| Subject: Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi! - Part 19/25 |
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Teacup
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Date Posted: 07:18:43 07/19/07 Thu
In reply to:
Teacup (aka Ever-Xmas)
's message, "Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!" on 23:51:19 06/30/07 Sat
Christmas Nigh; Adeste Fi!
Previously:
Harm had applied some flour to the bleeding areas, but upon closer examination, he said, “You know, I think this one is a blood feather. … I’m pretty sure you have to remove the whole feather to get it to stop bleeding.”
“I didn’t know you knew so much about birds,” commented Mac.
“I don’t,” Harm answered. “… But I do know a thing or two about wings.” He flashed his smile at her, before asking, “… You got tweezers?”
“Yeah.”
“See if you can remove that shaft right there,” he told her.
...
“Anyway,” Harm decided to move on, “we should take care of Frosty here, okay? … We’ll let Mac do the surgery.”
“… Yeah,” Bobby decided. “Okay.”
Part 19
With Harm assisting, Mac used the tweezers to carefully remove the blood feather. The procedure seemed to be successful, but Frosty did not react well and was visibly suffering anxiety. The parrot almost bit Harm a few times. Fortunately, Harm’s reflexes were good, despite the cold, and he was able to avoid any Frosty bites.
“Frosty’s not happy,” Bobby noted.
His mother responded, “Of course he’s not, Sweetheart. He’s hurting. I just hope he stays calm enough.”
“Let’s wrap him up with the gauze,” Mac suggested. “It might not be comfortable, but this needs to heal without him agitating it.”
“I guess,” Bobby reluctantly agreed. He stroked the bird’s head, saying, “It’s okay Frosty. They’re gonna take care of you.”
Mac and Harm wrapped Frosty up around the bleeding areas and put tape around it to hold.
“Uh oh,” said Harm noticing something else. “His foot’s bleeding too.”
“Don’t wrap his claws up too,” begged Bobby. “That would be like a total straight jacket.”
“You know,” said Mac. “I think I’ve got just the thing.” She left the room, taking the flashlight and quickly returned with a bottle of clear nail polish.
“This should seal it off,” she said.
“Nail polish?” Harm questioned.
“Has many uses,” Mac declared as she applied it to the bloody claw.
“Did you see that in a movie too?” Harm asked, obviously referring to her stunt with the mine in Afghanistan.
“Of course not,” she replied. “… This was from a TV show.” She smiled at Harm, and he rolled his eyes.
“Mom, Frosty doesn’t look good,” Bobby complained. “I think he might be going into spasms or something.”
Mac observed, “Looks like he’s having a panic attack.”
The word, ‘panic’ put Bobby into a state of just that. “Dad told me not to let Frosty get stressed out or he might have a heart attack and die. He can’t die! … Dad told me to take care of him.”
“Honey, calm down,” Kelly told her son. “You’re not helping Frosty this way.”
“He can’t die!”
“He won’t die,” said Harm.
“How do you know?”
“He just needs to feel comfortable,” Harm explained. “… Does he have a favorite toy?”
“I don’t think he’s in shape to be playing with anything right now,” Bobby told Harm as if the older man was an idiot for not realizing that the bird was incapacitated.
Harm was undeterred. “How about something he likes to listen to?”
Kelly answered, “He likes the bells in his cage. Frosty hits them with his beak a lot, but he also likes it when we come by and ring the bells with our fingers.”
“Do the bells come out of the cage?” Harm asked.
“Yeah,” Kelly answered. “Should I get them?”
“Please,” Harm nodded.
“Mom!” Bobby protested. He didn’t want her to leave. “He’s gonna have a heart attack and die.”
His mother didn’t even bother to answer. She just said, “I’ll be right back,” and left to retrieve the bells.
“Mac, …” Harm started, considering something.
“You’ve got an idea,” Mac realized.
“It’s worth a try,” Harm affirmed. “You got any leftover chopsticks from all the Chinese takeout you order?”
“Uh … yeah.”
“How about twist ties?”
“Let me check.” Mac very quickly came back with the items.
Bobby was ignoring them, focused solely on the bird. “He’s not gonna make it, is he? He’s gonna have a seizure or something.”
“We just need to calm him down,” said Mac. Harm handed her a set of chopsticks and a twist tie.
“Bind these together,” he told her.
“Frosty,” Bobby whined. “Don’t die like this. Don’t die now.”
“He’s going to be fine,” Harm told Bobby.
“You don’t know that,” Bobby yelled. “You don’t know anything!”
“I know that you -”
Bobby didn’t let Harm finish. “Do you what I know? … He’s shivering. He’s freakin’ out! And if he dies, … I’m a failure. Dad told me to take care of him. He’s my responsibility. Dad’s gonna hate me.”
“He won’t hate you,” Harm gently told the boy.
“No, he won’t,” Bobby’s mother gently echoed as she appeared in the doorway holding three sets of bells. Two silver and one gold.
“Yes, he will,” Bobby argued, starting to get tears in his eyes. “I was supposed to take care of Frosty. It’s going to be my fault that he dies. … I should have been able to get him back in his cage before he went all spazzo and hurt himself.” He couldn’t keep from crying anymore. “I shouldn’t have even had him out tonight …”
“Hey, don’t give in to feeling guilty,” Harm scolded Bobby, before explaining, “I’ve been the king of guilt, … and, trust me, it’s not worth it. Listen to what I say … No matter what happens, this is not your fault. It was an accident. … Your Dad will understand that.”
“No he won’t. He told me I was responsible for Frosty.”
“Sometimes parents say things,” explained Harm, “… to give their child a chance to take responsibility … so the child can learn to feel good about something and take pride in that kind of accomplishment. … But that doesn’t mean … that a father won’t understand when something happens outside his son’s control.”
“But Dad loves Frosty.”
Kelly put her arms around her son. “He loves you more.”
“I’m sure your father just wants you to be happy,” Harm added. “A child brings so much goodness and light into people’s lives. That’s the most valued thing to most parents, … and I’m sure that you are your dad’s pride and joy. He’s not going to think less of you … especially for an accident.”
Though Mac enjoyed watching Harm mentor the boy, she observed that the bird appeared to be hyperventilating. So, she intervened, with command presence. “But right now, we need to take care of this parrot. He’s still depending on you,” she told Bobby.
“So no giving up yet,” she ordered. “Snap to, Private,” Mac used a quiet version of her drill instructor’s voice.
Bobby reflexively straightened himself up. He wiped the tears from his eyes, got himself together and asked, “What do I do?”
Mac had finished assembling the make-shift stand, made of five chopsticks bound tightly together. It resembled a swing set, especially now that she and Harm hung the sets of bells from it.
Harm picked up an extra chopstick and used it to ring the gold bell. “Give him his favorite sound,” he answered.
Harm handed the wooden stick over to Bobby and explained, “… This way your arm won’t get tired of ringing.”
Bobby looked at Harm skeptically. “I’m just supposed to ring the bells? That’s gonna magically make him better?”
“Yeah,” answered Harm, ringing the gold bell again, this time with his finger.
Bobby shook his head. “It’s the silver bells that are his favorite.” He reluctantly hit a set of the silver bells with the chopstick. “This is supposed to work?”
Mac encouraged him, “Talk to him, … sooth him. Give him your strength and let him know everything’s going to be okay.”
“But I don’t know that it will be,” Bobby objected.
“You have to believe it,” Harm told him.
“That ringing bells is going to help him live? … That’s stupid,” the boy declared.
“I don’t think it is,” his mother said. “I believe.”
Mac added, “You need to believe it, … to help make it true.”
“Fine,” Bobby relented.
Harm wanted more enthusiasm. “Let me hear you say it, soldier, … that you believe.”
Bobby muttered, “I believe.” He immediately got three glares at his unsatisfactory tone. Defensively, he repeated it with a bit more insistence. “I believe. … It’s silly, … but I believe,” he muttered the last sentence under his breath.
The boy sighed deeply, and then began to tap on the bells with the chopstick. “It’s okay, Frosty.” With his free hand, Bobby stroked the bird’s head. “Hear the silver bells? … You like that, don’t you? … Ring-a-ling. … Hear them ring? Sure you do. Just like always. And you’re gonna be okay. Everything’s okay. … You’ll be all better tomorrow.”
After a period of time with Bobby comforting the bird with his words, touch, and, of course, the bells, Frosty did appear to calm.
The adults stood in rapt attention at the caring boy working so hard to make everything better for the bird. When everything appeared okay, Harm excused himself to use the bathroom.
Meanwhile, after all this time away from the fire and Harm, Mac was becoming very cold, especially since she was not moving around at all. She had her arms crossed, trying to keep the warmth in. Every once in awhile she rubbed her hands over herself, trying to use friction to generate heat.
Mac suddenly felt a presence behind her and then a warm blanket being wrapped around her shoulders. Harm had picked up the cover when he walked by the fireplace on his way back.
“Thanks,” Mac said over her shoulder, looking up at him appreciatively as she pulled the blanket tighter around her.
Harm nodded slightly in acknowledgement, and then went on to embrace her from behind, sliding his arms down hers, taking over the job of rubbing over them to create warmth.
That felt so good. Mac happily let him surround her with his heat and comfort.
Harm finally took his mind off how good it felt to have Mac in his arms this way, and noted, “Frosty seems to be calming down.”
“Yeah,” Bobby agreed, in a tired, but relieved voice.
“I think we can probably take him back to our place now,” Kelly decided. “… Maybe get him to sleep.” She thought her son needed to go to bed too. She was glad that he seemed to have gotten less upset as the bird did. “Bobby, you ready to go?”
Her son nodded his head. “Yeah.”
“Hey,” offered Mac, “since you seem to like the cookies, and I have a ton of them, how about I wrap some up for you to take?”
“Okay,” Bobby agreed.
Mac started off to the kitchen, flashlight in hand, when Kelly impulsively decided to follow. “Let me help with that.”
When they were alone, Kelly whispered, “Ok, Mac. … Don’t tell me there’s nothing between you two. A guy who is just a friend, doesn’t warm a woman up like that.”
“What?”
“I saw the way he touched you when he draped the blanket over you, … the way he held you. … And the way you cozied right up to him.”
Mac searched for a response. “… Harm and I … have been through some … intense life or death adventures together. It’s become … necessary that we feel comfortable being close … and looking out for each other.”
“You’re saying the two of you are so … close, because of working in the military together?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I doubt my husband ever lets any of the guys in his platoon hold him like that, … and if he does, … I’m going to be worried.”
--
Meanwhile, in the other room, Harm asked Bobby, “So does Frosty talk at all? … Or does he just make noises?”
“Dad taught him to say one phrase. But that’s it. I haven’t had any luck with him. He’s kind of a dumb bird. … But I like him anyway.” Cautiously looking up at Harm, Bobby asked, “… He’s going to live, right?”
“Yes,” said Harm.
“You promise?”
“I do.”
Bobby made a face. “How do I know you’re not full of it?”
Mac walked in at that moment. “Harm can be full of many things,” she said, teasing her partner, before seriously assuring the boy, “… but he has yet to make a promise he can’t keep.”
Bobby accepted that, but felt the need to add, “I still think the Navy’s stupid.”
“Bobby,” his mother said, “you and I are going to have to talk with your father when he comes home about respect of others.”
“I respect people,” her son said. “… I respect Mac.” Looking at her, he said, “I’m glad you’ve got your regular hair back. … I saw you leave before. I don’t like your hair all poofed out.”
When Mac had changed into her pajamas, she had brushed her hair back, so it now laid as it normally did.
“Bobby!” his mother scolded again. “Sorry. He tends to say whatever he thinks.”
“That’s okay,” said Mac.
“Last week,” Kelly told them, “when we were out shopping, he told one man he should shave his head because he was balding anyway … and some woman that she needed an attitude adjustment.
“And then we ran into one of his classmates, … a girl. He introduced her to me as the ‘sort of nerdy girl.’ When he realized I didn’t approve of the comment, he tried to make things better. He said she was cute, … but too tall for any guys to take her seriously.”
“… At least he’s honest,” said Harm with amusement.
Bobby was getting tired, but was still with it enough to follow the conversation. “Mom was real mad,” he commented. “She said I’m getting … nuttin’,” he yawned, “... for Christmas.”
“That was after the stunt you pulled with your teacher,” his mother supplemented. “… I had to leave work to conference with Mr. Gordon.”
Harm couldn’t help but ask Bobby, “Did something that got you caught?”
“No,” the boy answered, half asleep. “Somebody snitched on me.”
“But he’s been a good boy since then, … so there’s hope for a gift or two.” Kelly brushed her hand through her son’s hair.
“You’d better get to bed,” Mac told Bobby, “or you’re going to fall asleep on your feet.”
“Come on; you get Frosty; I’ll take the bells,” said Kelly to her son.
Harm placed the bird in the boy’s arms.
Kelly looked at Harm and Mac with gratitude. “Thanks for everything tonight.”
“No problem,” answered Mac.
“Let’s go,” Kelly said to Bobby, gently nudging him to move. But the boy was completely stiff and rooted in his spot. “It’s like you’re made of wood. Come on, work with me here, Bobby.”
“A wooden soldier, huh?” Harm tried to help by appealing to Bobby’s love of the military. “Hey, Mac, what skill does the Army instill in their recruits that requires an almost wood-like stiffness?”
“Marching,” she replied.
Harm took his turn with the drill sergeant voice. “Attention! … Eyes open, soldier. About face!”
Bobby did as ordered, and faced the door.
Turning to Kelly, Harm said, “Make him march, Major Mom.”
He started her off …“Now, … march, two, three, four. … Hup, two, three, four …”
Kelly picked up counting off and Bobby started out the door. She looked behind at Harm and Mac when she made it to the hallway, and Mac said, “Merry Christmas.”
Kelly stopped counting and paused to say, “You too. Thanks again.” She looked at Harm, and politely told him, “It was nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
Addressing them both, Kelly said with a sly smile, “Well, I’ll let you two get back to … whatever it was you were doing …”
At the end of her suggestion, Kelly moved a step to be out of Harm’s view and winked at Mac. Then she turned to her son, who, without prompting, had become still once again.
“Alright soldier, back to marching off to bed. … Hup, two, three, four, … hup, two, three, four …”
“Good night,” Mac called after them and then closed the door as the sounds of marching became more distant.
----
TBC ...
-----
A/N: By the way, Bobby and Kelly are entirely made up by me; … they do not belong to the ‘official’ JAG universe. What did you think of them?
Next up … the beginning of the ‘never before seen anywhere’ rest of this story (i.e. if you’ve previously seen parts of this story on another site, … I’m finally getting to the entirely new stuff).
~ Teacup
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