Song used within: Music by Loreena McKennitt
Lyrics by William Shakespeare
Recorded/performed by Loreena McKennitt
(More info at the end)
*****************************************
U.S. Naval Academy Chapel
Annapolis, MD
February 21
1035 local
People had been slowly filing in to the Chapel for over an hour.
Familiar faces were everywhere; almost all of the JAG staff, including the
Roberts family, Jason Tiner, and Gunny Galindez, were present. Admiral Boone had
arrived about twenty minutes ago. Even Jack Keeter had made it, showing up with
another old Academy friend, Sturgis Turner.
There were two notable absences. Clayton Webb, despite having promised to
put in appearance, was nowhere in sight. Also missing was the one other Rabb
family member able to attend: Mercedes.
Harm was surprisingly disappointed by her non-appearance. He'd long
since forgiven her, and he had almost hoped this would be a family reunion of
sorts.
He looked over to where his mother, grandmother, and Frank talked quietly
in the family waiting room. Above all else, he was relieved how well everyone
was handling matters. Telling his mom and Grandma Sarah had been one of the
most difficult things he'd ever done. But they'd both taken the news calmly and
quietly, more relieved than anything else that all the questions were finally
answered.
"You okay?"
Harm looked over at Mac, resplendent in her dress blues. She'd been
amazing these past months, and Harm was beginning to realize just how important
she was to him. "Fine," he replied, the paused. "You know, I don't think I've
thanked you once for everything you've done."
"It's no big deal, Harm."
"It is to me, Mac," he said seriously. "You've been great. To be honest,
when we got back, I wasn't sure how I was going to deal with everything that
needed to be done." He reached down, taking her right hand in both of his.
"And I'm not sure I could've without your help."
Mac opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by a knock at the door.
She and Harm exchanged a questioning look, neither one having any idea who could
be there. Dropping Mac's hand, Harm called out, "Enter."
The door opened, revealing Admiral Chegwidden, a still-recovering Clayton
Webb, and a third figure whose identity was obscured by the two men in front.
"Admiral, Webb," Harm greeted them, noting the CIA agent still used a cane
to get around. "Thank you both for coming."
"Yes, well..." the agent fumbled for his words a bit. "Long before this
whole mess got started, I'd been working on another project for you." He limped
into the room, revealing the person behind him. "Finally got it wrapped up last
night."
Harm couldn't believe his eyes. "Sergei?"
The young Russian took a few tentative steps into the room. "Hello, my
brother," he greeted Harm quietly. "It is good to see you again."
Harm was stunned. "Sergei..." he breathed, then glanced at his family.
He'd told them about Sergei, but still...
Thankfully, Sarah Rabb stepped in. She stood and walked over to Sergei.
"So you're my other grandson," she stated.
Sergei nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"Ma'am? Young man, I'm your Grandmother, not your commanding officer,"
she chided. "Now give your grandmother a proper hug," she ordered, and they
embraced briefly.
By this time, Trish had joined them. "Sergei," she said, speaking
softly, "I'm Harm's mother, Trish. It's a pleasure to finally meet you-- I'm
glad you could be here."
Sergei smiled sadly. "Yes, we are all here-- the whole family, to say
goodbye."
"Almost, Sergei. Almost," Harm said quietly. "There's one person
missing."
***************************
Same day
East of Fredericksburg, VA
0634 local
She sat in the bedroom, idly watching the fireplace from the ornate old rocking chair. She was tired, but that was nothing new; peace of any sort seemed to elude her entirely since Russia. As it was she was grateful for these few quiet moments of solitude. Which, of course, meant it couldn't last. She sighed deeply as the shrill ring of the telephone shattered the quiet of the room. Reluctantly, she moved to answer the summons. It was probably work, needing her to come handle a case at the last minute. Oh well, at least her decision would be made for her then.
"Rabb."
"Are you going?" The voice was familiar, but not one she ever expected
to hear again.
She sighed again. "Probably not," she answered reluctantly.
"You should go. They'll be expecting you there."
"What difference does it make to you?" she shot back, getting irritated.
"There'll be someone there you should meet. "
"Who?"
"That's classified."
"Classified my ass. You just don't want to say."
"Maybe. Will you be there?"
"Maybe," she said, then hung up.
********
USNA Chapel
1125 local
Harm took one last glance around before beginning to escort his mother
into the chapel, Sergei, Grandma Sarah, and Frank following behind. No sign of
Mercedes at all, he noted with disappointment, even as he helped his mother to
her seat in the front pew reserved for family.
Once everyone was situated, Harm couldn't help but stare at the flag
draped casket at the front. After all these years, and all the searching, the
struggles, and the pain, his Dad was finally home.
The Chaplain stepped up to the podium, collecting his thoughts to
speak, when a murmur arose from the back of the Chapel. Twisting around, he
stared in amazement.
Mercedes had arrived, and in full regalia. She wore a sharply
tailored black suit, the floor length skirt ending in a small train. The
severe, form-fitting cut of the jacket was offset by the froth of white lace at
her chin and cuffs, as well as by the red sash bedecked with various pins and
medals and a large gold collar of office she wore. Harm noted the heavy gold
ring on her right hand, remembering back years ago when she'd shown it to him;
it was the Von Kleist family seal. Her blonde hair was in an elegant French
twist, and a shoulder-length veil was secured with a pair of ornate gold combs.
For her part, Mercedes knew she wasn't going to be able to attend
unnoticed; someone would see her for certain, and then drag her into a family
reunion she wasn't prepared to deal with. So instead, she'd taken the opposite
approach, pulling out her familial version of a full dress uniform. Besides,
her uncle deserved the honor.
But with the eyes of everyone present on her, Mercedes was having
second thoughts. She shouldn't be here, but it was too late now, wasn't it?
And where the hell was she going to sit? She certainly couldn't join her
family...
In the second row behind Harm, AJ Chegwidden watched the proceedings
with interest. Amazing how this family kept surprising everyone. He noted the
conflicted look on the Commander's face, and leaned forward. "Commander," he
whispered in an undertone, "Shall I ask your cousin to join us?"
Harm looked at his CO in relief, gratitude evident on his face.
"That would be much appreciated, sir," he whispered back.
AJ nodded, then stood and made his way back to where Harm's cousin
stood. She wanted to play it formal, well, then, so would he.
He stopped in front of her, bowing slightly. "Admiral A.J. Chegwidden," he
said, by way of introduction and greeting.
In return, she half-bowed, half-curtseyed, extending her right hand.
"Mercedes Portia Rabb Grafin von Kleist," she replied.
Well, *that's* a mouthful, AJ thought. "Would you care to join us?"
She nodded, placing her hand on his offered arm. AJ escorted her
back to the pew, where they both took their seats. Mercedes simply nodded at
Harm and his family, and AJ noted the odd look she shot toward Clayton Webb.
But then any emotion was gone, the stoic, stone-faced demeanor firmly back in
place as the Chaplain began the service.
The Chaplain spoke briefly, then gestured to Harm, indicating it was his
turn to speak. He felt Mac give his hand a reassuring squeeze, then made his way
to the podium.
He looked around, uncertain. He'd spent hours writing and rewriting
speeches, trying to come up with a few words that would be adequate. But as
seemed to be typical, when it mattered most, his eloquence deserted him.
Swallowing hard, he looked down at the empty podium in front of him and
decided to simply speak his mind.
"Thirty-two years," he began hesitantly. "For thirty-two years, he was
lost. It doesn't matter where. What mattered was that he wasn't here. Far
from home, far from those who loved him and missed him."
He paused, glancing around at the sea of faces. Mac's was sad but
warmly supportive, as were those of his mother and grandmother. Sergei's face
was a mask of Russian-bred solemnity. Mercedes was stone-faced and
expressionless, a perfect facade of decorum... except that as he watched, a lone
tear streamed from the corner of her eye.
"We all kept hoping, and some of us searched as best we could.
Eventually, some answers came to light, but even then... he was still gone, far
from where he belonged." He paused, taking a deep breath. "And then, he was
found."
"The person who found him... she knew it would be nearly impossible to
bring him home. But she did, despite everything." He paused, searching out her
face. "And for that, Mercedes, I'll never be able to thank you enough."
He stepped down, intending to return to his seat. But as he approached,
his cousin slowly stood, then moved to approach him. Without a second's thought,
Harm walked to her and embraced her in a fierce hug that lasted for quite some
time.
When they finally parted, tears were streaming down Mercedes's face, and
several tears had left their paths down Harm's cheeks. He took her hands in his,
then leaned down. "Go. You should say something," He urged quietly, nodding
toward the podium.
Her eyes went wide in surprise and mild alarm. "Are you sure? I don't
know..."
"Go," he told her, giving her a gentle push towards it before resuming
his seat.
Hesitantly, she made he way to stand behind the podium, lowering her
gaze for a moment as she searched for words. "I fear I'm at a loss for words,
and must beg your indulgence," she began, her voice softened by an atypical hint
of an accent. "It was so long ago when we lost my Uncle, that my memories of
him are limited at best. What I do remember is his extraordinarily kind and
loyal nature-- a trait clearly passed on to his son," she added with a ghost of
a smile.
"I was going to stay away today, for reasons I won't go into." She
paused, searching for her words. "But I realized I'd never said goodbye. So I
came."
She stopped again, at a loss. She looked around, trying to search out
the words for all she wished to express. And that was when she noticed the
piano off to one side of the altar.
She glanced at the chaplain, nodding towards the piano. "May I?" she
whispered. He nodded his assent, and she crossed to the instrument. Pausing in
front of in, she turned back to the assembled crowd. "My own words seem
inadequate, so, with your grace, I'll borrow someone else's," she said with a
faint smile, then moved to take a seat at the bench.
Back in the crowd, Mac leaned toward Harm. "What's she going to do?"
"I don't know," he replied, a bit nervously.
They watched as Mercedes briefly massaged and stretched her hands.
Then, almost moving in slow motion, her long, pale hands moved over the keys,
bringing forth a simple, plaintive melody. A moment later, she began to sing,
in a clear but rich-sounding mezzo soprano.
"Fear no more the heat o' the sun
Nor the furious winters' rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' th' great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust."
*******
Her hands stilled over the keys, the song finished. No one moved, no
sound was made. Slowly, she withdrew her hands from the keyboard and stood,
then returned to her seat, not daring to look at anyone.
Awkward silence reigned for a moment longer, before the Chaplain
returned to the podium, thanking everyone for their attendance. Gradually, as
if awakened from a long slumber, the crowd began to move and file out of the
chapel.
Mercedes made to leave, but Harm reached out, catching her by the arm as
the rest of the group got to their feet. "Mercedes, wait."
"Yes?" She turned to face him, her face a carefully-schooled mask.
He motioned to a young, sandy-haired man that had been sitting next to
Sarah Rabb. Mercedes was surprised to notice he had the same unusual blue-green
eyes as Harm and herself. She glanced at her cousin, an eyebrow arched in a
silent question.
Her answer was an introduction. "Mercedes, I'd like you to meet my
brother, Sergei Zuhkov," Harm said quietly.
"A pleasure," Sergei said gravely, bowing slightly over the hand
Mercedes had extended automatically. "Harm tells me we are cousins...?"
"Second cousins," She clarified, her voice unsteady, "not that it makes
a difference." She wasn't ready for this, dammit. She saw her Aunt Trish and
Great Aunt Sarah getting ready to approach her. No, no, no.... "It is a
pleasure to meet you, Sergei, but if you'll excuse me for a moment. Harm. A
word, please?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice calm, even as she forcibly
pulled him aside.
"Mercedes, what..?" Harm whispered as she dragged him a few feet away
from the group.
"Listen to me. I can not do this. Not now," She hissed forcibly. "This
was why I wasn't going to come in the first place."
"Then why did you?"
"Because I owed it to your Dad, and I was informed there was someone
here I should meet." She paused to catch her breath, and sighed. "Please, Harm.
I know I've got a lot of fences to mend, but I just can't do it now," She
pleaded.
Harm looked down at his cousin. Outwardly calm and composed, he could
see the wild panic beginning to creep into her eyes. "All right," he relented.
"Go. I'll tell them you weren't feeling well or something. In fact, wait a
minute." He quickly turned and walked over to his mother and grandmother,
talking quietly.
Returning, he offered her his arm. "I told them you were ill and
needed to leave," he whispered, before returning to normal speaking voice.
"Now, Grafin, may I escort you to your vehicle?" he asked, making an exaggerated
show of it.
"I would be delighted, sir," Mercedes replied. Taking his arm, she
muttered, "You twit."
*****
Outside, Harm escorted her to the large Mercedes-Benz sedan. "No limo
and driver?" he inquired, half-jokingly.
She gave him a dirty look. "Like I ever let anyone else drive," she
shot back, then paused. "Look, Harm.... I'm sorry. For everything. I..."
He reached up to brush her cheek affectionately. "CD... you brought
him home. I meant what I said; I'll never be able to thank you enough for
that."
"I know, it's just...."
Harm could see the struggle inside; for the first time that day, her
emotions were clearly shown on her face. "Hey... It can take a while to work
through things. I know. Just promise me one thing."
She looked up at him. "What?"
"When you do, call me?"
She nodded. "I can do that."
They embraced briefly, then she climbed in the car. He backed up as the engine fired. He felt, more than saw, Mac approach. "Everything okay?"
He looked at her, a warm, genuine smile on his face and a new lightness in his heart. "Yeah, Mac. Everything's looking good."
FIN
**********
AN: The song used is "Cymbeline", recorded by Loreena McKennitt. For the
curious, a sample of it can be found at the following site:
Scroll down to the album entitled "The Visit", and it is the last song listed.
Full lyrics and music & lyric credits below.
*********
CYMBELINE
Music by Loreena McKennit. Words by William Shakespeare
Fear no more the heat o' the sun
Nor the furious winters' rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' th' great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.
Lyrics by William Shakespeare
Recorded/performed by Loreena McKennitt
(More info at the end)
*****************************************
U.S. Naval Academy Chapel
Annapolis, MD
February 21
1035 local
People had been slowly filing in to the Chapel for over an hour.
Familiar faces were everywhere; almost all of the JAG staff, including the
Roberts family, Jason Tiner, and Gunny Galindez, were present. Admiral Boone had
arrived about twenty minutes ago. Even Jack Keeter had made it, showing up with
another old Academy friend, Sturgis Turner.
There were two notable absences. Clayton Webb, despite having promised to
put in appearance, was nowhere in sight. Also missing was the one other Rabb
family member able to attend: Mercedes.
Harm was surprisingly disappointed by her non-appearance. He'd long
since forgiven her, and he had almost hoped this would be a family reunion of
sorts.
He looked over to where his mother, grandmother, and Frank talked quietly
in the family waiting room. Above all else, he was relieved how well everyone
was handling matters. Telling his mom and Grandma Sarah had been one of the
most difficult things he'd ever done. But they'd both taken the news calmly and
quietly, more relieved than anything else that all the questions were finally
answered.
"You okay?"
Harm looked over at Mac, resplendent in her dress blues. She'd been
amazing these past months, and Harm was beginning to realize just how important
she was to him. "Fine," he replied, the paused. "You know, I don't think I've
thanked you once for everything you've done."
"It's no big deal, Harm."
"It is to me, Mac," he said seriously. "You've been great. To be honest,
when we got back, I wasn't sure how I was going to deal with everything that
needed to be done." He reached down, taking her right hand in both of his.
"And I'm not sure I could've without your help."
Mac opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by a knock at the door.
She and Harm exchanged a questioning look, neither one having any idea who could
be there. Dropping Mac's hand, Harm called out, "Enter."
The door opened, revealing Admiral Chegwidden, a still-recovering Clayton
Webb, and a third figure whose identity was obscured by the two men in front.
"Admiral, Webb," Harm greeted them, noting the CIA agent still used a cane
to get around. "Thank you both for coming."
"Yes, well..." the agent fumbled for his words a bit. "Long before this
whole mess got started, I'd been working on another project for you." He limped
into the room, revealing the person behind him. "Finally got it wrapped up last
night."
Harm couldn't believe his eyes. "Sergei?"
The young Russian took a few tentative steps into the room. "Hello, my
brother," he greeted Harm quietly. "It is good to see you again."
Harm was stunned. "Sergei..." he breathed, then glanced at his family.
He'd told them about Sergei, but still...
Thankfully, Sarah Rabb stepped in. She stood and walked over to Sergei.
"So you're my other grandson," she stated.
Sergei nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"Ma'am? Young man, I'm your Grandmother, not your commanding officer,"
she chided. "Now give your grandmother a proper hug," she ordered, and they
embraced briefly.
By this time, Trish had joined them. "Sergei," she said, speaking
softly, "I'm Harm's mother, Trish. It's a pleasure to finally meet you-- I'm
glad you could be here."
Sergei smiled sadly. "Yes, we are all here-- the whole family, to say
goodbye."
"Almost, Sergei. Almost," Harm said quietly. "There's one person
missing."
***************************
Same day
East of Fredericksburg, VA
0634 local
She sat in the bedroom, idly watching the fireplace from the ornate old rocking chair. She was tired, but that was nothing new; peace of any sort seemed to elude her entirely since Russia. As it was she was grateful for these few quiet moments of solitude. Which, of course, meant it couldn't last. She sighed deeply as the shrill ring of the telephone shattered the quiet of the room. Reluctantly, she moved to answer the summons. It was probably work, needing her to come handle a case at the last minute. Oh well, at least her decision would be made for her then.
"Rabb."
"Are you going?" The voice was familiar, but not one she ever expected
to hear again.
She sighed again. "Probably not," she answered reluctantly.
"You should go. They'll be expecting you there."
"What difference does it make to you?" she shot back, getting irritated.
"There'll be someone there you should meet. "
"Who?"
"That's classified."
"Classified my ass. You just don't want to say."
"Maybe. Will you be there?"
"Maybe," she said, then hung up.
********
USNA Chapel
1125 local
Harm took one last glance around before beginning to escort his mother
into the chapel, Sergei, Grandma Sarah, and Frank following behind. No sign of
Mercedes at all, he noted with disappointment, even as he helped his mother to
her seat in the front pew reserved for family.
Once everyone was situated, Harm couldn't help but stare at the flag
draped casket at the front. After all these years, and all the searching, the
struggles, and the pain, his Dad was finally home.
The Chaplain stepped up to the podium, collecting his thoughts to
speak, when a murmur arose from the back of the Chapel. Twisting around, he
stared in amazement.
Mercedes had arrived, and in full regalia. She wore a sharply
tailored black suit, the floor length skirt ending in a small train. The
severe, form-fitting cut of the jacket was offset by the froth of white lace at
her chin and cuffs, as well as by the red sash bedecked with various pins and
medals and a large gold collar of office she wore. Harm noted the heavy gold
ring on her right hand, remembering back years ago when she'd shown it to him;
it was the Von Kleist family seal. Her blonde hair was in an elegant French
twist, and a shoulder-length veil was secured with a pair of ornate gold combs.
For her part, Mercedes knew she wasn't going to be able to attend
unnoticed; someone would see her for certain, and then drag her into a family
reunion she wasn't prepared to deal with. So instead, she'd taken the opposite
approach, pulling out her familial version of a full dress uniform. Besides,
her uncle deserved the honor.
But with the eyes of everyone present on her, Mercedes was having
second thoughts. She shouldn't be here, but it was too late now, wasn't it?
And where the hell was she going to sit? She certainly couldn't join her
family...
In the second row behind Harm, AJ Chegwidden watched the proceedings
with interest. Amazing how this family kept surprising everyone. He noted the
conflicted look on the Commander's face, and leaned forward. "Commander," he
whispered in an undertone, "Shall I ask your cousin to join us?"
Harm looked at his CO in relief, gratitude evident on his face.
"That would be much appreciated, sir," he whispered back.
AJ nodded, then stood and made his way back to where Harm's cousin
stood. She wanted to play it formal, well, then, so would he.
He stopped in front of her, bowing slightly. "Admiral A.J. Chegwidden," he
said, by way of introduction and greeting.
In return, she half-bowed, half-curtseyed, extending her right hand.
"Mercedes Portia Rabb Grafin von Kleist," she replied.
Well, *that's* a mouthful, AJ thought. "Would you care to join us?"
She nodded, placing her hand on his offered arm. AJ escorted her
back to the pew, where they both took their seats. Mercedes simply nodded at
Harm and his family, and AJ noted the odd look she shot toward Clayton Webb.
But then any emotion was gone, the stoic, stone-faced demeanor firmly back in
place as the Chaplain began the service.
The Chaplain spoke briefly, then gestured to Harm, indicating it was his
turn to speak. He felt Mac give his hand a reassuring squeeze, then made his way
to the podium.
He looked around, uncertain. He'd spent hours writing and rewriting
speeches, trying to come up with a few words that would be adequate. But as
seemed to be typical, when it mattered most, his eloquence deserted him.
Swallowing hard, he looked down at the empty podium in front of him and
decided to simply speak his mind.
"Thirty-two years," he began hesitantly. "For thirty-two years, he was
lost. It doesn't matter where. What mattered was that he wasn't here. Far
from home, far from those who loved him and missed him."
He paused, glancing around at the sea of faces. Mac's was sad but
warmly supportive, as were those of his mother and grandmother. Sergei's face
was a mask of Russian-bred solemnity. Mercedes was stone-faced and
expressionless, a perfect facade of decorum... except that as he watched, a lone
tear streamed from the corner of her eye.
"We all kept hoping, and some of us searched as best we could.
Eventually, some answers came to light, but even then... he was still gone, far
from where he belonged." He paused, taking a deep breath. "And then, he was
found."
"The person who found him... she knew it would be nearly impossible to
bring him home. But she did, despite everything." He paused, searching out her
face. "And for that, Mercedes, I'll never be able to thank you enough."
He stepped down, intending to return to his seat. But as he approached,
his cousin slowly stood, then moved to approach him. Without a second's thought,
Harm walked to her and embraced her in a fierce hug that lasted for quite some
time.
When they finally parted, tears were streaming down Mercedes's face, and
several tears had left their paths down Harm's cheeks. He took her hands in his,
then leaned down. "Go. You should say something," He urged quietly, nodding
toward the podium.
Her eyes went wide in surprise and mild alarm. "Are you sure? I don't
know..."
"Go," he told her, giving her a gentle push towards it before resuming
his seat.
Hesitantly, she made he way to stand behind the podium, lowering her
gaze for a moment as she searched for words. "I fear I'm at a loss for words,
and must beg your indulgence," she began, her voice softened by an atypical hint
of an accent. "It was so long ago when we lost my Uncle, that my memories of
him are limited at best. What I do remember is his extraordinarily kind and
loyal nature-- a trait clearly passed on to his son," she added with a ghost of
a smile.
"I was going to stay away today, for reasons I won't go into." She
paused, searching for her words. "But I realized I'd never said goodbye. So I
came."
She stopped again, at a loss. She looked around, trying to search out
the words for all she wished to express. And that was when she noticed the
piano off to one side of the altar.
She glanced at the chaplain, nodding towards the piano. "May I?" she
whispered. He nodded his assent, and she crossed to the instrument. Pausing in
front of in, she turned back to the assembled crowd. "My own words seem
inadequate, so, with your grace, I'll borrow someone else's," she said with a
faint smile, then moved to take a seat at the bench.
Back in the crowd, Mac leaned toward Harm. "What's she going to do?"
"I don't know," he replied, a bit nervously.
They watched as Mercedes briefly massaged and stretched her hands.
Then, almost moving in slow motion, her long, pale hands moved over the keys,
bringing forth a simple, plaintive melody. A moment later, she began to sing,
in a clear but rich-sounding mezzo soprano.
"Fear no more the heat o' the sun
Nor the furious winters' rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' th' great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust."
*******
Her hands stilled over the keys, the song finished. No one moved, no
sound was made. Slowly, she withdrew her hands from the keyboard and stood,
then returned to her seat, not daring to look at anyone.
Awkward silence reigned for a moment longer, before the Chaplain
returned to the podium, thanking everyone for their attendance. Gradually, as
if awakened from a long slumber, the crowd began to move and file out of the
chapel.
Mercedes made to leave, but Harm reached out, catching her by the arm as
the rest of the group got to their feet. "Mercedes, wait."
"Yes?" She turned to face him, her face a carefully-schooled mask.
He motioned to a young, sandy-haired man that had been sitting next to
Sarah Rabb. Mercedes was surprised to notice he had the same unusual blue-green
eyes as Harm and herself. She glanced at her cousin, an eyebrow arched in a
silent question.
Her answer was an introduction. "Mercedes, I'd like you to meet my
brother, Sergei Zuhkov," Harm said quietly.
"A pleasure," Sergei said gravely, bowing slightly over the hand
Mercedes had extended automatically. "Harm tells me we are cousins...?"
"Second cousins," She clarified, her voice unsteady, "not that it makes
a difference." She wasn't ready for this, dammit. She saw her Aunt Trish and
Great Aunt Sarah getting ready to approach her. No, no, no.... "It is a
pleasure to meet you, Sergei, but if you'll excuse me for a moment. Harm. A
word, please?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice calm, even as she forcibly
pulled him aside.
"Mercedes, what..?" Harm whispered as she dragged him a few feet away
from the group.
"Listen to me. I can not do this. Not now," She hissed forcibly. "This
was why I wasn't going to come in the first place."
"Then why did you?"
"Because I owed it to your Dad, and I was informed there was someone
here I should meet." She paused to catch her breath, and sighed. "Please, Harm.
I know I've got a lot of fences to mend, but I just can't do it now," She
pleaded.
Harm looked down at his cousin. Outwardly calm and composed, he could
see the wild panic beginning to creep into her eyes. "All right," he relented.
"Go. I'll tell them you weren't feeling well or something. In fact, wait a
minute." He quickly turned and walked over to his mother and grandmother,
talking quietly.
Returning, he offered her his arm. "I told them you were ill and
needed to leave," he whispered, before returning to normal speaking voice.
"Now, Grafin, may I escort you to your vehicle?" he asked, making an exaggerated
show of it.
"I would be delighted, sir," Mercedes replied. Taking his arm, she
muttered, "You twit."
*****
Outside, Harm escorted her to the large Mercedes-Benz sedan. "No limo
and driver?" he inquired, half-jokingly.
She gave him a dirty look. "Like I ever let anyone else drive," she
shot back, then paused. "Look, Harm.... I'm sorry. For everything. I..."
He reached up to brush her cheek affectionately. "CD... you brought
him home. I meant what I said; I'll never be able to thank you enough for
that."
"I know, it's just...."
Harm could see the struggle inside; for the first time that day, her
emotions were clearly shown on her face. "Hey... It can take a while to work
through things. I know. Just promise me one thing."
She looked up at him. "What?"
"When you do, call me?"
She nodded. "I can do that."
They embraced briefly, then she climbed in the car. He backed up as the engine fired. He felt, more than saw, Mac approach. "Everything okay?"
He looked at her, a warm, genuine smile on his face and a new lightness in his heart. "Yeah, Mac. Everything's looking good."
FIN
**********
AN: The song used is "Cymbeline", recorded by Loreena McKennitt. For the
curious, a sample of it can be found at the following site:
Scroll down to the album entitled "The Visit", and it is the last song listed.
Full lyrics and music & lyric credits below.
*********
CYMBELINE
Music by Loreena McKennit. Words by William Shakespeare
Fear no more the heat o' the sun
Nor the furious winters' rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' th' great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.