Part 6



1543 Zulu

3 February 2004

Oasis in Afghan Desert

Afghanistan

Harm opened his eyes groggily and turned his head. "Sarah?" he whispered hoarsely. He'd been dreaming of her, and part of him hoped that he was really at home. The last thing he remembered was staggering away from his downed F-14, and if it weren't for the unfamiliar smells around him, he would have thought that he was in the Patrick Henry's sickbay. Weakly, he lifted his hands to rub his eyes.

"Sarah?" Harm called again, his voice raspy from disuse. A small boy hurried over and put a hand on his chest to prevent him from attempting to get up. The boy chattered to him in an unfamiliar language before calling someone over. A woman leaned over him and began feeling his face and forehead. She said something, then pressed a cool cloth to his forehead, and covered him with another blanket.

Harm shivered, allowing himself to feel for the first time how cold he was. "Sarah," he whispered again, as the woman held a cup against his lips and helped him drink. It was water, cold and clear; it felt wonderful running down his parched throat. He drank until the cup was removed, then shivered again. He closed his eyes against the sensation as a soft hand stroked his brow and began to sing softly. Lulled by the melody, Harm drifted off to sleep.



30 January 2004

0430 Zulu, 2330 Local

Mac's Apartment

Georgetown

Mac tiptoed into Mattie's room, and pulled the blankets up, tucking them in around the girl securely. She stroked the child's hair before kissing her gently on her tearstained cheek. "It'll be okay, Mattie," she whispered. "I'm not going to let the courts give you to Harm's parents."

Mattie stirred, turning over in her sleep, and knocking the blankets loose. Mac walked back into the living room, shutting the door gently behind her. She walked to the couch and slumped down on it before reaching for the phone. Quickly, she dialed the Admiral's phone number, and waited while it rang.

"Sorry to disturb you at home, Admiral, especially so late," she said.

"Mac, it's okay… Meredith and I are still up. Is there anything I can help with?"

Mac bit her lip. It was obvious from her CO's voice that he was trying to be kind because of Harm's alleged death, but right now she didn't need sympathy. "Sir, I received word today that Harm's parents are suing for custody of Mattie," she blurted out, trying to give the news as fast as possible before she lost her nerve.

"Colonel Mackenzie, you'll need somebody to act as your lawyer, and I'd be happy to do it. Did Harm make any arrangements concerning Mattie in case something happened to him?"

"Yes, sir. Harm made me her guardian in case something happened to her, and gave me the right to act in her behalf while he was gone. Sir, there wasn't much time, but he *did* ask Sturgis to be her guardian ad litem just in case her father came back before he got home."

"Mac, I'll tell Coates to work you in first thing Monday, and we'll fix this. Mattie is going to stay with you if I have anything to say about it."

"Thank you, sir," Mac's throat began to close with tears as she and the admiral said their goodbyes, and she set the phone back in its cradle. She had no doubts that Harm was alive, but she still had the irrational fear that this time he wouldn't manage to make it home to her. If she lost Mattie, it would be one of her last tangible links to him being ripped away.

Mac reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and wrapped it around herself, needing the physical comfort it provided. She rubbed her face against it, feeling very much like the neglected little girl she had once been, before she stood and made her way to the window. "Come home, Harm," she whispered. "We need you."

Mac closed her eyes and made a wish on the first star she saw through the window. The stars twinkled through their concealing blanked of smog, reminding her that somewhere in Afghanistan, her sailor was under the same sky, hopefully trying to come home to her. She turned from the window, and picked up a stack of paperwork before heading for her bedroom. Sleep would not come easily; it never did for her, but at least she could get some work done before going back the next day to face another day without her flyboy.



31 January 2004

1450 Zulu

Harm's Apartment

North of Union Station

Trish added another book to the half-full box in front of her, and glanced around her son's last home. There was a pile of bedding at the end of the couch that she hadn't packed away yet, probably from Mattie's stay in the loft. She'd also come across a file filled with house ads, as if he had been searching for a place before he had received his orders. She paused as her eyes lit on a picture of her son with his ward.

"Frank?" she called.

Frank walked out of the bedroom, and dusted off his hands. "What is it, honey?" he asked.

Trish held up the picture, her eyes filling with tears yet again. "Do you think we're doing the right thing?" she asked, her throat tight. "Mattie is the last thing we have left of him."

Frank sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms. "Honey, Mattie needs a stable home, and we have that to provide. We can give her things that Mac can't." He paused and stared at the picture. "I miss him too," he choked out. "I loved him as if he were my son."

"I know you did, darling," Trish said, reaching up to caress his cheek. "Harmon is gone, but we can raise our granddaughter, and keep his memory alive."

Frank leaned forward and kissed her gently. "Honey, we'll do our best, and Mac would never deny us the chance to spend time with her, anyway."

Trish leaned back against him, taking strength from his presence. "I want Harm back," she whispered, fighting back tears. "It's not *right* that he's gone."

Frank was silent, and simply stroked his wife's hair. "What would you do," he asked finally, "if Harm came walking through that door right now?"

Trish laughed sadly. "Probably what I did when he came back from Laos--hug him tightly, then tear into him for scaring me half to death." Her voice lowered. "If he came back, I'm not sure I'd ever want to let him out of my sight again."

Frank dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "I feel the same way," he murmured. The couple fell silent; each lost to their own grief and inner turmoil. They drew strength from each other, for neither could survive the loss of their only child without the other.



5 February 2004

2256 Zulu

Afghan Desert

Afghanistan

Fatima checked the stranger's wounds, and smiled, satisfied that they were healing.

"Mama?"

Fatima turned around to find her son standing behind her. "What is it, Ahmed?" she asked.

"How is the stranger? Is he better? Papa says that we cannot delay much longer; we have to get our salt to the market," Ahmed said.

Fatima took the child's hand and pressed it to the stranger's forehead. "He is less hot than he was, and we can take him with us. The stranger is healing; we should be able to return him to his own people soon."

Ahmed grinned, and patted the stranger's cheek. "Did he say anything about 'Sarah'?"

Fatima shot him a reproachful look. "Ahmed! Even if he did, he doesn't speak our language, and we shouldn't pry into things that are not our business. He is recovering, and that is enough."

Ahmed had the grace to look chastened. "Yes, Mama," he said, "I must go tell Papa about the stranger." He hurried out of the tent, leaving her alone with her patient. Fatima pulled the blankets up around him and smoothed his hair back from his face. He had made it far enough that she was sure that he would recover; their biggest problem would be finding a way to get him home to the wife and daughter in his picture. When they did, he would finally be back with the 'Sarah' he called out for in his sleep.



2 February 2004

1303 Zulu

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, Virginia

Mac knocked on the Admiral's door and entered when she heard him give permission. She came to attention before his desk. "Reporting as ordered, sir," she said.

"At ease, Colonel," he answered. "I'm not your CO right now, Mac; I'm your lawyer. Have a seat."

"Yes, sir," Mac murmured, sinking into one of the large leather chairs in front of the Admiral's desk.

"Do you have the paperwork?" he asked gently.

Without a word, Mac handed over a thick packet of papers, and began to examine her lap as if it were the most important thing in the world. "Sir," she said abruptly, "what are the chances of the family court letting me keep Mattie?" She twisted her engagement ring around her finger. "I mean, I have to travel for investigations, and I know that they don't like to give custody to people in the armed services."

AJ looked up from the paperwork and smiled. "That *is* usually the case, Colonel, but Commander Rabb *did* leave you as Mattie's legal guardian in case anything happened." He turned another page. "Mac, I'll make sure that you get to keep her, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Mac whispered, fighting back a strange sense of deja vu.

"I always endeavor not to," he answered. "Mac, the court date isn't for three weeks, the family court dockets are always crowded, so we have time. We'll work with the fact that legally, you have custody, and see what happens from there. Mattie is also old enough to say who she wants to live with, so she can speak in your behalf."

"Sir? Should we use the fact that Mattie's life is stable for the first time in a year?" Mac asked. "She's better off not being uprooted and moved all the way to California."

"I'll see what I can do." AJ stood, and walked around the desk. "Mac, this *will* work out."

"Yes, sir." Mac stood up and looked at her CO. "May I be dismissed, sir?"

"Yes--dismissed."

Mac came to attention. "Yes, sir." She turned, left the room, and headed towards her office. She walked in, shut the door behind her, picked up a picture of Harm, and sank down into her chair. "Hurry home, flyboy," she murmured.

Mac kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them to the image. "I know you're not dead, Harm; you need prove them wrong." With a heavy sigh, she set the picture back down, grabbed the nearest file, and started looking through it. Her sailor had beat the odds more than once, and there was no reason why he couldn't do it again.



3 February 2004

2350 Zulu

Roberts's House

Mattie finished feeding Jimmy his bottle, then burped him carefully on her diaper-covered shoulder. Baby-sitting wasn't her favorite occupation, but the money would come in handy for the new computer flight-simulator that she wanted. Even though flying had taken her guardian's life, it was all she had ever wanted to do, and she couldn't help but think that becoming a fighter pilot like Harm would be a fitting tribute to his memory.

Mattie rocked the baby gently until his eyes fluttered shut, then got up, and placed him in the bassinet. She went downstairs and sat down beside little AJ. "Hey, kiddo," she said.

"Hi Mattie," AJ stared at the model plane in his hand. "Are you gonna play with me, and not the stupid baby?"

Mattie lifted the child into her lap. "AJ, why do you think that Jimmy is stupid?"

AJ leaned back into her. "A'cause nobody pays any attention to me anymore," he said with a sigh. "They only worry about the *baby*, and he's no fun, a'cause all he does is cry. Uncle Harm used ta play with me, but he's gone to Heaven, and nobody 'cept for me an' Aunt Mac cares."

Mattie hugged the little boy tightly. "I care," she murmured. "Other people care, too, they're just trying to make things be normal again."

AJ went on, not really paying attention. "Aunt Mac used ta play with me too, but she's too sad now." Tears welled up in his eyes. "I miss Uncle Harm." He looked up at Mattie. "Do you miss him, too?"

"All the time," came Mattie's hoarse reply. "He didn't have to volunteer to be my dad, but he did; he and Mac are the first grownups that really cared about me in a long time."

AJ turned and hugged her, nestling down in her arms. The two children sat and held each other, and silent tears ran down their faces. Mattie kissed the top of AJ's head. Finally, they had someone they could talk to that not only understood, but who would simply lend their presence. They made an odd pair to give comfort to one another, but somehow it fit. The teenager had found a younger brother, and the child had found an older sister whom which to share the grief of their hero's death.