N/B: This is a quite short fan fiction story which takes place around the last part of JAG Season 7 Episode 11, Answered Prayers. No Sergei…instead…
On a Road somewhere between Virginia and Washington DC:
2230 Hours EST
Come on, Come on, Commander Harmon Rabb pounded his steering wheel and sounded the horn as he tried to inch through the Christmas Eve traffic. He always knew jams would be thick during the holiday season, but didn't expect it this to be so terrible. As he did so, his thoughts focus on his father. Any family or family member would of course make an effort to remember a lost loved one; but this was different. Harmon Rabb Senior was not just a family member; he was someone once listed as Missing in Action (MIA), one who fought for the very freedoms of the country, and one finally discovered to have faced much secretive incarceration and an unwanted death in then Soviet Russia. He was the embodiment of the true American spirit…
On the way from Dulles International Airport…
"You ok back there, 'am? Sy…r?" The Hispanic taxi driver drawled.
"We're fine, just step on it," the lethargic voice from the slightly scarred gentleman said. The driver had questioned him for the umpteenth time where he received his injuries from but he would simply provide a non-answer. Nor was there any explanation why the lady next to him had a swollen ankle.
"Just checking if your fine. You from far? Going to pay respects to lost one at wall?" No response. In the girl's mind however, she was wondering exactly what to write on the card. It would be the first time she would be visiting the wall to pay respects to a pilot who she only learnt the true story of just recently. A pilot whose son somehow magically appeared in her life. Saving her not once but twice—physically and legally. Then also giving her a boost of confidence. Ok, the son is someone amazing, but how to acknowledge the father who flew in defence of his nation, risking his life and not knowing if he would never see if wife or child again. The man next to her had much different thoughts. He was never the kind to think of presents during Christmas, especially for others who he had a slightly antagonistic relationship with. Still the events of the last thirty six hours had moulded him much.
Vietnam Veterans War Memorial
Few minutes to Christmas midnight
Harmon Rabb ran as fast as his legs could move through the snow covered ground to reach "his father". Darn it, it this was the sky, I would have fired up the weapons in my Tomcat and shoot a place free in the parking lot, he thought. It was pitch black at the wall and thus he took a few minutes longer to find his father's name. Something else caught eye as he found the name—a card! Well, visitors do usually leave a card...instinctively, he picked it up and read and to his amazement, he saw the words
TO HARMON RABB SR
Opening it up, the neat handwriting said:
THE PILOT I NEVER KNEW
"Now I do know," a voice behind whispered. Spinning around, the Commander exclaimed, "Skates!" and gave his old RIO the tightest hug ever. "Argh.. thanks Harm be gentle. I think one of my ribs may be still cracked." He then also noticed she was limpingon left ankle.
"Crack...huh? How did you get here? What happened to you?"
"Well I have a friend in Kabul who has a friend in Kandahar..." The figure of Clayton Webb, CIA agent stepped into view. "Webb," Harm stated, though it had the tone of amazement. "How?"
"Lieutenant Hawkes was on a classified mission, and it's need to know. What you can know is that I was around and traded two cartons of opium for her release. The first name she muttered when I found her was yours. We've been on the road for eighteen hours. Merry Christmas Harm."
Still reeling from shock, Harmon Rabb Jr extended a hand and said, "Merry Christmas, Clay," mentioning the agent's first name for the first time.
"Mr. Webb," Elizabeth "Skates" Hawkes began,
The field agent simply raised a hand and said, "you're welcome", disappearing into the shadows.
"Merry Christmas, Harm. Merry Christmas Harmon Rabb Snr," Skates said, turning to the wall and saluting, despite not being in uniform.
THE END.