đHgeocities.com/jaghavenarchives/Ultracape_Plumbing.htmlgeocities.com/jaghavenarchives/Ultracape_Plumbing.htmldelayedx‹rÔJ˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙˙ČĐĐš 6OKtext/htmlpQĚ " 6˙˙˙˙b‰.HSat, 18 Feb 2006 15:58:42 GMT4Mozilla/4.5 (compatible; HTTrack 3.0x; Windows 98)en, *‹rÔJ 6 Ultracape_Plumbing
Title: “Plumbing”

Author: Ultracape
- Ultracape@aol.com

Rating  PG-13 for language

Classification: Humor, and a touch of angst (Harm/Mac)

Spoilers: Everything up to and including “Exculpatory Evidence”

Summary: Mac will no longer cry over Harmon Rabb. But that doesn’t mean that she won’t get wet.

Disclaimer:  A few years ago I was teaching a class on writing to a group of very bright second graders when one asked me if I knew Steven Spielberg. “No,” I said. “Do you know Harrison Ford?” No, I said. “Did you write Star Wars?” “Wish I had,” I can honestly say that I have just about the same claim on these characters as on those. But I do like to play with them now and then.

Author’s note: Harm once told Renee that he didn’t have very much insight into himself.  No truer words were ever spoken.

Bilge switches came to mind as the slithery, blond; ‘apple daiquiri’ architect cantilevered her way onto Mr. ‘Let’s Talk About Us.’

Mac sipped at her tonic and lime wishing she wasn’t a recovering alcoholic because right now she could really use a drink.  Actually, throwing her life away into a bottle of Vodka was not half as appealing as throwing that same liquor over the bleach blond’s brickhouse body and then hitting Mr. Chick magnet over the head with said bottle. ‘I will not cry.’

“I prefer the brutilists.”

“I think they did the plumbing in my building.”

Ha, ha, how droll.

If it weren’t for the fact that Mac was sitting right next to the admiral, who also looked like he’d rather be anyplace else but here, she would just make her excuses to Sturgis and Bobbi and leave. ‘I highly doubt anyone else would miss me.’ ‘I will not cry.’

How that idiot could just turn it on and off amazed her almost as much as it hurt her.  After his attentiveness to her aboard the carrier last week, she allowed herself to hope that some sort of a relationship could be built with the man who followed her to the Indian Ocean just to have a talk.  Yet said man, had not yet made any overtures beyond friendship.

‘Only you,’ that was certainly correct. Harmon Rabb, Jr. would romance anyone who caught his fancy except Sarah MacKenzie.

‘Fine, then get out of my heart.’ What was worse was that if any other man so much as looked at her, Harm would start to pout, grit his teeth, list his failings but never put himself forward.  She began to wonder if the other men in her life had never measured up in her heart because she always seemed to look at them through Harm’s eyes instead of her own. If that wasn’t a thought to bring tears to her eyes she didn’t know what was. But Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie was determined that she had shed her last tear over Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr.

Hearing what sounded like a conspiracy going on behind her, Mac walked over and warned the two commanders that they were playing with fire.

“I know a good plumber,” said Ms Construction Worker of 1907, too young indeed.

Harm smiled accepting her business card almost eagerly.

‘Maybe I ought to kick him in his plumbing, now that he’s found someone to fix it.’

After Ms. Brutal Brickhouse left, followed shortly by the Admiral, Mac silently seethed as Harm looked at that business card and stuck it in his coat pocket.  It took all of her self-control not to stamp down hard on his instep as he smiled at her. ‘He really does think that smile cures everything.’

“That didn’t go anything like I wanted it to,” Sturgis shook his head.

“I don’t know, Sturgis, Harm made another friend,” Mac smiled up at Rabb as Sturgis’ eyebrows flew up his forehead.

“Going to have her over to examine your pipes, Harm?” In the corner of her eye Mac saw that both Sturgis and Bobbi looked like they were searching for someplace to duck.

Rabb, clueless as ever grinned at her, “I don’t know. I might. They are a bit rusty.”

“Have fun,” Mac grabbed her purse and cover from the bar. “Bye Sturgis, Bobbi, we should do this again sometime.”

“What’s gotten into her?” Rabb watched as Mac stomped out of the bar.

“Rabb, you’re an ever bigger idiot than I gave you credit for,” Sturgis glared at him.


“Harm, he’s right. You’re not only an idiot but you’re a dam sorry fool.”

“When did it become my turn to be smacked around?” Harm turned back to the bar and ordered another beer.

It had just been served when he felt a hand settle on his shoulder. He turned and saw Sturgis sit down next to him. “Come back to take another verbal swing at me,” Harm shrugged off the friendly gesture.

Sturgis sighed, “If I thought it would do any good, I would.”

“Where’s Bobbi, I thought the two of you had a date.”

“She’s waiting outside,” Sturgis grabbed some peanuts from a tray.

“Leaving a woman waiting for you outside a bar, is no way to treat a lady, I thought your father taught you better than that.”

“As if you’d know how to treat a lady,” Sturgis glared at him again.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Harm growled.

“What do you think it means?”

“Look if all you’re going to do is torment me then you can just get your ass off that stool and go feed the Congresswoman.”

“No one torments you any worse than you do it to yourself, Harm. You’re always ready. Anytime any woman shows you any interest. You’re willing to throw away everything you’ve got right in front of you just to stick your dick into another empty non-relationship.”

Sturgis uncharacteristic crudity struck an all too familiar chord and Harm glared at him as visions of a chilly spring evening, a porch and stolen moments with his beautiful partner intruded into his brain.

“You’re going to bring up Mac again. I told you once, we’re just friends.”

“Friends, huh?.”

“You saw the way she stormed out of here.”

“Buddy, I really pray to G-d that one day you get your head out of your six long enough to figure out why whenever anyone makes a general observation about your love life, the first name that comes shooting out of your mouth is Mac.” With that he left jostling Harm’s arm causing him to spill the beer all over himself.


The dart sank deeply into the board, its feathers fairly vibrating with the force of the throw as another dart quickly joined it.  Kevin Costner, the most mis-cast Robin Hood in history couldn’t have made a better shot, Mac smiled.

But then, he was never as motivated to punch holes in the picture that Mac had taped over the board she had quickly hung up upon returning home. 

Stretching back, she swung her arm again, throwing another dart, ripping a hole in the face of Harmon Rabb, Jr.

It may have been childish, a waste of energy, and very un-Marine Colonel like, but right now it just felt very good.  Throwing darts at him was a lot better than throwing vodka down her own throat.

She hadn’t even bothered to change out of her uniform before she pulled the dartboard that Mic had left from the back of her closet, found a picture of Harm taken with Renee, that flyboy grin splitting his face, and glued it to the board. The ironies were not lost on her.

Mac flung another dart at the board, her aim true. Renee’s likeness was not even frayed. Harm’s was practically gone. Maybe if she could completely obliterate his face from the photograph she could rip him out of her heart. She doubted that, but she was willing to give it a try.

Swinging back with her last dart, Mac’s concentration was broken by the sound of the doorbell.

Looking through the peephole she saw the flesh and blood version of the person whose face she had been systematically ripping apart.  He looked almost as bad as the decimated photo. Looking back, with just a twinge of guilt and embarrassment at the board, she didn’t think anybody would recognize whom that picture once represented and so she opened the door to her partner. He smelled heavily of beer.”

“You’re drunk,” she said blocking his way into the apartment.

“No, I’m mad.”

“You’re mad!”

“Can I come in?”

“Give me a reason.”

“Because I want to talk.”

Mac reached into his coat and pulled out the blond brick’s card and put it in his hand. “Call her, I’m sure she’d love to talk.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Harm smirked, “you’re jealous.”

Something inside Mac just snapped and before she or he realized what happened, Harm experienced a short flight, out the door and flat on his back in the hall.

He looked up just to see the door slam.

“Smart Rabb, real smart,” Rabb pulled himself up and rubbed his bruised ego.  He had never seen Mac so angry at him before. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t ‘made friends’ as she called it in front of her. It meant nothing, just another name to put in his little black book for those in between relationship times.

Sturgis words rang again in his mind.  He had accused Mac of doing the very same thing and yet, he hadn’t seen her with another man socially since Mic had abruptly left. She was the one who suggested that they try to build their friendship again and he had agreed. He thought that they were doing a very good job of it until tonight.

There was a soft thump on the wall that barely registered on Harm’s thoughts.

What was so different about tonight. ‘You’re willing to throw away everything you’ve got right in front of you just to get your dick warmed in another empty non-relationship,’ he heard Sturgis’ words to him again.

Thump. There it was again. But it just sounded like the regular background sounds that were prevalent in old apartment buildings.

Ironically, the only thing in front of him at the moment was Mac’s closed door.  He banged on it.

“Go away.”

Thump. It got louder.

“How did you know it was me?”

“I just knew.”

Thump. Louder still.

“That’s right, you’re psychic.”

“No, I looked through the peephole.”

“You would have had to been standing right by the door in order to answer so quickly.”

“Brilliant deduction, you ought to be an investigator.”

Thump, Crack. “Oh, shit.”

Harm banged on the door

“Sarah, what’s wrong. Let me in. Please open the door.”

Before he knew it the door swung open and he was greeted with a flood of water.  Looking around, Harm saw a large hole in the wall where water was flowing out of a broken pipe.

“Mac, what happened?”

Making her way over the now drenched and water covered floor, Mac quickly hid the fallen dartboard behind a cabinet.

“A water pipe burst, what do you think happened.”

Grinning that flyboy smile again, Harm took out the architect’s card. “Good thing I know someone who knows a good plumber.”

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