GROZNY, CHECHNYA
Due to the icy roads, it had taken them nearly an hour to make the twenty kilometer drive with a few close calls when the car had hit patches of ice and started fishtailing. Mac winced each time the car's abrupt movements cause Harm to moan in pain. Finally, they had entered the city, but could only get within a block of the field hospital due to rubble in the streets.
Stopping the car at the side of the road, Mac turned around, about to suggest that they walk the rest of the way. But one look at Harm's ashen features and she knew he probably wouldn't be able to make it, even with her and Sergei supporting him. "Sergei, I'm going to run to the hospital and see if I can bring back some help," Mac said with a worried glance at Harm.
"Go!" Sergei encouraged her.
Mac reached into the back see and grasped Harm's hand. "I'll be back soon with help," she promised.
After Mac left, Sergei looked down at Harm. "That is a woman in love," he said firmly. Harm opened his eyes and shot his brother a dirty look.
"Sergei. . . ." Harm said weakly, while Sergei chuckled a little.
"It is good that you are in no condition to argue with me," Sergei teased. Harm started to laugh, but the sound quickly turned into a groan of pain. Sergei sobered quickly.
"Sorry, big brother," he said. He was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Why have you not told Colonel Mackenzie how you feel?"
"It's not that simple," Harm replied, his voice quiet. "I thought she knew. . . .I asked her to wait. But then she took his ring."
"You thought she knew but you did not tell her," Sergei mused. "How could she know if you do not say anything?"
"I said that I was that way only with her," Harm justified. Sergei shook his head.
"This does not make sense," he complained. "Start at the beginning."
Harm sighed, realizing Sergei wasn't going to let the subject drop. But this wasn't easy for him to talk about. In fact, since that night he'd never mentioned it to another living soul. "We were in Australia on a case," he began, his words labored. "She had gone to the beach with Mic. . . ."
"Mic? This is the man whose ring she wears?"
Harm nodded weakly in response. "This was before the ring," he explained. "Anyway, it was a topless beach. . . .Sergei!"
Sergei looked down, embarrassed. He couldn't help the image that Harm's words created in his mind. Definitely not something he should be thinking about, especially when it concerned the woman his brother was in love with. Shaking his head, he encouraged Harm to continue, "So she went to this. . . .beach with Mic. What happened?"
"Nothing then," Harm continued. "The next night, I took her to dinner and on the ferry, some comments were made about my not understanding why she went to the beach with Mic and she indicated that she might not have been topless after all."
"I do not understand," Sergei confessed. "Either she was wearing a top or she was not."
"At the beach, she'd had this magazine laying across her chest so I really couldn't see," Harm explained. "I made the comment that she shouldn't behave like that with someone she works with and that she wouldn't do it for me. She asked me if that was a request and. . . .I started talking about something else."
"Something else!?" Sergei exclaimed. "Why did you not say 'yes'?"
"It's not that simple," Harm protested as Sergei muttered something under his breath in Russian. "What was that you just said?" he demanded.
"I said you are an idiot," Sergei retorted. "The woman you love asks if you want her to go topless for you and you start talking about something else! What is so difficult? You say yes, go to your hotel room. . . ."
"Sergei, this is Mac we're talking about," Harm argued. "I respect her too much to just jump into bed with her!"
"And did you tell her this?" Sergei countered.
"Well, yes," Harm replied. Sergei just stared at him and he shrugged. "Okay, kind of. She accused me of not being able to let go and I said not yet and then we talked about how I was only that way with her."
"And from this she is supposed to understand that you love her and want her to wait for you to be ready?" Sergei asked, shaking his head. "I thought you were a lawyer. Do lawyers not know how to say things to persuade people? Is that not your job?"
"Well she must not have felt the same for me because a few days later she was wearing his ring!" Harm exclaimed, groaning with the effort.
Sergei was ready to throw up his hands. Clearly, his brother was smart in some things and really dumb in others. "And you did not think that she wears his ring because she thinks you rejected her?"
"I didn't reject her!" Harm argued.
"How does she know that?" Sergei countered. "I am confused by what you just told me. She must have been confused that night, listening to you. No matter now. Why did you not say anything after she wore the ring, when you knew that if you did not say anything you would lose her?"
"Because why would she have taken his ring if she didn't want to?" Harm replied. "If that is what she wants, then I have to be happy for her. She made her choice."
"Only because you did not give her another one," Sergei pointed out. "If this other man is what she wants, then why did she follow you into Chechnya twice? I do not know many friends who would follow each other into a war."
"Harm, when my mother first told me about you and your mother, I knew that my mother was not his first choice," Sergei continued realistically. "She always knew that he was just – what is the word? – settling because he could not be with your mother. Our father and your mother could not be together because of circumstances not in their control. But you and Colonel Mackenzie have a choice. You can chose to be together. She does not have to settle for second choice. But you have to say something."
"Sergei, the choice was taken away from me the day she put on that ring," Harm countered softly. "If she wants to be with me, she has to make the next move. I will not hurt her by destroying a relationship that she apparently wants."
Sergei, shaking his head, was about to say something when he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked towards the window to find Mac standing there, looking at them through the partially opened window. From the pained expression on her face, he could tell that she had heard at least some of what they had been talking about. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head. Sergei muttered something under his breath in Russian about both of them being idiots as she opened the car door, motioning to a Russian Army captain behind her.
"Harm," Mac said gently, her voice steady as if she hadn't heard a thing. "This is Doctor Romakov. He wants to look at your wound while we're waiting for the orderlies to get here with a stretcher."
Sergei pulled his hands away from where they were pressing against the wound and the doctor leaned into the car, pulling the fabric away, probing the wound with his fingers while Harm winced. "My apologies," Romakov said in heavily accented English. "You are a lucky man. The wound is deep and you have lost much blood."
"But he will be okay?" Sergei asked, in English for Harm's benefit.
"Yes," the doctor replied as the orderlies arrived, carrying a stretcher between them. "He has made it this far."
"Typical Rabb stubbornness," Mac commented as she and the doctor stepped away from the door to allow Sergei to get out of the car and the orderlies to reach in to pull Harm out. "Speaking of which, Sergeant Zhukov here has frostbite and a mild case of hypothermia. His temperature was 34.4 Celsius."
"Colonel, I am fine," Sergei protested. "My brother is. . . ."
"Is being taken care of," Mac insisted as two more orderlies arrived with another stretcher. "I have the feeling that you are not doing as well as you have been pretending."
Sergei was about to protest, but Mac took his arm and led him towards the other stretcher. When he nearly stumbled despite her hold on him, she shook her head and commented, "See what I mean? Your brother and I didn't come all the way into Chechnya just so you could collapse and die from hypothermia on us."
Chastised, Sergei let himself be placed on the stretcher, the orderlies wrapping blankets securely around him. As they lifted the stretcher, Sergei reached for Mac's hand. "Colonel, promise you will talk to him," he asked softly. He knew she had heard at least part of their conversation.
Mac nodded, blinking back tears. After all that they'd been through together, it had taken Sergei to get Harm to open up about his feelings for her. Even if Harm couldn't yet tell her directly, it was a start. Maybe Harm was right, maybe she should make the first move. She had the feeling that no matter what Sergei said or how they had promised to talk, her absent ring was going to remain a barrier between them until she told him that it wasn't.
+++
TWO HOURS LATER
Once they had reached the field hospital, Mac had tried to follow Harm, but she was pulled back by a medic who insisted on examining the scratches on her face. She'd protested in Russian, but the man ignored her, leading her to a bed of her own to clean up her infected scratches and to give her pain killers and antibiotics. As the medic was finishing up, the doctor who had gone back to the car with her came with an update on Harm and Sergei's conditions.
She was told that Sergei would be fine, his hypothermia was mild and easily taken care of. He did have frostbite not only on his face and ears, but also his hands and feet, but nothing serious enough to threaten any limbs. Harm was another matter.
The doctor said that the damage from Harm's shrapnel would was worse than they had originally thought and had caused some intestinal damage which would require surgery. He was stabilized for now, but would be transported to a hospital in Moscow on the return flight of the military transport flight that was on the way.
Knowing how serious Harm's condition was, Mac would not be held back this time, wandering among the beds until she found him and pulling up a chair at his bedside. He was asleep from the effects of pain medication, so Mac contented herself with holding his hand. Eventually, her pain medication kicked in and she fell asleep resting her head against Harm's shoulder.
She was awakened by a hand on her shoulder. With tired eyes, she looked up find Major Sokol standing over her. "Mark," she said, blinking her eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"We received reports of Captain Volkonov's body being found in the woods," he explained, pulling up another chair and sitting down. "The Russians sent out some troops to look for you and Rabb and I flew down to see what I could do to help. The flight I flew in on is the one that will be taking you two and Sergeant Zhukov back to Moscow."
"When do we leave?" she asked, concerned about getting Harm the medical attention he needed.
"An ambulance is being readied now to transport the three of you to the air field," he replied. "Sarah, there's something else I should tell you."
Mac looked up at him expectantly. "When I arrived in Grozny, a message was waiting for me from my aide at Lubyanka," he continued. "There's a private flight on the way from Washington."
Oh, no, she thought, a feeling of dread settling in the pit of her stomach. "And?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"Your Admiral is on the flight, along with Clayton Webb," he answered. "Rabb's parents are coming – it's their plane everyone's coming in on – and. . . ." He paused, studying her intently. "And Mic Brumby is on the flight."
Mac looked down at Harm's hand in hers, shaking her head. This was the last thing she needed right now. "Great," she muttered. She was silent for a moment, then looked back up at Sokol. "When do they arrive?"
"They had to stop for refueling in England," he explained, "so that added nearly two hours to their trip. They'll be landing a little over an hour after you do."
+++
FOUR HOURS LATER
SAVIOR'S HOSPITAL FOR PEACE AND CHARITY
17 FEDERATIVNIL PRASPEKT
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
Once they had been transported from the airfield to Moscow's second largest hospital, Mac was once again relegated to waiting. Sergei was admitted overnight for observation while Harm was rushed into surgery. After checking on Sergei to make sure he was doing okay, Mac left him to sleep and took up residence in a waiting area just down the hall from the operating room to wait out Harm's surgery.
Nearly two hours later, the surgeon, a British doctor in Moscow on a fellowship, came out to tell her that the surgery had gone well and that a nurse would take her to Harm's room once he was transferred from recovery to his own room.
Nearly an hour after that, Mac was seated back at Harm's side, clasping his hand tightly. "Hey, Flyboy," she said softly, running her fingers through his hair. "You gave me quite a scare out there. You knew your injury was worse than you let me know, didn't you? But you just had to protect me."
She smiled slightly, remembering other tight spots they had been in over the years. "You know, I haven't been this scared about you since we were on the Suribachi," she continued, kissing the back of his hand as tears threatened. "I honestly thought for a few moments then that you were going to die on me before I could tell you how I felt. Then I tried and it all came out wrong and I didn't listen to what you were trying to tell me. Believe me, I am so sorry for that. It's funny, we're lawyers but when it comes to communicating with each other. . . . " She trailed off, sighing sadly.
"But I don't want it to be like that anymore," she continued, her voice stronger. "I did hear the last bit of what you told Sergei earlier and this time, when we have that talk that we keep talking about, we're not going to dance around the subject by speaking in riddles and innuendos. This time we'll get it right."
"I'm sorry," she began when she heard the door to the room opening, momentarily forgetting that not everyone here spoke English. She was about to repeat it in Russian then she looked up and recognized the figure standing in the doorway. "Mic!"
+++
Quickly, Mac brushed the tears from her eyes with one hand, her other still clasping Harm's hand tightly. "Where is everyone else?" she asked, trying hard to control the nervousness she was feeling.
"They're with the doctor, getting an update on his condition," he replied, nodding towards Harm. "I wanted. . . .well, I needed to come find you first."
"I guess you want to talk," she mused quietly, sighing sadly. She'd never meant to hurt him like this, but there was no easy solution to this tangled situation. "But now's not a good time. Harm's still not awake yet and. . . ."
"Sarah," Mic interrupted, his voice sad. He knew she was slipping away from him and he didn't want to drag this out, waiting around while she hovered over Harm. "I really think we need to do this now. I think. . . . after all these months you at least owe me that."
Mac might normally have taken offense at that last remark, but she couldn't. He just sounded so defeated, as if he knew already that he had lost her. Sighing, she nodded. "I guess you're right," she agreed. She looked down at Harm again, still concerned about leaving him alone.
"He'll have a roomful of visitors in a few minutes," Mic pointed out. "When was the last time you ate anything?"
"Some field rations," she replied, chuckling a little at the thought, "on the flight to Moscow."
"Then why don't you let me treat you to a decent meal?" he suggested, opening to door to the room and gesturing towards the hall.
"I'd really prefer not to leave the hospital," she countered, "at least not until Harm wakes up."
"Well then how about we stay in the hospital," he conceded. "I'm sure the hospital has a cafeteria."
Squeezing Harm's hand then gently laying it back down on the bed, she stood and followed Mic out the door. "I'm not sure that will be much better than the field rations," she commented.
+++
"Frank, he looks so pale," Trish said softly as the doctor led her and Frank into Harm's hospital room. She sat down in the chair Mac had previously occupied and picked up Harm's hand. "He feels cold."
"Mild case of hypothermia, Mrs. Burnett," the doctor informed her. "The injury was probably a contributing factor since Ms. Mackenzie is not similarly afflicted. But he will make a full recovery."
"When should he wake up, Doctor?" Frank asked, watching his wife out of the corner of his eye. He was concerned about how hard she was taking this whole situation given the disagreement she'd had with Harm before he'd left for Russia. But he knew there was nothing he could say. She need to hear from Harm that he understood how she was feeling.
"We're keeping him lightly sedated," he replied, "and it will be a few hours before we start to bring him out of it. We wanted to give him some extra time to heal."
"Thank you, Doctor," Frank said, shaking his hand.
"Take all the time you'd like with your son," the doctor said. "I'll be back in to check on him in a few hours." The doctor left, leaving them alone with Harm.
Trish was quiet for a few moments, holding Harm's cold hand against her cheek. Finally, she spoke, her voice so quiet Frank had to strain to hear her. "Do you remember when we went to Germany after Harm's crash?" she mused. "The first time we walked into his hospital room, he was unconscious and looked so pale. There were all these machines and wires and tubes."
"I remember," Frank said, putting his hand on her shoulder. He wasn't quite sure where she was going with that. After his crash for several days it had been touch and go, a complete recovery or even survival not a sure thing. But this wasn't like that. A few weeks and Harm would likely be back to his normal, active lifestyle.
"How many calls do I have to get telling me my son is in a hospital somewhere?" Trish asked, fighting back tears. "And is the day going to come when we're told that he won't recover? And when is he going to stop coming to this God-forsaken country? The first time he's presumed dead in Siberia, the second time he nearly gets blown up when someone tries to assassinate the President of Russia and this time. . . ."
"Trish. . . ."
She released Harm's hand and turned to Frank, her face determined. "I need to see him," she insisted.
Frank didn't pretend that he didn't know who she was talking about. "Trish, are you sure this is the right time?" he asked, even as he knew that he wasn't going to be able to talk her out of it.
"I need to know," she argued. "I need to know why my son traveled halfway around the world to risk his life for someone he only met two months ago."
Sighing in resignation, Frank asked, "Would you like me to go with you?"
Trish shook her head. "No, you stay here with Harm," she replied. "I want someone to be here with him. I'm going to send Admiral Chegwidden and Mr. Webb in, also. I'm sure they are anxious to see him."
Before Trish could walk out of the room, Frank pulled her into a tight hug. Trish had to smile. She'd been very lucky to find him and was thankful that he was there for her once again as she faced the ghost of Harmon Rabb, Sr.
+++
HOSPITAL CAFETERIA
Both Mac and Mic were silent as the entered the cafeteria and got their food, Mic looking oddly at the choices. Once they were seated, Mac commented on it, trying to lighten the mood.
"You're not likely to find hamburgers and fries here," she pointed out, failing miserably to project a jovial tone.
"Maybe I'll have to make a stop at McDonalds while I'm here," Mic mused, making his own attempt at projecting cheer. "They do have one of those here, don't they?"
"Two, I think," she replied, distracted, noting that he had said 'I' and not 'we', but afraid after all these months to read anything into it. After pursuing her two years, she couldn't imagine him walking away that easily. But maybe he was about to surprise her. "Before we left Russia the first time, I made Harm take me to one. . . .I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have said that."
"No," Mic replies sadly. "It's okay. That's what it's always come down to, isn't it? You and Harm."
"Mic. . . ." she began, but Mic held up his hand to stop her, shaking his head.
"No, please let me finish," he requested. "I need to say this and it's going to be one of the hardest things I've done." He looked down at his food tray for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts and figure out what words to use. Finally, he began, "When I first came to JAG, I thought there was something going on between you and Rabb. I was new in town and it seemed so obvious to me. I'll admit that I was attracted to you but I wasn't about to go after another man's woman. But when I asked, he assured me that you two were just friends and I took that as a signal that I could pursue you. But I will admit that in the back of my mind I had doubts, especially after the way he defended you at your trial. There were a few moments when I honestly thought he wanted to tear me apart."
Mac chuckled in spite of herself. "Yeah, I kind of thought that, too," she admitted. "Harm and I have always been very protective of each other, even back in the beginning, when we barely knew each other. But I guess you really don't want to hear that."
"Actually, it helps," Mic replied. "I mean, not in making this any easier, but it – I guess it helps me understand everything a little bit better. Let me ask you something. Did I ever really stand a chance?"
"I'm not sure how to answer that question," Mac said, sighing as she looked up at the ceiling. "I mean, there are so many variables involved. Mic, you're a great guy. You're smart, a great lawyer, you make me laugh. . . ."
"But I'm not him," Mic said sadly, shrugging. "And as long as he's around. . . .actually, that's not quite right. Even when he wasn't around, you still couldn't let him go, could you?"
Mac had to smile at the irony of that statement. Letting go was what it came down to for her and Harm. Shaking her head, she pushed the thought from her mind and replied as gently as possible, "I'm sorry, Mic. Under other circumstances, I think it would have been very easy to fall in love with you. You said all the right things, the things that I wanted to hear. . . ."
"But I wasn't the person you wanted to hear them from," he concluded. "I think I always knew that. I don't want to admit it, but maybe that's part of why I reserved my commission. I was in Australia, you were here with him and I thought that if I was here too, you would finally move the ring over. Finally, you did move the ring over, but after so long I was so happy that I never stopped to ask why after all this time. Maybe I didn't want to question. I wonder now if deep down I knew that you hadn't so much decided to marry me as you had decided to settle. I guess your taking off after Rabb to Russia like you did answered that question."
Mac looked down at her plate for a moment before asking quietly, "So now what?"
Mic shrugged. "I know in your letter you said you would possibly take back the ring when you returned," he replied. "But I've decided that I can't ask you to do that. Aside from the fact, to be honest, that I don't like the idea of only holding second place in your heart, I don't think it's fair to you either. Now that I have admitted, I guess, that your heart can't really belong to me, I can't make you settle for something less than what you truly want."
Mac had tears in her eyes as she reached across the table and clasped his hand. "You're probably being better than I deserve," she pointed out, blinking back the tears. "It wasn't fair to you to let you go on believing for so long that I could love you the way you deserve to be loved. And you do deserve a woman who will make you the center of her universe. That woman just isn't me and it took Harm resigning his commission and this trip to Russia for me to admit that to myself. I'm just sorry that I couldn't admit that before I got your hopes up by moving the ring over. That wasn't fair to you either."
"Then I guess that's it," Mic said sadly.
"So what are you going to do?" Mac asked. "I mean, are you going to return to Australia, stay in Washington or something else?"
"For now," Mic replied, "I think I'll stay in Washington. I do like my job, even if it's not quite what I'm used to from the Navy. And I do have friends here. But who knows. Maybe someday I'll decide to go back to the Navy full-time as I was talking about. Maybe I'll meet someone else. With everything that's going on, I guess I'm not in the frame of mind to make any life changing decisions."
"How ironic," she mused quietly. Louder, she said, "I know it's probably not a good time to say this, but I hope you know that you can count on me to be one of those friends."
Mic nodded. "I appreciate that," he said. "I just hope you won't think me unfriendly if I keep my distance for a while. I just think it would hurt too much right now."
"I'd say that's fair," she agreed sadly. "And believe me, I am so sorry that I hurt you like this."
"No worries, mate," Mic said, forcing a smile. "Look, I'm going to go walk around the city for a while. I've never been to Moscow, you know. And I'm sure that you want to get back to Rabb before he wakes up."
Mac stood, picking up her tray. She wasn't quite sure what to say. Everything she could think of just seemed so inadequate. Finally, she simply whispered, "Goodbye," before she walked away. Tossing the remains of her meal in a trash can, she looked back at Mic still sitting at the table, removing from around his neck the chain containing her engagement ring. She sighed as she watched him stare at the glittering gem for a long moment before slipping it into his shirt pocket.
+++
Trish was still debating internally what she was going to say as she pushed open the door to Sergei's room. What was she supposed to say to the child her husband had with another woman?
Sergei, flipping through a magazine a nurse had brought him after he had woken up, look up at the sound of the door opening and smiled politely, curious who this stranger was who was just staring at him, her eyes shining bright with unshed tears.
Finally, Trish spoke, a small tremor in her voice, "You look like him."
In that moment, Sergei realized who she was and said, "You are Harm's mother."
Trish nodded as she pulled up a chair next to the head of the bed. "Trish Burnett," she introduced herself as she sat down. "How are you feeling?"
Sergei was touched by the genuine concern he saw in her eyes. He knew this couldn't be easy for her, just as it hadn't been easy for Harm when he'd first heard the truth. "I am doing better," he replied. "I will not lose any parts from frostbite and the doctor says that I can leave hospital tomorrow."
Trish smiled, quickly warming up to Sergei. A part of her had been hoping that there was some small chance that he wasn't telling the truth, but after only a moment in his presence, she knew he was a Rabb, as much as her husband and son were. And it wasn't just the familiar eyes and grin. There was just something about his presence that reminded her of the man she'd fallen in love with nearly forty years earlier and of the child she'd raised. "That's good news," she said sincerely. "There have been a lot of people worried about you."
"How is Harm?" he asked, his concern for his brother evident in his voice.
"He came through the surgery okay," Trish replied. "He's still unconscious, but the doctor said he's being kept sedated for a little bit. He should be awake in a few hours."
"I would like to see him," Sergei insisted, moving as if to get out of bed. Trish put a hand on his shoulder to hold him back.
"Now, just a minute, young man," she said in that 'mother' tone of voice. "Why don't we see what a doctor or nurse says before you take off? Anyway, after coming halfway around the world to find you, I don't think your brother would appreciate it if you got up too soon and collapsed."
Sergei had to smile at the tone and the words. Maybe it was a mother thing, but she reminded him a lot of his own mother, usually around the time he would do something that she didn't quite approve of. He nodded reluctantly, settling back against the pillows as Trish stuck her head out the door, motioning to a nurse in the hall. A minute later, a doctor entered the room.
"Shto vas bespakoit?" the doctor inquired. What's the matter?
Sergei looked at Trish and asked the doctor, "Vy gavarite pa-angliyski?" Do you speak English?
The doctor nodded and replied, "Yes, I speak English." He was confused as to why a Russian patient would ask such a question.
"Doctor, this is Trish Burnett," Sergei introduced Trish.
"I'm Sergei's stepmother," she added without hesitation, smiling at Sergei. "How is he doing?"
"He is good," the doctor explained, understanding Sergei's question now. "His temperature is now thirty-five three. The. . . .threshold for hypothermia is thirty-five. The frostbite is improving. He can leave hospital tomorrow."
"That's good to hear," Trish said, relieved. "Sergei would like to go see his brother. Could we get a wheelchair so I can take him to Harm's room?" She shot Sergei a stern look daring him to protest about the wheelchair.
"I will have nurse bring it in," the doctor replied just before he left the room. Sergei looked up at Trish.
"I do not need. . . ." he began, Trish shaking her head and smiling.
"Yes you do," she insisted. "You are not going down the hall to Harm's room unless it is in a wheelchair."
Sergei found himself laughing. "Are all mothers like that?"
"Probably only the ones who know if they aren't, their men will not stay down when they should," she replied, smiling herself. This kid was definitely a Rabb. "Your father and brother are the same way. Getting them to stay in bed while sick took an act of God. Your mother is like that, too?"
Sergei nodded. "Sometimes, she would get this look," Sergei explained, "and say how like my father I am, often when I was sick and would not stay in bed as you said." He paused, then asked quietly, "Am I like him?" He'd often asked his mother the same question, but Trish had known his father a lot longer than his mother had.
Trish nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. "She's right," she replied. "Like your brother, you are definitely your father's son."
+++
Twenty minutes later, Trish pushed Sergei into Harm's room, smiling at her husband to let him know everything was okay. She pushed the wheelchair up next to the bed and introduced Sergei to everyone. "This is my husband, Frank Burnett," she said, going around the room, "Admiral AJ Chegwidden, Harm's commanding officer, and Clayton Webb. Everyone, this is Harm's brother, Sergei."
Sergei smiled, knowing for sure that Trish had accepted him by her introduction. Not just plain Sergei. Not Sergeant Sergei Zhukov of the Russian Army. He was Harm's brother Sergei. He smiled as he shook Frank and AJ's hands and nodded to Clay. "It is good to see you again, Mr. Webb," he said.
"Sergei and I met the last time we were all in Russia," Clay explained. "How are you doing?"
"Better than my brother is," he replied, turning towards the bed when he heard what sounded like a laugh. He found Harm looking at him with tired eyes. "Welcome back, big brother."
Trish leaned over and brushed her fingers over Harm's cheek. "Should have known you'd wake up before the doctor said you would," she said, smiling down at him.
"Mom," he began, his throat dry and his tongue heavy. Trish motioned to Frank to pour Harm a glass of water from the pitcher on the stand next to the bed. She supported his head as she held the glass for him while he took a small sip. "When did you get here?"
"We arrived just after you got out of surgery," she replied. "Your friend Major Sokol contacted Mr. Webb and said that your escort had been killed, so we all insisted on coming to Moscow. Fortunately, we arrived to find out you all had been flown to Moscow from Grozny."
Under other circumstances, Harm might have laughed at Sokol being characterized as his friend. He looked from Trish to Sergei, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. "Mom, I'm sorry. . . ."
"Shhh," she interrupted. "Don't worry about it. It's not important anymore. Anyway, I went down to Sergei's room while we were waiting for you to wake up and introduced myself. We had a very nice conversation."
Harm looked at Sergei, who smiled and nodded. He looked back at Trish and mouthed 'Thank you'. It shouldn't anymore, but sometimes his mother's strength and understanding amazed him.
He looked around the room, smiling at Frank and Clay before his gaze settled on AJ. "Admiral. . . ." he began.
AJ sighed, shaking his head. "I suppose I should be grateful that Colonel Mackenzie's in better shape than you are," he pointed out, his voice stern. "At least I won't have to be without both of my top attorneys for too long." Harm looked at him, startled. AJ ignored the look and continued, "And when you return to JAG after the New Year, we will need to have a discussion, particularly about how to properly fill out paperwork, such as personnel action requests."
As gratified as he was to know that he still had job, AJ's statement reminded his drug-clouded mind of something important. "Where is Mac?" he asked. "Was she admitted to the hospital?"
"No, she wasn't admitted that I know of," Trish replied. "Come to think of it, we haven't seen her since we got here."
"She came to see me while you were in surgery," Sergei added. "But I have not seen her since then."
"I haven't seen Brumby either," Clay pointed out, ignoring the stern glances everyone else threw him. It wasn't like Harm wasn't going to find out that Mic was in Russia, he justified to himself. "He took off just after we arrived while we were talking to your surgeon."
"Mic is here?" Harm whispered, a feeling of dread settling over him. He'd actually begun to believe that maybe. . . .
"Mic," Sergei said to Harm. "This is Colonel Mackenzie's fiancé?"
Harm nodded, closing his eyes. He didn't want to think about this anymore. He opened his eyes, hearing the door open, to see Mac entering the room, smiling. He kept his expression carefully neutral as her gaze settled on his.
"You're awake," she said, taking Trish's place at the head of the bed. "The doctor said you probably wouldn't wake up for a few hours."
"I'm still pretty tired," he said, his eyes drifting closed. Right now, he wanted all of them to leave him to his regrets and recriminations. "I could use some more sleep."
Mac was so concerned about Harm's condition that she didn't stop to think about his unusual behavior. Sergei looked over at Trish, realizing what Harm was doing, and shook his head sadly. Trish privately agreed that there was something going on that needed to be dealt with, even if she wasn't quite sure what. But this probably wasn't the best time to press the issue, at least not in front of everyone. "You know, we all came straight to the hospital from the airport. Why don't we all go get checked into our hotel?" Trish suggested. "I know I could use some rest, having been up since three this morning. We can all come back and visit with Harm later. We can take Sergei back to his room on our way out. I'm sure after six days out in the cold and snow, he could use some more rest also."
There were nods all around, but Mac said, "I think I'll just stay here with Harm for a while." Harm shook his head, closing his eyes again.
"No, you should go," he insisted. "You're probably dead on your feet. Go get some sleep."
Mac hesitated, her concern and desire to be at Harm's side at war with her fatigue. "Are you sure?" she asked.
He nodded, insisting, "Go. I'll see you later."
Mac leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I'll see you later," she promised.
As Trish started to pull Sergei's wheelchair away from the bed, he motioned to her to wait. He leaned over and began softly so that only Harm could hear, "Harm, you need. . . ."
Harm sighed. He just had to have a brother with the characteristic Rabb stubbornness. "Not now, Sergei," he said a bit shortly.
Sergei sighed and motioned to Trish to wheel him out of the room. Once they were out in the hallway, Trish asked, careful to make sure the others were out of earshot, "What was that all about? Why didn't he want Mac to stay?"
Sergei sighed. "He loves her," he explained, looking up at Trish, "but he will let her go before he interferes in her relationship with this Mic person."
"Oh, Harm," she said softly, shaking her head. Sometimes, the things her son did amazed her. Maybe later she'd have a few words with her pigheaded son and if that didn't work, maybe she could sit down with an equally stubborn Marine and convince one or both of them to straighten out this tangled situation.
+++
AN HOUR LATER
Harm, despite his earlier insistence that he was tired, was still awake, staring at the ceiling as he turned over recent events in his mind. He'd been convinced that he was ready to finally 'let go', as Mac had put it on the ferry, but then finding out that Mic had followed her to Russia just strengthened his resolve to step away and let her make her own decisions. If Mic was who she wanted, then he had to be happy with that.
He sighed, picking up off the stand the international edition of 'Time' that one of the nurses had found for him. He flipped through the pages with disinterest, not really reading any of the stories, especially since most of them seemed to be about the just resolved election deadlock. Frankly, after a month, he was a little tired of hearing about it. He tossed the magazine onto the bed and closed his eyes, opening them again when he heard the room door open.
"How are you doing, mate?" Mic asked, stepping into the room.
"Fine," Harm replied shortly, hardly in the mood for chit chat with Mic Brumby of all people. "If you're looking for Mac, she went with everyone else to get checked into a hotel."
"Actually, I was looking for Admiral Chegwidden," Mic said. "I wanted to let him know that I will be on a flight tonight to London and I'll catch a flight to Washington from there."
"Did what you needed to do?" Harm asked, a bit sarcastically. If Mic noted his tone, he didn't let on.
"Actually, I did," Mic replied. "Now it's time to get on with my life."
"I'm sure you and Mac will be very happy together," Harm said, the sarcasm still present. He wasn't in the mood to pretend to be happy for his best friend, not with Mic.
Mic looked at him puzzled. "Have you spoken to Sarah?" he asked.
"She was in here for a few minutes with everyone else before they left for the hotel," Harm replied. "But we haven't really talked. What's the point?"
Mic sighed and resisted the urge to just leave. This is why he was walking away from Mac? Shaking his head, he said firmly, "The point would be that for some unknown reason, Sarah really cares about you, enough so that she followed you halfway around the world to keep you from getting yourself killed. She cares enough that she has decided that she wants to take a chance on you. We mutually decided not to continue our engagement."
"Excuse me?" Harm asked, stunned. This was the last thing he'd expected to hear, especially from a man who'd traveled halfway around the world for the woman he'd asked to marry him.
"You heard me," Mic replied. "Sarah and I are not getting married. She doesn't want to settle and honestly, although I don't agree with the decision, I love her enough not to make her settle for less than what she really wants. And you seem to be what she wants." Mic sighed as Harm continued to stare at him silently. "Look, you are not in the best condition, so this probably is not the best time for a tense discussion like this. Just tell everyone that I've headed back to the States. Goodbye, Harm."
Harm silently watched Mic leave the room, surprised. He'd never thought Mic would ever walk away so easily. Or maybe it wasn't so easy. Harm knew that watching Mac with another man had been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to experience, so there was a part of him that could understand what the man was going through, although he would never admit it aloud.
But now he had other things on his mind. Earlier, he'd jumped to conclusions and had pushed Mac away once again. Closing his eyes, finally drifting off to sleep, he promised to try and make it up to her the next time he saw her.
+++
Harm awoke just over two hours later, slightly disoriented. He wasn't alone in the bed. Forcing his eyes to focus, he saw Mac lying pressed against his uninjured side, sound asleep. He tried to pull his arm, which had fallen asleep, out from under her as gently as possible without waking her, but his movements caused her to stir.
"Oh, you're awake," she said sleepily, pushing her hair out of her face as she propped herself up on an elbow. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep on your arm."
He flexed and rubbed his arm, trying to regain his sense of feeling. "That's okay," he said, his voice kinder than it had been earlier. "I thought you had gone to the hotel to sleep."
"I couldn't sleep," she replied, stifling a yawn. "I guess after three nights, I missed sleeping next to you. So I decided to come back here especially since I didn't get much of a chance to see you earlier."
That was his opening. "Yeah, about that . . . ." he said quietly, looking away from her. "I guess I should apologize."
"Apologize?" she asked, confused. "Apologize for what?"
Harm looked back at her and explained, "Earlier, when I suggested that you go to the hotel with the others, I wanted you to leave." He stopped, watching her for any reaction, but she merely waited for him to continue. "Right before you showed up earlier, I was told that Brumby had come to Russia with everyone else."
"So you decided to push me away again?" she asked, an edge of anger to voice. "Didn't what has happened between us the last three days mean anything to you?"
"I guess I deserve that," he said quietly.
"You're damn right you do," she retorted. "If you hadn't just had surgery, I'd probably kick your six from here to Washington for that." In spite of herself, she started laughing. It was hard to stay mad at him, not when he was just being so. . . .so Harm. "So what changed your mind?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he commented. But she wouldn't let him leave it at that and gave him a withering stare. With a sigh, he continued, "After you guys left, I had another visitor – Brumby."
"Mic came by to see you?" she asked, incredulous.
"Actually, he was looking for the Admiral," he explained, "to tell him that he was flying to London tonight and would catch a flight from there to Washington. And he told me that you two had mutually decided to end your engagement."
"I had just left Mic in the hospital cafeteria when I showed up the last time," she said, her voice sad. "I'd been in here with you, waiting for you to wake up after the surgery, and he showed up wanting to talk. I didn't want to leave you, but he wanted to get our talk over with. I guess I did owe him that since I'd basically been stringing him along for ten months and then as soon as I did move the ring over, I took off with another man to a war zone."
"Mac, we don't have to talk about this now," he insisted, taking one of her hands in his. "If it's too upsetting for you. . . ."
"No," she insisted, her voice stronger. "For the last few days, we've been promising to talk, so I guess this is as good a time as any."
"I guess so," he agreed.
They were both silent for a long moment, then Mac said, chuckling, "Okay, I guess I'll start since I was the one who said this was 'as good a time as any'. I guess it goes back to when you left for the Patrick Henry. We had been so close, probably closer than we'd ever been and then all of a sudden you were gone and that hurt. You know, Chloe even said that we were in love with each other the night you first told me that you had applied for a return to active flight status."
Harm smiled at that. "Chloe always has this way of putting things," he pointed out.
"Then you came back," she continued, "and nothing was the same. It was almost as if we were strangers. At best, we just seemed to be nothing more than coworkers, but there were times when we almost seemed to be strangers. But we seemed to be working through that. Even if we weren't as close as we once had been, at least we were friendly again. Then came Australia and everything fell apart.
"I tried to open up to you, tried to tell you how I felt, but you just shut down on me. Looking back, I guess I wasn't as clear as I could have been," she explained. "But when you shut down on me, it hurt so much. Then Mic came along and he said all the right things – all the things I had wanted to hear from you. I told him at first that I couldn't take his ring, but he insisted that I at least wear it on my right hand."
"I'm sorry," Harm said quietly. "I didn't mean. . . ." Mac help up her hand to stop him.
"No, let me finish," she requested. "Believe me, I do want to hear what you have to say and you'll get your chance to say it. But now that I've started, I really want to get through this."
She was quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Finally, she continued, "I know this is going to sound bad and cruel, but when I took his ring, although a part of me was flattered by the attention and the idea that if you couldn't give me what I wanted, then I'd stick with someone who was offering me that. But there was another part of me, deep down, that was hoping that once you saw the ring you would come forward and say everything I'd wanted to hear on the ferry. At the airport, I'd even told Mic that he was only to kiss me on the cheek in front of everyone, but then you made that comment about it being a friendship ring and – I know this is going to sound petty – but I wanted to show you what you had passed up on, so I kissed him."
"That was for my benefit?" he asked, surprised. God, how had everything gotten so screwed up?
Mac nodded sadly. "But still you wouldn't say anything," she continued. "And Mic was in Australia, so I didn't have to really deal with him pressuring me to move the ring over. Then he moved to Washington and again I was hoping you would do something. But you didn't and now I had Mic constantly around, exerting subtle – and not so subtle – pressure to get me to move the ring over. We seemed to be fighting a lot of the time."
"So why did you finally move the ring over?" he asked quietly, not quite sure he really wanted to hear the answer.
"Mic was getting tired of waiting and he was a little restless," she replied. "He loves his job in Washington, but he started missing Australia and the Navy and since I seemed to be in no hurry to make a decision, he started talking about moving back to Australia and rejoining the Navy. I didn't have you and Mic was slipping away from me, so – I guess, just as I had taken his ring as a reaction to what happened on the ferry, I moved the ring over in reaction to Mic's talking about leaving."
"Mac, I know you probably don't want to hear this," he said quietly, "but that almost sounds emotionally manipulative. He played on your desire for a family by threatening to leave."
"I don't know, maybe," she replied. "I know you don't think so, but Mic is a nice guy. Maybe he was unconsciously trying to force my hand. I'm not really sure. I guess it doesn't really matter anymore since it's over."
"I guess not," he agreed. "I guess that makes it my turn now. On the ferry, you seemed to be saying everything that I wanted to hear, but I was a little confused. It just seemed to come so out of the blue. Then, of course, a few days later, you were wearing Brumby's ring, so I figured you must not have wanted the same things I'd wanted."
"You thought I had wanted just a fling," she said quietly, trying to keep the accusatory tone out of her voice. Honestly, she could see why he might thing that.
"I'm not sure. Something like that, I guess," he admitted. "In addition to that, the last few months had not been the best for me – my return to JAG, our strained relationship – and I wasn't really in a good place for the type of relationship I wanted from you. My life seemed to be such a mess and I didn't think it was fair to inflict that on you. With Renee, to be honest, I didn't really have to put a lot of effort into the relationship, but that wouldn't work with you. So I tried to tell you that I wanted you to be patient, to wait until I was ready. When you showed up at the airport wearing Mic's ring, I thought that was your answer."
"Oh, Harm," she said sadly, unable to believe how two intelligent people had managed to screw up so completely.
"Anyway, if that was what you wanted, I was determined to stand back and be happy for you," he continued, "even if. . . .no matter how much it hurt. You had made your choice and I had to live with that. I wasn't going to risk our friendship by interfering."
"Then why did you seem ready to end our friendship when you found out I had moved the ring over?" she asked, looking down at her now bare left hand.
He thought about it for a moment. "You remember that night I first told you about returning to flying and you said that you didn't need to hear that at that point?" he asked. When she nodded, he continued, "It was the same thing. I had found out my brother was missing in a war and I had just made the decision to resign my commission. I think maybe the longer the ring stayed on your right hand, then less likely it was to eventually move. Then it did move and it was. . . .the straw that broke the camel's back, to fall back on cliché."
"We're quite the pair, aren't we?" Mac mused. "So now what? Where do we go from here?"
"Well," he said, pulling her back tight against his side, "when we get back to Washington, how'd you like to go out to dinner, maybe a movie?"
Mac looked at him, resting her chin on his chest. "Are you asking me out on a date?" she teased with a bright smile on her face.
Harm smiled back at her and Mac could swear she felt her heart racing in her chest. "Yeah, I guess I am," he replied. "Well?"
She nodded. "Yes, I'd love to go on a date with you," she replied happily.
"Good," he said. "We're going to do this right. I don't want to rush anything. Because as much as I want you, I want my best friend back, too."
Mac nodded in agreement. "Yes, I want that, too. We go slow and rebuild our friendship as we build a romantic relationship. I like that idea."
They smiled at each other, content in their decision, feeling better than they had in a long time. After a moment of silence, Harm spoke up, "Would you think it moving too fast if I said I wanted to kiss you?"
Mac couldn't help laughing. She had never imagine Harm asking permission to kiss her. It wasn't like they had never kissed before. Finally, she replied, "I'd be disappointed if you didn't kiss me." Mac stretched up and pressed her lips to his, running her fingers through his hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping between her slightly parted lips.
Neither Harm nor Mac noticed when the door opened, nor Trish and Sergei sticking their heads in the room, smiling at the sight they saw. Trish pulled Sergei's wheelchair back, letting the door close again.
"Good," Sergei said, satisfied.
Trish smiled in agreement, patting Sergei's shoulder. "I guess I don't need to sit your brother down and have a long talk with him after all," she commented.
+++
CHRISTMAS EVE
MAC'S APARTMENT
"You made it," Mac said as she opened the door to Harm, who was dusting snow off his coat. "I was beginning to wonder a little bit given the weather. The snow seems to have picked up in the last few hours."
Harm grinned at her as he handed her the gifts he had in his hand and stepped inside the apartment. "Did you really think I was going to miss spending Christmas with you?" he teased, hanging up his coat and following her to the couch.
"How about some hot apple cider?" she asked, heading for the kitchen after setting the presents under the tree.
"Sounds good," he replied, sitting on the floor next to the tree, looking through the presents underneath. Most of them were for Mac, of course, from various coworkers at JAG and even one from her uncle at Leavenworth. But there were a few from Mac with his name on them. He picked up one box and shook it gently.
"Hey, stop that," she teased, holding out one of the steaming mugs in her hands as she sat down next to him. "I'm a firm believer in waiting until Christmas morning to open Christmas presents."
Harm set the present back down and took the offered mug, taking a cautious sip of the hot, spicy liquid. "Didn't you know half the fun is trying to figure out what's in the boxes?" he mused.
Mac looked sideways at him, studying him intently. "I don't know," she replied, her tone serious. "Maybe I just never figured you to be impatient to see your presents."
Harm shrugged. "Actually, I haven't been," he revealed. "My father being shot down on Christmas Eve kind of ruined the holiday for me. This is the first Christmas in thirty-one years that I've really looked forward to, so I'm kind of curious to figure out what all the fuss is about – shaking the boxes, singing carols, all that holiday cheer stuff."
"I guess I can see your point," Mac replied, smiling at the thought of getting into the holiday spirit. "Christmas wasn't a very big deal when I was growing up. More often than not, my father would be drunk and. . . .well, I'm sure you can figure out the rest." Mac quickly changed the subject, not wanting to ruin the cheerful mood by dwelling on her childhood. "So I take it you and Sergei were able to make it to the Wall?" Sergei had gotten leave from the Russian Army and had agreed to come to Washington for a few weeks to spend Christmas with his American family. He'd even promised to consider again the idea of going to college in the States.
"Yeah, we made it," Harm replied, a thoughtful expression on his face. He turned to look at her. "I wish you had changed your mind and come with us."
"I would have been intruding," she explained, shaking her head when he seemed about to protest. "No, I would have been. This was Sergei's first trip to the Wall and that's something special. Call it a kind of 'father-son' time for the three of you. So how was it?"
'Um, it was an emotional experience," he replied, leaving it at that. "I'm glad I got the opportunity to take him."
"So he doesn't have a problem being by himself tonight?" she asked.
Harm laughed at that. Have a problem with it? "He couldn't get me out of the apartment fast enough. He seems to have this idea that we're. . . .well, I think you can figure it out."
"That we're sleeping together?" she finished, grinning. "Well, unless you plan on sleeping on the couch, then we will be sharing a bed tonight, just without the sex. We still are taking this slow, right?"
"Right, slow," he agreed, even as he sounded a little uncertain and disappointed. "That's what we agreed to. We want to get this right."
"Are you trying to convince yourself of that?" she teased, laughing. "Anyway, even if we hadn't agreed to go slow, I mean, you just got out of the hospital and endured a twelve hour flight home just last week. You still need time to make a complete recovery."
Harm laughed, turning her words back on her, "So are you trying to convince yourself? Actually, I tried to explain that we do want to go slow. We both just came out of long term relationships and neither of us has the greatest track record anyway with relationships. He said that he thought waiting four years was slow enough. I think he's been spending too much time with Mom."
"God help us," Mac laughed. "I think if we were to let your mother and brother have their way, they'd have us married off by Valentine's Day. Add Harriet into the mix. . . ."
"I know. Did you see the three of them huddling together at the JAG Christmas party Friday night?" he pointed out.
"I got goose bumps every time they would look over at us and start laughing," Mac revealed. She sobered and added, "It was good though to see Harriet in better spirits. This last month and a half has been rough for her and I know that what happened at the trial didn't help. But at least she and Bud seem to be working things out. You know, I think we all have had this idea that Bud and Harriet have the perfect, normal marriage. If they couldn't make it, what chance do the rest of us have?"
"I don't know," Harm replied thoughtfully, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her against him. "Then again, maybe the sign of the perfect marriage is how you make it through the bad times."
"By that token, maybe we've got it made," Mac joked. "After all, if after everything we've been through the last four years, we haven't run screaming in the other direction from each other, maybe we've got a shot a having that perfect, normal marriage."
They both looked at each other and broke out laughing. "Normal? Us?" they exclaimed in unison.
Smiling contentedly, Mac rested her head against his shoulder and watched the flickering lights of the Christmas tree. "I'd just settle for what I've always wanted," she said. "A good man, a great career. . . ."
"And comfortable shoes," Harm finished. "Lots and lots of them." He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Merry Christmas, Mac."
"Merry Christmas, Harm."
+++