Title: “Desperado”

Author: Benedetta (Feedback is highly appreciated,
good or bad as long as it’s civil and constructive.
Please, post to: benedettaonjag@yahoo.com.au)

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Don’t own Mac & Harm… never did, never
will. 

Spoilers: Everything up to beginning Season 8, but not
really following it

Summary: Song-fiction, answering a Desperado Challenge
on JAGnick FanFic board. Set in beginning Season 8.
Harm is in his apartment, thinking about his birthday.

Author’s Note: Thanks to Amy for betaing! 

 



Harm’s Apartment

North of Union Station 

25 October 2002 - 02.30 EST 



It’s my birthday today. More like yesterday, I should
say. Thirty-nine. Jeez, next year the big 4 are coming
up. Sort of hits close to home, you know? It’s really
late and I should sleep. Instead, I’m laying awake in
my bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking. 



It has been a good day today, somehow bittersweet
‘though.  



It started with mum calling early this morning. She
said something about wanting to be the first one to
say “happy birthday” to “my baby”. Baby… She normally
doesn’t use this sort of endearments for me. Besides,
the fact that it would sound a bit ridiculous applied
to my six-foot frame and current age. I think she
stopped considering me a baby when dad was shot down.
I remember hearing her sobbing one night and walking
into her room. She was curled up in bed, her shoulders
shaking. I remember that I thought she looked like a
doll, a fragile porcelain doll, lost in that big empty
bed. I walked up to the bed and put a hand on her
shoulder. She opened her eyes and, for seconds
stretching like hours, she just stared at me, so much
pain in those eyes, before pulling herself together
and trying to murmur that everything was fine. I sat
on the bed next to her, stroking her arm softly and
whispering: “Don’t worry, baby, now it’s not, but it’s
going to be fine, WE are going to be fine”. I
remembered that Dad called her “baby”. From that night
on, until Frank came into our lives, I was the man of
the house, no more “baby” for me. 



Frank. Frank was much younger that I am now, when he
walked into our lives, bringing some happiness back
for my mum and loving a hostile teenager like his own
son, without ever asking anything in return. I don’t
know if I would be able to do that. Well, I would have
loved Josh as my own, had Annie and I worked out, but
Josh idolized me, I wasn’t even “friendly” towards
Frank. Josh. Annie…so many lost chances in my life… I
guess that’s when today started to feel strange. 



When I walked into JAG this morning, Harriet was the
first one to come up and wish me “happy birthday”, a
sweet smile on her face. Bud and her are handling the
accident really well. I mean, there is tension, there
are ups and downs, but, hey, life is not a TV drama
where everything falls into place by the end of the
episode, is it? They are supporting each other through
this and they are not shutting each other out, most of
the time at least. I’m proud of them. I’m jealous of
them. 



I was ashamed of myself for having such a feeling. How
did I dare to be jealous of a friend and in such a
context? Thing is, I was. I’m not getting any younger
and today was a clear reminder of it, and sometimes I
wonder if I’ll ever have what those two have.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever have the guts to go
out there and get what they have. Bittersweet.  



I walked into my office and found a piece of answer to
the questions above. On my desk, there was a little
squared package, wrapped in silver paper, a delicate
light blue ribbon on it. It amazes me sometimes how my
“tough as nails” Marine can come out with so feminine
and considerate gestures, like paying so much
attention to wrapping a present. She was not in her
office, I knew that she had court, so I closed my door
and opened my present. 



It was a book, “There's No Such Place As Far Away” by
Richard Bach. Inside she wrote: “Found it in the
library and thought about you. By an aviator to an
aviator. Sarah”. I started reading it, it was a short
book and it would have taken just few minutes. Maybe I
shouldn’t have spent like this my time in the office,
but it was my birthday today, cut me some slack. I
found myself smiling by the end of the book. My Marine
had amazed me once again. I’d never guessed her as
such a softie. It was a “friends” book, so she was
playing safe, but it could have been so much more. It
sounded also like an acknowledgment of a new level of
understanding between us, the one where we start each
other sentences and we don’t need to be “next” to each
other to feel “close”. Still, this new level keeps us
in “no man’s land” and this thought erased the silly
grin from my face. Bittersweet. 



I keep staring at my ceiling and sigh. Nice ceiling,
but it’s a bit too dark to discuss his aesthetic
value. 



The rest of the day passed by in a blur, Mac still in
court and various people showing up to say “happy
birthday”. It’s nice to feel that people care about
you, it was a good day, but I wasn’t able to erase the
sour taste in my mouth, the feeling that I was missing
out on something, the feeling of loneliness, even if
surrounded by my friends. Bittersweet. 



We all ended up at McMurphy’s for birthday drinks. Mac
was there too, a smile on her face, relaxed and so
amazingly beautiful. I told her that I liked the book,
teasing her about being a softie. She laughed, a
happy, relaxed laugh, without holding anything back.
Maybe “no man’s land” was not such a bad place, after
all. We had a good night, a nice night among
coworkers, who are also family. A game of pool, some
good laughs and a nice chat. Throughout the whole
evening, ‘though, I couldn’t get rid of this
bittersweet feeling that made my heart ache every time
I looked at Mac. I guess she felt it, because she
asked me if I was ok. I lied, knowing that she would
have read it in my eyes anyhow. She knows me all too
well. 



In order to distract her and avoid an interrogation I
didn’t have answers for, I asked her to dance. Her
body fitted so nicely in my arms, her hair smelled
sweet and I liked its silky texture against my cheek.
We were just following the music, no words needed, no
more questions asked. …Then, a new song came on. 



“Desperado, why don't you come to your senses? 

You been out ridin' fences for so long now 

Oh, you're a hard one

I know that you got your reasons

These things that are pleasin' you

Can hurt you somehow” 



Why did this sound so familiar? I felt Mac pulling me
closer, right when I started to pull back, and I
hugged her back. “Riding fences for so long”, for too
long now. I have my reasons, of course I do. They are
a woman sobbing on a bed at night in my childhood, a
woman dying on a carrier, others walking away, because
I couldn’t let go. 



“Don' you draw the queen of diamonds, boy

She'll beat you if she's able

You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet 



Now it seems to me, some fine things

Have been laid upon your table

But you only want the ones that you can't get 



Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger

Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home

And freedom, oh freedom well, that's just some people
talkin'

Your prison is walking through this world all alone” 



No, I “ain’t getting’ no younger” and I can’t stand to
be “walking through this world all alone” anymore. It
hurts so much, it just hurts so much. I felt Mac
burying her face in the crook of my neck and I pulled
her closer, if “closer” could exist, resting my cheek
on her hair. Her warmth, her softness, and I’m not
talking just about her body pressed against mine,
warming my heart. 



“Don't your feet get cold in the wintertime?

The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine

It's hard to tell the nighttime from the day

You're loosin' all your highs and lows

Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away? 



Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?

Come down from your fences, open the gate

It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you

You better let somebody love you, before it's too
late” 



I couldn’t breathe, I felt like I was drowning, the
helplessness of my situation dawning on me. No snow,
no sun, no highs, no lows, my life passing by in JAG
cases, dreams of flying away, no guts to take a leap
of faith. But, then Mac pulled back and looked into my
eyes and I found myself lost in those brown depths,
words coming out of my mouth before I could stop them:
“Is it really too late?” She smiled. Just that. She
smiled and said: “You know, it’s not, Flyboy, just let
me in”. 



It’s wintertime, but my feet are not cold anymore.
It’s night, but I know that tomorrow the sun will
shine; I know that tomorrow there will be a rainbow
above me. I know all of this, because, right now,
Sarah is asleep in my arms, keeping me warm, keeping
the sun shining, keeping the rainbow above us. This
day might have started bittersweet, but now his end is
just pure bliss. No sense in keeping staring at the
ceiling. Good night.  



The End