everyone can eat in the living room or wherever they want."
"What about the kids?" Clay asked.
"We can sit Little Bud at the desk. Baby Elizabeth still too young to worry about."
"It might work," Clay nodded.
"Well, we have an entire week to figure something out," Harm reminded him. "How much longer til dinner's ready?"
"Five minutes," Clay answered.
"I'll go wash up, then," Harm decided, and this time stole a kiss before ducking out of the way, laughing.
Mac looked at the doorway upon hearing the sound, and smiled as she saw Harm going upstairs. "They're good for each other," Mattie said, seeing the direction of Mac's gaze.
"Yeah. It's been a long time since I've heard Harm laugh so much."
The telephone rang, but before Mac could answer it, someone picked up one of the extensions. A moment later, Clay came out of the kitchen. "Harm!" Something in his tone made Mac frown.
Harm appeared on the stairs. "I'm here."
"It's your mother," he said, holding the cordless phone out to Harm.
"My mother?" Harm questioned, taking the phone. "Mom? Is something wrong?" Clay remained where he was, as if he knew why Trish Rabb was calling. When he glanced in Mac's direction, her breath caught. "When? . . . What're the doctors saying?" Clay placed his hand on Harm's back in a comforting gesture as Mattie moved closer to Mac, sensing something bad from the tone of Harm's ragged voice. "Mom, I don't think that's a good idea . . . Has he asked for me?" Mattie's hand closed around Mac's. "Then I don't think - I can't. It would only upset him more to see me. Just - keep me informed, okay? I'll call you later -" he nodded, closing his eyes as he looked at Clay. "Love you. Bye." Clay took the telephone from Harm's hand, pulling the taller man into his arms.
Mattie joined her guardians, needing comfort as much as she wanted to give it. Encircling them both with her arms, she rested her head against their arms. Mac sat there, strangely enough not feeling left out at all. Those three were the family, and she was the favorite "aunt" that Mattie came to whenever she needed more mothering than either Harm or Clay could give - which wasn't often - or when she simply needed a little "girl time".
"What's wrong with him, Harm?" she asked when Clay and Mattie drew the still shaken man over to the sofa and sat down on either side of him.
"His heart," Harm said. "He had a major heart attack earlier today - the doctors don't expect him to last until Christmas."
"I'm sorry, Harm," Mac said, reaching across the space between them to touch his hand. "I now how difficult it can be. Are you going out there?"
"Mom wants me to, but - he hasn't asked for me - we haven't spoken for over twenty years."
"All the more reason why you *should* go," Clay pointed out in a gentle voice. "You can't leave things the way they are, Harm."
"Clay, you can't understand what it's like -"
"Maybe he can't," Mac said firmly, cutting Harm off, "but I can. After I left my father and went to live with Uncle Matt, I didn't speak to or see my father for almost twenty years, Harm. I didn't want to. All of my memories of him were terrible. I blamed him for hurting my mother, for running her off, for trying to hurt me after she left - I never wanted to see him again. When the hospice he was at contacted me that he was dying and wanted to see me, I didn't want to go. But I did, and I don't regret it. Even if he was already in a coma when I arrived, and we never spoke, I think he knew I was there - You have to take this chance, Harm. For your sake if not his."
"There's a difference, Mac," Mattie said. "Your father asked for you. Harm's didn't."
"It doesn't matter, Mattie," Mac insisted. "You need to resolve this while you can. While your father's alive." She wasn't just talking to Harm now. She was talking to Mattie as well. Perhaps the girl wasn't ready to hear it, but Harm was out of time. "If you don't, you'll regret it. I don't think that's something you want to have to live with."
Harm's eyes met hers, and his fingers squeezed hers before he released her hand and nodded. "You're right. But Christmas -"
"We can be back before Christmas," Clay assured him. "You'll stay with Mattie, won't you Mac?"
"Of course. And if I can't be here - I'm sure Porter -"
"I'll call her and talk to her."
"Why can't I go?" Mattie wanted to know.
"School doesn't let out for another three days," Clay told her.
"I'll call every day, Mattie," Harm promised, pulling her into his arms and hugging her tightly.
"You'll be back for Christmas?" she asked.
"I promise."
Clay ran his fingers through Harm's hair, and then stood up. "I'll call and get the reservations, and I'll call Mother, tell her we're going."
Harm looked at Clay. "Clay, you don't have to -"
But Clay's expression revealed his determination. "Yes, I do. I'll pack a suitcase as well. Mac, make sure Harm eats something, okay? Mattie too."
Mac nodded and stood up. "Come on, you two. You heard the boss. Let's go."
Harm and Mattie rose, but Harm was watching Clay as he climbed the stairs, already dialing the cordless telephone. "You and Mattie go on," he told Mac. "I need to talk to Clay."
Mac put her arm around Mattie, and guided her into the kitchen, watching Harm follow Clay.
Clay held the telephone against his shoulder as he pulled a large suitcase from the closet and began to gather clothes, neatly placing them inside as he talked. "I don't know how long we'll be gone, Mother. But I have to go."
"Of course you do, Clayton. Harmon shouldn't have to do this on his own. And if Sarah needs any help with Matilda, I'm here."
"Thanks."
"Take care of him, dear."
"I will, Mother," Clay replied. "I love you, you know."
"And I love you. Call me when you arrive so I won't worry."
"I will," Clay promised and closed the connection. Harm's father becoming ill had made Clay suddenly aware that his own mother wasn't getting any younger. But at least he was here, and *would* be here for her. This rift between Harm and his father needed to be healed if Harm were to be able to continue after the man's death.
"You're sure you want to go?" Harm asked from the doorway.
Clay glanced at him as he continued to put clothes into the suitcase. "Yes. There's no way I'm going to let you go alone, so don't try to convince me otherwise."
Harm sighed, approaching the bed as he spoke. "I don't know what I'm going to run into out there, Clay. It's possible he won't even agree to see me. The doctors might say that I shouldn't -" he sat down on the side of the bed.
Clay stopped what he was doing to place his hands on Harm's shoulders. "I'll be there no matter what. I love you, Harm."
Harm managed a smile. "I love you, too," he said, lifting a hand to Clay's cheek.
"Then go eat and let me finish up here and try to get an airplane reservation."
"Aren't you going to eat?"
"I'll eat before we leave. Now go."
"So Mac's right. You're in charge."
"Don't forget it," Clay replied, pulling Harm to his feet.
"Tell you what, why don't I call and make the reservations while you finish packing? That way we can eat together."
Clay held the phone out to him. "Are you going to call your mother back and let her know you're on the way?"
"No. She wouldn't be able to keep it from Dad - she's under enough stress right now as it is."
*******
Mattie and Mac saw the two men off at Dulles four hours later. Mattie gave them both hugs, reminding Harm of his promise to be back by Christmas. Harm told Mattie to be good and not give Mac or Porter too much trouble before he and Clay disappeared down the gangway to board their flight to San Diego.
Clay took the inside seat, letting Harm have the one by the window. Once the plane was airborne, he watched as Harm sat looking out into the inky darkness beyond the window without speaking. Leaning close, Clay spoke quietly. "You need to sleep."
"I can't," Harm said. "I keep thinking, remembering -" he smiled. "When he was on a carrier during Vietnam, he used to send audio taped letters home. And he always remembered to say something to me, to tell me he loved me." Harm blinked away the moisture that filled his eyes at the memory. "He was shot down on Christmas Eve after I turned six and I listened to those tapes until we found out a week later that he'd been rescued and was okay. We were so close back then, Clay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. Clay took Harm's hand in his, holding it tightly. "He expected me to go into the Academy. To follow family tradition - but I would have let him down even more if I'd done that. It would have meant hiding who I was - who I am - from everyone, even me. If I'd slipped up even once and gotten kicked out it would have destroyed him more. I think - we might have found each other again after I made the decision not to join the Navy - until he found out -"
"Harm, you can't blame yourself for being who you are," Clay said. "I was lucky, I guess, never having to face the possible disappointment of my father, having a mother who supported me in whatever I chose to do. But maybe - just maybe if you make the first move - he'll be ready to do something about it. I know Trish has been worrying about it. Every time we talk, every letter she writes, she -" Clay stopped, wincing as he realized that Harm was staring at him.
"You just called my mother Trish," Harm said. "Talk? Letters? Clay, what's going on?"
Clay took a deep breath. "Right after I moved into the farmhouse with you and Mattie, Trish called to talk to you one day. You were - somewhere, I don't remember where now. But we started talking; I told her who I was -"
"You never said a word. Neither of you did."
Clay looked at him. "Harm, how many times have you called your mother since we've been together?"
Harm sighed. "She called on my birthday - and I called her on Thanksgiving - because you bullied me into it."
"I guess it comes from having left my mother alone so much of the time over those seventeen years. And I didn't bully you into anything," he denied.
"You kept after me all week until I finally called her on Thursday night," Harm reminded him. But thank you anyway. You were right. I should have called on my own. I just don't like the idea of Dad making things difficult for her after she hangs up from talking to me." He gave Clay a sideways glance. "And you're not going to distract me from wondering about you being in touch with my mother a secret."
"Mostly because of what you're doing right now," Clay said. "She sounded lonely, Harm. Wanting to know how you were, what you were doing - You'd barely mentioned either Mattie or me to her - ."
"When she called tonight - you knew when you gave me the phone, didn't you? What had happened, I mean."
"When I answered, she said that she had to talk to you, and I noticed she was upset," Clay explained. "Asked what was wrong. She told me that it was your father, and that's when I went to get you."
"He was always so strong. Survived on the ground in Nam for a week after his plane went down before he was rescued. He taught me to fly - it was something we loved doing together. The week before I left for college, even after I'd made the decision not to go to Annapolis, we flew almost every day."
"In Sarah?" Clay asked.
"No. Dad has a Cessna 172. He didn't want to try and ferry Sarah back to California, so he left her in Pennsylvania with Grandma Sarah. We went out there during summers and holidays to fly."
"And then she gave it to you."
Harm nodded. "When she realized that Dad wasn't going to come anywhere near me to get it for himself."
Clay turned off the overhead light. "Try to sleep, Harm. You're going to need your strength over the next few days."
Harm nodded, turning his face back toward the window, but he retained a near death grip on Clay's hand, as if it were a lifeline keeping him from drowning the sea of despair that was trying to claim him.
*******
Harm let Clay take care of finding their suitcase and getting a rental car that would take them to the Naval Medical Center. He knew that Clay was concerned about his seeming inability to function on his own, but Harm's thoughts were already with his mother - and his father, trying to build up the strength to be strong for her, and to face him if it came to it.
Harm wasn't a coward - he'd faced down important, powerful men. But the idea of having to face his father after all these years terrified him.
The last time they had seen each other face to face had been when his parents had entered his dorm room at UCLA, only to find Harm and his current boyfriend in bed together. Hearing a gasp of horror and shocked surprise, Harm had looked up to find his parents sitting in the visitor's waiting area. He doubted he would ever be able to forget the look of disappointment and disgust in his father's blue eyes.
Harm Sr. had pulled Trish out of the room and the building without another word, and it had been almost six months before Harm had gotten a letter from her, assuring him that she supported him, and hoping that his father would "come around" once he'd had "time" to get used to the idea that his son had not only decided against going into the Navy, but that he was also gay.
He got into the rented car, content to let Clay drive them to the hospital while he put his head back, continuing to gather his strength. "I'm all right, Clay," he finally said, opening his eyes and looking around, trying to get his bearings. "It's changed a lot since I was last here," he noted.
"I was in the area two years ago," Clay informed him. "I know the way."
Harm nodded. "I was in LA a few years ago," he recalled. "Interviewing a possible witness on a case I was handling." Clay took one hand from the steering wheel and covered Harm's where it lay on the seat between them. "I almost drove down here, just to see Mom if nothing else. Maybe I should have."
"You'll see her soon," Clay promised, releasing Harm's hand. He found a parking space outside of the hospital facility, after Harm explained to the guard on duty that they were there because his father, "Captain Harmon Rabb, Sr., USN, Retired" was a patient there.
Entering the building, Clay looked at Harm. "Did she say where he was?"
Harm nodded, moving directly toward the bank of elevators. "Third floor, Cardiac Intensive Care Unit." He pressed the button to summon the lift, and stood there impatiently muttering. "Come on, come on." Sighing, he looked at Clay. "The stairs would be quicker, I think."
At that moment, the doors opened, and the two men stood back as several people got off of the car before entering. Clay, standing closer to the panel, pressed the button for the third floor, and felt Harm's hand reach for his.
Neither man said much until the doors opened again, and then Harm released Clay's hand, straightening his shoulders as he stepped out onto the third floor and looked around. His mother was just coming out of a room with glass windows instead of walls. She looked up at them, and when Harm saw the look of relief on her tired face, Harm was glad he'd come - to be there for her, if no other reason.
"Hi, Mom," he said as she went into his strong embrace.
"Thank God you're here, Harm," she managed to say through her tears.
"Thank Clay," Harm suggested. "It was his doing."
Trish Rabb pulled away from Harm just far enough to look at Clay, giving him a grateful smile and reaching out to him. "Clay. Thank you."
"It was my pleasure, Trish," Clay responded. "I just wish it hadn't happened under these circumstances."
Harm was barely listening to them as he looked over his mother's head through the windows behind her. His father was lying in bed, hooked up to various machines, his eyes closed. "How is he?" he asked, knowing that his voice was rough with emotion.
Trish glanced behind her. "He's sleeping right now," she explained. "The doctors said that he's a little stronger, but they say it doesn't really mean anything."
"What happened?" Harm asked.
"Why don't we go to the waiting area?" Clay suggested. "Let Trish sit down."
Harm saw Trish give Clay another smile at the comment. "It's just down here," she told them, moving down the hallway. "I wish I knew, Harm," she said once they were sitting inside the small, quiet room. She tore at a handkerchief in her hands. "He and Tom Boone went out for a few hours, and when they got back, Harmon said that he wasn't feeling well. He went upstairs to take rest, and the next thing I knew he was coming into the kitchen, complaining about his chest hurting."
"Tom Boone?" Harm questioned.
"Who's Tom Boone?" Clay asked.
"Dad's oldest friend. They served in the Navy together," Harm explained, knowing that the truth went far beyond that. It had been Tom Boone who had kept the search going for his friend until he was found alive and well. "I thought you said he moved to Yuma or something after he retired last year?" Harm asked his mother.
"He's here visiting," Trish explained, which caused Harm to glance around the room.
"Where is he?"
"I sent him down to get something to eat. He's as worried and upset as I am. They're such good friends," she said with a sigh.
"Did Tom say what he and Dad were doing while they were out?"
"Playing basketball," Trish supplied, and seeing Harm's surprised look, smiled. "I believe I mentioned that your father's been volunteering at a youth club in the area, coaching their basketball team."
"Yeah. You did," Harm recalled, seeing Clay's curious expression. He shook his head and looked up as Tom Boone himself entered the waiting area.
"Trish, I -" The older man stopped in his tracks when his eyes met Harm's, giving the younger man a wary look before he smiled. "Harm. You're here. When -?"
"Just a few minutes ago," Harm said, and found himself wrapped in a quick embrace. Tom was older than Harm remembered - even with their meeting five years ago in DC just before the man's retirement as a one-star Admiral - a meeting that he hadn't told his mother about for several reasons. "Been a long time, Tom," Harm nodded. "You're looking good."
"And you look just like your father," Tom said, shaking his head. "Doesn't he Trish?"
"Almost a mirror image," Trish nodded in agreement, grabbing Harm's hand in hers. "I'm so glad he's here."
Tom noticed Clay, who had risen from the chair beside Trish upon Tom's arrival, and smiled. Harm saw the glance and stepped back from Tom, taking Clay's hand in the one that Trish wasn't holding. "Clay, this is Tom Boone. Tom, Clayton Webb. My partner." Harm could feel the tension in Clay's arm, and gave the smaller man a reassuring smile, ignoring Tom Boone's look of surprise as he and Clay shook hands.
"Clay."
"Tom."
"Clay, would you mind taking Mom down to the cafeteria, get her something to eat? I need to talk to Tom."
"I'm not hungry, Harm," Trish insisted.
"Then get some coffee," Harm said, squeezing her shoulder affectionately before he looked at Clay again. "Please?" He could see that Clay didn't like the idea of leaving him alone with his father's friend, but with Trish there, he couldn't refuse the request out of hand.
"Come, Trish," Clay said. "It'll give us a chance to get better acquainted." His hazel eyes were almost gold when he looked at Harm. "We won't be long."
Harm nodded, going to the door with them and watching as they got onto the elevator before turning back to where Tom Boone was still standing, watching him.
"What happened, Tom?" he asked.
"I don't follow -" Tom began, frowning.
"Did you say something to Dad that caused -?"
"If you're askin' whether or not I suddenly decided to tell Hammer that I'm gay, Harm, the answer's no. He doesn't suspect that I'm anything more than his best friend."
Harm took a deep breath, trying to gauge how truthful the older man was being with him. "Then what happened?"
Tom ran a hand over his baldhead. "Hell if I know, Harm. He was fine while we were playin' basketball. But I noticed that he looked a little pale on the drive back to the house - and suggested that he get some rest before dinner - God, Harm, watching Hammer die - " The man seemed to collapse before Harm's eyes, and he moved quickly to catch Tom in his arms, comforting him. "I never really thought he'd go first. Figured it would be me. I'm the one who deserves to be in there, not him." They sank into the chairs beside them, Harm's hand remaining on Tom's back.
"At least you've been able to be with him for the last twenty years, Tom," Harm pointed out. "There are times when I - when I wonder what would have happened if I'd ignored your advice and gone to Annapolis instead of UCLA."
"I can tell you from personal experience," Tom said. "You'd have wound up a bitter, lonely old salt, afraid to let anyone too close because they might find out the truth about you. It's not an easy life, Harm. I think I told you that five years ago."
"I don't suppose it would be," Harm nodded. "You know that I've been working with the SLDN to get things changed, right?"
"I don't see it changing for awhile yet," Tom said. "Too many stupid prejudices to overcome first."
"Mom doesn't know, does she?"
"No. Trish still thinks that the reason I've hung around all these years is because I think she picked the wrong pilot to marry. And I'm not about to tell her differently."
"If Dad dies -"
"Not if, Harm," Tom corrected in a voice filled with such sadness that Harm wondered how the man stood it, "when. It's gonna to happen. I was there when the doctors spoke to your mother. There's no chance of recovery. There was too much damage. His heart stopped beatin' twice before they got him to the hospital. And once since then. Every time, it's taken longer to get him back. One of these times, he won't come back."
Harm blinked back the tears the words brought to his eyes. "I wish -" he shook his head, not wanting to continue.
"I know, son," Tom said, putting his hand on Harm's knee - the gesture clearly paternal. "I know."
********
"Harm said that Tom Boone's an old friend of his father's?" Clay asked Trish as they drank their coffee.
"They met at the Academy. They were roommates for a semester. They went through flight training together - Tom was best man at our wedding." She smiled. "In fact, I know this is going to sound a bit vain, but, I always believed that Tom was a little in love with me."
Clay nodded, staring into his cup. "Was he around a lot when Harm was younger?"
"Quite a bit. Tom never married, and never had a family of his own, so whenever he and Harmon were on shore duty and stationed together, he usually stayed with us. He's been rather like Harm's uncle - they've known each other all of Harm's life."
Clay nodded again, finishing his coffee. "You about ready?"
"Yes."
"Just let me get a cup for Harm. He didn't sleep on the plane, and I don't think even I'll be able to convince him to leave the hospital tonight."
Trisha followed him to the machine near the doorway. "Tell me more about Mattie," she said. "I'd really like to meet her."
******
"Any change?" Trish asked as she and Clay returned.
Harm looked up. "No. The doctor hasn't been in that I saw."
"Where's Tom?" Clay asked.
"He went out for some fresh air," Harm explained.
"Probably to have one of those awful cigars he smokes," Trish sighed. "I'm going to go check with the nurses," she said, and was gone.
Clay held out a Styrofoam cup. "I brought you some coffee," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as soon as Harm took it. "Your mother doesn't know he's gay," he stated, causing Harm to choke on the coffee.
Clearing his throat, Harm gave Clay a confused look. "Who?"
"Tom Boone. She thinks he's been hanging around because of her. But that's not true, is it?"
Harm glanced toward the door in case Trish returned. "No," he admitted. "How did you know?"
Clay shrugged. "Mac tells time internally, I can tell when someone's gay. Some people call it 'gaydar'. God-awful term, if you ask me, but -"
"This isn't the place to discuss this, Clay," Harm said, still watching for his mother to return as he took another sip of the coffee. "This stuff's awful," he said, grimacing. "Nothing like yours."
"Don't change the subject, Harm," Clay insisted, keeping his voice low. "You and Tom Boone -"
Harm's eyebrows rose almost to his hair. Standing up, he moved directly in front of Clay. "Is that what - No, Clay. Not that he didn't try. Once. Look, I'll explain later. I promise. Right now -"
Trish returned. "The doctor's with your father now," she announced. "When he comes in, I'll ask if he thinks Harmon's stable enough to see you."
Harm finally broke eye contact with Clay to look at her. "Thanks. But if he says I can't go in, Mom, accept it. I won't jeopardize him further by pushing this."
Trish sighed as she sat down beside him, but nodded in agreement. "Clay told me that Mattie's doing well in school?"
Harm managed to smile. "Better than she expected to, I think. Her last report card was straight A's," he said proudly.
"And the flying lessons? How are they coming along?"
Harm sent Clay a look that silently asked exactly how much he had told Trish about things, but Clay just sent him a tight smile and shrugged. "She asked, I told."
"Don't blame Clay, dear," Trish gently admonished Harm, "he's a very nice man."
"I know," Harm said, still looking at Clay. "I'm damned lucky to have found him again." As he finished the sentence, he saw Clay roll his eyes, and Harm winced when Trish frowned.
"Again?"
Luckily, Harm was saved from having to explain his comment as a doctor entered the room. From the insignia on his collar, Harm identified him as a Navy Lt. Commander. "Mrs. Rabb," he said, looking from Harm to Clay and then back to Trish.
"Dr. Benson. This is my son, Harmon Jr., and his friend, Clayton Webb."
Harm noticed the man's hesitation at the introduction, but the hesitation was gone just as quickly. "Mr. Rabb. Mr. Webb."
"How is he, Doctor?" Harm asked, placing a hand on his mother's shoulder.
"A little better - but as I told your mother, Mr. Rabb, there was a considerable amount of damage to heart muscle. Very often in these cases, a patient will seem to improve before -"
Trish placed a hand over Harm's. "Dr. Benson, I told you earlier that my husband and son have been estranged for a very long time -" Harm saw Benson's brown eyes flicker toward him as Trish continued to speak, "- do you think that Harmon is strong enough so that his son can go in for a moment?"
Benson considered her question for what seemed like forever. "We've got Mr. Rabb pretty heavily sedated to keep him calm," he explained. Looking at Harm, he said, "As long as you understand that if he reacts badly you'll have to leave immediately - I believe that I can sanction it."
Harm nodded. "I understand. I'll do my best not to upset him."
"I'll be on the floor for a while yet. If you'd like to go in now, it might be a good time."
"Thank you, Dr. Benson," Harm said.
"Good luck. I'm lucky to have a good relationship with my father. I can't imagine not having one. Resolving whatever -" he glanced toward Clay, who had moved to stand beside Harm during the conversation, "- issues that are between you is probably for the best. I'll see you later."
Harm felt Clay's hand on his back as he closed his eyes. "You'd better go, Harm," he said.
"I wish you could go with me."
"The idea is to keep him calm, remember? The last thing he needs is to realize that you're not only here, but that you brought me with you. Go on. I'll be waiting outside with Trish. If he sees me with her, just say I'm a doctor or something."
Harm pulled Clay into his arms drawing on the smaller man's immense and seemingly endless reservoir of strength. "Okay," he said at last, looking once more into Clay's eyes. "I'm ready."
He walked down the hallway, knowing that his mother and Clay were a few steps behind as he opened the door into the glass-walled area. A young nurse was watching the machinery and looked up at him, smiling sympathetically. "You must be Mr. Rabb's son," she said.
"Yeah," Harm nodded, his eyes on the man in the bed across the small area.
"Go on in. He's a little groggy from the pain medications and sedatives, but he'll know you're there."
*That's what I'm afraid of,* Harm thought as he turned toward the bed and approached it. He'd never thought of his father as being a small man. He was only an inch shorter than Harm, but growing up, Harm had always thought his father the tallest man he'd ever seen. Tall, strong - able to do anything. To beat anything that faced him down.
Now, he was lying there on the white sheets, his skin tinged with gray. The once dark hair had given way to more white than anything else, and there were lines in his face - around his eyes, his mouth.
Harm glanced up and saw Clay standing outside, his arms on Trish' shoulders. Clay nodded his encouragement, and Harm lifted his hand to touch that of his father. The blue eyes opened, focusing with difficulty on Harm.
"Hi, Dad," he said, then held his breath as the eyes closed again. "I'll go if you want me to, Dad," he continued. "I just wanted to let you know I was here. And that I love you." Drawing a deep breath, Harm turned to leave, only to find his hand held in a weak grip. Looking down, he saw that his father had grabbed his hand.
"Love you, son," Harmon Rabb Sr. said slowly. "Sit with me."
Harm smiled in the direction of the glass before pulling the nearby chair over to the bed.
*****
Clay felt Trish's shoulders shaking beneath his hands as they watched Harm smiling and sitting down beside his father's bed. "Thank God," Trish sighed. "I can't thank ever thank you enough, Clay," she told him as she turned toward him, and Clay quickly wiped the tears from his own cheeks, but she'd seen the attempt and pulled him close.
"Harm needed this," Clay said, noticing Trish's gaze behind him.
"Look, Tom," she said, reaching around Clay to pull Tom Boone toward the window. "Harmon grabbed Harm's hand and wouldn't let him go."
Clay saw the older man start to breathe, and Clay felt his jealousy evaporate. "Thank God. When I saw the two of you cryin', I was afraid that -" he broke off, shaking his head as he looked into the room. "I always knew that if Hammer could get past that damned pride of his, they'd get this settled."
Clay sighed. "Why don't you join them, Trish?" he suggested.
"Do you think I should?" Trish wondered.
"He's right, Trish," Tom agreed. "You should be with them."
Trish gave each man a kiss on the cheek before she turned toward the door and went inside. Watching her join her son and husband, Clay took a deep breath to fight back the tears before saying, "Nice family."
"I don't think there was a happier family before Harm and his dad stopped talkin' to each other."
Clay put his hands into his pockets. "How long have you been in love with 'Hammer', Tom?" He felt Tom Boone go totally still beside him - not even breathing for a moment.
"Harm told you?"
"He didn't have to. Doesn't matter how I know, though, does it?" Clay asked, finally looking at the man. "How long?"
Tom Boone looked at his feet for a moment. "Since the Academy," Tom admitted.
"He's never realized that you're gay?" Clay questioned, smirking slightly as the former Naval officer glanced up and down the corridor, as if making sure they wouldn't be overheard.
"No. Never. It was easier for me to let him to think that I'm in love with Trish."
Clay's eyes returned to the scene in the room. "Must've been difficult for you all these years. Knowing that if you came out to him, he'd cut you out of his life just like he did his own son."
"Why do you think I didn't?" Tom questioned. "I couldn't risk losin' his friendship, since that was all I was ever going to have."
"You want to go get a cup of coffee?" Clay asked.
"Why not?" Tom nodded, glancing again at the family scene.
Clay stood there, looking at Harm for a long minute, and smiled when he finally looked up. Clay pantomimed drinking coffee, pointing to himself and Tom. Harm indicated that he understood with a quick nod before turning his attention back to what his father was saying.
********
"Who's that?" Harm Sr. asked, squinting at the window.
"Tom's out there," Trish said.
"He's going for coffee," Harm explained.
"Someone with him."
Trish glanced at Harm. "He's a friend of mine, Dad," Harm admitted slowly, watching for any sign of anger or disapproval.
"Clay?" his father questioned, seeming to think for a minute. He gave Trish a half grin as she looked shocked. "You left the letters laying around, Trish, hoping I'd read them. I did."
"Yes, Dad. That was Clay."
"Want to - meet him."
"When he and Tom get back upstairs," Trish agreed. "Right now, you need to rest. Regain your strength."
Harmon gripped her hand as tightly as he could, his smile sad. "Always were good at fooling yourself, Trish," he told her. "Not much strength left." He looked at Harm. "She needs to rest, son. So do I. I'll see you later," he said, his voice trailing off as his eyes drifted shut. Harm quickly glanced at the monitors, and was grateful when they showed that his father was simply sleeping.
"Bye, Dad," Harm said quietly, leading Trish from the room. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Once they were in the waiting area, Harm sank down in one of the chairs next to his mother. "Thank you, Harm," she said quietly.
"I didn't do anything. It was all him. I keep wondering, if I'd pushed a little harder before now, if maybe we might've found our way back sooner."
"I don't have an answer for that, darling," Trish said. "But I'm not sure he was ready before now. Facing one's mortality tends to make one see all the things they've done wrong."
"He's going to die, isn't he?" Harm asked, focusing on his hands clasped between his knees.
"Barring a miracle, yes, I'm afraid so."
"Damn," Harm sighed, closing his eyes. "I'm not ready for that. There are so many things I want to talk to him about - I want him to meet Mattie, I want her to meet him - It just doesn't seem fair."
"No, Harm, it doesn't."
*****
"I'm the reason Harm didn't follow his father and grandfather into the Navy," Tom admitted to Clay, staring at the untouched cup of coffee between his hands. "When Harm was seventeen, I came to visit during Christmas leave. Trish and Hammer - Harm Sr. invited me to party at the base. I went, but came home early - only to discover Harm Jr. had taken advantage of having the house to himself to - entertain a friend."
"Ouch," Clay winced. "You caught them?"
"Red handed," Tom nodded. "Now, you have to remember that the boy had no idea that I was gay at that time. He was terrified that I was gonna to tell his father what I'd found out. But I sat him down, and we had a long talk, durin' which time I pointed out that if he *did* go to the Academy and the Navy, he'd never be able to be himself - and one slip up would be all it would take for him to cause his father more disappointment than he thought possible."
"You were trying to save him from what you had to go through," Clay realized.
"Yeah."
"Do you regret now?"
Tom thought for a second. "No," he answered. "If I hadn't gone into the Navy, I wouldn't have met Hammer. I enjoyed serving my country, being in the Navy. And I was damn good at what I did. Almost as good a pilot as he was."
"When did Harm figure out that you were gay?"
There was that look again, Clay noticed. "You're not in the Navy anymore, Tom. I don't think they can still court-martial you."
"Old habits," Tom said, chuckling. "Got used to lookin' over my shoulder while I was in the Navy." He took a deep breath. "Five years ago. I was in DC on an assignment just before I retired. I knew he lived there, so I looked him up." Tom's lips thinned and Clay frowned at the movement. "Arranged to meet him at a restaurant. You have no idea how much that young man looks like his father. It was like - like stepping back in time twenty-odd years." Tom took a deep breath before continuing. "I had too much to drink, and Harm suggested that we go back to his place for some coffee to sober me up." He shook his head. "I was drunk, mistook him for his father; said I'd always been in love with him - It's not easy to admit that I made a complete and total idiot of myself that night, trying to -"
"I think I get the picture."
"I think you do," Tom said, giving him an embarrassed grin. "Thank goodness Harm had the sense to stop things before they went too far - and to top it off, his then boyfriend showed up -"
"AJ?" Clay asked.
"You know about that?"
"Remind me to tell you about *my* first meeting with Harm sometime, Tom," Clay said, finishing his coffee and standing up. "You ready to get back up there?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "Thanks, Clay. Harm's a lucky man to have found you."
"I keep telling him that all the time, Tom," was Clay's laughing response.
*******
Clay sat down beside Harm as soon as they returned to the waiting area. "You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," Harm said, taking Clay's hand as he looked him in the eye. "He wants to meet you."
"Me?" Clay questioned. "You told him -"
"He already knew," Trish answered. "I always left Harm's letters - infrequent though they were," she said, and Harm smiled apologetically, "out in the hope that his father would be curious enough to read them. I never saw him doing it, but I did the same with the letters that *you* wrote Clay, and I suppose he read them."
"You're sure he wants to -"
"He said he did, Clay," Harm said. "I think he wants to make sure you're good enough for me," he teased as he stood up, still holding Clay's hand. "Come on. He won't bite."
"Harm -" Clay said, remaining in the chair. "Are you sure?"
Trish touched Clay's shoulder. "Go on, Clay. Please."
Clay took a deep breath, and then rose to his feet. "I hope you're right about this," he muttered, following Harm from the waiting area.
The same nurse that had greeted Harm before was there, and smiled at the two men. "He's still asleep, I think, but you can go on in."
"Thanks," Harm said, practically pushing the still uncertain Clay into the room.
******
"I hope you're not going to disappear once Harmon is gone, Tom," Trish said once her son and Clay left them alone.
Tom frowned at the comment. "What makes you think that I'd do that, Trish?" he asked.
Trish looked at him for several moments, and Tom felt as if she were looking into his soul. "Come and sit down, Tom," she said, holding out her hand. Tom took her hand and did as she asked. "I really think that you love him more than I do," she said.
"He's my best friend," Tom said quickly, looking anywhere but at Trish Rabb.
"He's more than that. He's been more than that for a very long time - probably even before he and I met. I didn't realize it until today, but - I'm right, aren't I?"
"Trish, I -"
"I feel a bit silly, thinking that the reason you stayed around was because of me. I don't know how you could stand to be around me at all -"
"Trish," Tom said, turning and taking her hands in his. "Stop it. Please. There's no reason to -"
"Just promise me that you're not going to disappear, Tom," Trish begged quietly. "If nothing else, we have our love for him in common. That's something, isn't it?" she asked, tears in her eyes.
Tom Boone drew a ragged breath and pulled her into his arms, resting his head on top of hers. "Yeah, Trish," he agreed. "That's somethin'."
**********
Clay was standing slightly behind Harm as he watched the older Rabb sleeping. Tom Boone was right. Even now, Clay could see the similarities in father and son. He had an eerie feeling, standing here at Harm Sr.'s bedside, as if he were looking into the future somehow, seeing Harm in twenty-five years. He could almost understand how Tom had mistaken son for father in a drunken haze. The man stirred slightly, and Harm placed a hand over that of his father.
"Dad?" he said softly.
The eyes - eyes that were just a touch more blue than his son's opened. He smiled. "You're still here."
"As long as you are," Harm said. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired," was the response as his eyes moved to Clay. "Is this Clay?" he asked his son.
Harm touched Clay's arm, urging him closer. "Dad, this is Clayton Webb."
"Hello, Clay."
"Mr. Rabb."
"You call his mother Trish in your letters," he pointed out. "Make it Harmon. Easier to keep the two of us separate that way."
"Okay," Clay said, still being cautious. "Harmon."
"Harm, would you leave us alone for a moment?"
Harm looked for a moment as if he might refuse, but something about the look in the older man's eyes made Clay tell Harm, "Its okay, Harm. We'll be fine."
"I'll be right outside," Harm told them both.
Once Harm was in the hallway, watching through the glass, Harmon gave Clay a long look. "You know how to handle him."
"I'm still learning," Clay admitted.
"You love him." It wasn't a question, but Clay felt the need to respond.
"More than I ever thought I could love anyone."
"I've missed a lot of his life by being so stubborn. He's a lot like me in that, I think."
Clay smiled and nodded. "Yes. More often than he wants to admit. Likes having his own way."
"Always did. Came from being an only child, I guess. Clay, you'll take care of him - once I'm gone?"
"Gladly, Harmon."
"Thank you. I need to rest," Harmon said, settling back against the pillows again.
"I'll go, then," Clay told him. "Should I send Harm back in for a few minutes?" he asked, looking at the monitors.
"Please," he said, his eyes closed. "And Trish."
Clay joined Harm in the corridor. "He wants you back in there. I'm going to get Trish."
Harm placed a hand on his arm. "Clay?"
"Go on in, Harm. You need to be there. We'll talk later," he promised, urging Harm back toward the room before he continued to the waiting area, where he found Tom and Trish holding each other. Both of them looked up when he entered. "He's asking for you, Trish."
She went pale at his words. "Is he -"
"He said he was tired, but the monitors aren't indicating anything else," Clay quickly reassured her as he and Tom escorted her to the door, and then stood outside looking in.
TBC