Exhausted from the effort it had taken to utter just that much, Harm closed his eyes again, his head rolling to the side on his pillow. Mac stared at him, her lips slightly parted in shock, unable to believe what she'd just heard. But had she heard it? Maybe she was just imagining things - or maybe he was. What if he didn't know what he was saying? She hated thinking it, didn't want to think it, but she had to be realistic. She thought she recalled from her basic survival training back during days and nights spent with her uncle at Red Rock Mesa that confusion and even hallucinations were symptoms of hypothermia. What if he didn't even realize that she was even there and was simply reacting to something going on in his head? After all, her presence wouldn't have been one he would have expected to find on the ship.
Before she could find the presence of mind to respond, Reed walked up on the other side of the bed, scribbling some notes in a folder. "Commander Rabb, are you still with us?" he asked.
Both Mac and Reed had to lean closer to hear Harm's weakly-uttered, "Yes …."
"Good," Reed said. "Try to hang with us a while longer, Commander."
"Tired …. cold …."
"I know," the doctor said gently, peeling back one of Harm's eyelids and shining a pen light in his eye. Harm tried to close his eye against the painful, blinding light. After checking his other eye, Reed clicked the light off and made a note in what Mac assumed was Harm's chart. She looked up at the doctor, but he ignored the unspoken questions in her eyes and concentrated on making some more notes. "We're doing what we can for the cold …. you're wrapped in a warming blanket and you've got a drip of heated saline to warm and re-hydrate you. Are you in any pain, Commander?"
He struggled to draw in a few gasping breaths before he finally croaked out a weak, "Numb …. lungs burn …."
"That's to be expected," Reed said, sounding reassuring, as if he'd been expecting that very response and knew what to do about it. But Mac ignored the tone and focused solely on the fact that Harm was hurting. She looked across the bed at the doctor with concern and a slight look of alarm. He launched into a more detailed explanation for Mac's benefit. "Initial exam reveals no sign of frostbite, which is good. But his temperature was eighty-eight point two when he was found, which is the reason for the numbness. He's too cold to even shiver. That should go away as his temperature starts moving upward. If he'd stayed out there much longer …" He trailed off at the increasing fear in Mac's expression and shook his head. It wasn't his job to deal with what could have been. He needed to focus on treating what was. "Anyway, the burning sensation when he breathes is due to all the salt water he must have inhaled out there in addition to the effects of the hypothermia. His lungs are irritated by the salt and the cold."
"Is pneumonia a concern?" she asked, gently stroking Harm's temple with the backs of her fingers, his skin like ice against hand. He probably couldn't even feel her touch, she realized, but the tender motion was helping soothe her.
Reed hesitated just a moment too long, which answered the question as far as Mac was concerned. "It's possible," he finally said, his tone not quite as reassuring. "We'll give him oxygen – warmed, of course – to help him breathe a little easier. His lungs don't sound too bad, so I don't think it will be necessary to suction them."
"What about other injuries?"
"There are some obvious bumps and bruises," Reed said, "the gash above his eye, some bruising around his ribs – probably due to the ejection itself. There isn't anything else that stands out, but there could be hidden injuries …."
"What do you mean 'hidden'?" she demanded, her voice rising slightly.
"Unfortunately, there are certain conditions, possibly resulting from the ejection," he explained, "which might not manifest themselves immediately. For instance, pilots who have ejected often complain of back pain resulting from compressed disks or even cracked vertebrae."
"What about multiple ejections?" she asked, her voice calmer although she was trembling inside as she realized the implications.
Reed looked from Harm, who was fighting to stay awake, to Mac with an incredulous expression. "The Commander's ejected before?" he asked.
Harm managed a slow nod as Mac explained, "This is his third ejection. He suffered a ramp strike ten years ago and his RIO ejected them out over the deck. The second was almost three years ago in, um …. " She hesitated, not sure how to explain that one. Certain details of that incident were still officially classified, although more people knew the truth behind the incident than made Clayton Webb – or the Russians – happy, especially after that Washington Post article about Sergei at Christmas and the Russians' clumsy attempts to cover their tracks three years earlier with the story of the bird strike. Finally, she settled on a slight variation of the truth, her voice catching slightly as she remembered. "He was operating overseas and developed engine trouble and had to ditch." Under the blanket, she thought she could feel Harm's fingers trying to curl around hers in comfort and understanding of the unspoken truth of the incident. Mac smiled weakly in response.
"Hmm," Reed murmured thoughtfully. "Bethesda has transmitted Commander Rabb's medical records, but I haven't had the opportunity to do more than skim them for information on drug allergies and the like."
He motioned to a female corpsman who had just wheeled over a cart containing an oxygen tank. "Williams, Bethesda transmitted the Commander's medical records. Read through them and print out anything pertaining to his previous ejections in 1991 and 1998," he ordered.
"Aye, Sir," she replied, positioning the cart next to the bed before turning on her heel to carry out the doctor's orders. Reed turned back to Harm and Mac.
"It's hard to say," he said thoughtfully, "but the previous ejections could be a factor in how the Commander recovers from this one. You know, there is basis in fact in the saying that every time you punch out, you end up an inch shorter. Back problems are common in ejections and the fact that this is his third could increase the chances …."
"Doctor …." Harm whispered. He brought his free hand out from under the blanket and tried to grasp Reed's wrist before his arm limply fell back onto the bed. "Flight physical …."
Reed glanced away, realizing what Harm was trying to ask. After a moment, he looked back, his gaze sympathetic. "Like I said, it's hard to say," he pointed out. "Once you're out of the woods as far as the hypothermia is concerned and you regain your sense of feeling, we'll be able to get a better idea of where you stand as far as other injuries we might not be able to see." He stared at Harm for a long moment, and then glanced at Mac, before deciding to be completely honest. He didn't think either of them would appreciate any less. "I won't lie. There is a possibility that, as a result of the multiple ejections and compounded injuries, you may not be able to pass the flight physical."
Harm slowly turned his head away, closing his eyes, as Mac's gaze fell on his wings, still clutched in the hand that was tenderly moving over his temple. As much as she'd resented – yes, she realized, that was the right word – that he'd chosen flying over her before, she knew now that she loved the pilot in him as much as the lawyer. It was simply a part of what made him who he was. At least after his first crash, he'd still been physically capable of flying after he'd recovered from his crash injuries, even if it had only been during daylight hours. Now, he might not even have that. Nearly choking on the words, she whispered, "Thank you, Doctor."
As Reed moved off to confer with Ingles and Pike, Harm's eyes opened to the view of Mac's tear-streaked face hovering over his. "Sarah …."
"It'll be okay," she tried to assure him, with more confidence than she really felt. Her heart ached for him, for the pain not just physical that he must be feeling. Forcing a smile, she showed him her hand, opening her fingers to reveal the wings nestled on her palm. "When Captain Ingles called me and I asked to be allowed to come out to the ship, I told myself that I'd give these back to you." She slid her hand under the blanket and placed them in the palm of his hand, carefully closing his fingers around them as she dipped down and brushed her lips against his. As she lifted her head, a single tear fell onto his blue lips. He saw the tear fall, but couldn't feel it hit his chilled skin. "Hang on to them and believe that you can come back again. I have faith in you."
The corners of his mouth turned upward in an attempt to smile, but before he could say anything, they were interrupted by a male Lieutenant wearing the insignia of the nursing corps. "Excuse me, um, Colonel," he said, hesitating as his eyes searched out her rank insignia peeking out from under the collar of Harm's jacket. "I need to give Commander Rabb some oxygen."
She started to pull away so the nurse could work on him, pausing at the need she saw in his eyes. "It's okay," she assured him. "I'm not going anywhere. Let them take care of you."
"Have …. talk," he said, his expression pleading.
Talk about what? What she'd thought she heard him say earlier? She hesitated some more, not sure if she was ready to deal with any of it, at least not yet, even if he'd said what she thought he did. There was still so much unsettled, so much that needed to be straightened out. This was far from the best time for that kind of discussion. "We will," she finally promised, leaning over and brushing her lips against his cheek. He turned his head fractionally so that her warm lips caught the corner of his mouth. "Later." Still holding his hand, she moved away from the head of the bed so the nurse could work.
Meanwhile, Ingles, Pike and Reed, who had been conferring on the other side of the room to allow the couple at least a little privacy, stepped up to the bed. "Commander Rabb?" Pike asked, concern obvious in his tone.
Harm managed to open his eyes, turning his head fractionally in acknowledgement, and then closed them again. Pike nodded in understanding and patted Harm's shoulder while Ingles looked at Mac, whose gaze was focused solely on Harm, across the bed. "I am going to call Admiral Chegwidden in a few minutes, Colonel," Ingles asked. "Doctor Reed is going to give him a rundown of the Commander's condition and I'm sure he will want to speak with you." When she didn't respond immediately, seeming to not even realize that he was there, he tried again in a firmer tone of voice, "Colonel?"
It took Mac a moment to realize that Ingles was speaking to her and she lifted her head, swallowing hard. He would be well within his rights to rebuke her for her conduct. "I'm sorry, Sir … I …."
"I thought you would like to join us when I call Admiral Chegwidden," he repeated, ignoring her breech of protocol. It was understandable that she was distracted. It had been a long night for everyone, but especially for her. "He will want to talk to you, I'm sure."
Mac swallowed again, her fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around Harm's. She'd known this would happen sooner or later, that the time would come when she would have to start explaining everything – or try to. She'd tried not to think about it, but she realized that A.J. had to know by now where she was, either through supposition or having read her e-mail. One of the last things she wanted right now was to talk to her CO, but she couldn't tell Ingles that. If she didn't agree now to speak to A.J., he would probably just tell Ingles to order her to the phone and even if Ingles was willing to overlook her lack of decorum, he would hardly ignore a direct order from a two-star.
Harm stirred when he heard A.J.'s name and forced his eyes to open, struggling to focus on Mac. Sensing his gaze, she turned and looked down at him and he tried to make sense of her expression. He couldn't be sure – it was so hard to concentrate and focus – but she seemed worried about something and for some reason, he thought it had something to do with speaking to A.J. What he couldn't understand was why. Maybe she was just embarrassed about the wedding having been cancelled on such short notice and wasn't up to answering questions about it, he thought. But surely she knew better than to expect too many pointed questions from their CO. From the others, maybe, but not from him. He tried again to curl his fingers around hers, but they were so cold. After a moment trying to force them to move, he gave up with a sigh and gave her a look he hoped conveyed his support and his love.
Reed took her hesitation as an unwillingness to leave Harm's side, so he told her, "Communications is patching the call down here to my office. We'll just be at the other end of sickbay."
She looked down at Harm for a long moment before she finally nodded and said softly, "Okay. I'll speak to him, Sir." She moved back to the head of the bed, to the space just vacated by the nurse. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she said, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.
He smiled at her, an expression she could just barely make out through the oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth, as he realized that he actually could feel her lips against his skin. Just barely, but he could feel her. He nodded once in understanding and his eyes drifted closed again.
-----
Mac was seated in a chair in front of Reed's desk, nervously strumming her fingers against her leg while they waited for the ship to shore connection to be made. Her eyes fell on the now bare ring finger of her left hand. When Mic had proposed to her, he'd pulled out all the stops – his dress whites, a ferry ride across moonlit Sydney Harbor, dinner at one of the fanciest restaurants in Sydney at a table with a spectacular view of the harbor. It had been very flattering. That was the problem. It was too flattering. It had made her feel so loved and cherished and, she now realized, she'd fallen in love with the romance of it all and, against her better judgment, she'd allowed him to place the ring on her finger despite, even as she protested weakly, knowing that it wasn't right. Mic Brumby was a good man and would make any woman a fine and devoted husband. Just not her. Being in love with the fairy tale was nothing to base a life-long commitment on – it was simply an illusion which would eventual vanish under the weight of trying to make a marriage that never should have been work.
By contrast, Harm's proposal would appear to most people to be nothing special. He was lying in a hospital bed, hadn't come up with any flowery words and phrases – in fact, could barely speak at all, didn't even have a ring to place on her finger. But with just two softly spoken words, he'd reached deep inside and touched her heart in a way no man ever had before.
But what if it was just an illusion, too? How could she be sure right now that Harm knew what he was saying? Even if Harm did know, how could he be sure what he was feeling? After years of dancing around and away from each other, surely it was impossible that one horrifying night could turn things so completely around for them. Hadn't she been telling Harriet and Chloe just last night that she needed time to figure out Sarah Mackenzie? Now Harm had thrown it all up in the air by offering her everything she'd ever wanted from him. There was a part of her that wanted to grab what he was finally offering her and hold on to it with all of her might. The rest of her was terrified that it would all fade away in the blink of an eye like a desert mirage. If only she knew ….
She shook herself out of it when she realized the phone connection had been made and Ingles was talking to A.J. "Are you alone, Admiral?" Ingles asked.
"Yes," A.J. replied. "Most are having a late breakfast; some are trying to get some more sleep. I take it there's news?"
"Commander Rabb was picked up about an hour ago by a Coast Guard helo," Ingles explained. Sitting at his desk, A.J. breathed a heavy sigh of relief, wearily rubbing his tired eyes. "I've got Commander Reed, our chief medical officer, to explain the Commander's condition. I've also got Colonel Mackenzie here."
"Colonel, how are you doing?" A.J. asked. There was more he wanted to say to her, but not with others present.
"I'm …. hanging in there, Sir," she replied, twisting her Marine Corps ring on her finger.
Satisfied with her answer, if only for the time being, he next addressed the doctor. "Doctor Reed, how is he?" he asked.
"Commander Rabb is suffering from stage-four hypothermia," he explained. Ingles had already explained that A.J. was a former SEAL and wouldn't appreciate anything being withheld in the reporting of Harm's condition and would probably understand more than most just how grave Harm's condition was. "When he was picked up his body temperature was eighty-eight two and he was just barely hanging on. I honestly don't think he would have lasted much longer out there. Fortunately, initial exam doesn't give any indication of significant crash-related injuries, so that works in our favor."
"So what now, Doctor?" A.J. asked, leaning back in his chair, already planning in his mind how he would break the news, both good and bad, to everyone anxiously awaiting word.
"He's wrapped in warming blankets, being given a drip of warmed saline to re-hydrate him and warmed oxygen to help ease his breathing," he continued. "His breath sounds aren't too bad, so there doesn't seem to be a significant amount of water in his lungs, but we are keeping a watch for signs of pneumonia. Once some of his sense of feeling returns, we'll be able to better assess his condition, including potential back problems brought on by the ejection. My understanding is that this is the Commander's third ejection, which could be a factor in his recovery, at least from any physical injuries."
"That would unfortunately be correct," A.J. said, turning in his chair to stare out his window. The storm had finally broken and the sun was beginning to peek out through the clouds. Maybe that was an omen, if he believed in such things. Or maybe not. "How could this affect the Commander's flight status?" As disappointed as he'd been when Harm had previous chosen flying over JAG, he didn't want to contemplate the man who would be left if flying were taken away from him, for good this time.
"Commander Rabb has already asked me the same thing," Reed said. "We won't know for a while, but given his history, I'd say he's facing an uphill battle in passing the flight physical for quite some time, if ever."
"And you've told this to the Commander?" A.J. asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.
"I have," Reed confirmed.
"I see," A.J. said. No matter the mess that had been left behind in Washington, he was privately glad that Mac was out there with Harm. If anyone could help Harm keep his head through this, if that was at all possible, it was her. There were times, he was sure, that she was the only one who could reach him and keep him steady. "When will he be transferred to shore?"
"Right now, since there aren't any injuries of note that we have to be concerned about," he replied, "it's in the Commander's best interests to remain here until we have the hypothermia under control. It would be counterproductive to subject him to another ride in a helo until his temperature is back above ninety-five degrees. Right now, if all goes well, I'm looking at keeping him here overnight just to play it safe and having him transferred to Portsmouth tomorrow morning. Then after a few days, he can probably go home."
"I'm sure the Commander's family will be glad to hear that," A.J. said. "I'll let everyone know. There'll probably be quite a crowd at Portsmouth tomorrow to greet him when he arrives."
Mac stifled a gasp at that as she suddenly realized that Renee would be there, still thinking that Harm was hers, and Mic would be there, probably thinking that the wedding had just been postponed. She now had approximately twenty-four hours to figure out how she was going to explain everything. She tuned out everything going on around her, suddenly overwhelmed with the knowledge of what she'd done, until she felt Reed's hand on her shoulder. Startled, she jerked her head around to face him. "I'm going to check on Commander Rabb," he said. "After you finish talking to your Admiral, might I suggest that you try to get some sleep? Something tells me that you've been up all night."
"I don't really want to leave Harm right now," she said quietly.
"We've got room down here," Reed compromised, "and some cots that the medical staff uses when they're pulling all-nighters. We can pull one in next to the Commander's bed for you."
"Thank you, Doctor," Mac said gratefully. Ingles and Reed walked out of the office, leaving her alone to face the music with A.J. She was silent for a long moment, not sure what to say or even if she should say anything. Maybe it was best to let him do the talking and just say 'Yes, Sir' and 'No, Sir' at appropriate times.
Eventually, A.J. broke the silence. "Mac, how are you really?" he asked, adopting a more familiar form of address, letting some of his concern show in his voice.
"He's so pale …. and so cold," she whispered, A.J. straining to hear her. "He's having a hard time talking and if you listen closely to his breathing, you can hear him struggling for breath."
"Mac, I wasn't asking about Harm," he said gently. "I've seen a few hypothermic sailors in my day, so I can guess pretty accurately how he's doing. I want to know how you're doing."
"I don't know, Sir," she said after a moment, shrugging although the gesture was wasted. "I don't know what to say. I know things are probably a mess right now."
"I'd say that would be an understatement, Mac," A.J. said, sighing, keeping the censure out of his tone. There was more than enough blame to spread around in this situation if he felt like being judgmental, but she didn't need that right now. "Brumby's walking around talking about when the two of you are going to reschedule the wedding – at least when he's not pressing everyone, asking if they've heard from you."
"From the way you just said that," Mac said, "I take it you know there isn't going to be a wedding."
"I suspected as much when you disappeared, even before Harriet confirmed it," he replied. "You do realize that this puts me in an awkward position every time Brumby asks if I've heard from you."
"I know and I'm sorry, Sir," she said. "I know you're caught in the middle here, but with all due respect, Sir, I can't think about any of that right now. The man I love …. I'm sorry, Sir. I'm really tired right now and not really thinking." She swallowed, unable to believe that she'd admitted to her commanding officer, of all people, what she'd barely been able to admit to herself before a few days ago or to Harm before today.
She had it right the first time, A.J. reflected silently. Unfortunately, finally admitting her true feelings was likely to open the largest can of worms. Who could have possibly foreseen this when he'd first told them not to get to close when they first met or when he told Harm not to look back in Australia? He realized that many commanders would have taken a hard line with the entire situation a long time ago. But he wasn't most commanders, nor were they like most subordinates. Even if he rarely said so aloud, they were friends – hell, almost like family, he thought. "Sounds like you're thinking just fine, Mac," he said. For a change, he added silently.
Mac took a deep breath and started again. "Harm is far from out of the woods and I can't concentrate on anything else right now," she said. "I know I have a lot to explain to Mic and I'm sorry that this is going to hurt him …. and you're not really the person I should be telling that to, Sir." She chuckled ruefully. It seemed so easy to say it to A.J. Too bad it wasn't quite so easy to admit her true feelings to Harm and Mic.
"Remember what I said on the Suribachi?" A.J. asked, ignoring the part about Mic. Not that he didn't care, but she was right. He wasn't the person that she needed to say that to.
"That Harm's too stubborn to die?" she said. At least then they'd known exactly where Harm was, nor had he been trapped as long as he'd been last night. She pushed the thought from her mind, trying to concentrate on the fact that at least Harm had been found now. At least she was here to remind him to fight. "I remember."
Satisfied that she would try to keep remembering that, he didn't push the issue. "About Mic …." he began.
"Sir, I don't want to put you in the middle," she interrupted, "but could you just tell him …."
"Colonel," A.J. cut in firmly, his tone and sudden change to a formal mode of address letting her know that it would probably be best to go along with whatever he was about to say, "talk to him. I'm not going to presume to tell you what to say to him. If you chose right now not to tell him where you are or tell him anything, that's up to you. I won't interfere. But if he hears your voice, then maybe he'll stop harassing everyone about whether they've heard from you."
She closed her eyes, sighing heavily. The absolute last thing she wanted right now was to talk to Mic, but from A.J.'s tone, she knew she didn't have much choice. Anyway, it wasn't right to let him keep pestering her friends about her whereabouts. Dealing with Mic should be her burden to bear alone. At least if he heard from her, it would stop the harassment of her friends. "Okay," she said quietly, her tone reluctant. "I'll talk to him for a few minutes."
"Just a minute," A.J. said. He went over to the door leading to the bullpen and opened it, glancing around until he caught sight of Mic standing near Mac's office by himself, seemingly staring off into space. At that moment, Mic turned his head and noticed A.J., walking over to him.
"Mac's on the phone," A.J. said quietly. Mic started to move past A.J. into the office, but A.J. held up his hand to stop him. Out of concern for Mac and her state of mind, he thought that maybe he should break one of his personal rules and interfere, just a little. "Just a minute, Mic. Mac's very worried right now and she's trying to deal with this the best she can."
"What are you trying to say, Sir?" Mic said, barely remembering in time just whom he was addressing and moderating his tone. He rubbed his eyes wearily and A.J. felt a pang of sympathy for the other man. He'd just spent a sleepless night because he wanted to support his fiancée, whose best friend had been missing, unaware that he'd lost his fiancée to that friend.
"I'm just saying to be patient with her," he said. "This night's been a long night for everyone."
Mic stared at A.J. for a long moment, reminding himself that he couldn't just tell A.J. to mind his own business, and then finally nodded. A.J. let him into the office and closed the door behind them. He considered leaving to allow them some privacy, but decided against it. Maybe his presence would help keep things as calm as possible. "Mac," A.J. said into the air, Mic frowning as he realized that the phone was set to speaker and that A.J. had no intention of leaving, "I've got Mic here."
A.J. sat back down in his chair and motioned to Mic to take a seat himself, but the other man remained standing, crossing his arms over his chest almost defiantly, although his tone was far from it when he spoke. "Hello, beautiful," he said.
"Mic," she said simply, hoping her voice didn't betray her nervousness.
"Tell me where you are, Sarah," he said. "I'll come pick you up and bring you back here with all your friends."
A.J. resisted the urge to sigh. That wasn't quite what he'd meant by showing patience. Mac did sigh audibly before replying in a gentle, placating tone, "Mic, I need to be alone right now. Please respect that." A.J. thought he could detect a slight tremor in her voice, but Mic didn't seem to pick up on it.
In fact, he seemed to completely disregard what Mac was saying as he protested, "Sarah, you need to be here with people who love and support you."
It was on the tip of her tongue to counter that she was with the person whose love and support she needed most, but she managed to refrain from saying it just in time. She didn't want to argue with him over the phone. The recriminations would probably come soon enough – far too soon. But she didn't need it right now on top of everything else she was trying to deal with. "I'm sorry, Mic," she said, her voice starting to noticeably break. "I just can't right now."
They heard a click, then a dial tone, indicating that she'd hung up. A.J. pressed the speaker button to hang up the phone as Mic turned around with a sigh, staring at the painting of Admiral Halsey on the wall without really seeing it. "We're supposed to be getting married," he said in frustration, more to himself than to A.J. "Why won't she let me in?"
"What can I say, Mic?" A.J. said, his tone revealing nothing. "She's dealing with it in her own way."
Mic turned back around, bracing himself against the back of one of the chairs in front of A.J.'s desk. "That's what worries me," he admitted. He looked at A.J. with a hopeful expression as an idea occurred to him. "Sir, did she say where she is?"
"No," he replied. Technically, it was true. She didn't say during the phone call where she was. He'd already known that. Anyway, if she'd been somewhere in Washington, what did Mic think he was going to do – go find her and bring her back to JAG when she didn't really want to come? "I'm sorry, Mic. All you can do is wait until she's ready to talk about it." He was sorry. Mic was a good man. It wasn't his fault that he'd met Mac two years too late to have any chance of truly capturing her heart, although he wasn't entirely sure that timing would have made a difference.
Mic shook his head. He didn't like hearing that from A.J. anymore than he'd liked it earlier when Harm's grandmother had suggested something similar. But he couldn't say that, even if A.J. wasn't his commanding officer anymore. "Thank you, Sir," he said. "I guess that's all I can do then – wait. I just …. I wish she would just let me in."
A.J. didn't say anything else. They were getting very close to his touchy-feely quotient, plus he wasn't sure that any comfort he might offer wouldn't be wasted on a man who was unaware that he watching what would have been the happiest day of his life go up in smoke. "Let's go back out into the bullpen," he suggested. "Just before I spoke to Mac, I had a conversation with the skipper of the Patrick Henry."
"There's been news?" Mic asked hopefully. At A.J.'s nod, he continued, "Did you tell Sarah?"
"Yes, Mac knows what I was told by Captain Ingles," A.J. replied, carefully phrasing his answer so that it was technically true, but didn't reveal any more than it had to.
"Then why …." Mic began, trailing off with a frustrated sigh. If Harm had been found, then there was no need for Sarah to be so upset and shut herself off. He glanced at A.J., hoping to get an indication of whether the news was good or bad, but A.J.'s expression was carefully neutral.
"All I'll say right at this moment is that this is far from over," A.J. said as he opened the door and stepped out into the bullpen. Mic shook his head as he followed him out, wondering what he was supposed to do now. If Harm's medical condition was tenuous, as A.J. seemed to hint, then Sarah would be unlikely to want to even think about the wedding, if her behavior over the night was any indication. He wished he could just tell her that she needed to let Renee and Harm's family worry about his condition while they concentrated on the logistics of rescheduling their wedding. However, given the way she'd hung up on him when he'd simply suggested that she needed to be with her friends, he suspected her reaction to that suggestion would be even worse. What the hell was he supposed to do, he wondered with a frustrated sigh, leaning back against the bookcase near A.J.'s office door.
A.J. glanced around, mentally taking a head count, motioning to Gunny. "Go find everyone."
Although he realized from A.J.'s tone that there was news of some kind, Gunny didn't waste time asking questions, just tossed off a hasty "Yes, Sir," before motioning to Tiner to follow him and taking off at a brisk walk in search of everyone. As the two enlisted men left the bullpen, they nearly ran over Chloe and baby AJ, who were coming in.
Chloe watched their retreating forms, and then turned to A.J. with an expression crossed between hope and trepidation. "Admiral?" she asked hesitantly, afraid to say more, afraid of what the answer might be.
"Let's wait until everyone else arrives," he suggested, smiling gently at her to put her at ease. She visibly exhaled as she sank into a nearby chair, pulling baby AJ into her lap. The boy, who had not gotten much more sleep than the adults around him, yawned as he leaned back in Chloe's arms, resting his head against her chest. His eyes fluttered closed, but popped open a moment later, as he fought off the exhaustion creeping up on him.
From his position, Mic watched the two of them, his expression carefully guarded. He thought that he should say something to Chloe, but he was frustrated at being constantly rebuffed by her. Even baby AJ seemed to sense that what was going on around him had something to do with his godfather and it seemed that every other sentence out of his mouth had something to do with Harm, even if half of what he was saying was lost in the unintelligible babble of a two-year-old.
Not long after he'd woken up, Mic had taken the boy onto his lap, more to try to ease some of his own tension rather than because AJ was begging to be held. They'd sat quietly for a moment, AJ waving around a plastic toy airplane firmly grasped in one hand, making rough engine noises. Mic smiled, running his hand over AJ's hair, silently admiring the resiliency of youth.
Then he'd made the mistake of commenting that it was a nice airplane. He couldn't understand about half of what AJ said, but he did make out two words very clearly – Uncle Harm. He should have figured that Harm had given AJ the airplane. Mic had fallen silent after that, despite AJ's attempts to talk to him. It wasn't the boy's fault, but the last person Mic wanted to talk about was Harm, even with a two-year-old who couldn't understand why the topic was so uncomfortable.
"Still frustrated with the way Mac's sister has been ignoring you?" Renee asked, taking up position next to Mic, following his gaze.
"Actually, I was thinking about AJ – baby AJ, that is," he said. "Even he realizes that something is going on with Rabb and it seems half of what he goes on about has something to do with his godfather. I just wish I didn't have to listen to everyone go on and on about Rabb." He ran his hand through his hair, his expression apologetic, as he realized what he'd just said and whom he'd said it to. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that to you."
Renee shrugged it off. "It's no big deal," she said. "It's been a long night, we're all tired, and at least you're being honest about your feelings. Everyone keeps telling me they're sorry that Harm is missing, and I'm sure they are, but somehow I feel it would be different if Mac was the one they were saying that to. You know, I'm surprised that without Mac here, you stuck it out with us the entire night."
"I'm not a heartless bastard," he protested. "I hope Rabb will be okay."
"I never thought you were," she said, shaking her head. "I'm sure you're just as anxious as anyone for Harm to be found safe and sound. Once he's safe, then you and Mac can get married and life can go on. We both want the same thing there."
"I'm surprised you're not with Rabb's mother," he commented, seeing Trish come into the bullpen with Frank, her arm around his waist, his casually draped over her shoulder. That's what he wanted to do for Mac, to put his arm around her and let her know that everything would be okay. He had to admit that Harm's parents seemed to have a wonderful marriage. That was what he wanted for himself and Mac. "You two seem pretty friendly."
"About half an hour ago, Frank suggested she take a walk with him around the grounds," she explained. "It seemed clear that I wasn't invited. I don't think he likes me very much."
"He doesn't know you," Mic pointed out.
"Let's put it this way," she said. "He's gotten pretty friendly with your future sister-in-law and has barely spoken to me. You saw them in the kitchen. Remember what you said about being tired of everyone going on about Harm. You know what I'm tired of? I've had it with everyone going on about how upset Mac must be and how close she and Harm are."
"Feeling a little left out?" he asked. She nodded, although the question had been a rhetorical one. "We're members of this family by association only. They've all closed ranks around each other and we're left on the outside looking in. You know, when Sarah called, the Admiral wouldn't even leave his office so I could speak to her privately."
"Mac called?" she asked. "When?"
"Just a few minutes ago, after he spoke to Captain Ingles," he replied. "I asked where she was so I could go get her and bring her back here. She said she needed to be alone, I protested and she hung up."
"I'm sorry," Renee said, placing a hand on his forearm. "But if the Admiral's about to tell us that Harm's been found, then this is all going to be over soon and she can snap out of her mood."
"That's the thing," Mic said carefully, not sure how much he should say. Although he couldn't be positive, he was pretty sure from reading between the lines of what A.J. had said that Harm had been found, but the news wasn't entirely good. "The Admiral seemed to indicate that Rabb's got some recovery time ahead of him and Sarah already knows this. Since she called after he spoke to Ingles, he told her whatever the news is about Rabb."
"Wait a minute?" Renee demanded, trying to keep her voice down even as it took on a sharp edge. "I asked Gunny what the news was and he just said to come to the bullpen. He wouldn't tell me anything, but the Admiral has already told Mac? I'm his girlfriend. Don't I deserve to know? Or what about his mother?"
"Gunny doesn't know," he said in a calming tone, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "The Admiral just told him to get everyone together. The Admiral is the only one that I'm aware of who knows Rabb's condition. Him …. and Sarah."
Before Renee could argue further, A.J. took up position in the middle of the bullpen. He didn't waste time with preliminaries, merely launched into the news. "Commander Rabb was picked up by a Coast Guard helo about an hour ago and transported to the Patrick Henry," he said. He paused a moment while everyone expressed their relief before continuing. "He is suffering from hypothermia, but his physical, crash-related injuries seem to be minimal. The medical team aboard ship is stabilizing him, and then they plan on keeping him aboard overnight and transporting him to the Naval hospital in Portsmouth tomorrow morning. If all goes well, he'll be released to come home perhaps by mid-week.
"Now, before any of you ask," he continued, glancing around the room, "I don't know at what time the Commander will be transferred. Once I know, I will let everyone else know, although I suggest my officers keep in mind if you're thinking about going to the hospital to see the Commander that it's over three hours one-way to Portsmouth, tomorrow is Sunday and you do still have to report for duty Monday morning. For now, there's nothing else anyone can do, so I suggest everyone go home and get some sleep."
As everyone began gathering in little groups to share their relief, A.J. walked up to Trish, Frank and Sarah. "Mrs. Rabb, Mr. and Mrs. Burnett," he said, "have you had a chance to make hotel reservations?"
"We made arrangements to leave San Diego so hastily that we didn't even think about it," Frank said. "And I know Sarah didn't consider it either when Gunnery Sergeant Galindez and Petty Officer Tiner picked her up. I was hoping to use one of your phones to call around to some places."
A.J. glanced at his watch. "Even when you do find room," he said, "it's still a little early for most hotels' check-in time. I've got room at my place if you'd like a place to stay."
"Are you sure we wouldn't be imposing, Admiral?" Trish asked.
"Of course not," he insisted. "I live alone and have more than enough room for guests."
Frank glanced at his wife and her mother-in-law, and then answered, "Then we accept, Admiral. Thank you."
"I just have some things to get out of my office, and then I'll be ready to leave," A.J. said. "I assume you have a rental car?" Frank nodded. "Then you can follow me out of here."
A.J. turned for his office, stopping when Trish called out suddenly, "Admiral?"
"Yes, Mrs. Burnett?" he asked, turning back around to face them.
Trish looked around to make sure no one else was nearby, and then asked, "How bad is Harm, really? I sensed that you were holding something back when you announced that Harm had been found."
Frank jumped in before A.J. could reply, "Now, Trish, I'm sure the Admiral has told us everything he knows and since we're going to his house, we'll know immediately if he hears anything else from the carrier."
Trish whirled on her husband, her arms crossed over her chest, her bearing determined. "Don't 'Now, Trish' me, Frank," she insisted firmly. "You think I didn't notice you and the Admiral closing yourselves off in his office just after we got here? Admiral, I suspect that you didn't hold anything back from my husband when he asked. I would appreciate it if you'd do the same for me."
"Admiral, Trish will just keep after you until you tell her," Sarah added. "And if she doesn't, I will."
A.J. shook his head, chuckling ruefully. At the startled looks from the others, he explained, "I was just realizing that Commander Rabb comes by his stubbornness honestly." His expression turned serious as he perched on the edge of a desk behind him. "I spoke to the chief medical officer aboard the Henry when I was told that the Commander had been found. There don't appear to be any significant crash-related injuries, that is true, although right now, he is very cold and numb, so there may be conditions – such as back pain – which they may not realize exist until the Commander warms up. Right now, the main concern is the hypothermia. His temperature was in the upper eighties when he was pulled out of the water. The, um, consensus seems to be that due to the length of time he'd been out there, the cold, his exhaustion, that he probably would not have lasted much longer if he hadn't been found when he was, especially since he'd either been thrown from or hadn't been able to get into his life raft. It had been found empty a few hours before he was located."
Trish and Sarah both paled, but Trish's voice was calm and firm when she said, "Thank you, Admiral. I appreciate your honesty."
"Mr. and Mrs. Burnett, Mrs. Rabb," A.J. said in a comforting tone, "in my thirty-plus years in the Navy, I've seen a lot of life-or-death situations, some of them involving Commander Rabb, as I'm sure you're aware, and I do have to say that that in addition to being very well trained, he's one of the most stubborn people I've ever met. The man doesn't know how to give up."
Trish smiled. "Believe me, Admiral," she said, "that's probably the one thing that's kept me from going crazy over night. His father survived eleven years in a Soviet prison camp. Harm can survive this. I know my son and you're right. He doesn't know how to give up."
-----
MIC'S APARTMENT
After being dropped off at his apartment by Bud and Harriet, Mic paced around his living room, frustrated. His eyes fell on an off-white envelope lying on the coffee table. He picked it up, slowly withdrawing the contents. It was a wedding invitation, one of four that had been excess after they were all addressed and sent out. Mic glanced at the clock on the mantle, realizing that if everything had gone as it should have, Mac would have been walking down the aisle right about now.
As sudden wave of anger overcoming him, he crumpled the invitation in his hand, and then flung it against the window. "Damn you, Harmon Rabb," he shouted, feeling far from satisfied as the card hit the window with a barely audible thud then fell to the floor.
It was always Rabb, he thought darkly. When Mac had disappeared in Russia, where had she ended up? In Chechnya, helping Rabb and his brother. When he'd tried to reach her, wanting to discuss the People magazine article she'd been so mad about, what had she been doing? Representing that Middle Eastern princess at her INS hearing. Why? Because Rabb had asked her to. During their double date a few months ago, he and Renee had been left on the sidelines as Mac and Rabb had relieved the glory of past cases they'd worked together. When they'd been going through their wedding gifts, she'd taken off for Leavenworth. Sure, part of it had to do with the knife that had been found in one of their gifts, but when he'd asked how long she would be gone, she'd replied that she wasn't sure because she'd told Rabb she would meet with one of his clients while she was there.
Even at their own engagement party, she'd spent half the night on the porch with Rabb when she should have been inside with him, accepting the well-wishes of all their friends. Although he told Renee blithely that he wasn't worried, he would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for their discussion, because whatever the hell they'd discussed, it had Mac distracted and distant for the rest of the night. After the party, when he'd taken her home and expected to be invited in to stay the night, she'd insisted that she was tired and he should just go home. Just a few days earlier, he'd shown up at JAG, hoping to get Mac to take off the afternoon and spend it with him, but she'd insisted that she had to stay at work and cover for Rabb, who was leaving for his quals.
He stopped suddenly in his pacing, staring up at the ceiling. He was tired, both physically and mentally, and had enough. He wasn't much of an investigator, but if he started at Mac's apartment, he should be able to piece together where she was. For all he knew, she might even be there, closing herself off unnecessarily from everyone, from him. Scooping up his keys from the end table, he raced out of his apartment, filled with a determination to find his fiancée.
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MAC'S APARTMENT
When he let himself into Mac's apartment, the thing he noticed immediately was that Jingo didn't come to the door to greet him. A quick glance in all of the rooms had revealed no sign of the dog at all. Mic glanced in the kitchen and found that Jingo's dog food and bowls were missing, along with the box of dog treats Mac kept in the pantry. He went back out into the living room and discovered that the leash was missing from its hook by the door. It took two more circuits through the apartment before Mic found the note, tacked to the door of the refrigerator by a magnet.
Bud and I stopped by and picked up Jingo since we didn't know when you'd be back. We'll keep him as long as you need.
Harriet
He considered calling Harriet, but decided to wait until he knew more. He glanced at his watch and decided that there would have been enough time for Bud and Harriet to drop Renee, then him, off at their places then stop here to pick up Jingo before he arrived. Maybe they were just worried about Mac and had wanted to see for themselves whether or not she was here and decided to take Jingo with them when they found him here alone. That had to be it. Bud or Harriet would have told him earlier if they knew where Mac was.
Going back out into the living room, he slowly circled the room, taking everything in. He stopped at the bookcase, noting the hole among the photo albums on the top shelf. He pulled some of the other albums off the shelf and glanced through them. One particularly thin book was photos of her childhood. Another, not quite as thin, was photos of the two of them during the year and a half since they'd gotten together. A thick album was photos of all her travels for the military. Just those three seemed to cover her entire life. So what was in the missing album, he wondered. What would be so important …? He shook his head as the answer came to him. No, that couldn't be it, he tried to tell himself, but he couldn't let go of the thought.
He closed his eyes, trying to remember what the shelf had looked like when all the photo albums were there. The missing book was dark blue with gold trim and had been even thicker than the one of her travels. One by one, he picked up the other three albums again and looked through them again. After he closed the final book, he realized that they all had one thing in common – there was not a single photo of Rabb in any of the books. It occurred to him that maybe she'd gotten rid of any photos of Rabb she might have had, but then he shook his head. He wasn't that lucky. What else could be in the missing photo album, especially given the events of the previous night?
Swearing softly under his breath, he went over to her desk and glanced through the contents on top of it, looking for what he wasn't sure. If she'd gone off somewhere and had planned to stay away for more than a day, maybe she'd called and made hotel reservations somewhere. He realized that he was probably grasping at straws, but there had to be something here that provided some clue as to her whereabouts.
But there was nothing there except for some case files, which he found odd since she'd been expecting to be gone for two weeks on their honeymoon, and her wedding planner. The later gave him some comfort, knowing that she'd been thinking about their wedding the previous night, the planner being opened to a page holding one of the invitations.
However, none of this told him anything. He started to turn away, and then spied a yellow piece of paper sticking out from under a folder. He pulled it out and glanced at it. It was a credit card receipt from the Breezy Point Officers' Club at Norfolk. From the list of items, it looked like it was for breakfast. It was probably just a receipt that she'd forgotten to file with a travel voucher. He started to put the receipt down, then stopped, trying to remember when was the last time she'd gone down to Norfolk on a case. He couldn't recall any recent trips to Norfolk she'd taken. She'd been to Quantico several times recently, but not Norfolk that he could recall.
He glanced down at the bottom of the receipt. 24 May 2001. That didn't make any sense. The date was just two days past, Thursday morning. What would she have been doing in Norfolk on Thursday? That was the first of two days she'd taken off work in preparation for the wedding and Norfolk was a little far away for breakfast just because she liked the food there.
What a minute, he thought, reading over the receipt again. A ham and cheese omelet and a vegetable omelet. Two cups of coffee. He knew Mac's appetite, but why would she order two omelets that were so different? This had to be a breakfast for two. But who would she have been having breakfast with? Not a client. She'd cleared all her cases and would start with new cases when they returned from their honeymoon. Did she have any friends in Norfolk? He honestly didn't know. She didn't talk a lot about people she knew outside of her friends at JAG. Friends at JAG ….
The Admiral gave me the time to go home and pack since I'm driving to Norfolk …. I'm taking a helo to the Patrick Henry in the morning from there ….
He shook his head as the receipt fell from his hand, fluttering through the air to land on top of the open wedding planner. Why would she have been having breakfast with Rabb in Norfolk two days ago? It didn't make any sense. Maybe it was just a coincidence. It had to be. He just wanted all of this to make some kind of sense. There had to be an explanation. There just had to be.
-----
To be continued…
