Chapter Text
He’s loved planes ever since he could remember, or at least the idea of them. When given free reign at the library, little Harvey headed to the kid’s non-fiction section without fail to find the picture books about the science behind them, the training the pilots do, the different kinds and builds… He asked Santa for different models of toy planes each Winter Star, which evolved into requesting model kits from his parents in his pre-teen years. Any time a plane flew overhead, he instantly craned his neck to get a good look, a smile inevitably growing on his face.
It was right about the time he started looking into the requirements to become a pilot himself when he had his life-changing incident with a stepladder. He didn’t often need them, being tall even at a young age, but that particular day he was tasked with getting something out of the gutters on the house. He made sure the ladder was steady and started climbing without a second thought. Once he got to the top though… Long story short, he realized his fear of heights was legitimately crippling. It took his frazzled father’s coaching and promises of breaking his fall should he slip to get him unfrozen, and even that took several minutes.
His ever-pragmatic parents pointed out that even if his terrible eyesight wasn’t enough to prevent him from being a pilot (using corrective lenses was okay, he had done his research!), a fear of heights that intense made the dream utterly ridiculous. Give it up and start working on a different career path. Medicine would be a nice, lucrative alternative… He had no argument. Though it gutted him, he left his childhood dreams behind to focus on a new, more realistic career path.
He didn’t lose his love of planes though. Even though it hurt to look at them and remember his dead ambitions, he refused to give up his collection of models despite his parents’ suggestion, and he continued to build even more. He continued to read about them, having moved to the adult non-fiction section of the library long ago. He even invested med school graduation gift money into the purchase of an Airband radio, a marvelous device that would allow him to communicate with pilots. This was kept a secret from his parents, who would never understand or support his continued interest in aviation if it did not yield a salary, purchased after he settled into his placement in Pelican Town. Between that and his ever-growing collection of models, it kept the worst of the loneliness at bay during those first years as a general practitioner.
Part of growing up, he realized, was understanding that the things you love aren’t necessarily the things that you spend your life doing as an occupation. Maybe, he consoled himself, keeping those things as a hobby preserved his love for them.
Whatever he was doing must be working, because standing next to the farmer at the annual Ferngill Republic Air Show, watching the small two-person crafts swooping through the sky and leaving trails in their wake, he felt that same joy he had as a little boy looking up at the wild blue yonder.