Authors:
Malysa ([email protected]), Audrey ([email protected]), Pat ([email protected]), and Rising Sun ([email protected])
FF
of Malysa is archived at http://stories.com/authors/malysa
FF
of Audrey is archived at http://www.angelfire.com/art/StardustsArt
FF
of Pat is archived at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/AnniePatJAGstories
FF
of Rising Sun is archived at: http://www.geocities.com/jagrslc
Rating: Nothing stronger than PG-13 (we promise)
Summery: After Lt. Harmon Rabb, Jr's ramp strike,
his best friend since childhood, Capt. Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie,
remembers their past at his hospital bedside among other places.
Classification: AU, Angst, Friendship &r
Romance, H/M flashbacks
Spoilers: Anything having to do with Harm's vision
problems, first crash, & family situation, and Mac's family & past.
Disclaimer: JAG characters portrayed belong to JAG,
CBS and Paramount Television. No copyright infringement intended. All other characters depicted are purely
fictional and any similarities to actual people are purely coincidental.
Feedback: Yes please!
Feedback: View some at http://fanfiction.net/reviews.php?storyid=705509
Archive: Ask one of us.
Story Written February to April 2002
Part
One by Malysa <[email protected]>
Rating:
PG, I use some bad words (Not really bad, my grandmother will read this!)
***AN:
I have no idea exactly what year Harm's first crash was. I'm just using
educated guessing with math skills that I truly hate to admit that I possess.
If you know the year, PLEASE e-mail me because this could drive me slowly
insane. I think that's all. Enjoy!***
==========================================
12
MARCH 1991
1845
LOCAL
BETHESDA
NAVAL HOSPITAL
BETHESDA,
MD
Captain
Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie sat at her best friends bedside trying her best
to will his eyes to open. She knew her attempt was of no value. Lieutenant
Harmon "Harm" Rabb, Jr was the world's most stubborn person and would
wake up when he was damn sure and ready. Maybe this rest period was for the
best because when he woke up he was going to ask about his RIO.
Mac
sure as hell didn't want to be the one to have to tell him that the ramp strike
had killed the man her best friend had considered a friend. She knew he would
feel guilty. Maybe he should. A RIO's life was his pilot's responsibility. She
would never tell Harm that, of course. Tact was something she had and used
religiously.
Looking
down at her long time friend's battered face, Mac could almost imagine his
features in an expression of complete and utter defeat, as they would be when
he is told of the repercussions of this crash.
The
loss of his RIO and friend due to his inability to see the carrier clearly.
The
loss of his wings due to his mistake.
The
loss of his navy career in his eyes due to him being unable to fly.
Mac
realized what this would do to him. She had been with him for years.
Flying
in the navy had been his dream since the day she met him. She remembered that
day with absolute clarity. She hoped that he did, too. She hoped that memories such as that one
would be enough to bring him back to her. Reaching into her purse, she pulled
out a wrinkled paper airplane. It was
obviously old and of great value to the Marine Corps officer. She positioned it
on Harm's pillow and kissed his forehead gently.
With
that, she walked slowly out of the room holding her tears at bay.
==========================================
Part
Two by: Audrey <[email protected]>
Rating:
PG (one bad word...and it's really not even that bad)
Note:
*** indicate the beginning/end of a flashback***
==========================================
SUMMER
1972
ARIZONA
He
carefully creased the paper, making sure the edge was sharp and even. On the
ground next to him, the ends of pieces of white paper fluttered in the breeze,
unable to fly off thanks to the rock holding them down. The tip of his tongue
stuck out the corner of his mouth, revealing the amount of concentration that
was being put into the project. Finally, after minutes of careful folding and
creasing, the eight-year old boy held up his finished work in front of him.
The
paper airplane didn't look to be any extraordinary thing to the common
observer. A piece of white paper folded into a simple toy. But to the boy the
plane carried with it his hopes, his dreams. This plane would reach his dad.
This plane would be the one.
He
stood up, precious paper toy clutched gently and safely in his right hand. The
breeze flirted with him, ruffling his hair and tugging ever so gently at his
sleeves. Perfect. Too strong a breeze and the plane would be forced down. Too
weak a breeze and his plane wouldn't go far. This breeze was perfect.
For
a moment, he closed his eyes, picturing himself inside his homemade plane.
Everything was ready. He was good to go. “I'll find you, Dad,” he thought, and
then he tossed his plane with the wind, opening his eyes to watch it fly. He
grinned, watching the toy float higher, higher...
...until
it sank beyond the wall separating his yard from the next. Hopeful grin quickly
melted into a disappointed frown. His mother’s call for dinner stopped him from
going to retrieve the plane. He'd have to wait until after dinner to rescue it.
After all, he couldn't just leave it. It was the perfect plane. It had a
mission to fly.
With
a sigh, he ran into the house to quickly wolf down his supper. More than once he had to be reminded of
table manners, but none of that really mattered to him. He needed to get his
plane back before dark. He rinsed off his dinner plate, promising his mother to
do the dishes before bed, and raced out into the yard. A woodpile near the wall
provided a stepping stool to the top of the wall. Peeking into the neighbors
yard, he spotted his plane… in the hands of a little girl.
"Hey!"
She
looked up at his shout, the paper plane clutched in her four-year old hands.
Dark eyes studied him warily; she'd seen him before, but never spoken to him.
He
was impatient. And she was crushing his prized plane. "That's my
plane." He pointed out.
"I'm
not 'sposed to talk to strangers." Came her curt reply.
He
was slightly taken aback, but he only skipped a beat before replying. "I'm
Harm. Who're you?"
"Sarah."
"Nice
to meetcha. There, we're not strangers anymore." Harm's gaze shifted to
his paper plane, still clutched firmly in Sarah's grasp. "Can I have my
plane back now?"
Sarah's
brown eyes drifted from Harm, to the plane, and then back to Harm. "It
landed in my yard."
Harm
sighed. "So? It's mine. I made it."
"Make
another." Sarah retorted, wandering closer to the wall to peer up at him.
"You did a really good job on this one, you could probably do it
again."
Harm
glanced back to the paper still pinned to the ground by the rock. He /could/
make another plane but it would take time. He blinked and suddenly became aware
of the quickly fading light. "No. Let me have it."
"No."
Harm
glared down at her before shifting his gaze to the horizon. Damn it! He didn't
have time for this. He jumped down from the wall, stalking over to his paper
pile.
"'Make
another.'" He mimicked the girl, fuming as he began to fold another plane.
"She doesn't know how perfect that plane is! She doesn't know anything!
Stupid girls."
Harm
worked in silence, so angry at first that he had to restart his folding three
times. He was beginning to make a mental list of things he wanted to tell Sarah
- mean things - when he heard a shout coome from
Her
house.
"Sarah!
Get OVER here!"
He
heard a door slam and angry shouting from inside her house, although it was
muffled and he couldn't understand what was being said. Curious, he climbed the
woodpile again, peering over the wall.
Sarah
sat below him, the paper plane clutched to her, silent tears flowing down her
cheeks.
"Sarah?"
Harm was suddenly scared for the girl. "Are you ok?"
His
voice startled her and she jumped in surprise, then turned her tear-stained
face his way. "Yeah." She replied softly. "I'm ok."
Harm
nodded, not sure if she spoke the truth or not but willing to go along with
what she said anyway. "Hey, you can keep the plane, ok?" It seemed
only nice to offer, and she really seemed to like it. He could always make
another one. A better one. When she smiled at him in return, he went on.
"Do you know how to make paper airplanes?"
She
shook her head, looking at the one she held in her hands.
"Well,"
Harm said, glancing over his shoulder at his house before looking back at her.
"Maybe you can come over tomorrow and I can show you how. And my mom makes
really good chocolate chip cookies, so maybe she'd make some for us."
Sarah's
face lit up at the prospect, the tears no longer falling down her cheeks.
"Really?" At his affirmative nod, she smiled. "Ok. Thanks."
Harm
shrugged. "No problem." He returned the smile, glancing over his shoulder
as his mother called him in. "I gotta go. See you tomorrow, Sarah."
"Bye,
Harm!" The girl returned. "And thanks for the plane!" She
watched as his slipped behind the wall, and then looked back down at the plane
in her hands. Her fingers lightly caressed the paper, the folds. It was only a
paper plane, but she felt like she had been given the world. Smiling, she
practically skipped back into her house. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.
==========================================
Part
Three by Pat [email protected]
==========================================
12
MARCH 1991
BETHESDA
NAVAL
2345
LOCAL
"Captain
Mackenzie you really should get some rest," the nurse told her softly,
seeing her holding fast to Harm's hand, staring at his tightly closed eyes.
"Better rest than you're going to get here in that hard chair."
"His
doctor said I didn't have to leave," Mac yelped defensively. "He said
I could stay."
"Yes
of course I know that. It's written on the chart. But I'm seeing a woman who's
been sitting here for twenty-four hours now."
"Why
doesn't he wake up?" Mac wailed softly, irritably brushing away a tear she
did not want.
"You
know what, sometimes the body suffers an assault, both mental and physical, and
simply shuts down for a while," Angela said quietly, watching her
patient's monitors as she spoke. "I read the account of what happened. He
had to have been terrified seeing the crash about to happen before his eyes,
and then the pain of his burns. Does he know about his RIO I think it's called
--the other guy?"
"He
was demanding to know, and they told him, right before he passed out," she
nodded. "So yeah I guess I can see that. But I know I want him to wake up
and tell me he's OK."
"You
care a lot for this guy huh?"
"Yes
ma'am. We pretty much grew up together. Been apart some but never really you
know."
"I
think I do. Come on. There's some hot food in the lounge and a shower and some
clean hospital sweats you can slip on, and then I'm going to order a cot moved
in here since I know you're not going to leave." Angela put a firm,
motherly hand on her shoulder. "Hey you don't want him waking up and
finding you half sick from exhaustion and stress. That's only going to upset
him."
"Put
like that," Mac sighed. "OK but I'm not going far."
A
few minutes later she was standing under a torrent of hot water and only then
did she give in to the tears her body was desperate to shed. Her eyes closed
tightly and she sobbed until she could cry no more, and she sank down on the
hard tile floor, exhausted and scared, and her mind returned to another time
when she experienced those same emotions, except then, Harm was there at her
side.
==========================================
Part
Four by Malysa [email protected]
Rating:
PG (They’re just kids!)
==========================================
5
DECEMBER 1974
1200
LOCAL
GRAND
CANYON ELEMENTARY SCHOOL
ARIZONA
Harm
sat at the lunch table he and Sarah had shared for the past two years waiting
for her to show up. It wasn’t like her
to be late for anything, and her showing up ten minutes after the lunch period
had started would make it two times in one day. She had called his house early that morning to tell him that her
mom had forgotten to wake her up, and that he should walk to school without
her. He had walked her to school
everyday since the first school day after they met. Of course all the eleven-year-old boys made fun of him for
hanging out with a seven year old GIRL, but he didn’t care. She was his friend, not really a girl,
because if she was, she could be his girlfriend, and he never wanted to have
one of those.
"Sorry
I’m late, Harm," his tiny friend said as she dropped her lunchbox on the
table and plopped down in the chair next to him. She tried her best to act normal, so he wouldn’t ask any
questions. She may be only seven, but
she knew Harm. He would be angry at her
if he knew she didn’t come straight to him when she had a problem.
"You
were crying!" he accused looking at her red-rimmed eyes. He wasn’t sure what scared him more: the
fact that she had cried or that she was trying to hide it from him. Sarah might be kind of a girl (but not
really), but she was tough and never cried.
And if she ever did cry, she would come to him, and he would try his
best to make it better. It’s what he
was supposed to do. He was going to
grow up to be an officer and a gentleman just like his dad.
"Was
not," she lied horribly.
"Were,
too."
"Was
not."
Were,
too!"
"Was
not, and even if I was, it’s none of your beeswax Harmon Rabb!" Sarah
yelled at him before standing up and walking swiftly out of the cafeteria.
Surprised
at her sudden outburst, Harm took a few seconds before standing up to follow
her. He ignored the giggles of the
girls sitting at one table and the taunting from the boys at another. He sped up past the aid that tried to stop
him with only one thing on his mind--getting to Sarah. He found her outside in the chilly front
courtyard of their school. And she was crying.
Harm
walked up to her slowly, whispering her name.
She only sniffled and told him to go away. He would have none of it.
"Sarah,
please look at me," he whispered, and with a caring maturity probably
beyond his years, he unzipped the sweatshirt-jacket his mother had made him put
on before he left the house, took it off, and put it on her shoulders.
"Thanks,"
she mumbled wrapping it around herself tightly. She looked up to see him shuffling his feet in front of her. She wiped her tears from she face and tried
to smile at him. "Lunch is
over."
"What
happened?" He was obviously
ignoring her attempts to avoid the topic.
"My
mom fell down and hurt herself. She’s
in the hospital," she told him looking down so he wouldn’t see she was
lying.
"Will
she be okay?"
"She
should be. Can I stay at your house
tonight? We don’t have school
tomorrow."
"Yeah. Sure.
You can keep the jacket, too, `cause I really don’t like it
anyway."
"Thank
you, Harm,” she reached out for his hand, and he pulled her up. She wrapped her small arms around his neck,
standing on her tiptoes to hug him tight.
Harm
and Sarah walked back into the building together. She with a renewed feeling of hope knowing that he would not
abandon her if she needed him, and he with a whole new view of his best friend. In Harm’s new view, Sarah was a girl. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after
all.
***
==========================================
Part
Five by: Audrey <[email protected]>
Rating:
G
==========================================
13
MARCH 1991
BETHESDA
NAVAL HOSPITAL
0115
LOCAL
Following
Angela's motherly advice, Mac found herself sitting at a table in the lounge,
the hard backed chairs reminiscent of the ones from her elementary school
years. She sighed, cradling a cup of luke-warm coffee in her hands.
At
a nearby table, a young father sat down to a breakfast of cheese Danish with
his equally young daughter, drawing Mac's gaze up from her beverage.
"Eat,
Sylvie." The father commanded gently.
"I
want mommy." Sylvie pouted.
The
father licked his lips lightly, obviously trying to come up with the right
words, and then spoke. "Mommy's sleeping right now. The accident made her
hurt, so she's sleeping the hurt away."
"Kiss
it?" The young girl asked, craning her neck upwards to catch her father's
eye. "Make better?"
Mac
thought she saw a glint of tears in the man's eyes as he gently stroked through
the child's blond curls and felt a lump form in her own throat.
"I
wish it was that easy, Sylvie." The man replied, pulling his daughter
close.
Mac
returned her gaze to her coffee, the remaining warmth seeping through the
Styrofoam cup and into her hands. If only it /were/ that easy. She sighed,
standing and pushing her chair in before turning to head out of the lounge. She
passed by the father and daughter, who were clinging to each other as if they
might lose each other if they let go. Tossing her cup into a trashcan, Mac
headed for the elevator.
Why?
The question kept floating through her mind. Why did it have to happen to Harm?
He was such a great pilot. She sighed and pressed the correct buttons, telling
the elevator to take her to Harm's floor. A soft 'ping' sounded and the doors
opened, allowing Mac to exit the lift and once again pick up her vigil at her
friends bedside.
Like
Angela had promised, a cot was set up next to Harm's bed, complete with a small
pillow and a blue blanket. First, she approached Harm. He was still out, his
breath coming in slow, even breaths. She brushed her fingers softly through his
dark hair, and then planted a soft kiss on his brow before settling herself
onto her cot.
Her
thoughts began to drift as her eyelids became heavy. From the beginning, she'd
known that Harm liked planes. She hadn't known why for a few years. He liked
them, and that was all that really mattered. His Dad flew them, she had known
that too. But it hadn't been until she was about 8 that he had finally come out
and told her about...everything. And the day that he had told her he was such a
wreck. Before, she had always been the one with troubles. But that day she
learned that she was not the only one with her share of grief.
==========================================
Part
Six by Pat [email protected]
==========================================
1975
GRAND
CANYON ELEMENTARY SCHOOL
ARIZONA
"Harm
you want to come over and play Sorry?" Sarah panted, having run to catch
up with him as he was leaving school.
The
dark haired boy shook his head. "No."
"Why
not Harm? In fact what's wrong with you anyway, you haven't wanted to do
anything with me for a couple of days. What's wrong?"
"I
just don't feel like it," he told her.
"But
why," she persisted, grabbing his arm. "Why Harm? What did I
do?"
"You
didn't do anything," he growled, pulling his arm away. "I just don't
feel like playing games and all that."
"You're
mad at me for something. You have to be. You just don't want me around you any
more. OK that's OK with me. I hate you too." With all the logic of an
eight year old, she burst into tears and took off running from him.
"Nice
Rabb real nice," he muttered, kicking a rock. "You made her cry. Real
nice." He took a long breath and hollered after her to wait but she did
not stop, running headlong across the windswept field behind the school. With
no other choice he took out after her, finally catching her, her short legs no
match for his long strides.
"Just
go away," she yelped and he held her fast.
"No
I won't and you're not going to shut me out. OK you wanted to know.
So
now I'll tell you. My dad is never coming back. My mom told me a couple days
ago. He's not ever coming back. No matter how much I hope and pray, he's not
ever. She's decided he's dead. She said he's dead and she's going to sign some
stupid paper like that. And I hate her for that. He is coming back Sarah.
Somehow. And if he doesn't just as soon as I'm old enough I'm going to look for
him." His green eyes narrowed into slits as he made that vow to himself
while he said the words. "I'm going to look for him."
"Where
is he?" she asked in a very small voice.
"Vietnam,"
he spat back. "He took off from the Ticonderoga one night and didn't come
back. He's a POW and they haven't let him go. MIA my ass."
Her
eyes never left him as he spoke and though she wasn't totally sure what he was
saying she knew it was the source of his misery.
"He's
not dead, he's not dead," he murmured and suddenly to her enormous
surprise he collapsed to his knees crying for all he was worth.
"Don't
cry Harm please," she whispered, awkwardly trying to hug him, held back by
her small size. "Don't cry Harmy. I love you."
Her
awkward tenderness made him cry all the more and he pulled her thin body to
him. "I love you too Sarah."
+ + +
Remembering
that she had said those words all those years ago brought tears to Mac's eyes
and she stroked Harm's forehead, wondering if she would ever get the chance to
repeat them to him.
==========================================
Part Seven by Rising Sun ([email protected])
Rated: G
==========================================
MARCH 14, 1991
1111 LOCAL
BETHESDA
NAVAL HOSPITAL
BETHESDA, MD
Mac continued to stroke the forehead of her
brother. She paused; yes he was the
brother she never had. They were both only children but a piece of paper had
brought them together. She’d always bless that paper airplane for bringing her
this man.
She leaned over him and whispered, “I love you Harm
… come back to me. I can’t live without you.”
She stood and contemplated what she has just
said. Someone not knowing the
relationship might have mistaken that statement for that of a lover and not a
sister.
Mac looked at Harm. He looked so fragile just lying
there. Why didn’t he wake up? Didn’t he know she was here waiting? That life
was waiting to be grabbed and lived? She continued her visual survey of
him. As children they had been
playmates and in many ways he was her knight in shining armour, but she’d never
looked at him. Really looked at him.
She looked now.
Starting with his face and slowly moving down … she
registered the strength in his face. He
was handsome. It came almost as a shock, but he was good looking. He was fit.
Life in the military did that for you.
It gave good muscular tone. He was tan. That came from the life at
sea. He was tall. That she knew… but examining him now it
became part of the database. She
decided that all in all he was well put together. She could see why the females
flocked to him. Her gaze returned to his face.
She stared long and hard at him as if committing
every contour to memory for later reference. Then it happened. Her heart
stirred. She loved him of that there was no doubt, but it had always been as a
brother, friend was too mild a description for what they had. Somehow somewhere in the cycle of their
lives and in the drama of the last few days the tone of the love had changed.
The impact of the revelation was almost physical.
She gasped.
The Marine instinctively looked round to see if she
was being watched. She felt exposed and
needed time to compose herself and to hide what she felt. She was not about to
let it become known by any one including Harm that her feelings had taken such
a U-turn.
+ + +
“I love you Harm … come back to me. I can’t live
without you.”
Somewhere in the deep recesses of Harm’s psyche he
heard a voice. Who was it? Why were
they calling? He focused on the voice.
Something was not right.
But it felt nice and cozy here. “I think I’ll stay here some more.” He
decided. Whoever it was could wait.
==========================================
Part Eight by Rising Sun ([email protected])
Rated: G
==========================================
2355 LOCAL
CHRISTMAS EVE 1975
CATHEDRAL OF THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION
Harm could not believe the talking, promising and
eventual begging his mother had had to do to get permission for Mac to go to
church with them. At some point during
the year Sarah had gone from Sarah to Mac. It had happened soon after her uncle
Matt had visited.
During Matt’s stay life next door had got calm.
“Domestic” is how his mother had described it.
Not long after Matt’s leaving the war had resumed. Harm was eleven and
not stupid. He was scared for Sar… Mac.
He kept a hawk eye out for her safety even more.
Now they were in church together singing with
gusto. He was sure that God was torn between blocking his ears to keep his
voice out while wanting to listen to Sa… Mac. He’d remember eventually. This
new name took getting used to. Maybe
Mac (there he got it) would help him tune up his voice. He knew he could do
better.
The priest was giving folks a chance to say their
own prayer. He heard Mac whispering:
Dear
God:
It’s
me Mac… er Sarah. (Harm smiled at the
correction) Please let Harm’s daddy come home safe and alive. You can have my
daddy if you need one. I promise I don’t mind.
Truly.
Thank
you.
Mac.
Harm was dumbfounded. His heart swelled with a myriad of emotions. Hurt at the loss of
his father, love for Mac and fear for what had made a eight year old be willing
to give up her own father.
He vowed he’d always be there for this girl who had
claimed his heart.
==========================================
Part Nine by Rising Sun ([email protected])
Rated: G
==========================================
MARCH 14, 1991
1455 LOCAL
BETHESDA
NAVAL HOSPITAL
BETHESDA, MD
Without warning the door swung open and two men
walked in: one black and one white.
They were Lieutenants Sturgis Turner and Jack Keeter respectively.
“Mac.” Sturgis said softly.
No words were needed. She knew the two from Harm’s
days at Annapolis. They were good
people. She walked over to Turner and fell into his open arms. Keeter touched her on the shoulder and then
moved to Harm’s side.
“What do the quacks say?” Keeter asked.
Still holding on to Sturgis she replied, “They
don’t know. It’s been two days fourteen hours and thirty six minutes.”
Turner smiled “I see that clock of yours is still
ticking.”
For the first time in days she smiled. “I can’t
help it.”
“Hey it’s like breathing. Don’t fight it.” Keeter
advised.
“When did you all get in?” Mac asked. “I thought
you were on assignment.”
“We are.” Sturgis replied. “But we begged our
respective CO’s for time.”
“You think that Rabbit would be in this state and
we’d stay away?” Keeter informed her.
“What about you?” Sturgis asked.
“What about me.”
“I know you Mac.” Sturgis warned, “You haven’t
budged from this bed. Continue like
this and you’ll either collapse or be declared AWOL.”
“If they haven’t declared it already.” Keeter
interjected.
“THEY HAVE NOT!” she defended herself. “It’s the
weekend I am due at work tomorrow - Monday”
The men looked at her.
“What?” she snapped.
“You’re not going to work are you.” Sturgis
accused.
She remained silent.
“Maaac” He drawled.
“At least go talk to your CO and get time off.”
Keeter recommended.
She hesitated “I don’t want him to wake up and be
alone.”
“Without you there.” Keeter teased.
She made a face at him.
“Look we’ll be here.” Sturgis promised, “I
promise.”
She conceded reluctantly. “OK but just long enough
to speak with my CO.”
The men nodded “Deal.” Keeter said.
==========================================
Part Ten by Rising Sun ([email protected])
Rated: G
==========================================
JULY 4, 1976
INDEPENDENCE DAY IN THE PARK
It was a fine day for a holiday and a good day to
be young. That was the conclusion of Harmon Rabb Jr. What made it a great day though was that Mac was with him.
He was thirteen years old and beginning to
appreciate the female of the specie, not enough to dip a toe in the pool, but
just enough to watch and to enjoy being watched. In his surveying his eye fell
on Mac. She was nine years old to his thirteen but he could see that she was
pretty. He wasn’t about to tell her that… but she was and she would turn heads
soon.
That being the case big brother Rabb would always
be employed.
He watched her as she drank her coke. She didn’t look right so he walked up to
her. His suspicion was confirmed as she
quickly but the drink aside.
“Hey Mac.” He said.
She nodded.
“What you up to?” He was trying to keep in light.
“What makes you think I’m up to something?” she
defended.
The scent hit him. He looked round quickly and then
reached for her drink. She wasn’t expecting the move and before she knew it he
had it in his hand. He sniffed.
“Mac you’re drinking alcohol!” he accused.
“Leave me alone.” She didn’t deny it.
“Oh Mac.” He cried “Why? How’d you get it? You’re
only nine!”
“Don’t preach at me Rabb.” She replied.
“I’m not… I don’t want to. You’re my best friend
and I love you dearly. Don’t do this please.” He dumped the drink. “I figure
you got it from your dad’s stash, but Mac if it’s not good for him how can it
be good for you?” Harm wanted desperately to save her.
She considered the argument. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I know I am.
Promise you’ll stop.”
She nodded.
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