Chapter 5: Medals Over Lunch
Disclaimer: All characters from the television show JAG and the show itself are the property of CBS and Donald P. Belisario. The characters Ron Allen, Matthew and Samantha Rabb, story, and storyline contained herein is the intellectual property of J.S. Levin copyright June 1, 2004 and may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the author's consent. Inquiries may be directed to the email address contained in the author's profile.
Spoilers: Through Season 10
A/N: I have yet to see an episode where Beltway Burgers is actually shown. I doubt that it is a real establishment, but I'm not sure, as I do not live anywhere around Washington. Therefore, if it is real, please forgive any butchering of the menu. I doubt the flat spin thing is true, but I'm calling in author's prerogative. Thanks again for your reviews, they mean the world to me.
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Beltway Burgers
Washington, DC
1730 Zulu (1230 local time)
"Since when have you agreed to Beltway Burgers so easily?" Mattie asked teasingly, taking a large bite out of her burger. She was still amazed he had agreed so readily. She remembered him as hating meat, and always referred to burgers, steak and the like as "dead animal." Harm had ordered a Beltway Burger, a large step for someone as health conscious as she remembered him to be. She had ordered fries and a Coke with hers, he ordered a side salad and some iced tea.
"Since Mac and I got married. They're her favorite, you know. She had cravings for them before we got married, one of her conditions about marriage was that I learn to eat and like meat...occasionally, of course," he said, spearing some lettuce with his fork.
Mattie laughed. "I assume that agreement constitutes your version of a pre-nup," she said in jest; he laughed along. "All jokes aside, I really want to hear about your medal," pointing to the sky blue ribbon with the five white stars directly under his gold wings.
"There's not too much to it" Harm commented. He went into the same story he had told so many times while both he and Mattie continued to munch away. Twelve years earlier, while a captain on a carrier for his quals, he had been ordered to fly an F-14 on a routine cover air patrol (CAP) mission. A SEAL team had penetrated into Iraq to rescue a bunch of high-ranking diplomats from various nations from a terrorist cell. The captured delegation included the man who was the current SecNav.
Harm had been shot down, forced to eject after taking down four MiGs. He had patched up his RIO, injured in the ejection, well enough so that he was able to last long enough for help to arrive. Harm, however, having ejected close to the terrorist cell's reported hideout, charged in alone after he heard the SEAL team had been ambushed. He killed five terrorists with his survival pistol and a flare-gun, and rescued all of the hostages while taking a bullet in his shoulder, shattering the bone.
Every nation in which a leader had been taken captive had given Harm their highest award, not to be outdone, the president had given Harm the U.S.'s highest honor. The Congressional Medal of Honor had been presented to him on the White House's south lawn by the president along with his promotion to one-star admiral.
There, however, had been a high price for Harm, personally. While he would still be able to fly in his yellow Stearman biplane, Sarah, the G-forces of an F-14 or any other fighter jet were out of the question for his reconstructed shoulder. Harm's days as a pilot in the Navy were over. He'd been allowed to retain his gold flight wings permanently by special presidential order.
"Wow," Mattie said in disbelief. "Not much to it? Are you crazy, Harm?"
"I still don't think I did anything all that special. I did my job, and completed the mission. That's what the taxpayers pay me to do," Harm shrugged. "Plus there was the added fringe benefit of finally getting to outrank Mac, even if the promotion was only by a week," he joked. Suddenly his expression became deadly serious, as he realized the consequences to what he had just said, "Don't ever tell her I told you that...and consider it an order."
There had been many a fight in the Rabb household after his promotion came through. Mac had always assumed that since she was senior, she would be the one slated as XO for the previous JAG. That was true, until Harm's promotion. He got the XO slot and she received the head judiciary position. It took three months of sleeping on the couch until Mac forgave him for "setting back her career." The couch had not done wonders for his back; he winced recalling the memory of the back pain.
"Yes, sir," she said just as seriously. If there was one thing she had learned, it was never, ever disobey a direct order from Harm.
"Okay...now that we've had my story, tell me about yours."
"As you so eloquently put it, sir, there's not too much to tell that you don't already know. Last time we saw each other, it was, when, the day I asked for the recommendation wasn't it? G-d...that was so long ago, but it still feels like it was yesterday. Well, Andre and I eloped; we didn't want any big deal made out of our wedding. You know that from our correspondence. The only things that you didn't know about were my promotions, which are now fairly obvious," she said dismissively.
"I couldn't help but notice the DFC in your fruit salad earlier," Harm asked, referring to her ribbon bars, "How'd you get it?"
"Interesting story, actually right now, you are looking at the only Tomcat pilot to ever pull out of a flat spin in an F-14," she said.
"Nah...really? How'd you do it?" he asked wondrously.
She went into the mechanical details of her miraculous escape. "The bottom line was that the Navy gave me a DFC because I found a way to end a problem that plagued the Tomcat fleet for years...and they wanted to decorate a female pilot."
Something clicked in her mind and she looked at her watch. "Harm, what time did you say the party at McMurphy's was?"
He looked at his watch in surprise. "You're right, we need to leave."
They collected their trash, threw it out, and promptly exited the restaurant.
TBC. . .