Plane Thoughts by Ali Cherry

Title: Plane Thoughts
Author: Ali Cherry
Summary: Thoughts on the plane ride back from Australia, after Boomerang.
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Plane Thoughts

I board the plane, glancing with envy at the empty seat beside Webb. The Admiral is striding confidently down the aisle, not dissuaded by the occasional bump of the seat, or the straggling guest loading bags into overhead compartments. It bugs me all to hell. I don't want to be stuck in a plane, near Mac for too many god-awful hours. And I don't want to be near the Admiral and Bud. They see too much.

God Dammit. I put myself in this position. I fell in love with my partner. I deserve this. I should have stayed at sea. Should have stuck with flying no matter where it took me, desk job or no. I was happier at sea. I had hope at sea.

I look at my ticket and look at the seat numbers. When I get to my number, I can't believe my luck. I'm two seats back and across the aisle from the Admiral, and across the large body of the plane and back from Bud. And my seat companion is an eight-year-old boy. I smile at him as I take my seat. He smiles nervously at me. I just stare at the opening to the plane, knowing that it'll be a while before Mac boards.

The Admiral told me not to look back. He was right, I couldn't help myself though, I had to see. I must be a masochist. That would explain so much. Annie, Jordan, Bobbie, especially Renee. I must enjoy pain.

The plane starts and I see Mac enter the coach section of the flight, she sits fairly close to the front. She locks eyes with me, and smiles. I smile back. Friends, no more, no less. The way it should be. I feel a hand tap my shoulder.

"Dad!" The little boy exclaims happily. I look up into the grown up version of my seat companion.

"I was wondering if I could trade places with you, Sir." The man asks politely. He points to the very last row of the plane. Ohhhh. More distance, and no one next to me, sounds like a bargain.

"Sure." I smile and get up, walking to the back. Bud and the Admiral are watching me; hell half the coach section is watching me, at 6'4" I stand out. I have just sat down when the aircraft starts to move.

Twenty minutes later, eyes closed, I'm listening in on the conversation from the cockpit. It's better than anything on television, and for a minute I can forget everything in Australia. That's a good thing too, because I don't want to look back. I did it once and I don't think I'll ever be the same.

The seat next to me shifts a bit, and I see the Admiral sitting next to me. He's looking straight ahead, not looking at me. Why bother. I'll be fine. He has given me more advice then I can say, but no one can really counsel a person on dealing with telling but not telling someone you love her. He looks at me pointedly.

I pull the headphones from around my ears.

"Commander."

"Sir."

"There will be no tr

ansfers." "No sir, I wasn't planning to ask for one, sir." Because I know he would never grant one. I'm on my own this time. Suck it up, Sailor and move on.

"No resignations."

"With all do respect, sir, if I was going to resign, you would have had my letter three days ago."

The Admiral nods shortly. He doesn't look at me. Why do I feel like the biggest disappointment known to all who know me? I want to see my mom, but I don't want to hear about letting Mac go. I want the Admiral to be proud of me, but that means disappointing him. I feel trapped between a rock and a hard place, and the space is smaller than my cockpit.

The Admiral settles in and I look out the window, the view not that great. Blue, Green, what does it matter? I feel the Admiral pat my hand where it rests on my leg. It's a move only a father could pull off. I must be the biggest disappointment as a son the Admiral never wanted. I close my eyes, drilling the opening arguments on PO Leigh's desertion trial. I can feel the words drowning out any misgivings I might have about my personal life.

Sleep catches me unaware.

Harm's head lies against my shoulder, his breath even and shallow. He doesn't snore, doesn't drool. Is love the only thing the man doesn't execute perfectly? He's flawless. You'd have to know him to know the chinks in his armor. Mac, Bud, Me, his dad. Those aren't flaws, I guess.

I feel the sigh before I hear it.

I don't know who I'm more disappointed in more. Harm for not giving up part of himself for love, or Mac for giving up all of herself. Two extremes, neither understanding. Mac doesn't see, that if she forces Harm to give up his identity, or what he sees as his identity, she won't get who she fell in love with. And Harm doesn't understand that giving a piece of yourself to the person you love doesn't make you weak, it makes you strong.

I don't think he sees that. I guess it makes sense. He only saw the destruction of love. He only remembers the pain of his mother's crying after the chaplain left. The way her tears salted his hair every night. The way she gazed at him as if he were a ghost when he first wore his dress whites. That has to be painful.

Mac well she only understands that love hurts. Her father's love hurt, her late husband's love more than hurt, it destroyed. That she trusts Harm enough to love him is a miracle. But she doesn't see it is reciprocated so she's going for the easy, the emotions that don't need patience and assurance.

No one is going to win here. Harm will suck it up, internalize it, with the occasion snappy remarks, and the office will watch as he slowly falls apart. Mac will beam and glare depending on her emotions. Beam because she sees Harm's love, and glare because she caused him pain. And Mic will have lost what he wanted, all to spite the man he thinks he hates.

And me? I get to watch my Jag office blow up in my face. A tap on my shoulder and I see a paper shoved in my face. I push it back some, to see Bud's swollen face.

The paper reads "Can I sit with him for a while?" I nod and get up and Bud slides under Harm's head, letting his friend sleep.

The Commander is really not going to be happy when he wakes up. He hates that whole touchy feely thing. And the fact that he caused me pain won't exactly go over well either. He moves a little bit to get comfortable and I watch the pain screech across his face.

Is he awake? No he would have moved by now. Oh Wait. There it is, the tell tale flickering of dark lashes. The times I have watched the Commander wake up I can count on one hand, while he knows which side I prefer, how to wake me up, how to keep me on my side of the bed, that I sleep in my clothes when I'm scared and that I snore.

His hand rises to rub at the back of his neck, he winces. Must be a crick. His eyes open and he looks confused. "We're on our way home, Commander."

"Thanks, Bud." Harm straightens up and looks around.

"You understood me, sir?" I ask.

"Yeah. Are you going to need me to translate to Harriet for you? I need to take my lumps too."

"Oh I don't think she'll blame you, sir."

"Why not? It's my fault. I should get at least three weeks of babysitting or something like that."

"I wish you'd shovel the walkway. Much more cruel."

"I'd never thought you'd have it in you."

I smile at him. And then I see something that wasn't there before the Commander closed his eyes earlier. Resignation. "I think you suffered enough, sir." I say quietly.

He doesn't say anything for a while, doesn't look at me. "I have to use the head, Bud. Could you excuse me?"

Case closed. I could tell. I get up to let him out. He pats me on the shoulder. Business as usual. Don't tell anyone anything. Try to take care of it yourself. He makes me so mad sometimes. I head for the Admiral, anger marking every step.

"Permission to hit Commander Rabb!" I mumble. The Admiral looks at my face, red with indignation.

"You don't think two broken ribs is enough, Lieutenant?" We both hear the 'and a broken heart'

"He's being obstinate, sir."

"Could you repeat that, Roberts."

"He's being PIG HEADED." The Admiral is still looking at me weird.

"Bud said that Harm is being pig headed." Oh great Mac is going to butt in to this conversation. I look over and she's standing next to me. "Excuse me, Bud. I have to use the head." She moves past me. Headed for the small bathrooms in the back.

"Lieutenant, you expect Harm to what cry on your shoulder? He's not going to admit there is a problem, let alone that he's in pain." The Admiral sighs. "Why don't you just head back to your seat, Bud."

"Yes, sir. But I'm setting Harriet on him when we get home."

"I think that's a good idea, Lieutenant."

I rub my neck in pain as I stare at my pathetic face in the mirror. Suck it up Rabb.

The door beside me opens; did I forget to lock it? Mac looks startle as she takes in my leaned posture, the hand messaging my neck.

"Oh I'm sorry." She starts to move away.

"My fault I thought I locked it." The door shuts between us. I scrub my face with water and dry it. I had no idea how hard it was to do this in an airplane. That sounds familiar. Demarro said something like that while he was telling me about Plane sex. Good kid. Hope he got detox.

I open the door to see Mac waiting patiently for me to leave. I try to slide past her but our bodies bump together anyway. We both still. For a moment, there's no plane, no passengers and no diamond on any of her fingers. There is just eternity and the two of us on the boat's deck. I lean down, drawn for a moment. Just to know what I'll never have. Our lips meet, and no Millennium celebration ever had this many fireworks. It's everything I'm afraid of, and everything I knew would be here. Her right hand rests on my chest, and I hear the clink of her ring against my wings. Reality intrudes.

I pull back and look down at the ring. I remove her hand and look down at it. Admiring the lovely twinkle against her skin. "It's a pretty ring, Mac."

She yanks her hand away and looks at me in accusation, but her expression softens when all she sees is sincerity. I mean it. It's a gorgeous ring. She'll marry Brumby and have a gorgeous life, with him complementing her every chance he gets, telling her how special she is. All the little things I'm not very good at. All the things that matter to someone with Mac's past. Someone who needs to know they are respected and loved, but who won't stand being smothered.

I look away from Mac's wide eyes and shimmy towards my seat. I can't help but look back before I sit down. It is another mistake. I know I shouldn't have. She's just standing in the aisle staring at her ring. Now I know absolute pain, and I will never survive its grasp.

I sit down and close my eyes, trying to remember my father's voice, my father's face. Trying to remember what he and my mother looked like together. Pictures float past, but I can't remember them.