PORTSMOUTH NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER

Later, when asked, Mac would have little memory of their arrival at the huge medical complex in Portsmouth. She was vaguely aware of Harm being swiftly offloaded from the SH-60B Seahawkhelicopter into a waiting ambulance to take him across the parking lot to the main building of the hospital, the Charette Health Care Center, while she, Doctor Reed and Father Gilly all squeezed into the ambulance on one side of Harm's gurney, an EMT on the other side monitoring Harm's vitals as he studied the notes made by the corpsmen and Doctor Reed aboard the helo.

The thing that stood out in her mind was the same thing which had stuck during the flight from the ship – Harm's hand under hers, cold and limp and unmoving. For some reason, she'd always associated him with warmth – his smile, his personality. He could light up a room just by walking into it. And as she'd discovered just a few nights earlier, snuggling up next to him in bed was better than a warm blanket and flannel pajamas. Even as she'd still been torn between the man she loved and the man she'd promised to marry, she hadn't been able to stop herself from thinking that one of the best feelings in the world had to be burrowing in Harm's embrace, letting the heat radiating off of him envelope her.

Feeling Harm's chilled fingers beneath hers wasn't right. This was not Harm. When she'd commented on it shortly after takeoff from the Henry, Doctor Reed had rattled off a medical explanation of why Harm's temperature, which had been slowly but steadily climbing upward throughout the day, had dropped slightly after his seizure. She didn't care about technical reasons – she just wanted to feel the warmth of his touch again.

Time had ceased to exist for Mac the moment the alarms had first blared in sickbay back on the i Henry /i . One moment seemed to stretch into the next and when she glanced at her watch at the helo set down on the pad across the parking lot from the hospital, she was surprised at how little time had passed since her world had come to a halt. All she could say with certainty was that it seemed an eternity had passed since the helo had lifted off the deck of the carrier, then between the time the ambulance departed the helipad and when it pulled up outside the emergency entrance.

The EMTs efficiently removed Harm from the ambulance and escorted him inside, Reed following as Gilly put a hand on Mac's arm to hold her out of the way of the people trying to do their jobs. Doctor Stafford was waiting inside the bay doors and huddled with Reed as soon as he walked through the door. Once the ambulance was clear, Gilly helped Mac down from the vehicle and led her inside, a guiding hand at her elbow. She instinctively moved to follow Harm, but stopped when Doctor Stafford called out, "Colonel Rabb?"

It took Mac a moment to recognize that it was her name being called. i I guess that's something else about married life to adjust to /i , she thought. It felt strange answering to a name that wasn't the one she'd used for the last thirty-three years. On second thought, it seemed to her to be such an inconsequential thing to be thinking about at a time such as this one. "Doctor Stafford?" she returned, recognizing the neurosurgeon from the satellite call earlier that evening.

"I've just been speaking to Doctor Reed," he said, gesturing a woman forward who standing nearby carrying a clipboard. "Your husband seems to have held his own during the flight, not much change in his condition, so we are going to take the time to do another CT-scan to get an idea of the current size of the mass before we operate. After the scan, either Doctor Reed or I will come brief you on the plans for surgery. Right now, Petty Officer Ryan from our administration department needs to get some information on your husband so he can be admitted."

Mac turned and stared down the hallway Harm had been taken down, a look of longing on her face. She was barely aware of the hand Gilly placed on her shoulder or of his softly-spoken, "Sarah, it's in the doctors' hands now. The doctors' and God's. The best thing you can do for Harm right now is give the hospital all the information you can so that they can help him."

It took a long moment for his words to sink in before she nodded slowly. "Okay," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Okay."

"Do you have your husband's ID card, ma'am?" Ryan asked, her tone respectful as she made note of Mac's insignia. "Having that will ease the admittance procedures."

"Um …" Mac hesitated, at a loss. At some point, one of the corpsmen had given her a small bag with the few things Harm had on his person at the time he was fished out of the water and she could not remember if his wallet had been one of the items. She pulled forward one of the bags slung over her shoulder and quickly searched through it, pulling out the clear plastic bag. His Academy ring was there, as was his watch, amazingly still running she noticed, despite the trauma. His dog tags had been in the bag as well, but Mac had earlier taken them out and hung them around her neck, the cool metal nestled against her heart. No wallet obviously, but there was a rectangle of white in a plastic sleeve. A picture? she wondered. She pulled the item from the bag, drawing in a sharp breath when she turned it over to discover a wallet-sized version of the christening photo that Chloe had been so enamored of. How long had he carried this photo with him? She vaguely remembered Bud and Harriet mailing copies of all the photos that had been taken that day to Harm while he'd been stationed on the Henry two years earlier. Had he carried this photo all this time?

"Ma'am?" Ryan asked, interrupting her thoughts. Clutching the photo in her hand, she dropped the baggie back into the travel bag and zipped it back up.

"No," Mac said softly. "His wallet's not here. It must have gone down …."

"That's okay, ma'am," Ryan said. "We can work around that. If you'd like to accompany me to the admissions office, we'll do what we can then someone will escort you to the waiting area outside of the OR."

Mac nodded. As Ryan led them in the opposite direction from the one Harm had been taken, Mac had to remind herself how to walk, to put one foot in front of the other. She could feel the exhaustion and frustration starting to creep up on her, tendrils beginning to wrap around her, threatening to squeeze the breath out of her. But she refused to give in. So often, Harm had been the strong one in their relationship, except when it had come to his father. She'd supported him then. She could do it again.

-----

"Spell your last name, ma'am," Ryan said, her fingers poised over the keyboard of her computer. Gilly was seated on the other side of the desk. Mac had set her and Harm's travel bags in the seat offered to her and was standing at the window, her back to the others. There was nothing to see in the darkness, but it was easier than being forced to deal with her pain through the sympathetic looks from others.

"M – A – C," she began, stopping herself as she realized that wasn't what Ryan was asking for. "Sorry. R – A – B – B."

"That's okay, ma'am," Ryan replied as she typed in the information. "Your husband's social security number?"

"Five – oh – eight, um, nine, um …." She trailed off, uncertain. She knew this. Harm had been in the hospital since she'd known him and she'd made it a point of memorizing his social, just as he'd done hers. "I can't remember. I know this but I can't remember." She rested her head against the cool glass pane of the window, her fingernails digging into her palm as she clenched one hand into a fist.

"Sarah?" She heard the voice, but it seemed so far away. Harm? she wondered. Then she heard the voice again, close this time. No, not Harm, she realized. Just wishful thinking. She saw Gilly's reflection in the window, saw rather than felt his hand on her shoulder. She turned slowly, blinking back tears. He held a handkerchief out to her, which she took without comment, dabbing at her eyes. She started to hand it back, but he shook his head, motioning for her to keep it. "You have Harm's dog tags, don't you? I would have thought they would have been with the things sickbay gave you."

A startled look on her face, she tugged at the chain around her neck and pulled out the tags, spreading them out on her palm. It was funny how the mind worked sometimes. Just a few minutes ago, she'd been thinking about his tags. i Come on, Mac /i , she admonished herself. i Harm needs you to be strong /i . "Five – oh – eight – nine – five – nine – three – three – four," she read the number off the tags.

Ryan frowned as Harm's information came up in the DEERS database. "Ma'am, there aren't any dependents listed for Commander Rabb," she said. "Not that I don't believe that you're married, but for consent forms and such …"

"We just got married," Mac interrupted. "But that shouldn't matter. I've held Harm's medical proxy for years. That should be a part of his records."

"Hard copies of his records are being sent from Bethesda, but they haven't arrived yet, ma'am," she said. "And for some reason, the electronic copy doesn't include the proxy."

"What about the marriage certificate?" Gilly asked. "Or would the word of the priest who performed the ceremony be sufficient?"

Ryan lifted her eyebrow. She noted the Chaplains' Corp insignia on his collar and assumed he was referring to himself. "Something in writing is required, sir," she replied, "for legal reasons. I'm sure you can understand."

Mac nodded as she turned and walked over, rifling through the bags until she found the folder she'd placed the marriage certificate in for safekeeping. She held it out. "I assume this will be sufficient?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Ryan replied as she studied the certificate, surprise showing on her face when she read the date on it. Remembering that the patient's wife was a Marine Lieutenant Colonel, she swallowed the obvious question and focused on her computer screen. "Date of birth?"

"25 October 1963," Mac replied, more quickly this time, her voice steadier. The faster she got this done, the sooner she could go … well, she couldn't be with Harm, but she could be nearby. She needed to be near him.

-----

"Not the most comfortable place," Gilly commented as he surveyed the waiting room down the hall from the operating room where the neurosurgeon would soon be working to save Harm's life. "But the nurse at the desk did say something about blankets and pillows." He opened a door on one side of the room and found a storage closet, pulling out bedding for both himself and Mac. "At least you can try to get some sleep after you talk to the doctor. Harm will probably be in surgery for hours."

"I don't think I can sleep," she murmured as Gilly handed her a pillow and blanket, the exhaustion around her eyes betraying her.

"Why don't you just lie down then?" he suggested, spreading a blanket out on one of the couches for himself. "It's been what – about twenty-four hours – since you first got the call about Harm's accident? You might surprise yourself."

Reluctantly, she nodded. It was so easy to listen to him and do as he suggested. He had such a calm, soothing voice. She spread out her blanket on another couch and sat down on top of it, making no move to get beneath the covers. "Maybe I should get changed," she said, almost to herself.

"I think I saw restrooms near the elevators," Gilly told her.

"Okay," she said, gathering up one of the bags she had with her. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

As he watched her go, he reflected on the pain he saw veiled in her eyes. She was upset – understandably so – about what had happened to Harm. She seemed to be handling that as well as could be expected at the moment. He was sure that, as a Marine, she was used to bottling up her emotions so that they did not interfere with her duty. That was true of most military. He knew that eventually those feelings would need to be given release, although he would lay odds that she would wait until she was alone. She struck him as a woman who wouldn't let herself cry in front of others if she could help it.

But there was something else, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He'd learned to be a pretty good judge of character and he sensed that there was something weighing on her mind besides her husband's injuries. He wished he could get a sense of what it was so that he could figure out how to help. He knew, from the experience on the Henry, that Mac was not a woman to be pushed. If he tried too hard to get her to open up about what was bothering her, she would just shut down even further. Maybe it could be as simple as worrying about what all their friends and family would say about the hasty marriage. It was amazing what people would worry about when under extreme stress. Simple problems could be blown up in a person's mind to seem like insurmountable peaks as a defense mechanism, something to worry about besides what was really wrong.

Mac returned a few moments later, looking vulnerable and lost in too-large clothes – obviously Harm's. Sweatpants were rolled up several times at the bottom so they didn't drag on the floor, a US Navy sweatshirt hung to mid-thigh. She noticed his scrutiny and gestured weakly to the clothes she was wearing. "I didn't really pack anything suitable for me to sleep in," she explained. Of course, she'd expected to have privacy for sleeping – perhaps a cabin on the Henry tonight and a room at the VOQ until Harm was released to go home – where it wouldn't matter if she wore the silk and lace confection she'd brought with her. But that had been before everything had turned upside down.

She settled onto the couch, slipping under the blanket and pulling it up under her chin. There was a bit of a chill – a cold front had descended in the aftermath of the storm, causing the temperature to drop well below seasonable levels. She stared at the far wall, not quite ready to close her eyes. "Father?" she asked after a long moment, during which the only sounds in the room was Gilly turning the pages of his Bible as he indulged in his usual ritual and his soft humming. Reading it was always the first thing he did in the morning and the last thing he did at night. It was his time to enjoy the words rather than studying them so he could figure out how to explain them in everyday language in his sermons.

"Yes, Sarah," he said, lifting his head as he closed the Bible, marking his place with his finger.

She hesitated a moment, then said softly, "Thank you."

Gilly was touched. Another sense he had was that this was a woman who did not utter those words easily. "You're welcome," he simply replied.

"It's been … nice to have someone there for me," she continued, surprising them both. "I haven't had that a lot in my life …. I could probably count on one hand, Harm included in that, of course."

"Family?" he asked, curious.

"I have a sister," she replied, "but she just turned fourteen. My uncle's in Leavenworth." She could feel his look of surprise and lifted her head, craning her neck to look at him. "Remind me later to tell you how Harm and I met – it all ties in together. Harm was his defense attorney. Anyway, my father died two years ago and my mother …. well, I've only seen her once in the last nineteen years and that was when my father died."

"But you do have a family," he pointed out. "I understand from Doctor Reed that you spoke to your in-laws after Harm's condition got worse. I'm sure they will be there for you."

Mac almost laughed. It was one thing to admit to Trish that she was in love with Harm. It was another for everyone to find out the entire story. What kind of woman, on the same day she was to marry one man, would turn around and marry a different man? Plus, Renee was a known quantity to them – to Trish, anyway – and she couldn't say for sure how they would feel about a woman about they'd never even met marrying Harm while his girlfriend wasn't even aware that Harm was lost to her. To a lot of people, Renee would seem to be the more sympathetic character in this entire drama.

"What was that you were humming earlier?" she asked, dropping the previous subject like a hot potato. She couldn't get into that now. She still had to prepare herself to deal with everything that would happen when everyone else arrived.

"'On Eagle's Wings'," he replied. "Often while I'm working, I'll hum – or even sing, if I'm in the mood – something, often a song that matches my mood. And not necessarily hymns. I've been known to sing John Lennon on occasion."

"The name of the song sounds familiar," she said, realizing that it was likely a hymn and that she must seem woefully ignorant for someone who had been preparing to get married in the Church.

Instead, he simply assumed that she was too distracted to recognize the hymn. "Actually," he explained, "it's based on the Psalm that was read at the service …." He glanced at his watch. Was it still Saturday or had they passed into Sunday already? "…. this morning." He started to sing the words in a prayerful tenor.

Mac smiled as she finally closed her eyes, dropping her head back onto her pillow. "I remember now," she said wistfully. "Father Genaro had someone sing that song at my father's funeral. At the time, I thought it reminded me of Harm. He was the one who had talked me into going to see my father and he would have been at the funeral too if I hadn't waited until after the fact to tell him."

"Why did you wait to tell him?" he asked, curious.

"I'm not sure anymore," she replied, stifling a yawn. "I guess I don't like having to depend on people, even Harm. If you don't depend on them, there's less chance for them to hurt you."

Gilly was saddened to think about what had to have happened in her life for her to develop that kind of attitude. She'd given hints – only seeing her mother once in so many years, having to be talked into being at her father's side when he died. This was a woman, he realized, who had been deeply hurt by the very people she should have been able to depend on the most. It made her heartfelt 'thank you' all the more touching.

-----

"What the ….?" Mac threw her arms out to steady herself as the ground seemed to shift beneath her feet. She looked down, staring wide-eyed at the wooden planks beneath her sock-encased feet. Planks? She looked up, glancing around. She was wearing the same sweats she'd fallen asleep in, but that was the only thing that seemed familiar. She was outdoors, apparently on the deck of a wooden ship. Her hair was blowing in her face and she impatiently pushed it away, trying to tuck it behind her ears. Where was she? As far as she could remember, she'd never been on a ship like this before. And this wasn't a ship tied up at dock. The shifting she'd felt was the ship rolling with the waves. The ship was out at sea.

Slowly, she started to make her way forward – at least, she thought she was heading towards the bow of the ship as she judged herself to be near the stern – gripping the railing for support, trying to keep herself steady on the pitching deck. The salty spray of the ocean stung her eyes and she found herself stumbling, her arm nearly being wretched from its socket as she clung to the rail in an attempt to break her fall.

Suddenly, she remembered and fought her way back to her feet, ignoring the rain which suddenly appeared out of nowhere, soaking her, and the wind threatening to topple her back to the deck. She had to warn him. Fighting her way forward, she saw a familiar scene unfolding before her – three men lined up to be hung, Harm's familiar features about to be covered by a hood. "No!" she screamed, fighting her way to the front of the crowd of sailors gathered around, watching events unfold in front of her, the stools being kicked out from under the feet of the three men. She blinked and suddenly, Harm was the only man there, wearing his flight suit instead of the uniform of a nineteenth-century sailor, his fingers clawing at the rope around his neck. Magically, the rope loosened and he worked his way out of it, falling to the deck, hitting his head on the discarded stool with a sickening thud.

She finally made her way to him, lifting his head to cradle it in her lap. "It's okay, Harm," she whispered, bending down so that he could hear her over the storm. She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. "I'll take care of you."

She felt him being pulled out of her arms and she tried to wrap her arms around him, desperate to hold on, but he slipped from her grasp. She tried to climb to her feet to follow him, but a pair of arms encircled her waist, holding her back.

"It's okay, Sarah," a voice said from behind her. "I know you're upset, but it's not your problem to deal with. He'll be just fine, luv. He has Renee to take care of him."

She looked towards Harm to find him now in Renee's arms, looking out of place on the deck of the ship. She'd unzipped his flight suit, her hands slipping under his t-shirt to stroke his torso. Renee lifted her head and smiled, her eyes bright in triumph.

"He's my husband," Mac protested, struggling to pull free from Mic's embrace. But he pulled her back against him, his strong arms imprisoning her.

"Do you really think either of us will give up that easily?" he asked, his soft tone sending a shiver through her ….

-----

"No!" she cried out, her entire body trembling. Gilly jumped up from his couch and knelt by her side, firmly shaking her shoulder.

"Sarah, wake up," he said, his tone firm. "It's just a dream."

Her eyes snapped open, the trembling subsiding as she gradually became aware of her surroundings. She pushed herself up on one elbow, pushing sweat-matted hair back from her face as she gasped for breath. Lowering her hand, she glanced at her watch. Had she really been asleep that long? She tried to remember what time Doctor Reed had stopped by to inform them that Harm was being wheeled into surgery. It had been a few hours, at least. That meant everyone would probably start arriving from Washington soon.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"Not really," she whispered, sitting up and wrapping her arms around herself.

"You're shivering," he said. "Let me get you another blanket." He went to the closet and got another blanket, draping it over her shoulders.

She grabbed the edges of the blanket and pulled them together in front of her, cocooning her. But she still felt so cold. "Harm told me that the chute lines had gotten tangled around his neck. I saw him being strangled in my dream. Then I saw the aftermath and it scared me …." She trailed off, unable to talk about the rest of the dream. He wouldn't understand.

"Sarah, you don't know what's going to happen," he said, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder. "No one does. I'm sure Harm will have some recovery time ahead of him …."

"No," she protested, shaking her head firmly. "I'm sure that I know what's going to happen."

Gilly opened his mouth, about to ask what that meant when a nurse appeared in the doorway. "Is there news from surgery?" Mac asked shakily.

"Just that everything is going well so far," the nurse reported. "Word from the OR is that they about at the halfway point. As long as there are no complications, they should be finished up in a few hours. After some time in recovery, Commander Rabb will be moved to ICU and then you'll be able to see him."

Mac looked away, still trying to steady herself after her disturbing dream. Realizing she wasn't going to say anything, Gilly thanked the nurse for the information. "See, Sarah?" he asked after the nurse left the room. "Everything is okay so far. Harm's a strong man and he's got a strong woman supporting him. Why don't you try to go back to sleep?"

"I don't think I could," she said in frustration. "If I close my eyes …."

"Why don't I get you something to eat?" he suggested, deciding not to push the issue. "There's a cafeteria downstairs or vending machines all over the place. You probably haven't really eaten since you heard the news, either."

"Sure," she replied dully. She just wanted to be alone right now and taking him up on his offer seemed to be the easiest way to ensure that. Otherwise, he might try to get her to talk about her dream and she couldn't deal with that now. She wasn't sure she could deal with it when it would eventually come to pass. "Something to eat would be nice."

"Okay," he said, mildly surprised at her easy acquiescence. He'd expected her to protest that she wasn't hungry. "Anything in particular you want?"

"It doesn't matter," she whispered dismissively, pulling her knees up to her chest, resting her head on top of them.

-----

To be continued….