Disclaimer: I don't own JAG. But hey, if you're looking to get rid of it, I'll take it.

A/N: This story takes place after Iron Coffin. I know the plot's been done to death, but honestly, there's only so many ways we poor fanfiction writers can atone for the sins of the actual show's writers past season 4.

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En route from Norfolk to Georgetown

Mac

            "Colonel?"

            I glance up from the report I'm reviewing and look over at Bud, who drew the short stick and got stuck driving us home from our completed investigation in Norfolk.

            "What's on your mind, Lieutenant?"

            He looks over at the report in my lap and then back out at the road. "I don't want to interrupt, ma'am. But I have a problem…it's kind of personal matter."

            Bud gives me another nervous look and I shake my head. I always find his propensity to ask for my help in personal matters endearing, if only because I know he wouldn't bring it up if he didn't respect my opinion.

            "Bud, just ask me. And please call me Mac. We're not in the office."

            "Yes, ma'am," he replies automatically. I smile, resigned. "I mean Mac. Harriet's birthday is next week."

            "Ah." I grin, setting aside the report of our actions in Norfolk. This is way more interesting. "Trying to figure out what to get her?"

            He nods, eyes leaving the road long enough to look imploringly up at me. "If you had any ideas, ma'am, I could really use some help."

            "Well, do you have any idea what she wants? Has she mentioned anything?"

            He shakes his head, crestfallen. "She said she'll love whatever I get her, but I know I'm going to get it wrong, ma'am."

            I laugh. "There's no wrong answer, Bud, but I don't think it'll hurt if I give you a few pointers."

            "Thanks, ma'am," he says, looking comically relieved. "I've really got no clue where to start."

            "Well, diamonds are a girl's best friend. What about –"

            I'm cut off as what feels like a giant sledgehammer smacks into the passenger's side of the car. I think I see an 18-wheeler in a surreal upside-down position as the rental car flips over, and then I clench my eyes shut against the pain exploding in my head as everything goes black.

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Two hours later…

JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, VA

Tiner

            "JAG Headquarters, Petty Officer Tiner speaking…yes ma'am, let me find him for you." I rise from my desk and make my way to Commander Rabb's office, reaching the door at the same time the older man emerges with his briefcase in his hand. He rolls his eyes.

            "Tiner, can't it wait until tomorrow?" he pleads. "I've been here for more than fourteen hours."

            "It's Bethesda Naval Hospital calling, sir," I reply, feeling a little sorry for the obviously exhausted commander. "Line one."

            He sighs heavily. "Thanks, Tiner." Taking the five steps over to Lieutenant Sims' empty desk, he picks up her phone and transfers the call. "Commander Rabb," he says, and pauses for a moment. "Yes, that's me."

            As he listens, his face goes completely white, and his free hand grabs the edge of Lt. Sims' desk. "When? Is she all right?" he demands. He doesn't seem to like the answer. "I'll be right there," he promises, slamming the phone down into the receiver. He looks up and finds me still watching him, slack-jawed.

            "Tiner, call Lieutenant Sims and have her meet me at Bethesda," he calls over his shoulder, running for the stairs. "It's Mac and Bud. There's been an accident."

            Those words hit me like a sucker punch, and I grab blindly for the phone he just hung up as he disappears through the double doors.