~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part 7
~~~~~~~~~~~~
1049 Zulu
16 February 2004
Outskirts of a small town
Afghanistan
Harm leaned wearily against the side of the building, and waited for his keeper to show up. The man spoke a minimal amount of English, but it was better than nothing. He swore to himself that he'd get Mac to teach him how to speak Farsi as soon as he made it back to the states. He was sure that he could have learned much more about his situation if he spoke even *one* of the languages from the region. His caretakers had been kind to him, but he still tired easily. He hated the feeling of being helpless, but he had to face the fact that he wasn't twenty anymore; he just didn't heal as fast as he used to.
Harm looked up as a shadow fell over him. "Hi."
The man nodded in response, then squatted down beside him. "We go," he offered. "American soldiers."
"You're going to take me to the Americans?" Harm asked, a large smile spreading over his face.
The man nodded again, then held up seven fingers. "Will take this many." He paused, and seemed to struggle for the words.
"Seven days?" Harm asked eagerly.
The man nodded, patted him on the knee, then rose. "Rest, get better."
Harm nodded and closed his eyes. Home. Just the thought of the word made him want to jump up and get going. The sooner he could get home, the sooner he could go back to Mac. He knew that she *had* to be worried about him. He didn't even know how much time had passed; between the blood loss, concussion, and fever, he'd been pretty out of it. From the way his leg throbbed and the cut on his chest felt, it wouldn't surprise him if there was still some lingering infection. After all, his caretakers hadn't done much more than bandage them, and the leg wound, at least, was pretty deep.
Harm pulled out the picture of his marine that he had been carrying around since shipping out. He kissed his index finger and put it against her face. "I'll be home soon, Sarah, I promise." He put her picture back in his pocket, climbed carefully to his feet, and limped painfully towards his caretakers. They would be leaving soon, and since he couldn't walk fast yet, he's have to ride a camel again. A young boy ran towards him, chattering in their unfamiliar tongue. The boy motioned towards a camel, so Harm carefully pulled himself onto it, wincing as his sore leg bumped into the animal. Only a few short days, and he would be home.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
1800 Zulu
23 February 2004
Outside a Marine Encampment
Somewhere in Afghanistan
Harm waved goodbye to his benefactors as they left. He had wanted to give them something for their help, but the older man had assured him in broken English that they had been happy to help, and required no reward. He turned around and limped closer to camp, heavily favoring his injured leg. He approached the sentry. "Sergeant, I'm Commander Harmon David Rabb, Jr, United States Navy," he said with a cough, "and I need to see your CO."
The sentry examined him for a few moments. "I need to see some identification, please," the man requested.
Harm pulled his dog tags out, and handed them over. "That's all I've got on me, Sergeant; the rest is back on my ship."
The sergeant examined the tags, then spoke into his radio. Within minutes, two officers came and escorted him to the command tent. One of them knocked on the frame. "Enter," came a voice from inside.
Harm coughed again, then went inside and came to attention in front of the Colonel. "Commander Harmon David Rabb, Jr. service number 508959334 reporting, sir!"
"Have a seat, Commander," the Colonel said, pointing towards a chair.
Harm sat down gratefully. "Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome. We received a report about you, since the crash site isn't that far from here by helo. Commander... do you realize that you've been missing for almost two months?"
Harm's eyes widened. "Two months? No, sir, I didn't know!"
"And how could you not know, Commander?"
Harm pulled up this tattered pant leg to show the Colonel his leg. "I was wounded, by flying shrapnel when my plane exploded, sir. I collapsed soon afterwards, and was picked up by nomads... I've been pretty out of it, sir."
The colonel looked at his leg and grimaced. "Corpsman!"
A corpsman hurried into the room and came to attention. "Reporting as ordered, sir!"
"Get the medic in here--the commander probably shouldn't be putting weight on that leg."
"Sir, yes sir." The corpsman executed a perfect snap turn, then hurried out of the room.
"What was your last duty station?" the colonel asked.
"The Patrick Henry, sir."
"I'll call them to let them know that you've been found--welcome home, sailor." The colonel picked up his phone and started to dial.
"Thank you, sir." Harm fell silent, then spoke again. "Colonel, after you notify Captain Ingles, would it be possible to call JAG Headquarters?"
The Colonel put his hand over the mouthpiece and looked at Harm, puzzled. "Aren't you a pilot, Commander?"
"Yes, sir, but I'm also a lawyer; before I got called back to active flight status, I was a JAG, and I'd like to think that after this is over, I'll be going back there. I'm sure that Admiral Chegwidden wants to know that I followed his orders; I'm still alive. My fiancee, my ward, and my mother are probably also worried sick."
"I'll take care of it, Commander--now let the medic attend to your leg." The colonel motioned to the medic and the corpsman behind him. "Corpsman, you can help the Commander to the infirmary tent."
"Sir, yes sir," the corpsman said, helping Harm up. The medic assisted and they walked towards the infirmary tent.
Finally the phone call went through. "Captain Ingles, this is Colonel Williams. We seem to have found an aviator that y'all mislaid..."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
1400 Zulu
24 February 2004
Sickbay
USS Patrick Henry
Undisclosed Location
Harm flipped listlessly through a book that Skates had brought him, and resisted the urge to scratch his healing wounds. His friends were all on duty, and a guy could only sleep for so long before he got all slept out. They were sending him home on the COD the next morning, but until then, he was stuck in sickbay with antibiotics being pumped into him.
It was worse than his last hospital stay; as bad as daytime TV was, watching it was better than staring at blank walls. He threw the book down on the bed in disgust, and heaved a sigh.
"Bored, Commander?"
Harm looked up and started in surprise. "Admiral Chegwidden!" He started to attempt to struggle to his feet but was stopped with a motion from his CO.
"Stay where you are, son. I caught the first transport out as soon as I heard that you obeyed orders for once and stayed alive."
"You didn't have to do that, sir--" he began.
"The hell I didn't! I need you to sit there for a few minutes and let me talk, son. Reports of your death made me do a lot of thinking, and it made me realize how wrong I've been these past few months." AJ came closer and laid his hand on Harm's shoulder. "I realized that I need to apologize for some of the unfair things I've said; I'm sorry, Harm."
"I... forgave you a long time ago, Admiral," Harm said quietly, and tried to come to terms with the fact that his CO just admitted that he could be wrong. "Coming back to JAG helped a lot."
"So, I take it that you wouldn't be too upset if you were reassigned to JAG Headquarters?"
Harm grinned. "No, *sir*."
"Good. We're taking the morning COD out, and you're going straight to Bethesda when we get back. Until you're fit to return to active duty, I intend to have you behind a desk back at JAG where you belong."
"Sir? Does my family and everybody at JAG know that I'm alive?"
AJ smiled. "Not yet. I've ordered everyone from JAG to be there, and I strongly suggested to your parents that they show up. Mac got Mattie out of school, they're meeting us at Andrews Air Force Base, and the Roberts are even bringing the boys."
"Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome. Now get some rest," AJ turned and started to leave the room, "that's an order!" he called over his shoulder.
"Aye, aye sir." Harm said, then pulled the blankets up a bit. The thought of going home had never sounded so good. Soon, he'd be able to marry his marine and reach for the happily ever after he'd always heard about.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
1637 Zulu
25 February 2004
Andrews AFB
Harm drummed his fingers against the armrest impatiently. He *hated* flying when he wasn't the pilot. It just didn't feel right not to be in control of the aircraft. He blew out a breath, frustrated.
"We're just about to land, Commander. You can relax; they'll all be glad to have you back."
"Aye, sir," he replied, then breathed a sigh of relief when they finally taxied down the runway and came to a stop.
Harm stood up, grabbed his cane, and limped towards the door. "Slow down, son. They've got a wheelchair waiting for you that they need to go get." AJ ordered.
"But Admiral--"
"No buts. We've just got you back, and I don't intend to lose you again; I need O-5s too much."
"Aye, aye sir," Harm said, resentful of his temporary limitations. He wanted to run down the stairs, onto the tarmac and find Mac, not be wheeled out in a stupid wheelchair. The door opened, and he carefully made his way down the steps and sat down obediently in the wheelchair. The admiral followed him, grabbed the handles of the chair, and started pushing him towards a rather large group of people. They stopped a few feet away, and Harm stood up.
"The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated," he said, flashing a big grin. "I always *wanted* to say that."
They stood there for a few moments, shocked, before Mac broke away, ran over, threw her arms around him, and started to cover as much as his face as she could manage with kisses. He dropped the cane in favor of holding her, and began to return fire. Finally, she zeroed in on his lips and kissed him until neither one of them could breathe. "I *knew* you weren't dead," she said, as she gasped for air.
It was then that the rest of the crew seemed to break free of their shock and came forward. Mattie threw herself at him and hugged him, hard. "You kept your promise," she said, tears running down her cheeks. "Mac was right!" She buried her face in his side.
Little AJ leaned forward from Bud's arms, and Harm barely managed to catch him amid much back-slapping and hugs from everyone else. "I *knowed* you'd come back, Uncle Harm. Mommy said that God called you back to Heaven, but I *knowed* that you weren't there yet." He pressed a sloppy, wet kiss to Harm's cheek, then wiggled to get down. Harm dropped a kiss on the crown of little AJ's head and complied.
"You picked the right time to come back from the dead, flyboy," Mac whispered in his ear. "Your parents were suing me for custody of Mattie, and the hearing was set for day after tomorrow; it got delayed when the family court docket got backed up."
"They *what*?" Harm said, finally noticing his mom and Frank standing to one side. He stepped forward, using Mac and Mattie rather than the cane that still lay on the asphalt. "Mom, Frank, how *could* you? Mattie's been through a lot, and I gave Mac custody for a *reason*."
Trish started to respond, but Harm cut her off. He was jetlagged, tired, and his not-yet healed wounds were really starting to *hurt*. "We'll talk about this *later*. I need to get that medical examination that the Admiral is insisting on, then I want to go home with my ward and my finacee." Harm walked forward, tossing back an acknowledgment at Harriet's promise of a welcome home party for the next night. All he wanted was his own bed, preferably with Mac in it to keep him company. He knew that even if they hadn't decided to wait, he wasn't up to it yet, but he could still hold her. That way, he could convince himself that coming home wasn't another by product of the fever he'd had on and off for the last month.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
