Disclaimer: I don’t own Harm or Mac, et al. I think the premise has become so far removed from JAG as we know it that
I no longer have to disclaim ownership of the premise.
Author Notes: This little piece of work picks up about a month after Part V ended.
Feedback is always welcome at dcamp@wheelerlegal.com
Immediately after learning that they were pregnant yet again, Harm and Mac’s search for a new home began in
earnest (AN: No, that’s not a little town outside Falls Church). The hope that the search would be quick and
painless was dispelled quickly. Everything which was big enough, which they liked, and which was close enough to
the office, they couldn’t afford. What they could afford was either smaller than what they had now or so far away
from Falls Church as to be impractical. Without having a new home lined up, they were reluctant to put Mac’s house
(yes, it was still in her name alone – lawyers are the worst about taking care of stuff like that) on the market.
Consequently, without having their current home sold, they didn’t have a down payment to put on a new place. It
was the classic real estate Catch 22.
Mac’s talk with Admiral Chegwidden resigning her commission had been very difficult. She loved her work, and she loved
the people she worked with, and leaving that all behind was not going to be easy. She knew she was doing the right
thing, though, and even though it hurt, she signed the papers, turning the page closing another chapter in her life.
She’d agreed to stay on until the end of the year, and on her last day, the Admiral had thrown her an emotional
farewell party.
It was during her last week of work that she’d first noticed it. Well, she’d actually noticed it almost every time
she’d driven by it, but it was only during that last week that she’d really begun to pay attention. She didn’t say
anything to Harm because it seemed a little too farfetched, but she couldn’t get it out of her head once the thought
had been planted there.
Mac had been out of work for six weeks. She’d expected her life’s pace to slow down now that she wasn’t going to
work every day, but somehow she was just as busy now as she’d ever been. After Sabbrina got on the bus in the morning,
her days were filled with 19-month old Matt and 6-month old Molly and laundry and house cleaning and shopping.
Finally, after many failed attempts and good intentions, she was able to follow up on the plan that had been forming
in her mind for some time.
"Daddy’s home!" Sabbrina shouted. She forgot all about setting the table and ran into the living room to greet
her father. Matt toddled after her, dragging his favorite teddy bear behind him by one leg.
"Daddy’s home," Mac said to Molly, laying in her playpen on her back, chewing on a sock she’d pulled off her foot.
Harm entered the kitchen, Sabbrina on his back and Matt on his hip. He bent down so that Sabbrina could slide off,
and then gave his wife a proper "I’m glad to be home" kiss.
"Good day?" she asked, smiling, happy as always to see him.
"Busy," he said. "You?"
"We had a good day, didn’t we, Matty?" Mac asked her son.
"Wucy bad," Matt said.
"Lucy was bad?" Harm asked. "Uh oh. What did Lucy do now?"
"Wucy dig," he was told.
"Lucy dug a hole?" That certainly wasn’t a first. "What a bad doggie!"
"Bad doggie," Matt agreed solemnly.
"Dinner’s ready," Mac announced.
Harm carried Matt to his booster chair, then picked Molly up and flew her like an airplane over to her high chair.
Molly giggled, much more comfortable with him than she had been in the past, though she still clearly preferred her
mother. Harm planted a big raspberry on her stomach before sitting her in her chair.
After the kids had been put to bed, Mac finally had a chance to talk with Harm about her idea.
"There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about," she began.
"You’re not pregnant again, are you?" he asked with mock horror.
"Very funny," smiling at his silliness. "Now I want you to keep an open mind about this, okay?" she said. Before she
could continue, the phone rang. Irritated at the interruption, Mac reached over and answered it. "Hello!"
She listened. "This is she," she said. She listened again, for nearly a minute this time. "What? When?"
The look on her face had Harm concerned, and he leaned toward her, trying to overheard the other end of the
conversation she was having.
"Well, thank you for calling," Mac said, then paused. "Yes, as soon as I can. Good-bye." She hung up and turned to
Harm, her face pale.
"What is it? What’s wrong?" he asked.
"It’s my mother. She’s had a stroke. She’s in a hospital in New Mexico. She’s been asking for me. That was a social
worker."
"Oh, Mac. I’m so sorry."
Mac stood up, her mind racing. "I need to go to her. I’ve got to make plane reservations, and I’ve got to pack."
Harm stood up beside her. "Whoa. Wait a minute. Do you have to do this tonight? Can’t it wait until morning?"
"Harm, I was too late for my dad. I don’t want to make that mistake again."
"All right," he conceded. Though he was concerned about her traveling in a highly emotional state, he knew this was
important to her. "Do you want to pack or get us some plane tickets?"
"Why don’t I go alone?" Mac suggested. "There’s non point in messing up both our lives."
Harm studied her for a moment, trying to figure out if she really wanted to go alone or if she was just trying to
be strong. No. She’d dealt with her father alone. She wasn’t going to handle this alone. "Mac, I’m going with you.
No arguments."
The relief on her face was evident, and Harm was glad he’d insisted. "Okay. But why don’t we do it this way? Call
your mom and see if she’ll come out and stay with the kids. You can follow me once she gets here. I’ll bring Molly
with me now."
"Mom can handle Molly," Harm said. He was sure as soon as he called his mother, she’d be flying cross-country at the
first opportunity, even if it meant using Frank’s company jet.
"I know she can. But I think I might Molly with me."
"All right," Harm conceded. "You go pack. I’ll make the calls."
Mac stood at the front door, a suitcase in her hand, a sleeping baby in the car seat by her feet. "You have the
hospital information, right?" she asked.
"Yes. And you’ll leave your car where we agreed?" Harm asked. As he’d suspected, his mother had offered to come
immediately and was probably on her way. When Harm had called the Admiral to tell him that he wouldn’t be in in
the morning, his CO had offered his help as well. AJ and Sydney were on their way here now. AJ would take Harm to
the airport to collect his mother while Sydney stayed with the children. Harm would then drive his mother home in
Mac’s car, followed by the Admiral. AJ and Sydney would go home, and Harm would leave for the airport to fly out
on the chartered jet his mother was coming here on.
"Yes," Mac agreed. Her plane left in ninety-three minutes, and she was anxious to get going.
"Honey, I’m sorry about your mom," Harm said softly. He kissed her forehead.
Mac stepped into his embrace, and he held her tightly in his arms for a moment. "Get going," he said. "Travel
safely."
She pulled away from him, vowing to herself that she would not cry. Not now. Not yet. "Yeah. You, too."
"I love you. I’ll be with you as soon as I can," he promised.
"I love you, too." She picked up Molly’s care seat. "See you in a while."
Mac had tried to sleep on the flight out, but she was too busy trying to make the plane fly faster. To distract
herself from how slowly they seemed to be moving, she stroked her sleeping daughter’s head. Molly had woken briefly
when Mac had removed her from her seat to pass through security, but she’d gone back to sleep soon after being
returned to her warm cocoon. Mac had so many questions whirring around in her brain, but Molly’s presence helped to
calm her.
She wondered what her mother had been doing since she’d last seen her in 1997. She wondered why her mother had never
responded to the many letters she’d sent – not the least of which were those sent to announce the births of each of her
children and her marriage. Didn’t her mother care at all about her only child? She so wanted to ask her mother these
questions, and she intended to once she knew her mother was going to be all right.
It was precisely 0549 when Mac stepped through the doors of St. Joseph Medical Center in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
She’d taken a cab from the airport directly after landing and collecting her bag. She was hungry and tired, but she
needed to see her mother before she did anything else. Molly had awoken in the cab on the way over here, but so far,
she’d been very patient about breakfast.
As soon as she stepped through the doors, her cell phone rang. Mac stopped to put Molly and her suitcase down, then
fished her phone out of her purse on the sixth ring. "Hello."
"Mac. Where are you? How’s your mom?" Harm asked, his voice very faint.
"I don’t know. I just walked through the doors of the hospital. I won’t know anything until I track her down. Where
are you? I can hardly hear you."
"I’m at the airport. We’re just about to take off. How’s Molly?"
Mac looked down at her daughter and smiled. "She’s an angel."
"What? Listen, I’ve gotta go. I’ll be with you in about four hours. Tell your mom I’m looking forward to meeting her."
She could tell he was yelling to be heard.
"I will. I love you, Harm."
"Me, too. See you in a bit."
Mac hung up and looked at her phone, wondering when she had last charged the battery. She picked up her bag and the
car seat, and approached the information desk.
Mac had been here for thirty-eight minutes, and still she hadn’t seen her mother. She’d been shuffled from one nursing
station to another, from the admitting desk to ICU. Molly was getting restless, and Mac was getting more irritated by
the minute.
Finally, a woman approached her in the room where she’d been told to wait. "Mrs. Rabb?"
Mac stood up. "Yes. I’m Sarah Rabb. Do you know where my mother is?"
"My name is Lisa Frank. We spoke on the phone last night." She extended her hand, and Mac shook it.
"It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Frank. I’ve been getting the royal run-around here. No one seems to know where my
mother is. Can you help me?"
"Come with me, please," Ms. Frank directed. "Here, let me take that," she said, holding out her hand for Mac’s
suitcase.
Gratefully, Mac allowed her to take the suitcase. Mac held Molly on her hip and carried her purse and the car seat
in her mother hand. She jiggled Molly comfortingly when she fussed. She’d fed Molly while they’d been waiting, using
a microwave in the patient lounge to heat the formula. They’d played patty cake and peakaboo, but Molly was picking
up on Mac’s agitation, and she was becoming increasingly unhappy.
Mac followed Ms. Frank to an office down the hall. When they were both seated, Ms. Frank said, "She’s beautiful,"
referring to Molly. "How old is she?"
"Seven months. I don’t mean to be rude, Ms. Frank, but I’d really like to see my mother," Mac told her.
"Mrs. Rabb, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you mother died an hour ago."
Mac bent her head and covered her eyes with her free hand. Not again! She couldn’t be too late again! It just wasn’t
fair! How could this have happened again?!
"Mrs. Rabb," Ms. Frank said gently. "Are you all right?"
Mac looked up at her, but could barely see her through the tears in her eyes. "What happened?"
"Complications related to the stroke. Her heart had been under a tremendous strain for years. It just couldn’t take it
any more. The doctors think she died of heart failure, complicated by the long-standing diabetes and her weight. I’m
very sorry, Mrs. Rabb. I know how much your mother wanted to see you."
Diabetes? My mother was diabetic? Mac wondered to herself. Since when? And if she wanted to see me so badly, why didn’t
she ever call or take me up on my offer to fly her out to visit? Mac felt herself getting angry, and she kept her
feelings in check with an effort. Anger wouldn’t do anyone any good. "What do we do now?" she asked quietly.
"There will be an autopsy to determine the actual cause of death. After that, her body will be released to you
for burial. That should happen some time tomorrow."
"All right. Thank you," Mac said, suddenly feeling extremely tired and more than a little overwhelmed.
"Why don’t you tell me where you’re staying, and I’ll call you when you can take her home," Ms. Frank suggested.
"Um – I don’t know where we’ll be staying. My husband is on his way out here as we speak. We’ll decide that when he
gets here, I guess. Why don’t I just plan on calling you in the morning?"
Ms. Frank nodded. "I have your mother’s personal effects. Why don’t you go get something to eat and then come back
here? I’ll be out of the office anyway, and you can look through your mom’s things in private."
"Thank you, but I’m really not hungry."
"All right," Ms. Frank said, though she looked like she wanted to lecture Mac on the necessity of taking care of
herself and the unborn child she was carrying. She handed Mac a large envelope. "Take all the time you need."
"Thank you. For everything," Mac said gratefully.
"You’re welcome. And I’m very sorry about your mother."
Mac smiled her thanks and waited until Ms. Frank had left the room before dumping the contents of the envelope. A
single object, a beat-up black purse, slide out onto the desk.
Mac put Molly down in her seat. Molly’s eyes were heavy – she’d apparently decided to combat boredom by taking a nap.
Jiggling the carrier with her foot, Mac slowly picked the purse up and turned it over in her hands. It was a cheap
plastic purse, worn almost beyond usefulness. Not sure she wanted to see the contents, Mac unsnapped the closure and
lifted the flap.
She dumped the contents of the purse onto the desk. Out came a key ring with two keys on it, a bank book, a wallet,
two paper clips, a single wrapped piece of Trident, a comb, and an empty prescription bottle.
Mac replaced the keys, the paper clips, the gum, and the comb back in the purse. She looked at the prescription
bottle. It was a prescription for Wellbutrin, 150 mg twice a day. Her mother had been battling depression. No great
surprise there. Mac put the empty bottle back into the purse as well.
The bank book indicated a balance of $610.39, with a recent deposit which Mac guessed was her mother’s social
security check. The lawyer part of her wondered if that money would need to be returned, and she made a mental
note to herself to check on that. The bank book was returned to the purse as well.
The last item was the wallet, also made of cheap plastic and also well worn. Mac opened it and found three one dollar
bills, seven dollars in food stamps, two dimes, a nickel, and a penny. She also found her mother’s Medicare card,
her social security card, and a California driver’s license which had expired in 1989. Her mother her been in
California in 1989. And she’d learned to drive, something she hadn’t been able to do when she’d left home.
Mac flipped to the section of the wallet that contained space for photos. She was somewhat surprised to find photos
of Sabbrina, Matt and Molly there, and that discovery brought tears to her eyes. Her mother had carried pictures
of her grandchildren around with her, just like a normal grandmother did. Mac wondered if she’d ever taken the
picture out and showed them to strangers. She wondered if her mother had been proud to have such beautiful
grandchildren. She wondered why her mother had never shown any interest in meeting them personally, in holding
them close and whispering their names while nuzzling their sweet necks, in actually getting to know her
daughter’s children. Mac looked down at Molly, sleeping soundly now, and let go of the huge sobs that had
been building deep in her heart.
Harm hurried through the doors of the hospital, his mind three steps ahead of him. He needed to find Mac somewhere
in this huge building. He’d tried calling her from the airport, but he’d gotten no answer. He assumed the quickest
way to do track her down was to ask for her mother, but he realized with a sudden jolt that he didn’t even know his
mother-in-law’s name. He could only assume she still went by the name Mackenzie, but he had no idea what her first
name might be. They’d just never talked about her. Even so, how could he not know his wife’s mother’s name? His
footsteps slowed as he pondered this new problem.
"Harm," he heard a voice say to his left. He turned toward the sound and spotted Mac standing next to a bench near
the wall. "Mac," he said. He was surprised to find her down here and not with her mother. As he approached, he came
to the conclusion that the news was not good. One look in her eyes told him that, indeed, it was not good.
"I was too late," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. "I was too late again."
Harm put his arms around her and held her while she cried, wanting more than anything to take the pain away. After
a time, she pulled away and wiped at her eyes.
"I’m sorry, baby."
She smiled up at him through her tears. "Yeah. Me, too."
"So what now?" he asked as he reached down to pick Molly up out of her car seat. When she’d seen him, she’d begun
to smile and wave her arms and legs and gurgle happily. She snuggled into his neck, seeking comfort from the sadness
she felt around her, and Harm held her tightly.
"They’re doing an autopsy to determine the cause of death, but they think it’s heart failure. They’ll probably
release her body tomorrow, so I guess we need to make funeral arrangements. And find a place to stay, at least
until tomorrow."
"Frank’s taken care of that," Harm told her. "He flew east with mom, then came out here with me. A car met us at
the airport. Frank’s making arrangements now. I’m supposed to call him when we’re ready. He’ll pick us up and let
us use the car as long as we need it. He’s going back home to help mom with the kids."
Mac was overwhelmed by Frank’s generosity, not that it surprised her. This was how families were supposed to be,
she thought to herself, rallying around in time of crisis. Not like her family, the members so distanced
geographically and emotionally from one another that they sometimes didn’t know where the others were, let
alone what they were doing. What it must have been like growing up in a family like that! She may not have
had it for herself, but Mac was damned determined that she was going to give it to her children.
"There’s no reason to stay here any longer," she said, trying hard not to break down completely.
"I’ll call Frank."
After dropping Frank at the airport, Harm drove Mac and Molly to their hotel. Harm tried to convince Mac to nap
for a while, but she had other plans. She needed to see where her mother had lived and figure out what to do with
her things. After the funeral was over, she wanted to go home as soon as possible. Keys in hand, using the information
they’d given her at the hospital, Mac and a mildly protesting Harm found the address which Deanne Mackenzie had called
home.
She’d lived in a housing development, most likely government subsidized, most likely for the aged and disabled
(based on the lack of playground equipment). The grounds looked clean and well-maintained, and the many apartment
buildings clustered around the common area looked like they’d been well taken care of as well. They located the D
building and found apartment 4 on the second floor. Before Mac could unlock the door, Harm asked, "Are you sure
you want to do this now?"
Mac wasn’t sure she *ever* wanted to do this, but putting it off made no sense. "I’m sure," she said. She inserted
the key into the lock, turned it, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
The apartment was dark, the drawn drapes keeping out the afternoon light. Mac entered slowly. Her mother may
have had a roommate for all she knew. There was no sound inside but the tick-tick-tick of the clock on the wall.
Harm crossed to the window and opened the drapes, allowing the sunlight to brighten the room.
Mac looked around at the small apartment. The living area was neat, clean and sparsely furnished. A small kitchen
was divided from the living room by a bar. One open door led to what was obviously a bedroom; another led to the
bathroom. Mac closed her eyes, trying to picture her mother here, and she felt tears form behind her eyelids. She
cleared her throat and opened her eyes. "I’ll start with the desk, I guess."
"What would you like me to do?" Harm asked.
"Maybe you could try to find the apartment manager. See if she’s current on her rent. Find out if the furniture
came with the apartment or if it’s – if it belonged to my mother."
"Will you be all right here?"
"I’ll be fine. Why don’t you take Molly with you," Mac suggested. Molly was almost asleep on her father’s shoulder.
This *was* her usual nap time, after all. Mac smiled at the sight of the tiny baby in her father’s large arms. It
was a sight that always made a lump form in her throat. Today that lump seemed a little larger.
"Okay," Harm agreed.
He seemed reluctant to leave, and Mac guessed as to the reason why. "Harm, I’m fine. Really."
"Mac, I - um - I don’t know your mother’s name," he confessed.
Mac stared at him, stunned. Her own mother, and she’d never even told Harm her name?! That was too incredible to be
true, but apparently it was. "Deanne Mackenzie," she said, amazed that her voice was as steady as it sounded when her
insides were churning.
"I won’t be long," Harm promised. He kissed Mac on the forehead and left the apartment.
Mac wandered slowly around the room, looking at her mother’s things. There wasn’t much to see. What furniture there
was appeared to be second hand and well-worn. She ended her circuit of the room at the small desk. It was a computer
desk, but it held no electronic hardware. On the top shelf of the desk were photos - Harm and Mac’s wedding picture
and photos of the three children separately, the three children together, and the family photo taken at Christmas
time. Mac took the pictures down and stacked them on the nearby easy chair, unheeding of the tears that trailed down
her cheeks. She’d put the pictures in the coffin. She hoped her mother might find some comfort in that.
She sat at the desk and began to go through the drawers. They were almost as bare as the room itself. There was a
phone bill which apparently had not been paid, and Mac put that on top of the photos. There was nothing else of
interest in the desk. On a sudden impulse, Mac got up and went into the kitchen. She found a garbage can under the
sink and brought it back to the desk. She pulled every drawer in the desk out and dumped its contents into the
trash. When she’d finished that, she went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She began throwing food
into the garbage can, not thinking, jut acting on the emotions she was feeling. When she’d finished with the
refrigerator, she started on the cupboards. She threw away cans of soup, unopened boxes of macaroni, a half-full
bag of sugar, and almost everything else she came across.
Almost in a trance, she took the garbage can into the bathroom. She was about to begin on the medicine chest when
Harm returned.
Harm spread Molly’s baby blanket on the floor and placed the sleeping baby in the middle of it. He then went into the
bathroom, where he found Mac frantically throwing toothpaste and dental floss and other detritus commonly found in a
medicine chest into the garbage.
"Honey, what are you doing?" he asked quietly.
"I’m throwing this stuff out. It’s of no use to anyone. Just like my mother! She was of no use to me, and I threw her
away like a piece of garbage! What kind of daughter does that to her own mother?! What kind of person am I?!" she
cried, tears streaming from her eyes.
Harm pulled her into his arms. "Shhh," he said, smoothing her hair down. "Your mom chose to live this way, Mac. You
tried to keep in touch. You invited her out to see the kids. She apparently wanted it this way, for whatever reason.
Don’t beat yourself up."
Mac pulled away from him. "But I should have brought the kids out to see her! Would that have been so hard?! I
knew she wouldn’t come! I knew it, and I just left it at that! Because I was afraid once she saw them, she’d want
to be a part of their lives, and I wasn’t sure I could handle that! So I went through the motions, knowing she’d
never accept my invitations, so I could say I tried, that it wasn’t my fault, that she’d chosen to stay away! Just
like she chose to leave me!"
Harm pulled her close again, and Mac cried into his chest. Mac believed all the things she’d just said, and she
felt a tremendous amount of guilt at not having made more of an effort to re-establish a relationship with her
mother before it was too late. But she also knew that her mother bore some of the responsibility for their
continued distance.
When her sobs subsided to sniffles, she said, "I just don’t understand why she didn’t try. She never wrote back,
she never called. I told her I forgave her!"
"Maybe she couldn’t forgive herself," Harm suggested.
Mac wiped her eyes. "So what did you find out?" She took the last couple of items out of the medicine cabinet and
dropped them into the garbage. When she was finished, Harm picked the can up and carried it back to the kitchen.
He could tell by the open cupboard doors that she’d been through here already. What was up with her? It was like
she couldn’t wait to get rid of all that remained of her mother.
Actually, when she wanted to get rid of was all the reminders that her mother had lived here, alone, and that she’d
died here, alone.
Mac was in the living room, covering Molly with an afghan that she’d found in the bedroom.
"The unit manager has an apartment on the ground floor. She says that your mother was current on her rent. Heat and
electricity were included in the rent. The phone was not. The apartment came unfurnished, so everything here with
the exception of the major appliances belonged to your mother. She asked me to pass along her condolences. She said
your mother was a lovely woman, and she offered to take care of whatever you don’t want to take. She said the other
tenants would probably take some of the furniture, and whatever she can’t give away here will go to the Salvation
Army. If you want."
"That sounds reasonable," Mac said. "I just need to go through the stuff in the bedroom. There’s nothing here
I want."
"How about a break?" he suggested. "You tired? Hungry?"
"No. I’d like to finish this. It won’t take long."
Mac went into the bedroom, followed by Harm. This room was no different from the others – sparsely furnished, neat
as a pin, and clean. The one thing out of the ordinary was a fish tank on the table next to the bed. Mac approached
the tank, wondering if there was actually fish in it. She didn’t see it at first, but then it swam out from behind
the plastic pink plant – a single goldfish.
"Well, hello there," Mac said to the fish. A can of fish food stood next to the tank, and Mac picked it up. "I bet
you’re hungry." She sprinkled some flakes into the tank, and the fish immediately swam to the surface and began to
eat.
"You made a friend," Harm said.
"Poor thing was starving."
It didn’t take long to look through the things in the bedroom. The closet contained only clothes, as did the
lone dresser. When she was finished, Mac said, "That’s it."
"What do you want to do?" Harm asked.
"Take the nice lady up on her offer, I guess. Give it all away to someone who can use it. I want to take the fish."
"You what?"
"I want to take the fish," she repeated.
"You want to take a goldfish eighteen hundred miles in an airplane?" This seemed more than a little ludicrous to
Harm. "Why don’t we just see if one of the neighbors will take it? Maybe Mrs. Whats-her-name." To Harm, that was
eminently more reasonable than transporting a stupid fish on an airplane. It was, after all, just a fish. If they
were to flush it down the toilet, who’d care?
Harm recognized the stubborn set to Mac’s jaw, and he was very glad he hadn’t voiced most of those thoughts.
"Harm, that fish and I are the only living things left of my mother. We’re taking it with us."
That argument made little sense, but there was even less sense arguing about it. "All right," he said, giving in.
"How do you propose to do this?"
"I saw an empty mayonnaise jar in the kitchen. I’ll put it in there."
"Did you throw the jar away?" Harm asked, knowing she probably had.
She looked away, seemingly embarrassed about the frenzied cleaning spree she’d gone on. "Yes. But it’s right there in
the garbage."
"What was that all about?" he asked.
"I don’t know," she admitted. "Something just hit me, and off I went. It needed to be done in any event. Now,
it’s finished."
"You’re gonna need some air holes in the lid," Harm noted.
"I saw a hammer and some nails in the kitchen."
"Did you throw *them* away, too?"
"The nails," Mac admitted, blushing. "Not the hammer."
While Harm sorted through the garbage to retrieve the jar and a nail, Mac moved a still sleeping Molly into her
car seat. Then, while Harm poked a couple of holes in the lid of the jar, Mac scooped the fish up into the jar.
"Madaram (AN: to the best of my research abilities, this means "my mother" in Farsi - there should be a funny
little accent thing over the first "a")," she said. "We’re going home."