Why?

By Fiona Rabb

Standard Disclaimers: Jag and the characters from Jag are not mine, never will be, not making any money off of 'em.

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~this is my first fan fiction. Please feel free to review, I can take flames as long as they are constructive flaming! :) Seriously, I want to know the good and the bad. How can I get better if no one lets me know where I am weak. Thanks!~

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It is night. I hate the night, I hate the darkness. Night is when I have nothing left to distract me and I am left alone to wonder 'Why?' Six servicemen and three servicewomen under my command went into that town on a mission, and only two came back.

Sgt. Robert Freeman, Lt. Ben Larson, Lt. Terrance Mann, Ensign Lance Elliot, Pvt. James Kern, Pvt. Donna Lyman, and Lt. Julie Ballinger. Those names never leave my head, especially at night. Five brave men and two courageous women dead. Killed in action while under my command, and yet I lived. 'WHY?'

It was supposed to have been a non-combative mission: surveillance, information gathering, nothing more than that. We set up our equipment, listen in, record conversations, and sift through it all to find the important bit of information and report it. I was in command because of my language skills, along with the fact that I have worked with Webb on missions before. It was suppose to be in and out in three days, three days.

Instead, they had known we were coming, we hadn't even finished unpacking our equipment, let alone set it up, when the door flew open. Many armed men stormed the house we were to use as a headquarters. We defended ourselves as best as we could, but it wasn't enough. I watched Ensign Elliot's eyes as they put a bullet into his heart. I saw the fear, the pain, and the acceptance of death in his green eyes. I still see his eyes in my dreams.

'WHY?' Why did this happen, how did they know, who told them? Questions I still don't have answers too, I don't think I ever will.

They tied our hands behind our backs, both at the wrist and at the elbow. It was so tight I was afraid I was going to dislocate my shoulder if I breathed in too deeply. The pain of it burned hotly, and then slowly drained away as numbness replaced it. They bound our feet as well, before forcing blindfolds on us. I never saw another thing after that moment for the next four weeks.

The blackness was....there are no words to describe the blackness you see when you know those around you are being tortured and injured, but you don't know who is doing it and you don't know which of your people is receiving it. That was the worst part of it all. Not knowing who was there, hearing the screams, the agony carried by the cries, the sobs, the pleading for it to stop, the begging for mercy, but there was none to be found. No, no mercy to be found for the seven soldiers who died in that building. 'Why, why was I spared, why did I live?'

It wasn't bad when they chose me as their victim of the day. It gave me some control over the situation. I knew if they were torturing me, then the others were being left alone. They quickly realized that I was determined not to be broken, and made it their goal to do just that. I had hoped they would take the challenge. The more time they spent with me the less time they would have for the others. I am not a stranger to pain, hell I spent my childhood learning how to distance myself from physical reactions. It came in very handy during those four weeks. When the beatings began to become unbearable, I would leave. I would shut down the part of my brain that was aware of reality, and go to a place where it wasn't dark. More often than not I would end up with Harm. Sometimes Bud and Harriet were there with baby AJ, sometimes we were in the court room, other times it was just Harm and I watching a movie or having dinner. After a while I would 'check' on myself, to see if they were still hurting me. If they were I would stay were I was with Harm, but if they had stopped, then I had to come back to reality. No matter how much it hurt afterwards I always forced myself to come back, I owed it to those with me to try and remember what went on in that building. I can tell you exactly when Pvt. Lyman died. They were beating her on the second day of the third week, she called out, screamed at them "Please I know nothing I am of no use to you!" One of our captors replied "If you say so." and shot her. I heard the shot and the thump as her body hit the ground, I often hear that sound when I see Ensign Elliot's eyes in my dreams. It is the sound of death, it is only right that it should come to me with the look of death as well. They were the only two who died before they day of the Rescue.

That day was different from the start. They woke us all up and gathered us, placing us side by side. This was the first time any of us had been allowed to touch another human in four weeks and one day. I don't care what anyone says, knowing the exact time all the time is not always a blessing. They told us to sit up straight. You could tell they were worried, they were rushing around, sounded nervous. They told us that while they had enjoyed our entertainment, they had to say goodbye, then the shooting started. I felt the bullets enter my body, one in my arm, one in my chest on the right side near my shoulder. I fell backwards and hit my head on the floor. Then next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital in Germany.

I was told by the doctors that the SEAL's had stormed the building just minutes after our captors had shot us. When they got there only four of us were still alive; Lt. Cmdr. Emily Hillsdale, Pvt. Nick Wilson, Lt. Ben Larson, and myself. Lt. Larson died in transport. So now as I lay here in a soft hospital bed in Germany I wonder, 'Why did I live while the others died?'

'Why?' I have not cried, I haven't let myself, there is too much to cry about. I know if I start I won't be able to stop, and there have been so many people around in and out of my room. The debriefings, checking wounds, taking readings, so many people in and out of my room, all looking at me. But it is night and everyone is in the darkness now, not just me. 'Why? I should not be here, but I am. Why? I don't understand, I am no better than those who died, so why am I alive and they are dead!'

A single tear escapes from my eye, followed by another and another and another, until I am sobbing into the darkness. The darkness who was formerly my enemy, and is now my ally. I hide in the darkness, I hide my shame, my guilt, and my fear.

A slash of light appears from the doorway as it is opened. I don't want anyone to see me like this, but I can't stop the tears or the sobs that are ripped from my throat. I cover my face, still trying to hide. I hear footsteps rush over to the bed, and the mattress shift as someone sits down on it next to me.

"Mac? Sarah, it's me, Harm." I hear his voice, I can't believe he is here. But I can't face him right now, I can't face anyone right now. I feel arms go around me as he pulls me into his lap. He shifts around to lean against the head of the bed and rocks me gently. He doesn't say anything, just holds me as I sob. Suddenly I know 'why'. I know why I am still alive; it is the love of this man. If I had died it would have killed two people, that is why I am alive. I have been given a second chance, we have been given a second chance, and I am not going to blow it this time. A peace settles over me then, and I am able to stop crying and sleep a dreamless sleep, in the arms of the man I love.