After aimlessly wandering the silent halls for a few moments, trying not to think about the fight going on in the operating room, Mac ended up in front of the elevator. Even walking through the wide, empty corridors, she could feel the walls closing in on her and she had to remind herself not to jump every time she heard a sound. It was a hospital. There were people moving around twenty-four hours a day. Just because there was someone coming down the hall didn't mean someone was following her. It didn't mean Mic was coming to demand explanations she wasn't ready to give.
She was a Marine and kept reminding herself that Marine didn't, under any circumstances, jump at sounds. That characteristic, honed through years of becoming sensitive to and tiptoeing around her father's alcoholic rages, had become a distant memory after boot camp. But right now, she'd figured she could face down an enemy pointing an AK-47 at her head without flinching before she could talk to Mic Brumby right now, trying to find the words that she couldn't string together right now. He would want explanations. But how could she concentrate on him when the man she loved was fighting for his life? Deep down inside, she knew she should feel sorry for what she'd put Mic through, for the pain she'd inflicted. But she couldn't seem to summon the strength right now to feel anything for him.
She rested her head against the wall between the elevators, drawing in a few deep, calming breaths. What had it had been like after Harm's first crash? How had his parents and grandmother made it through the endless flight to Germany, not knowing if he was going to be alive or dead when they got there? She'd seen him, understood his condition as much as a lay person could, but she still couldn't shake the numbing fear that he might not make it. It had crossed her mind one of them what the waiting after that first crash had been like, but she hadn't had the opportunity. She'd had so little time with Harm's family before everything else had happened. She realized that she didn't even know what they thought about Harm's hasty marriage to her.
She pushed herself back from the wall, her finger hovering over the down call button for the elevator when a sign almost directly in front of her caught her eye and she pressed the up button instead. A few moments later, the elevator was depositing her on the fourth floor. After taking a moment to study the directional sign on the wall, she headed off to the right, stopping in front of a large window, her forehead resting against the glass. It was so quiet here, so peaceful. This place was about life, not death.
Mac jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun around to find a black woman about her age standing behind her, dressed in blue hospital scrubs. "May I help you, Ma'am?" the woman asked, her voice firm.
Suddenly, it occurred to Mac that there would be questions about someone hanging out in front of the nursery in the middle of the night, someone who obviously didn't belong there. "I'm sorry," she said, gesturing nervously with her hands. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Rabb. My husband's down in surgery …. he was in an accident …. it's going to be a while and I just had to get out of there."
The nurse studied her impassively for a long moment, sizing her up. Then her expression relaxed as she apparently decided that Mac was telling the truth. "I'm sorry about your husband," she said sympathetically. She nodded towards the nursery. "Do you have any children?"
"Not yet," Mac replied, shaking her head sadly. "We've talked about it, but …" She shrugged. There was no easy way to explain that one. Under other circumstances, the story might have provided a laugh. Now, it was simply a reminder of what might never be. She squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to banish the thought. Harm would recover and someday they would have that child Harm had promised her. "I guess it just hasn't been the right time yet, but now …." She turned back to stare through the window. All five babies inside the nursery were asleep, two boys and three girls, so beautiful and peaceful. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine what a child of hers and Harm's would look like. They'd joked about a boy with her looks and a girl with his looks, but she realized that wasn't what she wanted at all.
She wasn't really sure what she wanted in a daughter. Actually, that wasn't entirely accurate. She did know she wanted a little girl who would grow up like a princess – the apple of her father's eye, sheltered and protected by a mother who would never leave her. It was the looks she couldn't figure out, although she thought the combination of her caramel skin combined with Harm's brilliant blue-green eyes did seem intriguing in her dreams.
As for a little boy – there have never been any question in her mind on that point. In every dream she'd ever had, in every fantasy which had seemed impossible to fulfill, her little boy had always been a miniature version of his father, destined to grow up strong and brave with his father's cocky smile and self-confidence. She'd once proclaimed that one Harmon Rabb was all she could handle in her life. And to be sure, any child of Harm's was probably destined to be a handful, by turns stubborn and infuriating. But with his father's influence, he would also be capable of such incredible compassion and devotion.
What if that was all she had left of Harm? What if their only legacy together was the ghosts of the children who might have been? In a back corner of her mind, she wished there was a possibility that the beautiful night they spent together had created new life. She'd been so careful about protection, not because of that night, but before. When Mic had first brought up the subject of using protection after he moved back to the States, she said she didn't want to think about starting a family unless and until they got married, which he'd accepted without too much comment. Looking back, it had been one of the few things in the course of their relationship which she'd gotten her way on without argument.
A few days after she and Mic had discussed the subject, she'd woken up in the middle of the night, shaking. It had started out as the most wonderful dream. Sunlight streaming through the window, she'd been sitting in a rocking chair, a newborn at her breast, tiny fingers flexing around one of hers as the dark-haired child suckled. After the baby had finished and she lifted him – from the blue bedding in the nearby crib, she thought 'boy' was a safe assumption – to her shoulder to burp, the baby had opened his eyes to stare at her. It was at that point she'd woken up.
Quietly slipping out of bed so as not to wake Mic, she'd spent the rest of the night at her desk, a case file opened in front of her as she attempted to banish the dream from her mind. It wasn't the dream that bothered her. She wanted a family with a longing beginning to border on desperation. That snooze button she'd once talked about seemed to be nearing the end of its usefulness. Maybe that was why it had been so easy to let Mic bowl her over with his declarations of love. He'd offered her everything she could possibly want and which Harm hadn't seemed willing to give her. But even as she shared her bed with Mic and as much of her life as she was capable, his visage wasn't the one that haunted her dreams. And the child in her arms hadn't looked up at her with Mic's eyes, or even hers. The child she ached for had stared back at her with eyes like the sea on a clear day.
She shook her head, trying to dispel the morose thoughts again. She kept pushing them away, but they stubbornly refused to release their hold on her. Harm is going to survive, she told herself. And someday, we'll have that family we both want. We still have time.
She realized that the nurse had said something to her. "I'm sorry," she said, glancing back over her shoulder. The other woman didn't seem bothered, but instead gazed back at her with understanding and compassion in her dark eyes. "I was just wondering what it would be like …."
"Thought much about what you'd like?" the nurse asked.
"Oh, I don't know," Mac replied with a shrug, turning back to the window. She sighed softly as one of the babies, a girl, stirred in her sleep, tiny legs flailing beneath the blanket, the fingers of one small hand curling and uncurling reflexively. "Maybe one of each would be nice someday." She thought about what she'd just said, then managed a half-hearted laugh. "Just not at once. I don't know if I can handle that, not on top of dealing with my husband."
"He's a big kid himself?" the nurse asked with a knowing smile.
"At times," Mac said with a slight smile. Maybe not so much a big kid, she corrected herself. But he gets into trouble like a kid and all you can do is shake your head, knowing that he'll do it again and again.
"Lieutenant Williams?" a voice called from behind him.
"My supervisor, Commander Jameson," Williams whispered. She studied Mac critically for a moment. The nursery was quiet, so there wasn't much for her to do, and Mac looked like she could use the company. But she did have to report to her superior. "You'll be okay?"
Mac nodded and Williams stepped away to speak to her supervisor. "Ma'am, I know this probably looks irregular," she began in a whisper.
"Lieutenant, do we have to discuss the policy on unauthorized visitors?" Jameson asked firmly, her tone carrying a harsh edge. "It's the middle of the night."
"With all due respect, Ma'am," Williams said, "I didn't see the problem. Her husband's in surgery and she needed to get out of there for a while. I've been with her the entire time."
"In surgery?" she asked, unable to keep the note of disbelief out of her voice.
"That's what she said," Williams replied, "and I wasn't about to accuse a Lieutenant Colonel of lying, Ma'am."
"A Lieutenant Colonel?"
"That's what she told me, Ma'am," Williams explained. "And she is obviously …. Colonel?"
Mac didn't hear Williams say her name, her attention captured by a small TV behind the nurses' desk across the hall from the nursery window. The sound from the television had caught her attention and now the scene of a piece of gunmetal-gray metal being lifted from the ocean held it. The nurses took one look at her and with a nod from Jameson, Williams reached over the counter to turn up the sound.
"The Navy pilot critically injured in the crash of an F-14 last night has been evac'd to Portsmouth Naval Hospital for emergency surgery, while a Naval investigative team is headed to the aircraft carrier Patrick Henry in an attempt to discover what sent the Tomcat that Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. was piloting plunging into the Atlantic Ocean. In other news …"
Williams turned the volume back down, staring at Mac with sudden understanding. "Your husband is the pilot they were just talking about," she said.
Mac couldn't even manage a nod as Jameson, concerned about her suddenly-ashen appearance, put an arm around Mac's waist and let her towards a row of chairs against the wall, gently pushing her down into one without protest. "Williams, get the Colonel a cup of water," she ordered as she sat down next to Mac. She might have been considered somewhat strict by her subordinates, but she'd been a nurse before she'd been a Naval officer.
"I didn't even know they'd found the wreckage," Mac whispered, pressing her hands against the sides of her head as she tried to banish from her mind the image of a piece of Harm's Tomcat being hoisted from the ocean by a Navy salvage ship. "That piece they were lifting, the top of my desk is bigger than that."
"I saw," Jameson said, not sure what else to say. Williams rushed up and shoved a paper cup of water under Mac's nose. Mac's trembling fingers closed around the cup but she didn't take a sip. Jameson studied her worriedly, and then glanced up at Williams. "Lieutenant, isn't it about time for your break?"
"Yes, Ma'am," she replied, confused.
"Colonel, you look like you could use some air," Jameson said. "Lieutenant Williams will escort you outside. It's a bit chilly outside tonight after the storm, but the air will probably do you some good."
"I don't know," she murmured, shaking her head. She couldn't leave, not while Harm's life was still hanging by the slimmest of threads. "What if something happens while I'm gone?"
"I'll call down to the surgical ward and let them know where you'll be," Jameson said firmly. "Someone can come get you if something happens."
After a long moment in which Jameson thought Mac was going to refuse, she finally nodded. She didn't particularly want to get some air, didn't really want to leave Harm, but she had to get out of the hospital. Slowly, she stood and, still clutching her cup of water, followed Williams to the elevator.
Once the elevator doors closed on them, Williams said carefully, not sure how far she could go before overstepping her bounds with a colonel, "I'm a good listener if you want to talk. None of my usual patients can talk, but sometimes things happen and their parents need someone to talk to."
It wasn't until they were outside that Mac finally spoke in a distant voice, "How do you do that – deal with people dying? I've seen people dying before, but …. this is different. It's never been someone I've loved so much." Eddie, Dalton, Chris – all had died in front of her, but all the emotions she'd felt each of those times combined didn't even come close to measuring up to what it would be like if Harm didn't make it. She honestly didn't know what she would do if he did die.
"I don't know," Williams admitted. "The first time I saw a patient die – she'd been born premature, but you always hope - I wanted to quit right then and there. I was convinced I couldn't take it. How could a life be brought into this world full of unlimited possibilities, only to be snuffed out like that before she'd had a chance to live?"
"Harm and I had a goddaughter," Mac remembered, closing her eyes briefly. "One day at lunch, a few weeks after we found out our friends were expecting a girl, we were talking about what she was going to be like. She was going to be the prettiest little girl, but we were going to teach her about other things, too. I was going to teach her how to hunt dinosaur tracks and Harm wanted to teach her how to fly. Her parents were even going to name her after me. In talking with him, I became convinced that what Harm really wants is a little girl of his own. She would be daddy's little princess …." Her voice trailed off, overwhelmed. No, she told herself yet again. I just have to keep believing that Harm and I will get our chance at a family.
"Something happened to your goddaughter?"
Mac sat down on a bench with a sigh, burying her hands into her jacket pockets as she studied the dark sky. She could barely discern the outline of dark clouds moving across the skyline, blocking the moon and stars from view. "She died at birth," she confirmed sadly. "The cord was prolapsed and the doctor tried to deliver naturally …. I still remember the sound of Harm's voice when he called and told me. And the look in his eyes when we arrived at the hospital. We hadn't even known this little girl yet, but I can't remember seeing him look like that since we found out his father died.
"Sometimes I just wonder why things happen," she continued. "Harm's grandfather was shot down in World War II, his father in Vietnam. His brother's in the Russian Army and he's currently sitting in a POW camp in Chechnya. And every time Harm manages to get into trouble …. it feels like I can't breathe until I know he's going to be okay. And every time he would come out of yet more trouble with that cocky grin on his face – I don't know, maybe I started to believe nothing could happen to him. Things would happen to him, but he'd always be okay."
Williams wasn't sure what to say, but was saved from coming up with anything when a voice called out, obviously for Mac. "Colonel, thank God," Jason exclaimed as he and Victor trotted up. "Everyone's been worried about you."
"I'm okay," she said, avoiding their concerned gazes, her eyes falling to where her fingers were fiddling with the zipper of her jacket, unable to summon the strength to sound convincing. She couldn't face any of her friends and co-workers right now. There were just too many questions. Even if they would remain unasked, whether out of respect or because of rank barriers, they would remain there, hanging over her head.
Jason and Victor glanced at each other. They were both worried, but all too aware of the line drawn between enlisted and officers. Jason remembered when Dalton had died, but he couldn't remember her looking as drawn, as tired then as she did now. But Victor had never seen her like this, never seen anything but the gung-ho Marine image she projected to the world at large. "How is Commander Rabb, ma'am?" Victor asked.
"Still in surgery," she replied distractedly. "It's about half over, I guess. Maybe a little past that. Everyone else is upstairs in the waiting room."
"Is there anything we can do, ma'am?" Jason asked.
Mac shook her head, but said nothing as Jason and Victor exchanged helpless expressions. Suddenly, a beeper went off, startling everyone. Williams glanced down at the beeper on her waist, swearing inwardly. The sole baby in NICU had taken a turn for the worse. "I need to get back inside," she said without elaborating. "Will you be okay with your friends, Colonel?"
Again, Mac didn't answer, staring off into the distance. Williams took the silence as assent and motioned to the two men, lowering her voice as she leaned towards them. "She's a little shaky right now," she said. "She saw a news report about her husband's crash and there was footage of a piece of his plane being hauled from the water."
Thinking that the nurse had simply assumed Harm and Mac were married, neither Victor nor Jason gave a second thought to her saying that Harm was Mac's husband. As she walked off, Victor gestured towards the bench. "Do you mind if we sit down, Colonel?" he asked.
She lifted her head and looked at them. "Look, you guys should go inside," she suggested wearily. She was too tired to deal with them. "I just need a few minutes."
"Ma'am," Victor said, trying to sound logical, "I doubt Admiral Chegwidden would be happy if we left you out here alone."
"Nice try, Gunny," she said, realizing that he was trying to prevent her from ordering them to go inside. While a part of her was thankful to have such supportive friends, a larger part of her just wanted to be left alone to shoulder her burdens. They couldn't understand, no matter how much they wanted to say that they did. "But the Admiral is the one who suggested I take a few minutes by myself."
"With all due respect, ma'am," Victor continued, undeterred, "I – we both would feel better if someone was with you. You shouldn't be alone right now."
Mac sighed. "You do realize that I could order you to leave me alone," she reminded them, but her tone carried no command authority in it. She couldn't summon the strength.
"And I'm hoping that you won't do that, ma'am," Victor countered. He knew it was a fine line, but he didn't like the idea of leaving her out her alone. Right now, she needed her friends. "It would make us feel better."
When she didn't protest again, Jason sat down on the other side of Victor, the two of them exchanging glances. Now what? Should they refrain from saying anything, merely letting Mac be alone with her thoughts? Or should they engage in idle chitchat as a distraction?
"Ma'am, what happened to the Commander?" Jason asked after a heavy silence, the question tentative.
Mac stared down silently and after a moment, both men thought she wasn't going to answer them. The wind picked up and she pulled the jacket tighter around her as she finally said, her voice barely detectible, "He had a seizure aboard the ship because of a head injury the doctor didn't know about. After some tests, they decided they had to do immediate surgery."
"I'm sure the Commander will be okay, ma'am," Jason said, trying to infuse his tone with his usual optimism.
"He always is, isn't he?" Mac mused, with little conviction. She knew he was trying to be positive, but he hadn't seen what she'd seen. He had no first-hand knowledge of just how bad it really was. Neither of them did.
What could either of them say to that, they both wondered. Harm did always seem to have the devil's own luck. It was hard to think about it, but would that luck run out someday, maybe even today? "I'm sorry, ma'am," Victor said, at a loss. It seemed inadequate, but what else could he say?
"I'm sorry, too," she whispered, more to herself than to them. "I'm sorry about a lot of things."
"Hello, Mrs. Rabb," Jason called out, noticing the other woman's approach. He quickly stood, offering his place on the bench to her, Victor moving out of the way as well.
Mac glanced up from where she'd been staring at the laces of her sneakers, sighing inwardly. She still wasn't sure if she could face Harm's family, at least one on one. On the one hand, they knew what she was going through, had gone through it ten years ago. But what was she supposed to say to them? They were strangers who suddenly found themselves as family under hardly ideal circumstances. "I was just telling them that I don't need someone to watch over me," she said.
"Nonsense," Sarah said firmly, shaking her head. She glanced at Victor and Jason, who understood the silent message and hurriedly made their excuses, Mac barely noticing as they headed towards the emergency entrance to the hospital. "Everyone needs someone, even if it's just to be there."
She studied the other woman. She didn't look at all like her tall, strong grandson. She was a small woman, almost frail-looking, although Mac knew she still worked her farm, making her looks deceptive. Her eight-two years of life were etched across her face, but her eyes, where one might expect to find a lifetime's worth of pain echoed, sparkled in the darkness, alight with a zest for living. Her shoulder-length light gray hair, almost silver in color, was simply pushed back off her face, tucked behind her ears, the simple styling probably ideal on the farm. But despite the physical differences, there was just something in the other woman – her bearing, the caring in her voice, her essence – which reminded Mac of her best friend, staunchest supporter and husband. "You sound like Harm," she marveled.
"And he wouldn't want you to be alone right now," Sarah said confidently. "I was passing by the main desk outside the surgical ward when a nurse called down from the nursery, said you had been there and had gone outside for some air. I thought you could use a friendly ear right now."
Mac turned to look at her, studying her expression. She could find nothing that even hinted at censure. "Even after everything …." she began, only to be interrupted.
"Regardless of how it came about," Sarah replied insistently, "you are a part of this family. We take care of our own. Why else would Harm go through everything he did to find out his father's fate, or consider resigning his commission to go after his brother? I know Harm's always considered you family, even before it was official. He's told me about some of the things you've been through. He doesn't brag about it, but he has been there for you a lot from what I've gathered. Let me repay some of that."
Mac wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't used to support so easily given, even from people she knew. Coming from someone who was virtually a stranger, despite their family ties, felt alien to her. Or maybe it was because those family ties were so new and so unexpected. "Mac," Sarah said, placing a gentle hand over Mac's tightly clasped ones, "I have been there before. I'm not that old that I don't remember that spring day when the dark sedan pulled up in front of the house as I was hanging the wash, Harm, Sr. playing with the family dog at my feet. Or the day Trish got a similar visit, although she didn't have the finality of knowing that her husband was confirmed dead. But the worst, I think, was the day when it wasn't a dark sedan with men in uniforms."
"One afternoon, Trish and Frank simply showed up on my front porch," she continued, looking off into the distance as the memories replayed in her mind. She could still see everything as if it had happened yesterday. She even remembered that she'd been wearing a thick blue wool sweater Harm had gotten her for Christmas two years earlier. She loved the bracing cold of the winter, but Harm always worried that she wasn't dressed warmly enough. "It was still winter and neither of them had thought of what to wear before they left San Diego. They were standing on the porch in short sleeved shirts, rubbing their arms and shivering. I had this feeling, even before they said a word, that something had happened. The entire flight to Germany, I kept telling myself that he had to be okay. I figured that I would know if something had happened to him. He was the only living link I had to my husband and my son, or so I thought at the time."
"I had this dream," Mac said haltingly, for the first time acknowledging the apparently link between her dream and Harm's accident. "It started a little over a week ago. Harm was there and so was Mic." She stopped, not wanting to relieve the details of the dream …. or had it been a vision? Had some cosmic force been warning her that if things continued on the path they were on that dire consequences would be inevitable? She'd been the one who had been responsible for bringing Mic back into their lives with her ill-considered decision in Sydney. If she'd been stronger then ….
"And for some reason," Sarah broke into her thoughts in a firm voice, "this happened because Mr. Brumby was a presence in your life, a presence you allowed? Is that what you're thinking? Rubbish." Mac looked startled at the vehemence in the older woman's voice. "Harm is a pilot. Even if you two had been together, even if Mr. Brumby wasn't even in the picture, would Harm still have been out on that carrier?"
"That's not the point," she protested weakly, while silently acknowledging the truth of the statement. Harm's quals happened on a regular schedule. Even if she hadn't been planning to get married, Harm would have gone out to the carrier sometime around now. In her head, she knew that her planned wedding had absolutely nothing to do with it. But in examining the train wreck which had become her life, it was so easy to draw the line from Sydney, to her moving the ring, to her engagement party, to their night in Norfolk and finally to Harm's quals. "If it wasn't for me, Harm wouldn't have been in such a hurry to get back. He loves carrier life. I've never known him to give up the chance to spend time on one." She turned away, struggling against tears.
"And has it not occurred to you," Sarah asked gently, placing a weathered hand on Mac's shoulder, "that he loves you more than he's loved anything in his life, even flying his beloved Tomcats?"
"But he left," Mac said softly, her face etched with pain. "Two years ago, he left everything to chase that dream. I now know that he loves me, but …."
"But he did come back," Sarah countered. "If you asked Harm, I wonder what reasons he would give for why he came back? Maybe he'd been out of the game too long or maybe he really did miss being a lawyer more than he thought he would. Those were the reasons he vocalized, anyway. But what if you were part of the reason, a major part of it?"
Mac turned around and stared at her as if she'd suddenly grown another head. "Did he tell you that?" she asked shakily. "Because …."
Sarah shook her head. "You know Harm well enough to know that there are some things he just does not talk about," she said. "He's been hurt so much in his life and he's very much one to bottle it all up inside. But I've become quite the expert in reading between the lines when it comes to him. And if you think about it, you've developed quite an expertise in that skill yourself, I'm sure."
"I thought I did," she whispered sadly. "But after everything that's happened …."
"I don't know how everything played out," Sarah said, "but when Harm left the carrier, did he think you were still going to be marrying Mr. Brumby?"
"No," she said quickly. "He called me just before he left the carrier and I told him that I had decided not to marry Mic. Our own wedding was a surprise, but we were already at this place where we were going to give 'us' a chance."
"Then how can this be your fault?" Sarah pointed out. "And if you think about it, I think you know that even if you had still been planning to marry another man, he wouldn't have rushed back just to stop the wedding. It would have been one of the hardest things he's ever done in his life, but he would have sat in the church and watched you pledge your life to another man. If he thought that was what you wanted and what would make you happy, he would never have interfered."
"I know," Mac sighed. "Even after we …. " She trailed off, unable to tell Harm's grandmother that she'd slept with him when she'd still been promised to another, then continued with a barely detectible tremor. "He said that it was my choice, that he wasn't going to pressure me in any way. Even if I broke his heart in the process, he was going to stand by me and my decision." Her eyes widened, glistening with unshed tears. "That's more than I ever did for him when he became an active pilot again. All I could think about was how much what he was doing was hurting me. I never even considered about how much he wanted it."
Sarah put her arms around Mac and pulled her into her arms. She resisted a moment, and then wearily laid her head on Sarah's shoulder. She was so cold and tired and Sarah's arms were so warm and comforting. She let the older woman's soft, rich tone lull her into a few precious moments of peacefulness. "Love doesn't keep score like that," Sarah insisted. "If any of us truly were one hundred percent deserving, everyone would be alone. You've made mistakes, but so has Harm."
"But …."
Sarah laughed. "I may love my grandson more than anyone else," she explained, "but I'm not blind to his faults. Remember when I said he doesn't talk about some things? It may be a defense mechanism for him, but it means those around him have to work harder to dig down and see the real Harm. I'm sure there have been plenty of opportunities when he could have said something over the last year or two or even before that. You're not a mind reader and had no way of knowing just how deeply Harm was hurting because of your relationship with Mr. Brumby. But regardless, you probably understand better than just about anyone what he's all about just from what the two of you have been through together. You've seen how much his father's fate has affected him. You know the pain that Diane's unsolved murder caused. You know how much he'd do to protect his brother. And if you'll just admit it, you know how much he has loved you, even if he sometimes has a problem saying the words."
"I know," she admitted softly. "No one, except maybe my uncle, has done so much for me."
"And the reverse is true as well," Sarah said in a knowing tone. "Harm has told me that much."
Mac closed her eyes with a sigh. It felt good knowing that there was someone on her side – on her and Harm's side. A tentative smile graced her features. She could see just how much of an influence Sarah had on her grandson. It was because of her that he was the wonderful man he was, she suspected, perhaps even more than his mother. Maybe because she'd been for so long his only blood link to his beloved father. "Thank you, Mrs. Rabb," she whispered.
Sarah dropped a kiss on top of Mac's head, realizing how hard those words were for Mac to say. She knew from what Harm had told her that the very people who should have been there for Mac had been the ones who had hurt her the most. Gratitude was not an emotion which came easily to the younger Sarah Rabb, she knew. "What's with this 'Mrs. Rabb' stuff?" she chided Mac gently. "You're my granddaughter now. Harm calls me 'Gram'."
"Alright …. Gram," Mac said tentatively.
They sat together on the bench for a few minutes, Sarah noticing a little bit of the tension easing from Mac as she rested her head against Sarah's shoulder, Sarah gently stroking her hair. Eventually, Mac lifted her head, slowly pulling out of Sarah's arms. She pushed her hair back off her face, showing puzzlement at the surprised look on Sarah's face. "What is it?" she asked.
Sarah hesitated a moment, then shook her head. "It's nothing," she said. She was worried at the apparently lack of emotion from Mac, but she didn't know her well enough yet to know how she would deal with something like this. Perhaps she was one who shed her tears in solitude. Sarah could understand that, after a lifetime spent being the strong one, for her son, then her daughter-in-law and grandson. "Would you mind accompanying me back inside? These old bones just can't tolerate the cold like they used to."
Under other circumstances, Mac might have laughed. While she'd pulled her jacket tighter around her to ward off the chill in the air, Sarah looked utterly comfortable with her jacket unbuttoned and open. But she couldn't call the other woman on her deception. On the other hand, she wasn't sure she was ready to go back inside and face everyone.
"Don't worry about Mr. Brumby and Ms. Peterson," Sarah said, sensing the direction of her thoughts. "There will be time enough to deal with all that later, when Harm is better. Nothing else matters right now."
"Somehow, I have a hard time believing they will see it that way," Mac said wryly.
"Doesn't matter," Sarah replied firmly. "They'll have to get through me first. Plus, I got the impression that your Admiral Chegwidden won't put up with any nonsense from those two either. Anyway, it shouldn't be too much longer before Harm's out of surgery and I know you'll want to see him as soon as he's allowed visitors."
Sarah started to stand, intent on taking Mac back inside, stopping when she felt Mac's hand on her arm. "Um, Gram …." she began hesitantly, her thoughts drifting back to an earlier question. "What was it like? When you saw Harm after his earlier accident, I mean."
She sat back down, clasping Mac's hand in hers as she gathered her thoughts. She didn't think that anything she could say would completely prepare Mac, but perhaps she could soften the blow a bit by preparing her to expect anything. "The whole way to Germany," she began quietly, her voice trembling slightly at the memory, "I tried to tell myself that as long as he was alive, I could handle anything I would see, but nothing prepares you. Harm has always been so active and vibrant, but seeing him lying in a hospital bed, so pale …. To this day, I can't tell you what all the machines he was hooked up to did or what was being carried into his body in all the tubes. Honestly, except for the machines and the IVs and the paleness of his face, you couldn't really tell he was injured. Except for a lot of bruises and some broken ribs, most of his major injuries were to his back and legs and were covered by the bedding. Looking at him lying in that bed, you might have thought he was just sleeping. But I knew he wasn't and I just remember that it felt like someone had punched me in the gut. That's the only way I can describe it."
Mac nodded, the words caught in her throat. She'd had an idea what to expect, knew it would probably be bad, but to hear it put in such stark terms …. then again, how much worse could it be than what she'd seen on the ship when he'd been unable to control his body, when he'd been unable to draw breath into his lungs? She rubbed the palm of her free hand against her pant leg as she took a slow deep breath. She would deal with it. She had to be strong for Harm.
She stood and offered Sarah a hand getting up, more out of politeness than any thought that the other woman needed it. Sarah might be several inches shorter than her, something which struck Mac now that they were standing side-by-side, and might look like she might blow away in a strong wind, but Mac could see in her clear blue eyes that her spine was made of steel. It occurred to her that the elder Sarah Rabb was the lynchpin which held the family together. After all, hadn't she been the one Harm had turned to after his first crash, then one he'd always turned to?
Suddenly, she realized Sarah had been saying something. "I'm sorry, Mrs.," she began, stopping as she saw Sarah's admonishing look. "I mean, Gram. What were you saying?"
"I was wondering if stopping by the nursery had helped any," Sarah repeated as they started walking towards the hospital entrance. Mac turned to her, startled. "Remember, I was walking by when that nurse called down from the nursery and she said you'd been there then had gone outside for some air. Anyway, I know there's a lot of short term issues to deal with right now, but sometimes it helps to think about the long term. Reminds us what we're fighting for."
"But Harm's the one who has to do most of the fighting," Mac pointed out, a note of frustration creeping into her voice. "I feel so …."
"Helpless?" Sarah asked gently when Mac didn't finish. She took the ensuing silence as confirmation. "I suppose being in the military, the Marines especially, that you're used to taking action, not sitting back and waiting for something to happen. But don't think that you can't help him fight. When Harm was still unconscious after his first crash, a counselor stopped by to talk to us. She suggested that we talk to Harm. Evidence has shown that kind of thing registers somehow with people."
"Father Gilly said the same thing," Mac said, "on the helo on the way here. He said he worked in a VA hospital after he first joined the Navy and that he spent a lot of time with patients in comas, just talking to them."
"Mac, this may sound a bit hokey," Sarah continued, "but have you heard about how some people who are near death talk about a white light and something pulling them towards it?" Mac nodded reluctantly, not sure where she was going with this apparently morbid subject. She didn't want to think about Harm seeing white lights and being pulled towards anywhere that wasn't back to her. "You be the anchor – pardon the naval metaphor – that holds Harm here. Talk to him about your future. Tell him about your future children …."
In spite of her mood, Mac couldn't help the chuckle that escaped at Sarah's earnest tone. "Is that supposed to be a hint?" she asked, even managing to inject a bit of teasing into her voice.
"I'm not getting any younger," Sarah said determinedly, "and not counting Sergei, since I wasn't around when he was born, it's been almost thirty-eight years since a baby was born into this family. It's about time, don't you think? Of course, it will be a while before Harm's in any condition for the actual making of the baby."
This time, Mac did laugh as an image crossed her mind of her playing 'nurse' for Harm. She leaned against the wall as they waited for the elevator. "Gram, how is it that you know just what to say to make a person feel better?" she asked.
"Harm says it's my gift," she replied, imagining just what had caused the outburst of laughter. She wasn't that old, regardless of what the calendar said. Just because her husband had died almost sixty years earlier didn't mean she hadn't loved since then. "But I just hate to see the people I love hurting." At Mac's shocked look, she smiled. "Dear, my grandson loves you and that's enough for me. From what I've learned about you, not just in listening to him talk about you but in talking to you now, I know you're good for him. You understand him, better than most people. And regardless of the problems the two of you may have gone through when he went back to flying, I think you realize now that is part of what makes him who he is and you wouldn't try to change him."
"You can say I learned that one the hard way," she muttered under her breath. His quals were a case in point. When he'd told her that he had to go out to a carrier and might miss the wedding, it had crossed her mind to be upset. But between knowing that it was something he had to do and that he would do everything to keep his promise to return in time for the wedding, she'd accepted it. But if this had all happened two years ago, when she'd felt so threatened by his love of flying, she probably would not have handled it well at all. Just look at the downward spiral which had started when he told her that he was returning to active flight status.
Mac was silent as they stepped onto the elevator and Sarah decided not to push her luck any further. She was confident Mac knew she had her support. There would be time later to pick up this topic again.
As the elevator doors opened to the third floor, Mac squared her shoulders, mentally preparing herself for what she might face, while Sarah squeezed her hand encouragingly. As they passed the central desk, a nurse smiled encouragingly at them, with both women took as a sign that all was still going as well as could be expected.
Mac could feel the silence in the room as she pushed open the door to the waiting room. Mac studiously ignored the pointed stares as she and Sarah took seats on one of the couches as people shifted around to make room for them. She risked a glance at Mic out of the corner of her eye and found herself unable to read his expression. Maybe she could do this, wait until later to deal with all this. Maybe everyone would let her wait.
Chloe, who had vacated her seat on the couch, settled in front of the couch, resting her head on Mac's thigh. "There hasn't been an update since before you left," she whispered, stifling a yawn. "But it should be almost over, right?"
Mac nodded as she stroked her sister's hair. "Yeah," she replied, her voice barely there. "It should be almost over."
"We were starting a prayer service," Father Gilly told her. Mac glanced around, finally noticing that most of the room's occupants were holding hands. One hand still being clasped by Sarah, she was startled when she felt a light pressure on her other hand and looked up into Frank's warm eyes. Tentatively, she curled her fingers around his, sensing nothing but support from the stranger who was now her father-in-law.
Gilly opened his Bible to the page he'd bookmarked, but before he could start speaking, the door opened again. Everyone tensed at the sight of the same nurse who had updated them earlier, expressions ranging from worried to cautiously hopeful. "I'm looking for Admiral Chegwidden," she announced, faces falling as everyone realized there was no news.
A.J. stood and walked across the room to the door. "There's a phone call for you, Sir," the nurse said. "You can take it at the main desk."
Puzzled, A.J. followed her out of the room, wondering who would be calling him there. Just about everyone who might have had reason to contact him was in the room he'd just left. Suddenly, he was struck with the hope that it wasn't the SECNAV. This investigation was going to be hard enough without a career politician who had no love for 'Harmful' Rabb injecting himself into it. With a sigh, he picked up the phone, punching the flashing button. "Admiral Chegwidden," he said.
"A.J.," a voice he recognized all too well said. A.J. groaned. Clay was probably the next to last person he wanted to speak to right now. He was not in the mood for the agent's usual games.
"What is it, Webb?" A.J. said, exasperated.
Clay recognized the tone and at another time, he might have taken delight in needling A.J.. But he knew that this was not that time. "I have news from Russia," he said calmly. "Sergei Zhukov is on his way to Moscow with one of my agents. I've already got the paperwork in order to get him into the US. We should be touching down in New York in about eleven hours, and then I've got a jet standing by to fly us to Norfolk."
"Rabb's brother has been released?" A.J. asked.
"I managed to broker a deal with the Chechens," Clay said. "Look, the details aren't important right now. I just wanted to get an update on Rabb's condition so I'd have something to tell Sergei when he gets here."
"He's still in surgery," he replied, deciding he was better off not knowing right now just what the deal to get Sergei released entailed, as long as it wasn't something illegal which might affect Sergei's immigrant status. Worrying about whether his brother would be allowed to remain in the US was the last thing Harm needed. "We haven't been updated in a while, but the last time they said anything, the surgery was about half over but appeared to be going well."
"I guess it's not much," Clay said, "but it does give me something to tell him. How's Mac taking this?"
"How do you think, Webb?" he countered. "She's trying to hold everything together like she always does."
"I can imagine," he suggested, "worrying about Rabb on top of having to postpone her wedding."
A.J. chuckled. God knew it wasn't really funny, but he could use a laugh right about now. "I guess you don't know everything, Webb," A.J. couldn't resist poking at the other man just a little. He needed something to break the tension. "The wedding is cancelled, not just postponed."
"Cancelled?" Clay asked, stunned. "Just because Rabb took a dip in the Atlantic?"
"Nope," A.J. said. "Cancelled because she married Rabb."
"A.J., when was the last time you got any sleep?" Clay asked suspiciously. The other man had to have gone around the bend. That was the only explanation.
"Webb, Harm and Mac are married," A.J. repeated, not offering any more details. "Just tell Sergeant Zhukov that his brother is holding on. I'm sure his presence will give Rabb even more reason to hang on."
"Okay," Clay said, although he had a lot more questions. He doubted A.J. would answer any of them. "I'll call once we reach New York and let you know our ETA in Norfolk."
After they hung up, A.J. leaned against the counter, contemplating. What was already a tense family situation was about to get even more so. He didn't know all the details, but he'd heard something to the effect that things had been a little tense between Harm and his mother right around the time the news about Sergei had become public knowledge. "Nurse," he said, turning to the nurse who had informed him of Clay's call, "can you ask Colonel MacKenzie to join me out here?"
"Colonel MacKenzie?" she asked, confused.
A.J. realized his mistake. "Sorry," he said, "Colonel Rabb."
Nodding, she took off to do as he asked, returning a moment later with a worried Mac. "Admiral, is it something about Harm?" she asked, her words coming out in a rush. "Have you heard something about the investigation? I saw something on the news earlier …."
"Mac, this isn't about Harm's crash," he assured her, holding up his hand to stop her. "At least not directly. That was Webb on the phone. Sergei Zhukov has been released. He should be arriving in Moscow shortly and then will be on a flight to New York. He should be here in Norfolk …." He glanced at his watch, quickly calculating. "Sometime early this evening, likely. Which brings me to why I asked you out here."
She understood immediately. "You're wondering how Harm's family will react to having him here," she concluded. "Of course, Gram would be thrilled. He's her grandson, too. Trish, I'm not so sure about. I know Harm indicated that she didn't take the news of his existence too well. But what Gram said is right. Harm is what is important here. Sergei being here will be good for Harm. I think from that perspective, Trish will handle it. Later, there probably will be issues to be resolved, but honestly, Sir, they're just not that important right now. Harm is what's important and having his brother here can only help him."
"I agree with that," he said, noting the family nickname she used for Harm's grandmother. Perhaps Sarah going outside to find Mac had been a good thing. He suspected Mac needed all the support she could get, although she would probably never admit it. He also suspected that she was talking about more than Sergei when she spoke of issues to be resolved later.
"Sir," she continued, "I do think we should probably tell them now. At least that would give everyone all of today to come to terms with it, I guess."
"Probably a good idea," he concurred. "I would like you to be with me when I tell them."
"Sir," she protested, shaking her head, "I'm not so sure that's a good idea. I just met them and …."
"Mac," A.J. cut her off, "you've met Sergei and would be in a better position than I would to answer any questions they might have about him."
Mac sighed, nodding in acquiescence. She was at least thankful that he hadn't thrown in the fact that they were technically her family. Except for Sarah, she wasn't really sure where she stood with them. Frank had seemed friendly when she and Sarah had rejoined everyone, perhaps because he knew what it was like to be the interloper, but Trish was still an unknown quantity and that bothered Mac. She'd learned a long time ago that it wasn't worth the heartache to try to please her parents, but for some reason she couldn't quite pinpoint, what Harm's family thought mattered to her a lot.
A.J. left her standing by the counter, returning after a moment which the rest of Harm's family. Not giving them a chance question what was going on, he immediately launched into an explanation. "I just got a call from a friend of Harm's," he told them. "He informed me that Sergei Zhukov has been released by the Chechens and is on his way to the US. He should be here sometime this evening."
"Thank God," Sarah gasped, her eyes filling with tears. Impulsively, Mac gave her a hug.
Trish looked shell-shocked, but her voice was calm when she said, "I'm sure Harm will be happy to see his brother and I know Mom has wanted to meet her other grandson." Frank put a comforting hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently.
"I thought you should know now," A.J. said, sensing that they needed to be alone to deal with this latest news. He headed back for the waiting room, leaving them standing in the hallway. After a moment's heavy silence, Sarah reached out and took Trish's hand in hers.
"It will be okay, Trish," she assured her.
Trish nodded hesitantly. "I know," she said softly. "This is what Harm wants and what you want, Mom."
"Trish," Sarah gently admonished her, "that doesn't mean I'm not worried about how you will deal with this. We talked after Harm told you about Sergei, remember?"
"Mom, I'll be fine," Trish said, her voice firmer. After the fact, she'd felt bad about unburdening herself to Sarah when the other woman was worried about her grandson in a prison camp half a world away. She wasn't about to go down that road again. "As I'm sure you would say, Harm is the important thing right now and having his brother here could only encourage him, right? I'm sure he's a nice kid. Mac, you've met him, haven't you?"
It took Mac a moment to realize that Trish had spoken to her. "Yes, I met him in Russia," she confirmed. "He is a good kid. He reminded me a lot of Harm, except …." She stopped, not quite sure how to put it into words.
"Except what?" Sarah encouraged her.
Mac shrugged. "I guess the only way I can explain it is that he hasn't lived with the uncertainty Harm has," she explained. "He's known his entire life that his father is dead. He hasn't had his career ripped from him the way Harm did and had to start over."
"Trish, it will be okay," Frank interjected. "No matter what our differences, all of us just want one thing and that is for Harm to get better. We do have common ground in that."
"You're right, darling," she conceded. She looked at Mac. "We're all here because we love Harm. He's the most important thing right now."
Mac forced herself to meet her mother-in-law's gaze, her nervousness increasing. She sensed the hesitancy in her tone. Perhaps she was just imagining things. It could just be meeting her husband's other son which had Trish worried.
She was about to suggest they return to the waiting room when she caught sight of two figures decked out in scrubs coming down the hall and hands clenched into fists at her side. Trish noticed the change in Mac's expression and turned, her fingers tightening around Sarah's when she saw the doctors heading their way.
"Dr. Stafford, Dr. Reed," Mac greeted them, surprised that she could make the words come out past her heart which was stuck in her throat. She gestured around the group, making introductions. "These are my in-laws, Trish and Frank Burnett and Harm's grandmother, Sarah Rabb. Everyone, Dr. Stafford is the neurosurgeon who operated on Harm. And you all spoke to Dr. Reed earlier, when we were on the carrier."
"He came out of the surgery okay?" Trish asked.
"He's being moved into ICU as we speak," Stafford confirmed. "The surgery went as well as can be expected. Despite the delay in treatment, we were able to stop the bleeding before it spread too much. Now, it's just a waiting game. We'll closely monitor him to make sure there isn't any swelling or a recurrence of the bleeding. It's hard to say as these things can be tricky, but we're cautiously optimistic right now."
There were audible sighs of relief from all those assembled. "When will he be allowed visitors, Doctor?" Frank asked.
"It will take about a half hour to get him settled in ICU," Stafford replied. "For now, his condition is still critical, so we will limit his visitors to family only, two at a time for fifteen minutes each. You can give a list of the family members to the nurse in ICU so that they know who's allowed to go in. We will keep him sedated for a while to facilitate the healing process, so after all of you have visited him once, I recommend you go get some rest. The VOQ has rooms set aside for the families of patients. If his vitals stay stable, we probably will bring him out of sedation later this afternoon. That will give you a few a few hours sleep at least."
"Thank you, Doctor," Sarah said for all of them.
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To be continued….