In the Bleak Midwinter by doc
Prompt: Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret. Count to ten - good advice right now to remember.
A/N: The story takes place during the Season 9 episode 'A Merry Little Christmas.' For the purposes of this story, the scene in Mac's apartment occurs several days prior to Christmas.
Summary: What happens when you speak first, think later…rather than walk away and count to 10? Is it possible to live with the consequences of your words?
xxxxx
Disclaimer: I don't own JAG or any of the characters. I just take them out and play with them on occasion before replacing them safe and sound back on the shelf. The title, 'In the Bleak Midwinter' comes from the Christmas carol by the same name. The carol's lyrics were written by Christina G. Rosette, and the musical score by Gustav Host.
Special thanks to Mom, my faithful finder and keeper of all things related to spelling and grammar
xxxxx
21:30
Friday
19 December 2003
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown
She sat teary-eyed and stunned staring at the closed door. His words reverberated through her mind, 'Forget about it! It's too important for you to screw up.' Christmas lights glistened, the fire blazed and the room was bathed in the warm holiday glow of candlelight. It should've been the merriest time of year, and yet she couldn't remember being more miserable. When had they become so distant, dismissive and downright intolerant of the other's views? A year-and-a-half ago they were practically joined at the hip. A year ago…close. Six months ago, separate…maybe aloof, but not blatantly cruel.
Why was he so hell bent on closing her out of his life? He hadn't even told her about this child, and yet he'd been involved in her life for several months.
That's easy, her conscience chided her…you didn't exactly encourage him to talk. What was all that nonsense about calling his mother? Pain…Hurt…Pride? Well, whatever it was, it was fine time she started acting like the best friend she espoused to be. If she had to be the first one to extend an olive branch then so be it. It would be worth swallowing a little pride, if in the end they could find their way back to better times.
She quickly slid her feet into the slippers half hidden under the couch. Forgoing a jacket, for fear she would miss him in his haste to retreat, she sprinted down the hall and opted for the stairs. Pushing through the front door of her building, she shivered in the cold December air. The night was dark and snowy, and her breath caught before bursting out in little puffs of fog. Squinting in the dim light cast by the street lamps, she caught sight of him striding toward his car. His shoulders were hunched against the cold, collar nearly masking his ears. With each step, his feet marched out an angry beat. Snow swirled around his body as the earlier flurries threatened to become a full-fledged winter storm.
Wishing she'd grabbed a coat, her hands briskly rubbed up and down her arms attempting to abate the bite of winter chill. Determination set in and she took off at a trot to gain his attention.
"Harm!" He opened his car door oblivious to her call.
"HARM!" She cupped her hands around her mouth trying to intensify the volume of her yell.
He paused with one foot already inside the vehicle and pivoted her way. Shaking his head against the prospect of another round of terse volleys, he waved a dismissive hand in her direction.
"Harm…wait!" She advanced his way. Icy snow clung to the flimsy soles of her terry cloth slippers sending her careening along the walk. Catching herself before she landed in the nearest snow heap, she tempered her stride with a little more care.
"Go back inside, Mac! I'm not in the mood for another one of your monologues on my inadequacies as a son or guardian…hell, as a human being. I've had enough of your disapproval and denigration," he climbed into the front seat.
"NO! WAIT! I'll do it…I'll help you in court! Harm…wait!" She had almost reached the street.
"I don't need 'YOUR' help. I don't know why I even bothered coming here in the first place. I should've known better. You'd think I'd learn." He shook his head for good measure, "After all these years, you would think I'd learn...don't need to hit me upside the head twice. I'll take care of everything…by myself. Just like always!"
"Harm!" Focusing on him, she stepped off the curve in full pursuit and failed to look in her haste.
He heard the squeal of brakes just a heartbeat before the blare of the horn. Then the sickening thud of metal against man. He jumped from the car and turned, horrified screams echoing in his ears. He watched her body bounce from the bumper to the hood, careen up the windshield and propel weightless through the air. Landing in a heap like a rag doll, she lay motionless a good five feet from the site of impact.
"Mac!" he shrieked and sprinted to her side.
The driver of the sedan slid to a stop on the icy pavement and bounded from the car. "I didn't see her," his voice trembled with uncontrolled fear, "…she just stepped out in front of me…right into my car. I couldn't stop. I tried…the ice…poor visibility…she came out of nowhere." His words spewed forth in a nervous litany.
Harm shouted to the stammering man, "Call 911!" before kneeling at her side.
She lay partially rotated and curled on her side in the ice and slush of the street. Her right leg was pinned backwards and her arm bent overhead at an unnaturally sharp angle. Her beautiful face was marred with scraps and cuts. He leaned closer to assess her level of consciousness. He felt her warm breath fan against his cheek in tiny forced puffs. He was afraid to touch her for fear of inflicting more damage or pain.
"Mac?" he whispered close to her face.
Her eyelids fluttered open tears welled within their depths threatening to overflow. She stared straight ahead unseeing. He lifted his hand and gently stroked the damp hair away from her face.
"Sarah, can you hear me?" his voice trembled as he tried desperately to control the panic. She blinked in response and a tear slid down her temple.
"Harm?" He felt more than heard his name.
"It's okay, Sarah," his fingers continued to stroke through her hair. "I'm right here with you."
"Whaa…hap…pen?" Her words came out hushed and labored.
"Ssssh, don't talk…save your strength." At her questioning gaze, he continued, "You stepped out into the street and were hit by a car. You broke the first rule of kindergarten, Marine…look both ways before crossing," he tried to lighten the mood and distract her from the pain.
"Needed…talk…toooo…yooou…" she began to shiver.
He quickly removed his coat, and laid it over her body. "Here this should help keep ya warm. You shouldn't have come out without a jacket," he gently scolded. He glanced down the road willing the ambulance to come quicker. He noticed the driver standing nearby attempting to wave traffic around the crash site. His eyes caught the man's and silently questioned.
"On their way…maybe five minutes," the man shrugged barely maintaining control.
He looked back at Mac, and noticed that her complexion had started to pale. Even in the dim light of the street lamps, she looked sallow and wan. Her lips, usually vibrant, barely held any color. He watched her eyes drift shut and was immediately filled with dread.
"Sarah! Stay with me, Marine!" Her eyes flickered back open.
"That's my girl…you stay awake so I know you're okay. The ambulance should be here any moment." He trailed a finger down her cheek; her skin was so cold.
She raised her left hand and grunted in pain at the effort. Curling her fingers around his, she held on tight. "Need…to…tell…you…."
"Ssssh, it's okay…whatever it is, you can tell me later." He lifted their joined hands to his lips and blew on her skin trying to warm the icy digits.
"Nooo!" she gasped out, "…need…to say…"
He leaned closer to hear over the howling wind of the escalating storm. "What is it, Sarah?"
"Was…gonna…help. Want you…know," her voice grew weaker.
Tears welled in his eyes, if he'd only listened. Taken a moment to stop, come back. None of this should've happened. "Thank you," he kissed her brow, "…I should've known…you always come through." He pulled back to stare in her eyes, "Now rest."
"Mooorrre…"
"No more, save your strength." She squeezed his hand with all her might. He barely registered the movement; her grasp was so weak. He heard the sound of sirens in the distance and whispered a prayer of thanks.
"Harrrm…"
"They're coming…do you hear'em?" Alarm flooded through him when he noticed the distant look in her eyes.
She swallowed with difficulty, "Listen…need you…know."
He bent closer again until his ear rested almost on her lips. Her breath came in short wisps and gasps. "What is it, sweetheart?" He didn't even notice the slip of his tongue.
"Love you…alwaaays…only yooouuu…" Her breathing grew quiet.
"Sarah!" He screamed and tried to lift her into his arms.
"DON'T MOVE HER!" A paramedic had appeared at his side stopping his movements.
"But…but, she's…" tears were pouring down his cheeks.
"I know," the paramedic gentled his voice, "…if you'll move away, I'll try to help her." Harm froze with inaction warring with himself whether to leave her side.
"Sir, I need to get at her," the paramedic urgently pleaded, "…to put on a neck brace and assess her injuries."
"Sheee…nooot…breathhh-ing," Harm uttered between shuddering cries.
"If you'll come with me," a police officer with a kind smile and caring voice helped to lift the tall man to his feet. "We need to let'em do their job, perhaps you could provide me with some vital information on the vict…uh, your wife." The officer led him away from the injured woman.
Harm's gaze never left Mac as he was led away. A second paramedic, a woman, knelt beside her and quickly began to assess Mac's breathing. The two paramedics shouted out information at a frantic pace. Harm watched while one slipped on a neck brace, and the other reached for a bag and mask. He caught bits and pieces of their conversation and understood even less.
"No respires…starting to bag…"
"Heart rate 40 and weak…"
"Contusions on chest and face…probable fractures both extremities on the right…ribs…"
"Shock…blood pressure falling…"
Harm stood a few feet away gaping at the sight. She couldn't die…not after all that he'd said to her. Accused her was more like it. She couldn't think….
'Love you…always.'
He hadn't even had a chance to say it back. His heart skipped a beat, surely she knew…. She had to know.
'WHY?' His conscience sneered back…did you ever tell her?
'Forget about…screw it up…too important for you…SCREW UP!' The words echoed in his mind, 'DON'T NEED YOU!' What had he done? He dropped his head into his hands and wept for all the lost opportunities and time. So much time…Gone.
"Sir?" The officer placed an arm around his back, "Why don't we go sit in the squad car…it's a lot warmer in there away from the wind and snow."
"But…" Harm gestured back to the paramedics and Mac.
"Just for a few minutes," he opened the passenger door and helped the Naval officer inside. Standing in the open door, the policeman began to question, "Sir, could you tell me your wife's name."
"Not my…wife," Harm's expression grew more troubled, "…name is Sarah MacKenzie." He accepted a handkerchief from the officer and briskly rubbed it across his face.
When Harm attempted to give back the white cloth, the officer waved him off, "In that case may I ask your name and the nature of your relationship with the injured woman?"
"Harmon Rabb, Jr., and Mac is my partner and friend. We work together at JAG HQ."
"Mac?" the officer frowned.
"Sarah, she likes to go by Mac. Short for MacKenzie, I guess," Harm shrugged realizing he'd never asked her the derivation of the name, or why she preferred it to Sarah.
The officer nodded, "Did you see the accident?"
"No, I was in my car when I heard the brakes screech and the horn sound. I turned around in time to see he-rrrr," his voice cracked and he paused a moment to gulp back the cry. "I ah, I saw her bounce onto the hood and then flyyyy," he couldn't stifle the sob that time, "…ummm, off the windshield."
The officer gave him a minute to collect himself. "Why was she in the street…do you know?" he gently asked.
Harm looked away unable to control his tears, "She was chasing after me. We ah, we had an argument…she was trying to catch me." He swiped at the moisture on his cheeks, "I guess she wasn't paying attention, when she, ah…when she crossed the road."
"I think that's all for now," the officer gestured back toward the paramedics. "It looks like they've got her loaded up on the gurney, perhaps you wanna say your goodbyes."
Harm looked panic stricken, "Whaa…"
"I'm sorry, that didn't come out quite right," the officer stepped back and allowed Harm to exit the vehicle, "…I meant, you might want to see your friend before they leave for the hospital."
Harm nodded in reply, "Of course, I…"
The officer extended his hand offering a business card along with another item, "My name's Murphy…Sergeant Pete Murphy. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call…number's on the card."
Harm nodded again, anxious to get back to Mac, "Thanks…I ah, need…"
"Go ahead."
Harm quickly found his way back to Mac. The paramedics were lifting the gurney into the waiting ambulance. "How…how is she?" he hovered just behind.
"Critical!" was the male paramedic's hurried response, "…on our way to Georgetown!"
"But, she's military…we usually go to Bethesda," Harm watched as they secured the gurney to the floor.
"Georgetown's the closest trauma center," the woman spoke in a rush, "…it's protocol. We don't have time to head across town."
"'kay, just so she's fine…" Harm fidgeted outside the ambulance doors waiting to board.
"We'll do our best," the woman gave him a sad smile and began to close the doors.
"Wait! I'm coming too!" Harm grabbed hold of the door.
"I'm sorry…we don't usually…"
"I'm riding with her, in case…" he couldn't bring himself to finish the thought.
The female paramedic paused in sympathy, "What's your relationship to the patient?"
Harm opened his mouth to respond then stopped mouth gaping wide. Images flashed through his mind in rapid succession, a handshake in the Rose Garden…the breath of life aboard a sub…a Russian train station…the promise of a child…a stolen kiss on a moonlit porch…a torture shack hidden in a Paraguayan forest. So much wasted time.
Eyes wide with emotion he glanced back toward the still form on the gurney, "Everything…she's my everything…"
"I'm sorry," the paramedic replied, "…family only."
"Wait!" he reached out to grab her arm, "…I have her medical power of attorney! I'm essentially her next of kin...there's no one else!"
"Gates! Get in here…we need to run!" The male paramedic barked an order as he frantically worked on Mac, "Her sats and blood pressure are falling!"
Harm's eyes grew impossibly wider with fear as he silently begged his case. His grip tightened painfully on the young woman's arm, "Please!"
"Alright," she acquiesced pointing to a seat at the rear of the ambulance near the back door, "…you can sit there, but stay silent and out of the way!"
Harm bounded up the steps and through the back door. He quickly belted himself into the seat and stared in amazement as the paramedics continued to work. The pair barked commands and orders back and forth with finely tuned precision. Before he knew what was happening, the woman pulled out a large pair of scissors and began cutting away Mac's clothing. Her sweater was cut up the middle and down both arms falling away from her body. One snip and her bra met the same fate. Harm stared mesmerized for a moment before looking away in shame. Of all the ways he imagined seeing Mac naked the first time, this scenario never entered his thoughts. It felt wrong to stare, and his gaze shifted to the floor. The cutting sounds continued undeterred.
The objects in his hand finally gained his attention. He briefly examined the officer's card before stuffing it into his jacket pocket. Running his fingers over the wet fabric of Mac's slipper, he scrutinized the now filthy slipper pondering whether it could be washed. Under the streaks of mud and grime there were tiny delicate rosebuds on a sea of white. A soft satin bow adorned the top. It suddenly occurred to him that he was in the possession of only one slipper; he had no idea the location of its mate. She'd probably tear into him for failing to secure the pair. He smiled at the thought of her riled and worked-up. She always looked beautiful with fire in her eyes.
He glanced back to the head of the gurney and thankfully noted her torso was covered by a thin white sheet. He willed her to open her eyes…to give him any signal that she was okay. The male paramedic continued to compress and release the bag breathing life into Mac. The monitor alarm blared filling the cabin with a shrill high-pitched noise, vying with the sirens for supreme auditory overload. The woman punched at a button and the machine mercifully stilled.
"Sats are still dropping," the man replied.
The woman placed a stethoscope in her ears and slid the device over Mac's chest. Closing her eyes, she grimaced in concentration, "Hard to hear over the sirens, but I think she might have a pneumo…I don't hear breath sounds on the right."
"Blood pressure's not coming up either," the man sighed, "…she's already had a liter and the second's half done."
"Think we should needle her?" the woman reached inside a tackle box and pulled out a huge syringe.
Harm's eyes widened in horror as she held up an equally large i.v. needle. He swallowed hard against the bile that surged in his throat and attempted to gulp back the sensation. Panting in the small, warm confines of the ambulance, the cacophony of sensory overload threatened to overwhelm him. He inhaled deep cleansing breaths through his nose exhaling through his mouth hoping to remain upright and conscious, then diverted his attention out the back window. The snow was falling heavier now, almost reaching blizzard conditions. The ambulance slid to the left of the median on the ice, as if sensing his concern. The driver skillfully regained control steering it back to the right and slowed for an intersection.
The momentary diversion gave Harm a chance to get his nerves back under control. He stole a peek in Mac's direction and was happy to see the paramedic toss the syringe and needle aside. Sighing deeply, he allowed his gaze to fall back to the floor. A glimpse of color caught his eye. Mac's left foot lay just a finger's breadth away. Her right leg was heavily splinted, but her left foot was perfect and unmarred. He reached out to stroke up the ball of her foot and then gently grasped her toes. Her foot was so cold and still. He cupped it tenderly in his large palm hoping to give her warmth. Tipping his head to the side, he noticed the glistening pink nail polish. Underneath all the military green and protocol, she was still a woman…a beautiful woman. How often had he tried to ignore that fact? Treated her like just one of the guys...a friend. A best friend, but still…just a friend? 'Fool!' he chastised himself. He'd ignored and casually cast aside the precious gift she offered, and now…
NO! DON'T THINK LIKE THAT…
He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on her great toe, vowing to live differently if only given the chance. He felt the ambulance make a sharp turn and peered out into the darkness of the night.
They came to a sudden stop. The doors flew open wide…winter chill rushed in to fill the air. He watched in awe as others flew to their side lifting the gurney through the doors. The crew of three joined in the chaos of activity, all working together like an experienced musical quintet. Facts and numbers changed hands shouted over the howling wind. Mac's gurney was whisked away at a frantic pace. He jumped from the ambulance and tried to give chase. A nurse caught him just inside the ER doors and directed him to admitting with the caveat that, "They needed her demographic data and vital stats."
He stood alone and silent, frozen in place by a deep foreboding loss. Arms hanging limply at his side, a slipper clenched white-knuckled in his grasp signaled the only sign of life.
xxxxx
Two hours later, he sat fidgeting in the emergency room waiting area. Christmas music played continuously over the loudspeakers interrupted every few minutes by announcements or a page.
"Doctor White to the ICU…"
"Radiology needed STAT in Trauma Room 4…"
"Mr. Smith, would you please return to Labor and Delivery…"
On and on and on it went. All he wanted was to see Mac. To know she was alright…alive. NO! DON'T THINK LIKE THAT! 'Jingle Bells' played again for the umpteenth time. He never realized how much he hated the sound of those damn bells! He threw the magazine he'd been mindlessly leafing through onto a side table. Standing up to pace, he nearly tripped over a toddler playing on the floor.
"Sorry," he tightly smiled at the perturbed mother.
Opting for a cup of coffee, he scuffed his way to the vending machines against the far wall. Inserting the requisite change, he punched at a button for black, no cream, no sugar. A paper cup slipped into place and the machine gurgled as the dark brown liquid sprayed into the cup. Reaching for the hot drink, he nearly burned his hand. Ignoring the tactile warning of his flesh, he gulped down a mouthful of the bitter liquid and gasped as a burning sensation erupted on his tongue and continued all the way down his esophagus to his stomach. He nearly retched as the acidic liquid refluxed back up from his empty stomach. He tossed the coffee into the nearest trashcan and leaned over the drinking fountain for a soothing drink of blissfully cool water.
Retracing his steps back to the ER, he stopped at the reception desk. "Ma'am, I was wondering…is there any word on Sarah MacKenzie?"
The unit clerk checked her clipboard and shook her head, "I'm sorry, the doctor hasn't come out yet. Mr. Rabb is it?"
Harm nodded and sighed in frustration, "Yeeess."
"If you'll remain in the waiting area, I'm sure…"
"But I've been there for hours, surely someone knows something by now," Harm raked his fingers through his hair creating unruly spikes in the dark shiny strands.
"I'm sorry…"
"I know," he huffed, "…remain in the waiting room. The doctor will come out…yada, yada, ya…" The clerk smiled indulgently. "Sorry," he sighed again and poked a thumb over his shoulder, "…I'll be over there." Grumbling to himself, he figured no news had to be good news, surely they'd tell him if she wasn't alive.
He found a seat in a more secluded section and dropped into one of the uncomfortable blue vinyl chairs. 'Jingle Bells' started to play again and he rolled his eyes. A small Christmas tree blinked from the corner, with bright shining lights of red, green and blue, in perfect time to the beat of the sleigh bells. He glanced around the room, before his eyes fell on a series of posters lining the wall.
The first showed the giggling face of a cherubic infant with the large caption, 'NEVER, NEVER SHAKE A BABY!'. He smiled at the sweet baby face and allowed his mind to wonder about 'What If's'. A smacking sound roused his attention, and he turned to see a large guy manhandling a much smaller woman. Just as he was about to rise and give rescue, a policeman standing guard in the ER barked a command of "HALT" and strode their way. Harm watched as the officer forcibly removed the bully.
He refocused his attention on the posters and startled when he read the warning on spousal abuse along with a hotline phone number. Wondering if he should counsel the battered woman, he turned around to find her following close behind her attacker like a dutiful wife.
"Some folks are so caught in the snare," he grumbled under his breath and an image of a young Sarah MacKenzie flashed through his mind. What must her life have been like? Fearful, miserable…resigned.
Running his fingers over the mud-crusted slipper his heart lurched. She just had to be alright. His last words to her couldn't be those said in anger…he needed to tell her how he really felt. Thumb continuously stroking the soft satin ribbon in a repetitive calming act, his eyes drifted to the final poster. 'ANGER MANAGEMENT' appeared in large black letters, and just below the statement, 'Speak when you're angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret!'
His breath hitched painfully in his chest. Regret. That was an emotion he could identify with intimately…REGRET. Tears flashed in his eyes as he bowed his head murmuring over and over again, "Please God…Please!…I promise…PLEASE!…" Clutching the slipper in his hands, he raised it to his lips whispering his prayer. If only, he'd stopped, taken a breath, held his tongue, walked away sooner…counted to ten. If only…
A gruff baritone voice called out his name, "Rabb…Mr. Rabb!"
Harm looked up to find a grey-haired man dressed in sweat-drenched scrubs calling his name. The man looked tired and grim, and Harm froze in terror.
"Harmon Rabb!" the physician bellowed for the third time.
Harm roused from his near catatonic state when the doctor turned to walk away, "WAIT! I'm Harmon Rabb!"
He rushed to the physician's side, "I'm…I'm with Sarah MacKenzie." He nervously twirled his cover in his hands, slipper clutched to his side.
"You're Ms. MacKenzie's next of kin? Her husband?" the physician swiped a bead of sweat from his brow.
"Yes…I mean 'No'…"
The physician frowned, "Which is it?"
"No, I'm not her husband, but I do have her medical power of attorney and am the closest to kin she has…we're ah…"
The doctor waved off the explanation; he didn't have time. "That's fine." He extended a hand, "Dr. Burkeholder…I'm the head of trauma surgery here at Georgetown. Look, I only have a few minutes…we're prepping Ms. MacKenzie for surgery, but I wanted to take a moment to update you on her injuries. We're also gonna need a signature on a consent for surgery and treatment."
Harm nodded absently, "Um, sure…how is she…what's going on?"
Dr. Burkeholder sighed, "Well, she's kept us busy. I'm afraid she's in critical condition…it was touch and go there for a while."
"But," Harm dared to hope.
"I think she's got a fairly good chance," he watched the Naval officer deflate with relief. He hated to drop the other shoe, "But, she has a long road ahead of her…and I'm not sure…"
Harm audibly swallowed his throat suddenly parched and dry, "Sure about what?"
The physician rested his hands on his hips and dropped his head, "You have to understand…her blood pressure and oxygen levels were down for a while. We performed a CT-scan of her head, which appears to be fine…but still…"
"What elllsse," Harm's voice cracked with emotion.
"Um, we had to insert a chest tube to re-expand her right lung. That was probably the source of her low blood pressure and difficulty with ventilation. The car appears to have struck her on the right side," the physician gestured to his right chest. "She has several fractured ribs. She also fractured both bones in the lower right arm, and has a compound fracture of her right femur."
Harm shook his head overwhelmed by the medical information, "I don't understand…"
"The femur is the large bone at the top of the leg," the doctor rubbed a hand over his leg to demonstrate. "That's one of the reasons she's going to surgery…Dr. Wilson, the orthopedist, needs to insert a plate and screws to realign the bone. She's gonna be in traction for several weeks."
"Alright, anything else I need to know," the color was quickly draining from Harm's face.
"Um, yes…a CT-scan of her abdomen revealed a hepatic contusion and a fractured spleen. She's received several units of packed cells." The sailor's eyes glazed over and the surgeon hurried on, "The liver bruising will just need to be watched, but we're gonna have to remove her spleen before we can set the femur."
Harm nodded understanding unable to speak.
The surgeon pointed a thumb behind him, "I need to get back in there. A nurse will be with you shortly to have you sign the consent. She'll also let you see Ms. MacKenzie for a moment before we whisk her away."
Harm stood shell-shocked while the physician disappeared behind the double door labeled 'Authorized Personnel Only'. A few minutes later a middle-aged woman with sympathetic eyes came through the same entrance.
"Are you Mr. Rabb?" she asked in a soft voice. He nodded his head unable to speak. "If you'll come with me, I'll take you to see Sarah."
He followed on her heels and gasped when they entered the trauma room. There were empty boxes, equipment, plastic bags and blood all over the room. The sickening gurgle of suction filled the air, overwhelming the background music provided by the swishing of a ventilator. The steady rapid beeps of the monitor provided the symphony's beat. The nurse placed a steadying arm around his waist and guided him to Mac's side.
"We only have a few minutes…I'm sorry, but we need to get Sarah into surgery." She extended a clipboard before him, "I need your signature on these forms…"
He took the offered pen and scribbled an unintelligible squiggle at the bottom of the paperwork. The nurse collected the pen and rubbed a gentle hand over his back, "You're welcome to go a little closer." Harm gaped at her in panic. "Come on," she gave him a little push and walked with him toward the gurney, "…I'll explain what we've done."
Harm stopped beside the bed and stared at Mac's ashen face. There were bloody scraps along her cheek and a bruise was already starting to darken over her eye. He reached out to touch her skin, but hesitated unsure of inflicting pain.
"It's alright to touch her," the nurse kindly replied sensing his fear, "…she's had morphine for pain."
Harm glanced back at the nurse, "She woke up?"
"No," the nurse sadly shook her head, "…but that's not unexpected after this much trauma. Go ahead, let her know you're here."
He gently ran a finger over her left hand. There was a large i.v. line attached to the back. He looked up to see the blood running freely in. Diverting his eyes back to her face, he noticed the large breathing tube secured with tape to her mouth, and a second tube snaked through her nose.
"Open your eyes," he willed her.
"It's not likely," the nurse replied.
He startled at her voice, not realizing he'd voiced the thought out loud. "I just want to tell her…I need her to know…" he stumbled over the words.
"You can tell her anything…you never know what she might hear," the nurse took a step away, "…I'll just be over there."
He stepped closer to the bed, and leaned over Mac, brushing his fingers through her hair. "Oh Sarah," he cried softly, "…I'm so sorry this happened. If I could take it back…if I could make any of this go away," he shook his head, "…if only it were me on this table instead of you. This is all my fault, if I'd only listened to you."
He angrily swiped at his tears, "When will I learn to control my mouth around you. Somehow, I always know how to push your buttons and say all the wrong words. Well, not this time!"
Another nurse appeared in the room, "They're ready for her in OR 1."
Harm looked up panicked, "Just one more minute?"
The first nurse smiled, "It's okay…just one." She busied herself with collecting the chart and paperwork.
He leaned in close to Mac's ear and whispered so only she could hear, "I love you, Sarah. Always…only you. I promise I'll be here waiting for you when you come out of surgery. I need you to fight, Marine…like you've never fought before. I can't lose you now…not when we have so much to live for. I need you…for eternity."
He gently kissed her brow as his tears soaked into her hair, "I love you, Sarah."
Stepping back at the clearing of a throat, his eyes reflected the loss he already felt. He made no attempt to cover his tears. "Thank you," he managed to squeak out past the lump in his throat.
"Here's her things," the first nurse handed him a plastic sack, "…I doubt the clothes will be worth much, but I thought you might like to have them." She handed him a small clear Ziploc bag, "And here's her jewelry…I removed a pair of gold studs and a ring."
He accepted the small pouch of jewelry and spilled them out onto his palm, "Thank you…I'll make sure she gets them when…ah, later."
The nurse smiled, "Well, we need to get Sarah into surgery. The surgical waiting room is on the second floor. Dr. Burkeholder will come speak with you once the case is done."
Harm started out the trauma room door, but turned back quickly when they pushed Mac's bed toward the door, "One more goodbye?"
"Sure…quick."
He rushed back to Mac and placed a kiss on her cheek, "Love you, Marine…stay strong." He stood up to his full 6 foot-4 height and flashed the nurse a grateful smile, "Thank you." She nodded in reply and gave the bed a strong pull. "Um, one more thing…could you tell me where the chapel is please?"
"First floor, north side…if you head out of the ER just follow the signs down the hall," she pulled the gurney past him and into the corridor. He lingered watching them go by. The nurses both smiled at the look of devotion. "We'll take good care of her," the first nurse replied, "…by the way, my name's Frannie…feel free to come find me if you have any more questions."
"I'll hold you to that...thanks Frannie," he stood transfixed until they exited out the back doors of the ER, then turned to find the chapel. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was 2 a.m., and debated calling the Admiral, Bud, Harriet and Sturgis. Deciding to let them sleep, he walked down the nearly desolate hall until locating the chapel and quietly slipped inside. He dropped into the nearest pew and bowed his head in reflection and prayer.
After 15-20 minutes, he finally felt an overwhelming peace, and realized he felt Sarah near. As long as he could feel her presence he reasoned, she couldn't be taken from him. He flexed his hand and felt the earrings poke into his palm. Studying the jewelry a moment, he placed the gold studs back into the plastic pouch and dropped them into the breast pocket of his dress blues. He pinched the Marine Corp ring between his thumb and index finger watching the red stone glisten in the light. Rotating it to and fro, he examined the insignias and inscription. Removing his own Naval Academy ring, he laid them both in his palm and marveled at the difference in size. Hers was so small and delicate…perfect, just like her. He slipped his ring back on, and started to pocket hers with the earrings. Deciding better, he slipped her ring onto the little finger of his left hand. It barely slid past the first knuckle, but even so, it felt natural there…like it belonged. He smiled at the symbolism…he was wearing Mac's ring. Now, if only…
xxxxx
Continued in 'In the Bleak Midwinter', Pt. 2