In the wilds of Paraguay...
Damn my head hurts. My back hurts, everything hurts. So this is what going down with the plane feels like. I'll never bitch about ejector seats ever again. Now I know I'd rather have that rocket up my ass to throw me from the plane any day of the week and twice on Sunday. Mac hasn't said anything yet. "Mac? Mac you with me?" She's slumped forward as far as her seatbelt will allow her. She can't be dead, she can't. Reaching forward, my fingers pull her back against the seat and find a strong and steady pulse at her neck. We've got to get out of here. My back is the biggest complaint as I lift myself out of the cockpit or what remains of it. My first instinct in this situation is to grab what I can and find a place to hide until the cavalry shows up, this is courtesy of the United States Navy and my survival training during flight school. But not this time, now there's someone in my care, someone I wouldn't leave her here even if I saw Sadik and twenty of his no doubt pissed off goons in tow.
The entire ass end of the fuselage has been ripped off. It's easier to get off that way than off either side. I have to get out to inspect what's left of the plane. This old girl's seen her last flight, guess I'm not getting my passport back. I've got time, there's no gas leaking out of her, nothing's burning, and there's no sparking either. As soon as I... Jesus, Mac's face is covered in blood. I can see the gash on her head, just below the hairline and above her goggles. I have to break a few branches to get a clear look at her. Actually, it's not that big, but any cut on the head's going to bleed like hell. I don't see what she hit her head on; its probably laying back behind us after it broke off. After converting my shirt into a tank top, I've got it wrapped up and taken care of. "Son of a bitch." Her seat belt's broken, that's why she hit her head. It broke off at the buckle. She's probably suffered a concussion, I only hope its just a concussion. It'd be best if I waited until she was awake before taking her out, but we might not have that kind of time. The plane's not going to explode, but we'll be just as dead if Sadik were to find us here.
"Come on God damn it!" I've been fighting with that damn pregnancy suit trying to get Mac out of the cockpit for about half an hour now. How in the hell did she stand it? Even a real pregnancy is a gradual thing. I'm giving this one more try, otherwise I'm cutting that damn thing off her, consequences of her waking up in the process be damned. "Fuck." I've just fallen backwards to ground and my back's protesting my decision like never before. Mac popped out like a cork and she's currently on top of me. This would be an acceptable position any other time but now. Rolling her on to her back, I check the bandage and then climb back up in the plane to salvage anything I can. The first aid kit lodged under the rudder petals of Mac's cockpit will come in handy, there's a small aerial map in here too. Other than that and my bag there's nothing left.
Mac could tell me how long we've been sitting here. Or how long she's been here anyway. My watch broke and she doesn't have one. It's already been too long and she's still out cold. I carried her more than a mile from the plane and hid her body. Christ, that sounds like she was dead already. Dead and bloated, that suit weighs a ton. Then I went back and started collecting debris, the big stuff anyway. The wings and everything else I couldn't drag away, I covered up. At least the blue paint will be hard to spot. If Sadik has a bird at his disposal, I'm going to make it as hard as possible for him to mark the crash site. So now, I've been sitting here for what seems like an eternity. Hell of a word that word. Eternity, and I've grown to hate it.
We have six sticks of dynamite left, not exactly hand grenades, but they'll do. The striker, my Beretta, and a pocketknife. "Humph, if MacGyver was here he'd have a cabin built already." Or a CB radio, that would be nice. Keeter was a die-hard MacGyver fan when we roomed to together in Norfolk. I have my cell and it survived the ordeal, but I don't know any of the local numbers around here. I've inventoried our supplies at least a dozen times over the past hour, it was meant as a distraction from her and it's not working anymore. I have no idea what the hell she and Webb went through before I got there and I not sure I really want to know. But why in the hell did she kiss him like that, were they getting that close? I mean I know they were pretending to be married. No doubt they were in the same bed... I overheard parts of their conversation. Something about sharing beds and toothbrushes. Just how far did they take this act out? God, was it even an act?
What would have happened if I hadn't come down here? Engage your brain moron, you know the answer to that. Mac and Webb would've been killed, no one would be the wiser, and your career at JAG would go on. Yeah that's the obvious. What I want to know is would Mac have become another quest of mine? Would I have driven everyone around me insane trying to find her from the confines of Washington? And Catherine... where would we be right about now? If Mac has to debate how much she means to me after all this she needs an MRI... she'll probably still need one. I've just given up most everything that I love for her. I have no idea what the Admiral meant by what I'd risk to keep her. What's left to give? I've already risked my career and my life on this little endeavor. My entire life has been flying and the Navy. If things stay the way they are the Navy's going to send me on my way and the closest I'll get to Mach one from now on is going to be the flight home.
Enough, I need to find out where Mac and Webb stand first. If Mac feels even half of what I think she does for him, it may be too late already. Sarah Webb, that's so bitter I can't help but spit it out. But this isn't Australia either, there's nothing holding me back this time, not the Navy, or flying or some other woman. I'm going to try to make her understand that I need her too. God I miss you dad. Mom has told me endlessly what it was like when she realized dad was the one. That's nice but it didn't help me then and it won't help me here either. There's nothing like fatherly advise, and right now, I miss his guidance more than anything. I guess it doesn't matter now, if Mac hears me out and burns me down at least I'll know I tried and I'll move on. Somehow.
Move on to what? There's nothing left. I can feel the acid building in my throat. My heart hurts too and why not, everything else does. I could go back to the Admiral, tell him everything that's happened and beg him to take me back. I'm a great lawyer I'm fairly certain he'd do it; he took Mac back didn't he? And if he doesn't I could take Deputy Director Kershaw up on his offer. Agent Rabb, that'd take some time to get used to. I guess I could be a CIA lawyer like Catherine. Or maybe I could join Keeter, fly black op missions for the company or who ever else he works for now. As for Mac, we'll be reduced to what we were like when Brumby was around. Friends, but friends who hold each other at arm's length. I really don't want to go back to that place. Hell, could we even stand to work together anymore? Especially if she turns me down?
It wouldn't be all bad though, yeah JAG would suck if I could get back in, but personally I could commit myself to Catherine like I never could have to Renee. There wouldn't be some cross to bear for Mac weighing me down. Catherine is smart, beautiful, well versed, and interested in me. That I do know. Even better yet she has no problem standing up to me, defending her beliefs, she understands and shares my devotion to country and to family even though she doesn't know my entire story yet, Andrew likes me and her mother loves me even if she might not survive to see the new year. But she can see the connection Mac and I have too. There's no way she'd allow herself to get into a relationship with me unless I came to some sort of conclusion one way or the other about Mac. No maybes, just yes, or no. Anything else would be unacceptable to her. At least she sees it, Renee was damn near blindsided by it or maybe she just chose to ignore it. Most of all, as much as I fought taking part in our fake marriage I enjoyed it just as much if not more. Mac wasn't the only who enjoyed being a spouse. Even if it was only for the duration of one kiss and the newlywed act we put on her mother afterwards. I like the idea of devoting myself to one woman. Someone to confide in for the rest of my life when I'm not feeling so brave. Someone to hold on to everyday without having to question why they're really there with me, someone to raise a child with. Catherine could be that someone for me, but so could Mac. That's part of the reason why I'm down here isn't it?
God I'm cold, isn't this supposed to be South America? You know hot, nasty, unbearable weather, what the hell's this? I built us a fire once the sun went down, but I have to keep it small. If I let it get any bigger the tree canopy overhead won't be enough to hide it. I boiled some water in crude pot I made out of some of the aluminum I got from the plane. Mac still hasn't woken up yet, she coughed up most of the water I poured down her throat, but she should be okay for now. I just wish she'd wake up or make some kind of noise, something to let me know she's not it a coma or anything. We're sharing body heat again; only she doesn't exactly have a choice in the matter. The fire's about ten yards away, I'm just not willing to risk the possibility that Sadik's men aren't out here looking for us. A fire's going to draw them in if they see it. I'd rather be cold in the shadows and in a position to defend ourselves than dead and warm by the fire. We're covered in branches, the Beretta's at my side and the dynamite's handy if I need it too, I'll be ready if I need to be.
Mac stirred in her sleep last night; at least I think she did. I dozed off somewhere around oh dark thirty early this morning. I think its what woke me up. I could have imagined it just as easily too; I hadn't slept in about a day and a half. I killed the fire with dirt, it may not be the only thing killed out here today, but I don't need the smoke giving away our position to increase the chance of that happening. I thought about that last night too. Every man or woman I've killed before this was in the line of duty where I was under the protective umbrella of the Navy. Yesterday though, while I'm still technically in the Navy for the most part I'm just a civilian now. A civilian who killed a lot of people. I don't have a problem with killing, I've been well trained to do it. I just regret that it's come to that on most occasions, but I'd do it all over again and then some if I had the chance. I still remember what one of my flight instructors said to the class at Pensacola when Luke, Keeter, and I were all fresh faced Ensigns. "You are here to kill. You are here to destroy people and property in the name of the United States of America. If you can't handle that, get the hell out of my class." That really fired us up, I remember all of us looking around to see if anyone actually did get up and leave. No one did.
"Aahhh." My cell's vibrating, scared the hell out of me. Almost spilled our water in the process.
"Hello?"
"Sir, its..." Shit, no Gunny don't.
"No names, we don't know who's listening in. And we can't talk long, don't want to be triangulated." That's reaching a bit, I don't know if Sadik or any of his friends have that kind of capabilities, but I won't invite trouble here. Gunny did mention the possibility of a leak in the CIA. "Did you deliver your package?"
"It took some doing, we ran into our old friends on the road, but I made it on time."
"Did the customer say anything about its condition?"
"They were slightly concerned, but feel they can restore it to its original condition. Did you spray insecticide on the bumble bees?"
Bumble bees? What the hell is he... oh the stingers, bees, I get it. "Affirmative. Feel like making another pickup?"
"You call, I'll haul."
"You called me."
"Funny, where are you?"
"It's going to be in code."
"Go ahead."
I hope you get this Gunny, he should, the code's based on him. "Best guess 61, 55, the number of brothers you have multiplied by two, west. 21, the number of sisters you have times three, 36, south. Got it?"
"Not a problem, what's your status."
"Eager to go home. You might want to bring another customer with you." I'm not telling whoever might be listening that we're wounded. "And don't use your new employers, go to your old friends okay?
"Is your package needing immediate shipment?"
"Unknown. Sooner the better though."
"You don't trust my new buds?"
"Do you?"
"Not really."
"Some of them I do, um..." How do I say Catherine Gale without saying it? "Just don't use anyone local if you have to ask your new pals for help."
"Not a problem either way. Can you hold out for a couple hours or so?"
Hours? I can, but I don't want to. "I guess I'll just have to won't I? Are you sending a bird?"
"Hopefully, I'll call back to let you know. Sit tight and we'll pull you out of there." Gunny sounds like he's about to hang up on me.
"Wait a minute."
"Yeah?"
"Hey, how did you get this number anyway?"
"Your wife gave it to us." I swear I can hear Gunny smiling.
"Well tell her I love her and I'm going to give her a big, wet sloppy kiss when I get back."
"Will do." I tuck the phone into my pants pocket. Thank you Catherine, we're probably going to get out of here alive thanks to you. If Mac doesn't wake up, it would've meant that I'd have had to carry her the entire way. That would take longer than she has time for. She needs a doctor.
"Alright Mac, the cavalry's going to be here in a few hours. If you don't want to look weak in front of your fellow Marines you'd better wake up." I don't know if this is helpful or ridiculous. I'm making demands of an unconscious woman now. Well if she is in a coma, some people say that they can still hear you. Maybe this is the best time to say this, "Mac we need to talk, I need to talk. I don't know if you can hear me, but maybe I just need to hear myself say it out loud. I need you Mac, and not just in my life. I need to know if there can be something more than we've ever allowed ourselves to be to each other. If we can't... if what you and Webb went through is too strong to ignore then I wish you the best. I really do, but I'm sick of this status quo we've become too comfortable with. I've gotten a taste of what it might be like to belong to someone and I liked it. I'd like to belong to you, but if that's no longer possible then I need to know that too so I can move on. This just isn't healthy for me anymore." This is a lot easier than I thought it would be. Maybe it's because she can't say anything back or maybe it's because I don't have to look into those big, expressive, brown eyes of hers.
Or maybe there's another reason. While she's out, I can talk and talk and talk uninterrupted until what I want to say comes out right. If she were awake she'd hear something other than what I'd meant, jump to her own conclusion and walk out of this damn country if she needed to get away or she'd just shut down on me. That's what Mac does; she jumps to conclusions... to men. It's happened in Australia, on the Guadalcanal and if it happens here, that's strike three. Webb, I'll be honest, at least to myself I can be, a small part of me hoped he wouldn't survive. Yeah it's horrible and I'm going to hell for it. I don't care; it would have simplified things for Mac and I. Now Webb's alive, he's going to be coming after Mac, he's in love with her and... well I don't know if she's in love with him. Why do I feel like I've already lost here? She hasn't woken up yet and I'm already thinking about how I'm going to pick up the pieces after she crushes me and everything I've sacrificed to get to this point.
"Finally." It's about time Gunny checks in. I saw a small plane making slow passes over the hill we crashed into an hour ago. I knew better than to give away our position. Gunny would have sent a helo if he managed to get a bird and they would have came right to our location. "Talk to me."
"Sir we're about to start rolling to you now." I can barely make out Gunny for the sound of the engine.
"No birds?"
"Sorry they said sending in a bird with talons was too high profile. I'm rolling to you with about twenty friends of mine."
"Which friends?"
"Devil dogs." Good, something tells me all is not right with the CIA in this part of the world. They'd find a way to fuck this up.
"Excellent, ETA?"
"Two hours."
"You may run into some resistance."
"Nothing we can't handle, have you spotted or engaged?"
"A plane for now, I think it's only a matter of time. Customer?"
"Along for the ride, we're on our way."
"We'll be waiting."
Two more hours, we can... I can do that. I'm sure Gunny will be able to bypass the good Captain on the road. That's going to be a sight for some local. Twenty marines in jeans and cowboy hats storming up the road in a bunch of jeeps bristling with guns. I'm taking a vacation after this, a real vacation. Regardless if I wind up back at JAG or join the CIA, if I'm with Mac or Catherine. I'm going to visit mom and Frank for a few days, then spend a week with Grandma. I'll take Sarah up and go flying everyday. She'll have me splitting wood and feeding chickens, but I don't care. That peaceable work, no life or death decisions to make, and no one's lives in my hands. Then I'll come back with direction, with purpose. That's sounds nice, I can only hope it works out that well.
"Mmmmm."
"Mac? Mac? Can you hear me?" Mac stirred a little bit, it took me a second to get over to her. Her eyes fluttered open a little, but then they closed. She's out again. "Rest Mac, help's coming." At least she's not in coma or something worse. It's probably just a wicked concussion. She'll have a hell of a headache when she comes to.
I knew this map would come in handy. I figure I've got about twenty minutes until Gunny's supposed to show up. According to the map, the closest road is east of us. "Of course its east of us." I mutter. Rule of thumb when out in the wilderness; the steepest sloped hill around is sure to be your only route out. I can't drag Mac out of here in time to flag Gunny down, he might blow right by us. My coordinates most likely weren't exact. Tilting her head up, I pour the last of the water down her throat. As before, she coughs up most of it. Dehydration isn't something to laugh at but it's all I can do for her right now. I covered her up with branches before tucking the gun in my waistband and the dynamite in my bag. I feel a little guilty about leaving her here unarmed, but how exactly would she use either in her condition anyway?
Gunny's truck did blow right by me, luckily the second, third and fourth ones didn't. I had to make sure it was them and not a bunch of Sadik's lunatics. Gunny's truck whipped around and came back as soon as they saw me. "Not bad sir, I was going to stop a half mile down the road."
"How'd you get past the Captain?"
Gunny points to the mud caking the trucks halfway up their sides. "Did a little off roading, it was a fun." He says with a shrug.
"Where's Colonel MacKenzie?" I'm assuming this is the Marine medic they brought. They're all in plain clothes so it's hard to tell who's who. Most of them are in jeans in cowboy hats though.
"A little more than a mile down the hill. Come on." Gunny orders about half of them to guard the vehicles before following me with the others and the medic who's even with me. As soon we come into view of our campsite, the medic and two others rush over to her, uncover her, and begin spitting out medical jargon I couldn't hope to keep up with. They've got a neck brace on her, an IV in her, and a stretcher under her in a minute or two. Battlefield medics are an incredible breed; bullets flying around, bombs going off, they're unarmed and all they care about it is the wounded man lying there on the ground bleeding to death. Coates would've been great at it, Coates was great.
"You ready to get out of her sir?" Gunny's shaking me out of my daydream about Bud and his leg. They've got Mac secured to the stretcher and are beginning to move. They'll all take turns carrying her out of here.
"Yeah, lets go." Fifteen minutes later, we're at the trucks. The medic and his crew load Mac into one of them and then jump aboard. I'll ride with Gunny, I don't need to hear the play by play.
Gunny slides in behind the driver's seat of the lead truck and I boot some Marine out to claim shotgun. "How do you like your terrorists sir?" Gunny asks as he starts the truck. Is this some sort of an invitation to finish this with him? I like the idea of it; if this is going to be my last official act as a Naval officer, I want it to be something worthy of remembrance. Besides, killing Sadik would probably boost my likelihood of getting back into the Navy. I'm sure Naval Intelligence could use me just as much as the CIA if I can get back into the Navy but can't go back to JAG, plus I'd get to keep my rank, my pension, and the chance to step into a Tomcat now and then.
"Dead Gunny, I like em' dead." Gunny just smiles and throws the truck in gear.
Looking back through the dust we're kicking up I can see the other trucks have turned around and are following us. I have no idea where all of this is going to take me. One thing's for sure, I'm not stepping one foot out of this country until Sadik's gone the way of the Dodo and I've had a talk with Mac to figure some things out. I've come to realize that I have to make my stand right here and now. My personal life's been patiently waiting for me to rejoin it since I stepped off the Patrick Henry in Norfolk. Watch over me extra close Dad, your son's about to go off half- cocked again and I don't know what's to become of me.
Author's note: First off, please feel free to send me all the feed back you want, good or bad. On another note, I've noticed that other fanfic authors have tried making Harm into a man who so burdened by the number of people he's killed that he's developed serious issues about it. I won't name names, but you know who you are out there. Perhaps this is an open- ended question to them or anyone else who cares to respond. Why? Why make his character into something we've never seen the T.V persona to reflect? (Romance between Harm and Mac or anyone else doesn't count. Besides, I'm beginning to think that'll only happen in fan fiction anyway.) We've seen Harm haunted by nightmares of Mac dying, but not replays of the people he's killed. The comment I included about the flight school instructors is exactly what fighter pilots are told. They are there to kill, 99.9% of the time that is their primary objective. This is why only the men and women who can accept and deal with that reality become fighter pilots in the first place. I don't mean to degrade anyone for it; you're free to your interpretation the character. I just needed to sound off about it and I'd like to understand your motivations for doing so.
Damn my head hurts. My back hurts, everything hurts. So this is what going down with the plane feels like. I'll never bitch about ejector seats ever again. Now I know I'd rather have that rocket up my ass to throw me from the plane any day of the week and twice on Sunday. Mac hasn't said anything yet. "Mac? Mac you with me?" She's slumped forward as far as her seatbelt will allow her. She can't be dead, she can't. Reaching forward, my fingers pull her back against the seat and find a strong and steady pulse at her neck. We've got to get out of here. My back is the biggest complaint as I lift myself out of the cockpit or what remains of it. My first instinct in this situation is to grab what I can and find a place to hide until the cavalry shows up, this is courtesy of the United States Navy and my survival training during flight school. But not this time, now there's someone in my care, someone I wouldn't leave her here even if I saw Sadik and twenty of his no doubt pissed off goons in tow.
The entire ass end of the fuselage has been ripped off. It's easier to get off that way than off either side. I have to get out to inspect what's left of the plane. This old girl's seen her last flight, guess I'm not getting my passport back. I've got time, there's no gas leaking out of her, nothing's burning, and there's no sparking either. As soon as I... Jesus, Mac's face is covered in blood. I can see the gash on her head, just below the hairline and above her goggles. I have to break a few branches to get a clear look at her. Actually, it's not that big, but any cut on the head's going to bleed like hell. I don't see what she hit her head on; its probably laying back behind us after it broke off. After converting my shirt into a tank top, I've got it wrapped up and taken care of. "Son of a bitch." Her seat belt's broken, that's why she hit her head. It broke off at the buckle. She's probably suffered a concussion, I only hope its just a concussion. It'd be best if I waited until she was awake before taking her out, but we might not have that kind of time. The plane's not going to explode, but we'll be just as dead if Sadik were to find us here.
"Come on God damn it!" I've been fighting with that damn pregnancy suit trying to get Mac out of the cockpit for about half an hour now. How in the hell did she stand it? Even a real pregnancy is a gradual thing. I'm giving this one more try, otherwise I'm cutting that damn thing off her, consequences of her waking up in the process be damned. "Fuck." I've just fallen backwards to ground and my back's protesting my decision like never before. Mac popped out like a cork and she's currently on top of me. This would be an acceptable position any other time but now. Rolling her on to her back, I check the bandage and then climb back up in the plane to salvage anything I can. The first aid kit lodged under the rudder petals of Mac's cockpit will come in handy, there's a small aerial map in here too. Other than that and my bag there's nothing left.
Mac could tell me how long we've been sitting here. Or how long she's been here anyway. My watch broke and she doesn't have one. It's already been too long and she's still out cold. I carried her more than a mile from the plane and hid her body. Christ, that sounds like she was dead already. Dead and bloated, that suit weighs a ton. Then I went back and started collecting debris, the big stuff anyway. The wings and everything else I couldn't drag away, I covered up. At least the blue paint will be hard to spot. If Sadik has a bird at his disposal, I'm going to make it as hard as possible for him to mark the crash site. So now, I've been sitting here for what seems like an eternity. Hell of a word that word. Eternity, and I've grown to hate it.
We have six sticks of dynamite left, not exactly hand grenades, but they'll do. The striker, my Beretta, and a pocketknife. "Humph, if MacGyver was here he'd have a cabin built already." Or a CB radio, that would be nice. Keeter was a die-hard MacGyver fan when we roomed to together in Norfolk. I have my cell and it survived the ordeal, but I don't know any of the local numbers around here. I've inventoried our supplies at least a dozen times over the past hour, it was meant as a distraction from her and it's not working anymore. I have no idea what the hell she and Webb went through before I got there and I not sure I really want to know. But why in the hell did she kiss him like that, were they getting that close? I mean I know they were pretending to be married. No doubt they were in the same bed... I overheard parts of their conversation. Something about sharing beds and toothbrushes. Just how far did they take this act out? God, was it even an act?
What would have happened if I hadn't come down here? Engage your brain moron, you know the answer to that. Mac and Webb would've been killed, no one would be the wiser, and your career at JAG would go on. Yeah that's the obvious. What I want to know is would Mac have become another quest of mine? Would I have driven everyone around me insane trying to find her from the confines of Washington? And Catherine... where would we be right about now? If Mac has to debate how much she means to me after all this she needs an MRI... she'll probably still need one. I've just given up most everything that I love for her. I have no idea what the Admiral meant by what I'd risk to keep her. What's left to give? I've already risked my career and my life on this little endeavor. My entire life has been flying and the Navy. If things stay the way they are the Navy's going to send me on my way and the closest I'll get to Mach one from now on is going to be the flight home.
Enough, I need to find out where Mac and Webb stand first. If Mac feels even half of what I think she does for him, it may be too late already. Sarah Webb, that's so bitter I can't help but spit it out. But this isn't Australia either, there's nothing holding me back this time, not the Navy, or flying or some other woman. I'm going to try to make her understand that I need her too. God I miss you dad. Mom has told me endlessly what it was like when she realized dad was the one. That's nice but it didn't help me then and it won't help me here either. There's nothing like fatherly advise, and right now, I miss his guidance more than anything. I guess it doesn't matter now, if Mac hears me out and burns me down at least I'll know I tried and I'll move on. Somehow.
Move on to what? There's nothing left. I can feel the acid building in my throat. My heart hurts too and why not, everything else does. I could go back to the Admiral, tell him everything that's happened and beg him to take me back. I'm a great lawyer I'm fairly certain he'd do it; he took Mac back didn't he? And if he doesn't I could take Deputy Director Kershaw up on his offer. Agent Rabb, that'd take some time to get used to. I guess I could be a CIA lawyer like Catherine. Or maybe I could join Keeter, fly black op missions for the company or who ever else he works for now. As for Mac, we'll be reduced to what we were like when Brumby was around. Friends, but friends who hold each other at arm's length. I really don't want to go back to that place. Hell, could we even stand to work together anymore? Especially if she turns me down?
It wouldn't be all bad though, yeah JAG would suck if I could get back in, but personally I could commit myself to Catherine like I never could have to Renee. There wouldn't be some cross to bear for Mac weighing me down. Catherine is smart, beautiful, well versed, and interested in me. That I do know. Even better yet she has no problem standing up to me, defending her beliefs, she understands and shares my devotion to country and to family even though she doesn't know my entire story yet, Andrew likes me and her mother loves me even if she might not survive to see the new year. But she can see the connection Mac and I have too. There's no way she'd allow herself to get into a relationship with me unless I came to some sort of conclusion one way or the other about Mac. No maybes, just yes, or no. Anything else would be unacceptable to her. At least she sees it, Renee was damn near blindsided by it or maybe she just chose to ignore it. Most of all, as much as I fought taking part in our fake marriage I enjoyed it just as much if not more. Mac wasn't the only who enjoyed being a spouse. Even if it was only for the duration of one kiss and the newlywed act we put on her mother afterwards. I like the idea of devoting myself to one woman. Someone to confide in for the rest of my life when I'm not feeling so brave. Someone to hold on to everyday without having to question why they're really there with me, someone to raise a child with. Catherine could be that someone for me, but so could Mac. That's part of the reason why I'm down here isn't it?
God I'm cold, isn't this supposed to be South America? You know hot, nasty, unbearable weather, what the hell's this? I built us a fire once the sun went down, but I have to keep it small. If I let it get any bigger the tree canopy overhead won't be enough to hide it. I boiled some water in crude pot I made out of some of the aluminum I got from the plane. Mac still hasn't woken up yet, she coughed up most of the water I poured down her throat, but she should be okay for now. I just wish she'd wake up or make some kind of noise, something to let me know she's not it a coma or anything. We're sharing body heat again; only she doesn't exactly have a choice in the matter. The fire's about ten yards away, I'm just not willing to risk the possibility that Sadik's men aren't out here looking for us. A fire's going to draw them in if they see it. I'd rather be cold in the shadows and in a position to defend ourselves than dead and warm by the fire. We're covered in branches, the Beretta's at my side and the dynamite's handy if I need it too, I'll be ready if I need to be.
Mac stirred in her sleep last night; at least I think she did. I dozed off somewhere around oh dark thirty early this morning. I think its what woke me up. I could have imagined it just as easily too; I hadn't slept in about a day and a half. I killed the fire with dirt, it may not be the only thing killed out here today, but I don't need the smoke giving away our position to increase the chance of that happening. I thought about that last night too. Every man or woman I've killed before this was in the line of duty where I was under the protective umbrella of the Navy. Yesterday though, while I'm still technically in the Navy for the most part I'm just a civilian now. A civilian who killed a lot of people. I don't have a problem with killing, I've been well trained to do it. I just regret that it's come to that on most occasions, but I'd do it all over again and then some if I had the chance. I still remember what one of my flight instructors said to the class at Pensacola when Luke, Keeter, and I were all fresh faced Ensigns. "You are here to kill. You are here to destroy people and property in the name of the United States of America. If you can't handle that, get the hell out of my class." That really fired us up, I remember all of us looking around to see if anyone actually did get up and leave. No one did.
"Aahhh." My cell's vibrating, scared the hell out of me. Almost spilled our water in the process.
"Hello?"
"Sir, its..." Shit, no Gunny don't.
"No names, we don't know who's listening in. And we can't talk long, don't want to be triangulated." That's reaching a bit, I don't know if Sadik or any of his friends have that kind of capabilities, but I won't invite trouble here. Gunny did mention the possibility of a leak in the CIA. "Did you deliver your package?"
"It took some doing, we ran into our old friends on the road, but I made it on time."
"Did the customer say anything about its condition?"
"They were slightly concerned, but feel they can restore it to its original condition. Did you spray insecticide on the bumble bees?"
Bumble bees? What the hell is he... oh the stingers, bees, I get it. "Affirmative. Feel like making another pickup?"
"You call, I'll haul."
"You called me."
"Funny, where are you?"
"It's going to be in code."
"Go ahead."
I hope you get this Gunny, he should, the code's based on him. "Best guess 61, 55, the number of brothers you have multiplied by two, west. 21, the number of sisters you have times three, 36, south. Got it?"
"Not a problem, what's your status."
"Eager to go home. You might want to bring another customer with you." I'm not telling whoever might be listening that we're wounded. "And don't use your new employers, go to your old friends okay?
"Is your package needing immediate shipment?"
"Unknown. Sooner the better though."
"You don't trust my new buds?"
"Do you?"
"Not really."
"Some of them I do, um..." How do I say Catherine Gale without saying it? "Just don't use anyone local if you have to ask your new pals for help."
"Not a problem either way. Can you hold out for a couple hours or so?"
Hours? I can, but I don't want to. "I guess I'll just have to won't I? Are you sending a bird?"
"Hopefully, I'll call back to let you know. Sit tight and we'll pull you out of there." Gunny sounds like he's about to hang up on me.
"Wait a minute."
"Yeah?"
"Hey, how did you get this number anyway?"
"Your wife gave it to us." I swear I can hear Gunny smiling.
"Well tell her I love her and I'm going to give her a big, wet sloppy kiss when I get back."
"Will do." I tuck the phone into my pants pocket. Thank you Catherine, we're probably going to get out of here alive thanks to you. If Mac doesn't wake up, it would've meant that I'd have had to carry her the entire way. That would take longer than she has time for. She needs a doctor.
"Alright Mac, the cavalry's going to be here in a few hours. If you don't want to look weak in front of your fellow Marines you'd better wake up." I don't know if this is helpful or ridiculous. I'm making demands of an unconscious woman now. Well if she is in a coma, some people say that they can still hear you. Maybe this is the best time to say this, "Mac we need to talk, I need to talk. I don't know if you can hear me, but maybe I just need to hear myself say it out loud. I need you Mac, and not just in my life. I need to know if there can be something more than we've ever allowed ourselves to be to each other. If we can't... if what you and Webb went through is too strong to ignore then I wish you the best. I really do, but I'm sick of this status quo we've become too comfortable with. I've gotten a taste of what it might be like to belong to someone and I liked it. I'd like to belong to you, but if that's no longer possible then I need to know that too so I can move on. This just isn't healthy for me anymore." This is a lot easier than I thought it would be. Maybe it's because she can't say anything back or maybe it's because I don't have to look into those big, expressive, brown eyes of hers.
Or maybe there's another reason. While she's out, I can talk and talk and talk uninterrupted until what I want to say comes out right. If she were awake she'd hear something other than what I'd meant, jump to her own conclusion and walk out of this damn country if she needed to get away or she'd just shut down on me. That's what Mac does; she jumps to conclusions... to men. It's happened in Australia, on the Guadalcanal and if it happens here, that's strike three. Webb, I'll be honest, at least to myself I can be, a small part of me hoped he wouldn't survive. Yeah it's horrible and I'm going to hell for it. I don't care; it would have simplified things for Mac and I. Now Webb's alive, he's going to be coming after Mac, he's in love with her and... well I don't know if she's in love with him. Why do I feel like I've already lost here? She hasn't woken up yet and I'm already thinking about how I'm going to pick up the pieces after she crushes me and everything I've sacrificed to get to this point.
"Finally." It's about time Gunny checks in. I saw a small plane making slow passes over the hill we crashed into an hour ago. I knew better than to give away our position. Gunny would have sent a helo if he managed to get a bird and they would have came right to our location. "Talk to me."
"Sir we're about to start rolling to you now." I can barely make out Gunny for the sound of the engine.
"No birds?"
"Sorry they said sending in a bird with talons was too high profile. I'm rolling to you with about twenty friends of mine."
"Which friends?"
"Devil dogs." Good, something tells me all is not right with the CIA in this part of the world. They'd find a way to fuck this up.
"Excellent, ETA?"
"Two hours."
"You may run into some resistance."
"Nothing we can't handle, have you spotted or engaged?"
"A plane for now, I think it's only a matter of time. Customer?"
"Along for the ride, we're on our way."
"We'll be waiting."
Two more hours, we can... I can do that. I'm sure Gunny will be able to bypass the good Captain on the road. That's going to be a sight for some local. Twenty marines in jeans and cowboy hats storming up the road in a bunch of jeeps bristling with guns. I'm taking a vacation after this, a real vacation. Regardless if I wind up back at JAG or join the CIA, if I'm with Mac or Catherine. I'm going to visit mom and Frank for a few days, then spend a week with Grandma. I'll take Sarah up and go flying everyday. She'll have me splitting wood and feeding chickens, but I don't care. That peaceable work, no life or death decisions to make, and no one's lives in my hands. Then I'll come back with direction, with purpose. That's sounds nice, I can only hope it works out that well.
"Mmmmm."
"Mac? Mac? Can you hear me?" Mac stirred a little bit, it took me a second to get over to her. Her eyes fluttered open a little, but then they closed. She's out again. "Rest Mac, help's coming." At least she's not in coma or something worse. It's probably just a wicked concussion. She'll have a hell of a headache when she comes to.
I knew this map would come in handy. I figure I've got about twenty minutes until Gunny's supposed to show up. According to the map, the closest road is east of us. "Of course its east of us." I mutter. Rule of thumb when out in the wilderness; the steepest sloped hill around is sure to be your only route out. I can't drag Mac out of here in time to flag Gunny down, he might blow right by us. My coordinates most likely weren't exact. Tilting her head up, I pour the last of the water down her throat. As before, she coughs up most of it. Dehydration isn't something to laugh at but it's all I can do for her right now. I covered her up with branches before tucking the gun in my waistband and the dynamite in my bag. I feel a little guilty about leaving her here unarmed, but how exactly would she use either in her condition anyway?
Gunny's truck did blow right by me, luckily the second, third and fourth ones didn't. I had to make sure it was them and not a bunch of Sadik's lunatics. Gunny's truck whipped around and came back as soon as they saw me. "Not bad sir, I was going to stop a half mile down the road."
"How'd you get past the Captain?"
Gunny points to the mud caking the trucks halfway up their sides. "Did a little off roading, it was a fun." He says with a shrug.
"Where's Colonel MacKenzie?" I'm assuming this is the Marine medic they brought. They're all in plain clothes so it's hard to tell who's who. Most of them are in jeans in cowboy hats though.
"A little more than a mile down the hill. Come on." Gunny orders about half of them to guard the vehicles before following me with the others and the medic who's even with me. As soon we come into view of our campsite, the medic and two others rush over to her, uncover her, and begin spitting out medical jargon I couldn't hope to keep up with. They've got a neck brace on her, an IV in her, and a stretcher under her in a minute or two. Battlefield medics are an incredible breed; bullets flying around, bombs going off, they're unarmed and all they care about it is the wounded man lying there on the ground bleeding to death. Coates would've been great at it, Coates was great.
"You ready to get out of her sir?" Gunny's shaking me out of my daydream about Bud and his leg. They've got Mac secured to the stretcher and are beginning to move. They'll all take turns carrying her out of here.
"Yeah, lets go." Fifteen minutes later, we're at the trucks. The medic and his crew load Mac into one of them and then jump aboard. I'll ride with Gunny, I don't need to hear the play by play.
Gunny slides in behind the driver's seat of the lead truck and I boot some Marine out to claim shotgun. "How do you like your terrorists sir?" Gunny asks as he starts the truck. Is this some sort of an invitation to finish this with him? I like the idea of it; if this is going to be my last official act as a Naval officer, I want it to be something worthy of remembrance. Besides, killing Sadik would probably boost my likelihood of getting back into the Navy. I'm sure Naval Intelligence could use me just as much as the CIA if I can get back into the Navy but can't go back to JAG, plus I'd get to keep my rank, my pension, and the chance to step into a Tomcat now and then.
"Dead Gunny, I like em' dead." Gunny just smiles and throws the truck in gear.
Looking back through the dust we're kicking up I can see the other trucks have turned around and are following us. I have no idea where all of this is going to take me. One thing's for sure, I'm not stepping one foot out of this country until Sadik's gone the way of the Dodo and I've had a talk with Mac to figure some things out. I've come to realize that I have to make my stand right here and now. My personal life's been patiently waiting for me to rejoin it since I stepped off the Patrick Henry in Norfolk. Watch over me extra close Dad, your son's about to go off half- cocked again and I don't know what's to become of me.
Author's note: First off, please feel free to send me all the feed back you want, good or bad. On another note, I've noticed that other fanfic authors have tried making Harm into a man who so burdened by the number of people he's killed that he's developed serious issues about it. I won't name names, but you know who you are out there. Perhaps this is an open- ended question to them or anyone else who cares to respond. Why? Why make his character into something we've never seen the T.V persona to reflect? (Romance between Harm and Mac or anyone else doesn't count. Besides, I'm beginning to think that'll only happen in fan fiction anyway.) We've seen Harm haunted by nightmares of Mac dying, but not replays of the people he's killed. The comment I included about the flight school instructors is exactly what fighter pilots are told. They are there to kill, 99.9% of the time that is their primary objective. This is why only the men and women who can accept and deal with that reality become fighter pilots in the first place. I don't mean to degrade anyone for it; you're free to your interpretation the character. I just needed to sound off about it and I'd like to understand your motivations for doing so.