Disclaimer: Don't own JAG characters, property of the creators and CBS.
A/N: Some have seen this story before. I wasn't happy with it. This is a rewrite of chapter 1 and possibly chapter 2. This is my first attempt at fiction, constructive criticism and beta help will be welcomed, but be nice.
Ch.1 Regrets
December 5, 2003
McClain, VA
2200 hours.
The admiral was just drifting off to sleep, seeking relief from both the physical and emotional stress of the job and the end of his relationship with Meredith. Her betrayal hurt him deeply, but what bothered him most was his loss of control, loss of a family. He had his daughter, but had spent most of her life in the service of his country half the world away.
Solace would come through the career advancement and the brotherhood of his fellow Seals and his JAG family.
Yes, they were the sons and daughters he had never really had. They had seen ups and downs, triumphs and tragedies, more than he thought possible for a bunch of lawyers. That foundation had began to weaken with Lt. Singer's murder and Harm's trial. The man's devotion to family, his sense of honor were admirable and his single-minded focus made him the best lawyer and one the best officers he had ever known. But those same traits had nearly cost him his freedom and his life this past year. A.J had seen Harm's resignation as the desperate attempt to save the women he loved, despite his willingness to admit it to anyone, including himself. This was also a slap in the face at his authority, which was already threatened by the CIA's willingness to risk his officers. The refusal to let Harm back in was both anger at Harm and himself for allowing Mac to go on that damned mission with Webb. He told Harm he needed to grow up, and true as that might be, AJ knew Harm had done what he had wished to do himself.
What he had not expected, was the sense of loss he and his staff had felt during those six months. Jen, Bud and Harriett had lost a mentor, a surrogate older brother. Sturgis had lost his oldest friend and Mac had lost God knew how much. Things happened down in Paraguay besides what he knew. Despite what she said, she was hurting, though things seemed better since his return. The bond AJ once warned them about and hoped would lead to more, now seemed broken and had taken the sense of family with it.
Sleep was about to claim him when the phone began to ring. AJ cursed the phone and who ever woke him. However, his anger was mixed with apprehension. Nothing good came from calls this late.
"Admiral Chegwidden, this is Gunnery Sergeant Walters."
"What happened, Gunny?"
The Marine paused for several seconds before speaking, confirming AJ's earlier thoughts about late calls. "Spit it out, Walters."
"Sir, it's Commander Rabb. There's been an accident. As he was leaving the parking lot, he began swerve like he was drunk..."
"Drunk!" What was he doing drinking and driving? Had he learned anything from Mac's history, and what was he doing there anyway?
"Admiral, he wasn't drunk. He crashed into a tree just outside the gate when we found him. There was no alcohol on his breath or in his car."
Thank god for that, AJ thought. That was as good as the news would get. All AJ knew after talking to people at Bethesda was that Harm was in surgery. He hated what came next almost has much as war. Giving bad news to a mother is never easy, and Trish Burnett had had enough already. After calling Harm's parents, AJ braced himself for the call to Mac. He remembered her reaction when Harm had crashed into the Atlantic. If she lost him now, with this rift between them, she would never forgive herself.
December 5, 2003
Georgetown, Washington, DC
2030 hours
"I need you to vouch for me in court."
"In love or war?"
"As a family man."
"When was the last time you called your mother?"
"I don't know."
"We've established you're a rotten son."
"I'm serious, Mac."
"Well, I recall us making a deal for you to father my child some day."
"In five years, if neither one of us was in a serious relationship."
"It's getting close. Is this about another woman?"
"No, a girl. I'm petitioning the state of Virginia for custody of a 14 year old."
"How long have you been thinking about this?"
"A couple of months."
"And this is this first I'm hearing about this."
"I didn't think it mattered."
"In eight years that's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said."
"This isn't about us."
"There is no us."
"You made sure of that."
"You didn't fight me."
"This is not about…"
"No, this about you pushing me out of your life for a year, only to show up when you need something."
"This is about a girl who needs help. You know what, forget it. It's too important for you to screw up."
The argument played in her head like a bad movie. She sat on the couch, tears rolling down her cheeks, as she struggled with the emotions she fought all year to control. She was angry at Harm for presuming she'd help after he had ignored her for six months; angry at the CIA and those who approved the mission that started this mess. Mostly angry at herself. Yes, Harm had been presumptuous, but he had reached out, only to be met with anger and resentment. The strongest emotion was sadness, or grief, over a dream killed by one careless word uttered in a time a place where that conversation wasn't the top priority. He had saved her life and given up everything for her, but he couldn't say the words, so she ended the dance. Now she hurt him again and possibly destroyed the friendship she valued most.
Mac had fallen asleep and woke by the ringing of the phone. Her internal clock told her it was 22:30. She thought it might be Webb, hoped it would be Harm, but doubted it was either. When she saw the Admiral on her caller ID, a chill ran down her spine. No one had to tell her he was in trouble. Fifteen minutes later, she was on her way to Bethesda, as she repeated some sort of prayer. "It will not end like this, Flyboy."
Bethesda Naval Hospital
Bethesda, MD
23:00 local time
Mac drove to the hospital on autopilot, her mind filled with thoughts of their fight earlier that night, and fear for Harm's welfare. As Mac exited her car, she let let her breath out, squared her shoulders and entered the hospital in what Harm would call her 'Marine mode'. The squared shoulders, the straight spine. The casual gray sweatshirt and pants she wore, all to hide the terrible fear she held for the best friend she had ever had. As she entered the hospital and walked quickly to the admissions desk, she repeated her mantra from earlier. "It will not end like this, Flyboy."
As Mac reached the admissions desk, her hopes of immediately getting information on Harm and details on the accident were delayed, by a young blond lieutenant who was more interested in conversations with her fellow nurses about the miseries of her dating life. "Lieutenant," Mac asked once, then twice, but was ignored by the woman and her colleagues with a hand up, asking her to hold. That was the last straw on Mac's small reserve of patience. In a voice firm enough to make any Marine drill instructor proud, she yelled, "Attention!" Despite her less than military appearance every officer within earshot came swiftly to attention. Mac stepped around the desk and stood nose to nose with the Lieutenant who ignored her. "Lieutenant, I'm Lt. Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, JAG Corps. I'm seeking information on a patient; Commander Harmon Rabb Jr. Now, Lieutenant!"
The officer began nervously scanning her computer. "The Commander is in surgery, ma'am." "Thank you, Lieutenant." Before leaving the desk, Mac received the name and rank of the nurses who ignored her, warning them if she heard of such actions she would have charged them so fast their heads would spin. The only thing she gained from her first stop, aside from the aggravation of lazy junior officers, was his location. The elevator ride took two minutes, but to Mac it seemed like hours. The Admiral said he was in a coma, and now surgery. Fear only increased, the closer she came to the surgical unit. When Mac left the elevator she immediately headed for the information desk, bracing herself for another confrontation with junior officers. Once again her quest was frustrated; not by lazy gossiping officers, but by the admiral who met her as she came through the doors. Before Mac could ask about Harms condition, the worried faces of Bud and Sturgis appeared beside her, their eyes holding the same fear, concern and questions, that reflected in her own. All three lawyers spoke at once. "How is he? What happened?" the three asked. The Admiral held out his arms, palms towards his officers' series of questions. The Admiral drew a calming breath as the three faces in front of him waited for answers some he did not have. AJ began to respond when a man in green surgical wear approached. The dark green eyes of the doctor revealed nothing when the four officers turned toward him. "Are you friends of Commander Rabb's?"
"Yes," AJ said. "I'm Admiral Chegewidden, this Lt. Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, Commander Sturgis Turner and Lt. Bud Roberts. Captain Hollis?"
"Yes. Admiral, we spoke on the phone earlier tonight."
"How is he, Captain?"
"The news isn't good, sir. He has multiple cracked ribs, a fractured left cheek and orbital bones and facial lacerations. However, as I told you earlier the larger concern is the internal bleeding and head injury. We're lucky he is still with us, we almost lost him twice."
Those words cracked Mac's Marine defenses. Her face paled and knees buckled. She was saved from a fall by AJ 's quick grasp of her arm. The doctor gave them time to recover before continuing.
"According to the Commanders medical records, this would be his fourth concussion."
"Sixth," Mac corrected, sending the doctors eyebrows upward in surprise. "They are classified missions."
"Were either of them recent?"
"The last was over seven months ago. Our plane was shot down and he was unconscious for several minutes. I can't say how long." Her colleagues were surprised, given how well her internal clock usually worked.
"I had to go for help," she said, answering the question in their eyes.
"Were there any other physical problems?"
"No, we were focused on the mission and getting out alive."
"Did his personality seem different after the crash or since your return? Was or has he been angry or depressed, blurred vision or headaches?"
"He seemed angry and more snide than usual. I assumed it was due to the stress of the mission. We both said some pretty stupid things."
"Perhaps you're right, Colonel, but they could have been symptoms of Post Concussion Syndrome. Could there have been any more, recently?" the doctor asked.
"Yes, he came to my apartment, we argued over a personal matter," she said, not willing to reveal more, unsure what the others knew about Harm's petition to foster a teenage girl. "He was angry when he left. As for the last few months, he spent most of those working outside the Navy for another agency." Mac wondered as she spoke, could this be the reason for his attitude in Paraguay? Maybe it hadn't been simply jealousy and resentment. "I need the records for those six months. Could you have them sent, please?"
"How can I? They're probably classified and we never spoke."
"You still hold his medical power of attorney, Colonel."
"I do?" Mac responded, surprised, given the current state of their relationship. She wondered if this was evidence he still trusted her? Perhaps it was proof that rebuilding their friendship was possible or he could've simply forgotten to change it. "Yes, Colonel, and if the Commander's condition does not improve or grows worse, decisions will have to be made." Mac needed no further explanation to understand the implications. She knew Harm would not want extraordinary measures used simply to keep him alive. Whether it was trust or forgotten paper work, Harm placed his life and how and when it ended, in her hands. If the worst came, could she end the life of the person she loved most, despite what her words and actions? She knew, no matter the right or wrong of the decision, she would never be the same.