Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Five
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Part One
From part four:
Harm parked his SUV in front of their house. He decided to leave the evidence in the car as he would need it at the office anyway and was afraid to leave anything at home, endangering it to mingle with Mac's organized home chaos. He locked the car and stepped onto the sidewalk as he heard a voice call his name. He turned - and found himself face to face with Lt. Cmdr. Maryann Cramer, pointing a gun at him. Before he could think of a single thing to say, he heard the gun go off twice and immediately felt a searing pain in his gut and on his forehead. As he doubled over, gasping in agony, he felt gloved hands pull him down on the concrete and search his pockets. 'Mac! Help!' he thought. Then everything went dark.
The stars were shining above the heavily bleeding figure, lying in the fresh snow, as, in the victim's security pocket, a cell-phone started to beep, its unanswered ringing leaving a Marine Colonel up in New York wondering if her husband was still mad at her.
Part Five:
Fri, Feb. 19th 1426 ZULU Bethesda Naval Hospital Washington, D.C.
A tall brunette, obviously highly pregnant, was literally running up to the reception desk, supporting her belly with one hand. All color seemed to have drained from her face and her eyes resembled those of a frightened deer caught in a car's headlights. The nurse on duty immediately grabbed the receiver of her telephone, ready to call an obstetrician but something in the woman's face made her stop.
"Can I help you, ma'am? Are you in labor?"
"No. I need to see my husband."
"Is he a patient?"
"No, he just likes it here. Hell, of course he's a patient!"
"Which ward is he in?"
The brunette made an impatient gesture with her hands. "How am I supposed to know that? That's your job to tell me. If I knew I wouldn't be wasting my time with damned formalities!"
The nurse was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the woman's stare. 'Those Navy wives think they own this place...' she thought, frowning. A young woman with light brown hair stepped up to the counter now and put a comforting hand on the brunette's shoulder.
"Calm down, Mac," she said in a low, soothing voice, "Let me handle it, okay?"
The brunette closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then the nurse, to her surprise, saw her actually smile at her friend. "Thanks, Claire."
The younger woman turned to the nurse. "I'm Doctor Claire Farnham. Colonel Rabb," with her head she motioned to the pregnant woman beside her, "Received a call that her husband was admitted here yesterday night with a gunshot wound. He's Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. Could you please tell us where he is?"
'Colonel? Okay, I see. Never mess with angry Marines.' The nurse suddenly saw Mac in a totally different light. The commander's arrival had caused quite a lot of trouble for the night shift because he had been in such poor condition and for hours they hadn't been sure if he would live. Probably this angry-Marine attitude was the only way his pregnant wife could cope with the dreadful news she must have just recently received. In a compassionate but still matter-of-fact tone, the nurse informed the two women of the commander's condition.
"I see. He was admitted shortly after 0030, unconscious. He was shot twice. One bullet hit the stomach and one grazed his head. He lost a large amount of blood and immediately underwent surgery. He's in the ICU now. That way and up to the right."
"Thank you." The young doctor gave the nurse a warm smile, hooked her arm through the colonel's and led her down the corridor.
In front of Harm's door Mac and Claire were met by the surgeon who had operated Harm upon his arrival. He offered both women a warm handshake.
"Colonel Rabb, ma'am? I'm Lt. Cmdr. Ralph Zanelli. I understand Cmdr. Rabb is your husband?"
"That is correct, Commander. How is he?" Mac's hands held a tight grip on her purse.
Zanelli sighed. "To be honest, ma'am, we're not too sure right now. He did survive the surgery which is a miracle in itself but..." He hesitated.
Mac's eyes urged him to go on. "The truth," was all she could say in a low voice.
The surgeon swallowed, looked down for a moment and then forced himself to meet Mac's eyes. "He suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and we have no idea to what extent it may affect his systems. Right now he's in a coma."
Luckily, Claire had been prepared to support Mac's weight should she need to. As she felt Mac sway slightly at the impact of the news she immediately tightened her grip and helped her friend stay on her feet. Mac's voice was hoarse but firm when she spoke.
"Will he wake from it?"
"We can't tell, ma'am."
"If he does, how could he be affected?"
"In every possible way. He could be his normal self. He could lose his memory. He could be partly or completely paralyzed. He could be mentally handicapped. There's no way to predict the consequences of his injuries. I'm very sorry, ma'am," the doctor added in a low, strained voice.
Mac only bit her lip until she tasted blood. Claire turned to Zanelli. "Thanks, Doctor. I know I'm not family, but I'm her obstetrician and a good friend both of hers and of the commander. I think, if the colonel wants me, that is, she might need me with her now. Could I go in, too?"
Zanelli hesitated only for a couple of seconds and then nodded. "Sure, go ahead." Placing a reassuring hand on Mac's back, he opened the door and let the two women in.
"His eyes are open," was the first thing that Mac remarked absentmindedly as she, in a state of haze, approached Harm's bed. Harm was lying in a half- seated position, tubes and cables connecting him to IVs and monitors all around him. A continuous, even beeping broke the silence of the room. A thick bandage had been applied to Harm's head, and from a pale face, his eyes seemed to be staring at the opposite wall.
"I know," Zanelli replied. "We tried to close them but the lids won't stay down. So every half-hour he receives eye drops. But I have some positive news, too. Two hours ago, we were able to disconnect him from the respirator. He's breathing steadily by himself."
Mac absorbed the information without showing any reaction. Her mind was entirely focused on her husband. Seeing his void, lifeless eyes stare into the middle of nowhere, she felt as if an iron clasp had been laid around her heart, like in the fairytale of Iron Henry. It hurt as if it were going to burst any moment. She softly took his hand, feeling it hang heavy and powerless in her own. The man she loved, the father of her child, had been reduced to the mere shell of himself. Holding his hand against her cheek, she fought her tears and suppressed a sob, squeezing her eyes shut against the overwhelming pain that made her want to scream.
It was an entire two minutes until she found her voice. "Who did it?" The words were barely audible.
"The police say that he must have been the victim of a robbery," Zanelli explained. "It appears he was shot and searched. His wallet was missing. The robbers must have been disturbed, though. His car showed signs of an attempt to open it. But they seemingly gave it up very quickly and fled. And they also didn't bother to search for his cell-phone that he carried in his security pocket inside his uniform. The wallet must have been enough for them. That's what the police told me"
Mac forced herself to go on, the investigator in her surfacing. "Any clues? Or any witnesses?"
"You should ask the police, ma'am, but as far as I know - none."
"Who found him?"
"Your neighbor called the ambulance, ma'am."
Mac took a deep breath and shook herself from her paralysis, turning to the doctor and managing a sad half-smile.
"That would be all for now, Commander. Thanks for your assistance."
"Aye, ma'am. Permission to speak freely?"
"Granted."
"I'll pray for you and the commander, ma'am. Never lose hope."
For a fraction of a second, Zanelli was able to see the stunning beauty of the woman in front of him, as a real smile lit up her huge dark eyes.
"Thank you, Commander. I appreciate that."
Coming to attention, the doctor turned and left the room.
Claire stepped up to Mac and put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "You want me to call anyone?"
"Yes, please inform Sturgis that he'll have to take over as temporary JAG and have him inform the office. And tell Fred that I want him to sit second chair in the admiral's trial. If Harriet asks if she can help in any way please ask her to look after Jingo. She has our keys. I'll try to reach Harm's mom, Sergei and the admiral. And Claire... thanks for being here."
The young woman gave her friend a quick compassionate hug. "Anytime, Mac. Anytime." Then she turned and left the room.
Although Mac had claimed that she wanted to talk to AJ as his defense counsel, it nevertheless took quite some time until the call was passed on to him. Finally he picked up the receiver.
"Chegwidden."
"Admiral? This is Col. Rabb."
"Mac?" AJ's voice was immediately full of concern as he heard her speak a little unevenly. "Is everything all right?"
"No, sir. Harm was shot yesterday night."
"Oh God... because of me?" AJ's grip on the receiver tightened until his knuckles turned white.
"I don't think so, sir," came Mac's calm reply. For the moment, she had managed to steady her voice. "It seems to have been a simple robbery."
"How is he?"
Her silence spoke volumes. AJ began to fear the worst. Finally she answered, her voice monotone. "He's alive but he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage. He's in a coma."
AJ dreaded the next question. "Is he likely to wake up?"
"No one can tell." Mac didn't trust her voice enough for any more words, struggling to hold back her tears that all of a sudden welled up again, now that she had to clearly face the facts, having to communicate them to others. AJ heard her suppress a sob, then another and another until her resolve broke. For several minutes he just let her cry, pained, scared and at a loss of what to say. He could count on one hand the times that he had ever seen Sarah Mackenzie cry. And never, never had he been witness to such bottomless pain in her. All he could do was not hang up and be there if she needed to talk.
Eventually, her violent sobs quieted. He heard her sniffle and blow her nose. "I apologize for my behavior, sir."
"Nonsense." Once again AJ applied his useful gruffness to hide his own inner turmoil. "It was necessary for you to cry, Colonel. Don't you apologize for that, understood?"
"Aye, sir." She again blew her nose. "I didn't cry, though, when I called Harm's mother. Or Sergei."
AJ's voice softened. "That was because you knew you had to be strong for them, Mac. You don't have to be for me. I'm a SEAL, remember? As long as I know you'll fight, I'll cope."
Mac let out a shaky sigh. It felt good to be allowed to be weak for once. "I don't know if I have the power to fight, sir," she admitted quietly. "What if it all comes to nothing? What if he doesn't remember me? What if he'll never be able to hold his child? What if his future would be being confined to a bed? I don't know if I would want him to live through that. And if I could live through it for that matter," she added, her voice even lower.
A sudden wave of rage flowed through the admiral's veins as he listened to her. If even Mac, his no-nonsense chief-of-staff, the tough gung-ho Marine with the iron will, was giving up on this, the commander had no chance whatsoever to come back to himself! Shaking with anger, the admiral addressed the woman that was closer to him than his own daughter.
"Don't you dare, Colonel!" he yelled into the receiver.
Mac gave a start. "Sir?"
"Don't you dare give up on your husband! He needs you, you of all people, Mackenzie! Should he have a chance to wake, it will be your voice, your attention and your determination alone that will bring him back, do you hear me? You mean more to him than life itself! It will be you that he comes back to if he does, and no one else! Now get your head out of your six and fight, Marine! That's an order!" Mac could hear her CO breathe agitatedly.
Some of AJ's force somehow made its way across the phone line. Mac swallowed, and all of a sudden, felt ashamed. Damn, if she wanted to be worthy of the green uniform she was wearing, running and accepting defeat was out of the question. Never leave anyone behind. She lifted her head. "Sir, yes, sir! " she answered forcefully.
"Semper fidelis, Marine," was all that her CO replied before hanging up.
Fri, Feb. 19th 2143 ZULU House Mistral Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, NY
Cadet Third Year Jeannine Stiller hurriedly opened the door to her apartment and rushed into her room as she heard her telephone ring. Throwing her bag on her desk, she flopped onto her bed, and, a little short of breath, responded.
"Stiller."
"Preev'yet, Yanina Andreyevna." [Hello, Yanina Andreyevna.]
"Sergei!" Jeannine's face lit up upon hearing his voice. Sergei had once asked her what her middle name was, and as she had had to admit that she didn't even have one, he had asked what her late father had been called and had given her a Russian middle name - 'daughter of Andrew'. It was one of Sergei's qualities, to always think of sweet little things like this. And it made her heart jump.
His smile could be heard over the line. "Hi, my little one. How are you holding up?"
"Fine, thank you. And you? What did I do to deserve your unexpected call?" Jeannine lay down on her back, smiling at the ceiling, twirling the telephone cable around her left index finger.
Sergei's voice sobered. "I needed someone to talk to."
Jeannine's fingers stopped in mid-movement. "What's up? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I am, but my brother isn't."
Sitting up cross-legged on her bed, Jeannine felt her worries grow. "What happened?"
"Harm was shot yesterday night."
"Oh my God... how is he? Did he..."
"He's alive," Sergei replied to her unfinished question. "But barely. He suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and went into a coma. No one knows if he'll ever wake, and if he does, no one can be sure about his condition."
Jeannine could hear the pain in Sergei's voice. "I just wish I were with you right now," she said, wanting to hold and comfort him. She knew how much Harm meant to him, besides her own concern for her friend's well- being.
"So do I," he sighed. "Jan, I don't know what I would do without him. He's been my one anchor ever since I came to the States."
"Remember that you're not alone anymore. All your brother's friends are your friends, too. And then there's Mac. How does she cope anyways?"
"When she called me she seemed composed. But I know that's just a shell. I guess deep inside she's just plain desperate but she tries to be strong for the rest of us. And for little Trisha."
Thinking of her former room- and classmate who had helped her through her times of hell and had become one of her closest friends, Jeannine made a decision. "Sergei, do you still live in Arlington with them or are you done rearranging Mac's old apartment?"
Sergei had started to attend classes in aeronautical engineering in September at Georgetown University. So, living in Georgetown had appeared a comfortable solution and he, Harm and Mac had succeeded in talking Mac's former landlord into letting Sergei take over the apartment by the time she would have moved to the new house. In December, Sergei had begun to reconstruct the place and a week ago he had finally been able to move in.
"Didn't I tell you?" Sergei was embarrassed. "I moved in last Saturday. Everything is ready and I love it. Wait till you see it yourself. Why do you ask?"
Taking a deep breath, Jeannine prepared to reply, unsure if she was ready for this, having been involved with Harm's brother for less than two months, having seen him only once after having been to Washington for Christmas. But she wanted to see Mac and be there for her, even if it was only for a few days, without having to impose on her hospitality, though. Mac had more than enough problems herself. And Jeannine somehow felt she could trust the younger Rabb just as she could the elder. "I could come over for Spring Break," she offered slowly, her heart beating a little quicker than usual, "If you let me stay with you."
Sergei's answer held a slightly hoarse edge, telling Jeannine that he, just like her, was very aware of the possible consequences that her staying with him might have for the two of them. Nevertheless, he agreed. "I think Mac would like having you around, Janutchka."
"What about you?" Jeannine couldn't help asking under her breath.
"Me, too," she heard him say just as low.
For a few seconds the silence hung heavily between the between the two phones connecting Georgetown and Long Island. Then Sergei ventured a shy "Take care, little one."
"You, too."
"Dusvidunya, Yanina Andreyevna." [Goodbye, Yanina Andreyevna.]
Wanting to surprise him, she answered with a phrase that she had trained to pronounce correctly with Mac's help. She smiled. "Dusvidunya, Sergei Harmonovitch."
AN: [I made up the phonetic spelling of the Russian words myself. I hope I got it halfway right to be comprehensible in English. For a German reader, for example, I would probably have written 'Daswidanja'. So just be a little creative while reading, okay? Thanks!]
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!)
From part four:
Harm parked his SUV in front of their house. He decided to leave the evidence in the car as he would need it at the office anyway and was afraid to leave anything at home, endangering it to mingle with Mac's organized home chaos. He locked the car and stepped onto the sidewalk as he heard a voice call his name. He turned - and found himself face to face with Lt. Cmdr. Maryann Cramer, pointing a gun at him. Before he could think of a single thing to say, he heard the gun go off twice and immediately felt a searing pain in his gut and on his forehead. As he doubled over, gasping in agony, he felt gloved hands pull him down on the concrete and search his pockets. 'Mac! Help!' he thought. Then everything went dark.
The stars were shining above the heavily bleeding figure, lying in the fresh snow, as, in the victim's security pocket, a cell-phone started to beep, its unanswered ringing leaving a Marine Colonel up in New York wondering if her husband was still mad at her.
Part Five:
Fri, Feb. 19th 1426 ZULU Bethesda Naval Hospital Washington, D.C.
A tall brunette, obviously highly pregnant, was literally running up to the reception desk, supporting her belly with one hand. All color seemed to have drained from her face and her eyes resembled those of a frightened deer caught in a car's headlights. The nurse on duty immediately grabbed the receiver of her telephone, ready to call an obstetrician but something in the woman's face made her stop.
"Can I help you, ma'am? Are you in labor?"
"No. I need to see my husband."
"Is he a patient?"
"No, he just likes it here. Hell, of course he's a patient!"
"Which ward is he in?"
The brunette made an impatient gesture with her hands. "How am I supposed to know that? That's your job to tell me. If I knew I wouldn't be wasting my time with damned formalities!"
The nurse was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the woman's stare. 'Those Navy wives think they own this place...' she thought, frowning. A young woman with light brown hair stepped up to the counter now and put a comforting hand on the brunette's shoulder.
"Calm down, Mac," she said in a low, soothing voice, "Let me handle it, okay?"
The brunette closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then the nurse, to her surprise, saw her actually smile at her friend. "Thanks, Claire."
The younger woman turned to the nurse. "I'm Doctor Claire Farnham. Colonel Rabb," with her head she motioned to the pregnant woman beside her, "Received a call that her husband was admitted here yesterday night with a gunshot wound. He's Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. Could you please tell us where he is?"
'Colonel? Okay, I see. Never mess with angry Marines.' The nurse suddenly saw Mac in a totally different light. The commander's arrival had caused quite a lot of trouble for the night shift because he had been in such poor condition and for hours they hadn't been sure if he would live. Probably this angry-Marine attitude was the only way his pregnant wife could cope with the dreadful news she must have just recently received. In a compassionate but still matter-of-fact tone, the nurse informed the two women of the commander's condition.
"I see. He was admitted shortly after 0030, unconscious. He was shot twice. One bullet hit the stomach and one grazed his head. He lost a large amount of blood and immediately underwent surgery. He's in the ICU now. That way and up to the right."
"Thank you." The young doctor gave the nurse a warm smile, hooked her arm through the colonel's and led her down the corridor.
In front of Harm's door Mac and Claire were met by the surgeon who had operated Harm upon his arrival. He offered both women a warm handshake.
"Colonel Rabb, ma'am? I'm Lt. Cmdr. Ralph Zanelli. I understand Cmdr. Rabb is your husband?"
"That is correct, Commander. How is he?" Mac's hands held a tight grip on her purse.
Zanelli sighed. "To be honest, ma'am, we're not too sure right now. He did survive the surgery which is a miracle in itself but..." He hesitated.
Mac's eyes urged him to go on. "The truth," was all she could say in a low voice.
The surgeon swallowed, looked down for a moment and then forced himself to meet Mac's eyes. "He suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and we have no idea to what extent it may affect his systems. Right now he's in a coma."
Luckily, Claire had been prepared to support Mac's weight should she need to. As she felt Mac sway slightly at the impact of the news she immediately tightened her grip and helped her friend stay on her feet. Mac's voice was hoarse but firm when she spoke.
"Will he wake from it?"
"We can't tell, ma'am."
"If he does, how could he be affected?"
"In every possible way. He could be his normal self. He could lose his memory. He could be partly or completely paralyzed. He could be mentally handicapped. There's no way to predict the consequences of his injuries. I'm very sorry, ma'am," the doctor added in a low, strained voice.
Mac only bit her lip until she tasted blood. Claire turned to Zanelli. "Thanks, Doctor. I know I'm not family, but I'm her obstetrician and a good friend both of hers and of the commander. I think, if the colonel wants me, that is, she might need me with her now. Could I go in, too?"
Zanelli hesitated only for a couple of seconds and then nodded. "Sure, go ahead." Placing a reassuring hand on Mac's back, he opened the door and let the two women in.
"His eyes are open," was the first thing that Mac remarked absentmindedly as she, in a state of haze, approached Harm's bed. Harm was lying in a half- seated position, tubes and cables connecting him to IVs and monitors all around him. A continuous, even beeping broke the silence of the room. A thick bandage had been applied to Harm's head, and from a pale face, his eyes seemed to be staring at the opposite wall.
"I know," Zanelli replied. "We tried to close them but the lids won't stay down. So every half-hour he receives eye drops. But I have some positive news, too. Two hours ago, we were able to disconnect him from the respirator. He's breathing steadily by himself."
Mac absorbed the information without showing any reaction. Her mind was entirely focused on her husband. Seeing his void, lifeless eyes stare into the middle of nowhere, she felt as if an iron clasp had been laid around her heart, like in the fairytale of Iron Henry. It hurt as if it were going to burst any moment. She softly took his hand, feeling it hang heavy and powerless in her own. The man she loved, the father of her child, had been reduced to the mere shell of himself. Holding his hand against her cheek, she fought her tears and suppressed a sob, squeezing her eyes shut against the overwhelming pain that made her want to scream.
It was an entire two minutes until she found her voice. "Who did it?" The words were barely audible.
"The police say that he must have been the victim of a robbery," Zanelli explained. "It appears he was shot and searched. His wallet was missing. The robbers must have been disturbed, though. His car showed signs of an attempt to open it. But they seemingly gave it up very quickly and fled. And they also didn't bother to search for his cell-phone that he carried in his security pocket inside his uniform. The wallet must have been enough for them. That's what the police told me"
Mac forced herself to go on, the investigator in her surfacing. "Any clues? Or any witnesses?"
"You should ask the police, ma'am, but as far as I know - none."
"Who found him?"
"Your neighbor called the ambulance, ma'am."
Mac took a deep breath and shook herself from her paralysis, turning to the doctor and managing a sad half-smile.
"That would be all for now, Commander. Thanks for your assistance."
"Aye, ma'am. Permission to speak freely?"
"Granted."
"I'll pray for you and the commander, ma'am. Never lose hope."
For a fraction of a second, Zanelli was able to see the stunning beauty of the woman in front of him, as a real smile lit up her huge dark eyes.
"Thank you, Commander. I appreciate that."
Coming to attention, the doctor turned and left the room.
Claire stepped up to Mac and put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "You want me to call anyone?"
"Yes, please inform Sturgis that he'll have to take over as temporary JAG and have him inform the office. And tell Fred that I want him to sit second chair in the admiral's trial. If Harriet asks if she can help in any way please ask her to look after Jingo. She has our keys. I'll try to reach Harm's mom, Sergei and the admiral. And Claire... thanks for being here."
The young woman gave her friend a quick compassionate hug. "Anytime, Mac. Anytime." Then she turned and left the room.
Although Mac had claimed that she wanted to talk to AJ as his defense counsel, it nevertheless took quite some time until the call was passed on to him. Finally he picked up the receiver.
"Chegwidden."
"Admiral? This is Col. Rabb."
"Mac?" AJ's voice was immediately full of concern as he heard her speak a little unevenly. "Is everything all right?"
"No, sir. Harm was shot yesterday night."
"Oh God... because of me?" AJ's grip on the receiver tightened until his knuckles turned white.
"I don't think so, sir," came Mac's calm reply. For the moment, she had managed to steady her voice. "It seems to have been a simple robbery."
"How is he?"
Her silence spoke volumes. AJ began to fear the worst. Finally she answered, her voice monotone. "He's alive but he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage. He's in a coma."
AJ dreaded the next question. "Is he likely to wake up?"
"No one can tell." Mac didn't trust her voice enough for any more words, struggling to hold back her tears that all of a sudden welled up again, now that she had to clearly face the facts, having to communicate them to others. AJ heard her suppress a sob, then another and another until her resolve broke. For several minutes he just let her cry, pained, scared and at a loss of what to say. He could count on one hand the times that he had ever seen Sarah Mackenzie cry. And never, never had he been witness to such bottomless pain in her. All he could do was not hang up and be there if she needed to talk.
Eventually, her violent sobs quieted. He heard her sniffle and blow her nose. "I apologize for my behavior, sir."
"Nonsense." Once again AJ applied his useful gruffness to hide his own inner turmoil. "It was necessary for you to cry, Colonel. Don't you apologize for that, understood?"
"Aye, sir." She again blew her nose. "I didn't cry, though, when I called Harm's mother. Or Sergei."
AJ's voice softened. "That was because you knew you had to be strong for them, Mac. You don't have to be for me. I'm a SEAL, remember? As long as I know you'll fight, I'll cope."
Mac let out a shaky sigh. It felt good to be allowed to be weak for once. "I don't know if I have the power to fight, sir," she admitted quietly. "What if it all comes to nothing? What if he doesn't remember me? What if he'll never be able to hold his child? What if his future would be being confined to a bed? I don't know if I would want him to live through that. And if I could live through it for that matter," she added, her voice even lower.
A sudden wave of rage flowed through the admiral's veins as he listened to her. If even Mac, his no-nonsense chief-of-staff, the tough gung-ho Marine with the iron will, was giving up on this, the commander had no chance whatsoever to come back to himself! Shaking with anger, the admiral addressed the woman that was closer to him than his own daughter.
"Don't you dare, Colonel!" he yelled into the receiver.
Mac gave a start. "Sir?"
"Don't you dare give up on your husband! He needs you, you of all people, Mackenzie! Should he have a chance to wake, it will be your voice, your attention and your determination alone that will bring him back, do you hear me? You mean more to him than life itself! It will be you that he comes back to if he does, and no one else! Now get your head out of your six and fight, Marine! That's an order!" Mac could hear her CO breathe agitatedly.
Some of AJ's force somehow made its way across the phone line. Mac swallowed, and all of a sudden, felt ashamed. Damn, if she wanted to be worthy of the green uniform she was wearing, running and accepting defeat was out of the question. Never leave anyone behind. She lifted her head. "Sir, yes, sir! " she answered forcefully.
"Semper fidelis, Marine," was all that her CO replied before hanging up.
Fri, Feb. 19th 2143 ZULU House Mistral Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, NY
Cadet Third Year Jeannine Stiller hurriedly opened the door to her apartment and rushed into her room as she heard her telephone ring. Throwing her bag on her desk, she flopped onto her bed, and, a little short of breath, responded.
"Stiller."
"Preev'yet, Yanina Andreyevna." [Hello, Yanina Andreyevna.]
"Sergei!" Jeannine's face lit up upon hearing his voice. Sergei had once asked her what her middle name was, and as she had had to admit that she didn't even have one, he had asked what her late father had been called and had given her a Russian middle name - 'daughter of Andrew'. It was one of Sergei's qualities, to always think of sweet little things like this. And it made her heart jump.
His smile could be heard over the line. "Hi, my little one. How are you holding up?"
"Fine, thank you. And you? What did I do to deserve your unexpected call?" Jeannine lay down on her back, smiling at the ceiling, twirling the telephone cable around her left index finger.
Sergei's voice sobered. "I needed someone to talk to."
Jeannine's fingers stopped in mid-movement. "What's up? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I am, but my brother isn't."
Sitting up cross-legged on her bed, Jeannine felt her worries grow. "What happened?"
"Harm was shot yesterday night."
"Oh my God... how is he? Did he..."
"He's alive," Sergei replied to her unfinished question. "But barely. He suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and went into a coma. No one knows if he'll ever wake, and if he does, no one can be sure about his condition."
Jeannine could hear the pain in Sergei's voice. "I just wish I were with you right now," she said, wanting to hold and comfort him. She knew how much Harm meant to him, besides her own concern for her friend's well- being.
"So do I," he sighed. "Jan, I don't know what I would do without him. He's been my one anchor ever since I came to the States."
"Remember that you're not alone anymore. All your brother's friends are your friends, too. And then there's Mac. How does she cope anyways?"
"When she called me she seemed composed. But I know that's just a shell. I guess deep inside she's just plain desperate but she tries to be strong for the rest of us. And for little Trisha."
Thinking of her former room- and classmate who had helped her through her times of hell and had become one of her closest friends, Jeannine made a decision. "Sergei, do you still live in Arlington with them or are you done rearranging Mac's old apartment?"
Sergei had started to attend classes in aeronautical engineering in September at Georgetown University. So, living in Georgetown had appeared a comfortable solution and he, Harm and Mac had succeeded in talking Mac's former landlord into letting Sergei take over the apartment by the time she would have moved to the new house. In December, Sergei had begun to reconstruct the place and a week ago he had finally been able to move in.
"Didn't I tell you?" Sergei was embarrassed. "I moved in last Saturday. Everything is ready and I love it. Wait till you see it yourself. Why do you ask?"
Taking a deep breath, Jeannine prepared to reply, unsure if she was ready for this, having been involved with Harm's brother for less than two months, having seen him only once after having been to Washington for Christmas. But she wanted to see Mac and be there for her, even if it was only for a few days, without having to impose on her hospitality, though. Mac had more than enough problems herself. And Jeannine somehow felt she could trust the younger Rabb just as she could the elder. "I could come over for Spring Break," she offered slowly, her heart beating a little quicker than usual, "If you let me stay with you."
Sergei's answer held a slightly hoarse edge, telling Jeannine that he, just like her, was very aware of the possible consequences that her staying with him might have for the two of them. Nevertheless, he agreed. "I think Mac would like having you around, Janutchka."
"What about you?" Jeannine couldn't help asking under her breath.
"Me, too," she heard him say just as low.
For a few seconds the silence hung heavily between the between the two phones connecting Georgetown and Long Island. Then Sergei ventured a shy "Take care, little one."
"You, too."
"Dusvidunya, Yanina Andreyevna." [Goodbye, Yanina Andreyevna.]
Wanting to surprise him, she answered with a phrase that she had trained to pronounce correctly with Mac's help. She smiled. "Dusvidunya, Sergei Harmonovitch."
AN: [I made up the phonetic spelling of the Russian words myself. I hope I got it halfway right to be comprehensible in English. For a German reader, for example, I would probably have written 'Daswidanja'. So just be a little creative while reading, okay? Thanks!]
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!)