MORGAN'S FOOD AND SPIRITS
DOUBLETREE HOTEL NORFOLK AIRPORT
It had taken some doing since the hotel's check-in time wasn't until three, but a dash of Aussie charm coupled with a sad story of being up all night at Portsmouth Naval Medical Center waiting for a very dear friend to come out of surgery got Mic a room where he could crash. It hadn't been too hard to be convincing, even if he did exaggerate the truth a bit. After all, his extreme exhaustion was obvious to anyone. And if a little flirting helped, he told himself that it was all for a good cause, as was claiming a friendship with Harm that had never existed.
Later, after some sleep and a more substantial meal than snacks and soda out of the hospital vending machine, he would be able to think about exactly what he planned to say to Mac at their breakfast date. It would be hard to be sympathetic about what Harm was going through, but he recognized the need to at least show some concern about what the man was going through. While he wouldn't wish what had happened to Harm on anyone – he wasn't a heartless bastard, after all – if Harm were to just go away and to never be a part of their lives again, it would not bother him one bit.
In fact, Brumby and Brumby had been something of a step in that direction. True, his primary concern when starting the firm was to bring in some money after being fired from his old firm so that he wouldn't start married life dependent on his wife's income. But when he and Mac decided that it was time to start their family, wouldn't it be easier for Mac to be working with him in their own practice, where she could take as much or as little time as needed? Then he wouldn't have to think about her seeing Harm every day in the office, going away on investigations with him ….
He would show sympathy, since he didn't want to end up pushing Mac farther away than she already was, but above all he had to make sure she knew just what she meant to him. There were things he could give her that he didn't believe Harm could. He held no opinion on whether or not Harm truly loved Mac, or so he kept telling himself, but what kind of stability could Harm provide, especially when he seemed to attract trouble like a magnet?
Just in the time Mic had been in Washington, there'd been that business with the Stealth in Iran, thieves trying to cover their crimes aboard a carrier with sabotage, a murderous corpsman aboard a submarine, Clark Palmer, Charlie Lynch, Panama, a hijacking on the way to Korea, a second trip to Russia. He was sure there was a situation or two that didn't come to him off the top of his head. Not only had Harm been in danger all those times, but often Mac had been as well. What kind of life was that for a woman ready to start a family? Even if Harm did love her, it couldn't be as much as Mic did, or he wouldn't keep putting Mac into those situations.
He remembered what he'd heard about Harm's family shortly after his arrival at JAG, when the first Russian adventure was still a hot topic among the staff and he wondered what kind of man would willingly live a life that could possibly leave his wife a widow, just as his own mother had been. Mac needed a husband who would be there with her, not one who would spend his life chasing adventure all over the planet.
Lost in his thoughts as he walked towards the elevator, he almost missed the familiar head of blonde hair in the hotel's lounge. They'd gone to the hospital together, but he'd been unable to find her when he was ready to leave. He didn't know her cell phone number, so he'd decided to trust that she would find a way to the hotel, which she obviously had. Mildly curious as to how her visit with Harm had gone, he headed towards the lounge. Renee might be privy to some information that might help him keep Mac. Sleep could wait a little bit longer.
He sat down on the stool next to Renee at the bar, but she didn't even look up at him as she twirled an olive on a toothpick in her martini. Mic motioned for the bartender.
"What can I get you, sir?" the bartender asked.
"Got any Foster's?" Mic asked. The bartender nodded and bent down to retrieve a bottle, popping the top off before he set it in front of Mic.
Mic took a long swig of his beer as he studied Renee out of the corner of his eye. She still hadn't acknowledged his presence. Maybe it had finally gotten to her, he thought, the hours of waiting and worrying. She'd been nearly at the end of her rope when he'd last seen her at the hospital and he could only imagine what Harm's current condition might be.
Apparently bored with her olive, Renee popped it into her mouth, tossing the toothpick aside. With one long gulp, she tossed back the rest of the martini and motioned to the bartender. "Another one," she demanded, tapping a well-manicured fingernail on the bar.
Was Rabb that bad off, he wondered, noting that her words were slightly slurred. It was clear the drink she'd just downed wasn't her first. Turning to study her, he noticed her bloodshot eyes, but whether that was from tears or drink, he couldn't tell.
"Renee?" he asked, placing his hand on her arm. She jumped back at his touch, nearly losing her balance on the stool. Only Mic's quick reflexes kept her from falling backwards off her perch. Definitely on her way to being drunk, if she wasn't there already. "Did Rabb take a turn for the worse?"
"Wouldn't know," she replied with a dramatic sigh. The bartender finally came over and she motioned to her empty glass as she rambled on to Mic. "Never got to see him. You see, I'm not family. I've only been in love with this man for over a year, but because I don't have a ring on my finger, I couldn't even get past the front door before some nurse stopped me …. said she had a list and I wasn't on it. Wouldn't be surprised if Mac's the one who made up the list. She's his wife now, remember? I've been with him forever, but she's the one who gets to make all the decisions."
"Ma'am, I believe you've had enough," the bartender said when Renee paused for a breath. "How about some black coffee instead?"
"I don't think so," she countered. "Coffee ain't gonna make me forget. You see, my boyfriend …. well, I guess you can't call him my boyfriend anymore …."
Mic had the feeling he didn't really want to hear what she was about to say. "I think the coffee will be fine," he answered for her.
As Renee went on some more about how Mac got all the consideration and she got none, he motioned to the bartender. "How many of those has she had?" he whispered, although he really didn't have to - Renee appeared to be paying absolutely no attention to what he was doing.
"That was only her second martini," the bartender replied, just as quietly. At Mic's puzzled glance, he added, "After the two rum and cokes she started out with."
He nodded. "Bring the coffee and keep the pot on standby," he said. "I think she'll need it."
"Well, if you're not gonna bring me 'nother martini," Renee cut in, pouting, "how's 'bout bringing him one? He's gonna need something stronger than that swill he's drinking."
"Hey, that's good Aussie brew," he protested in a teasing manner, trying to draw her out of the funk she'd worked herself into. "Now that stuff you Yanks call beer – that's swill."
"Whatever," she muttered. The bartender set a cup of coffee in front of her, and then moved down to the far end of the bar to give them some privacy. Renee ignored the coffee, turning to face Mic. "So did you finally give up on Mac?"
"I haven't given up on anything," he replied, taking another sip of his beer. "Just came back here to get some sleep. I'm meeting Sarah for breakfast tomorrow so we can discuss where we go from here."
Renee leaned closer to him, as if preparing to share some great secret. "Actually," she confided in a conspiratorial whisper, "she's probably just meeting with you so she can let you down easy. Ha! This is supposed to be easy?"
"She said she wanted to see where things stood with Harm first," he countered. "She's not going to let me down."
"Come on," she said, "is that really what she said? She's already let you down! She married another man, remember? And on the same day the two of you…."
"She felt sorry for the bloke," he insisted.
"Well, that's not the way she made things sound to Harm's mother," she said, shaking her head. "You know, I told Harriet that I was hoping you wouldn't get hit by a bus…."
"Thanks," he replied, curious as to when that had come up as a topic. "I think."
She giggled, as if he'd just said something hilarious, her laughter quickly turning into hiccups. After she calmed down, she continued, "Then yesterday, when you couldn't keep track of your fiancée, the little devil voice inside me said that maybe I should have been praying Harm didn't get hit by one. I mean, he crashes his plane and she's nowhere to be found! But you know what? It doesn't matter!"
Mic reached over and pushed the coffee towards her. She was more drunk than he thought, because she was making less sense as the conversation wore on. He debated the wisdom of just escorting her to her room and heading to his to get some sleep. So far he hadn't learned much beyond the fact that Renee rambled when she was drunk, and as much as a few drinks might make him feel better as well, he was too tired to make the effort. "Drink your coffee, Renee," he said.
She pushed it away from her. "I'm not that drunk, Mic," she insisted as she wagged her finger at him. "I can hold my liquor. I'm just upset. No, that's not a strong enough word. I'm angry. No, better yet, I'm pissed off. I'd like to say I'm not going to take it anymore, but I can't. It's over."
"Look, mate," Mic said in a placating tone, "it's been a long night and we're tired. Get some sleep and things will look better later."
"That's easy for you to say," she said, jabbing his shoulder with each word to make the point. "You didn't hear Mac tell Harm's mother that she had no intention of marrying you yesterday, even before she up and decided to marry Harm."
Mic mentally counted to ten, reminding himself that by her own admission, she was pissed off. Add to that the drinks she'd consumed, and it was no wonder that she was lashing out. He probably just made the most convenient target right now. He could hardly hold that against her. "What did you expect her to say to Rabb's mother?" he rationalized, as much to himself as to her. "'I was promised to another man, but I married Harm because I felt sorry for him'?"
"Mic," she said, "when you were a boxer, weren't there times when you just had to admit you couldn't get up off the mat?"
"Of course," he replied, "not that it happened to me that often. But a person doesn't spend months planning a wedding and then suddenly turn around less than twelve hours before the happy occasion and decide to marry someone else."
"Okay," she conceded, the word coming out as little more than a croak as she hiccupped again, "let's suppose that's true. I'm not saying that it is, but let's just suppose. Do you think she'd stay away from him after you're married?"
"Of course," he replied. "She would be my wife."
She shook her head in disbelief. "Weren't you the one who told me that Mac cheated on her first husband?"
"They'd been separated for years when she had the affair with Colonel Farrow," he said.
"And what about Wednesday night?" she countered. "She was still your fiancée then."
"We don't know for sure that anything happened," he reminded her, trying to brush aside his own doubts about that night.
"Yeah, but there's a pretty strong …. what do you lawyers call it?" She glanced towards the ceiling, as if looking for the answer. "Oh, yeah, a circumstantial case. Or do you think she just got up in the middle of the night and decided for the hell of it to drive several hours to Norfolk just to have breakfast with Harm?"
"I don't know," he said. "I haven't had a chance to ask her yet."
"Look, Mic," she said, "I don't want to believe it either. I'd like to wake up and find out that I'm back in Washington, drifting off in the afterglow of some incredible sex with Harm, while you and Mac are on your honeymoon, planning future little Brumbys. But after everything I've seen and heard the last couple of days, I'm ready to admit that just is not going to happen."
"Fine, you give up then," he said, trying to banish the image that popped into his mind of Renee and Harm between the sheets. He tried to think instead of his favorite beach back home, imagining himself slathering sun block all over Sarah, who this time would be topless. He even knew of a few beaches where she could get by with wearing nothing at all. He'd have to work on making that one a reality when this was all over. "I can't. Rabb's been a part of her life for years, but he's never made a move towards her. I even asked him once and he said they weren't involved. I was the one she agreed to marry."
"You're a good friend, Mic Brumby," she said. "Probably the only one I've got here today. So believe that I'm saying this as your friend. Maybe it's time to cut your losses."
"I have to talk to Sarah," he insisted. He didn't want to lash out at Renee, and realizing that his temper was close to flaring, he decided to switch gears. "If you're not going to drink that coffee, why don't I escort you up to your room. You can sleep this off and maybe things will seem a little clearer later."
"I don't wanna sleep," she protested, even as she let Mic help her down from the stool. Watching her waver unsteadily now that she was on her feet, he pulled out his wallet and motioned to the bartender to settle their bill. Renee noticed as she faltered, grabbing onto his arm for support. "You don't have to do that."
"No worries," he replied. "It's on me." He put his wallet back in his pocket and threw an arm around her waist, leading her away from the bar. "What's your room number?"
"Don't wanna go there," she protested again.
"Come on," he said. "You need some sleep."
"Don't wanna sleep. Don't wanna dream," she said. "I might dream of Harm and the life I wanted for us and then I'll wake up and remember that that's never gonna happen."
Growing weary of going around in circles with her, he refrained from arguing that nothing was for sure yet. He wouldn't know anything until he could talk to Sarah. "Just give me your keycard," he said, his voice showing a hint of the strain he was under.
Renee fumbled around for a moment in her purse before producing the requested card. As he was hoping, it was still in the protective sleeve that it had been put in when given to her at check-in, with her room number written on the sleeve. She was on the floor below his. He could just drop her off at her room and then head to his own.
They somehow made their way across the lobby and into the elevator, although Renee wasn't of much help, Mic practically dragging her along. As soon as he released her to push the number for her floor, she slumped against the back wall of the elevator. "Mic, can I ask you something?" she asked as the doors closed.
At Mic's nod, she continued, "What makes you so sure everything's going to work out the way you want it to? How do you know that you're not going to meet Mac tomorrow only to have her tell you that it's over and she intends to stay with Harm?"
Mic didn't even have to think about it before he replied, "Because she agreed to marry me and she knows that I love her and can give her what she most wants in the world – stability, security, and a family. She'd never have to be alone again."
-----
THAT AFTERNOON
NORFOLK NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER
Mac sighed, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back against the wall, her fingers playing with the strap of her purse as she waited impatiently for Dr. Stafford to arrive. Sarah sat next to her, Mac's free hand clasped in hers. Trish and Frank sat huddled together on the small sofa, Frank rubbing Trish's shoulder as he whispered to her. They'd arrived at the hospital prepared to be with Harm when he regained consciousness, only to be told by an ICU nurse that the doctor wanted to see them in his office before they saw Harm.
Stifling a yawn, Mac mentally calculated the time they'd been sitting there waiting. It had been eight minutes and fourteen seconds, an eternity when she was on the verge of collapse and all she wanted was to see Harm and reassure herself that he was on the mend.
After she'd checked into the VOQ, she'd been unable to sleep. Even though it was not the same room, and was even in a different building on a different part of the base, the room she was given was identical to the one she and Harm had spent the night in on Wednesday, right down to burnt orange flowers on the brown bedspread. She'd tried to sleep, but she'd been assaulted by images of that night – the way he'd pressed her against the door as soon as they'd entered his room, the heartbreaking expression on his face as they'd come together knowing that it might only be for that one night, how he'd trembled in her arms as they'd come down together off that magical high.
Not even an hour had passed before Mac had given up on getting any sleep. She'd quickly gotten dressed in her uniform, the only thing she had that was suitable for going out in public, and had set out to keep herself occupied until it was time to return to the hospital. First, she'd stopped at the base exchange to buy some clothes and necessities. She'd originally packed only enough for a couple of days, anticipating a short stay on the carrier, but now she was looking at a week or more in Norfolk before Harm was well enough to be transferred by helo to Bethesda.
She headed off base after changing into jeans and a t-shirt bought at the exchange. After a quick lunch at a nearby McDonalds, Mac had driven to the airfield and watched flight operations. Remembering the concerns Harm had expressed before his seizure, she'd pondered how much harder it would be for him to pass the flight physical now that he was dealing with more than just a third ejection and a severe case of hypothermia. She knew better than to count Harm out. He'd been told once before that he'd never fly as part of an active squadron again. She could never forget how that had ended up, a piece of her heart ripped from her when he'd walked out of JAG two years earlier, seemingly forever. This time, she would support him.
She was startled out of her revere by Sarah squeezing her hand. She opened her eyes, straightening in her chair as Dr. Stafford entered the office.
"I'm sorry for the delay," Dr. Stafford said, taking a seat behind his desk.
"Is there some kind of problem?" Mac asked tensely, voicing the thought that was on all their minds.
"On the contrary, I have some promising news," he assured them. He held up the folder in his hand. "I just got the results of Commander Rabb's latest CT scan from the radiologist. There's still a little swelling, which is normal after surgery but which has decreased since then. There's been no recurrence of bleeding."
"That means he's going to be okay?" Trish asked.
"The brain is probably the biggest mystery of the human body, Mrs. Burnett," Stafford replied, a note of caution in his tone, "so I am by no means ready to declare your son 'out of the woods', so to speak. We'll continue to monitor him closely for a few days. I am optimistic that his injury will heal physically, but what we can't know yet, and what I wanted to talk to you about before the Commander wakes up, are the possible side effects from his injury."
"Such as?" Mac asked tightly.
"Obviously," he continued, "there's likely to be some disorientation when he first wakes up, some confusion. He may even have some problems remembering things that happened right before his seizure, maybe even further back than that, to the crash itself. Just be patient. That kind of thing usually sorts itself out in time. There may be some concerns with his motor function. Those issues may improve on their own, but he can do physical therapy if they linger. He's certain to experience an increase in headaches, possibly even as severe as migraines. There may also be some problems with mood swings."
"Are we looking at temporary concerns," Frank asked, "or things that could possibly be permanent?"
"It could go either way," Stafford admitted. "I've seen patients after surgery like his run the gamut – from complete recovery to permanent physical and psychological issues. Now, that said, Commander Rabb does have several factors in his favor. He's healthy, keeps himself in shape, and from what I've been told by Dr. Reed and Father Gilly, he's a very strong-willed person. He's going to need all that. On the other hand, he has suffered head injuries in the past, which could make it harder to bounce back from this one."
"The Hornet," Mac whispered. That may not have been Harm's only head injury in the years she'd known him, but it had been the most severe until now. She remembered the fear that had risen in her throat, quickly forced down, when she'd found him unconscious on the deck. He'd spent two days in the hospital, but had seemed almost normal upon his release. She realized the point the doctor was trying to make, but she knew Harm. He didn't know how to quit. She had faith that he'd be back in the courtroom - and in the air not too long after that. She could not consider a different outcome and she knew Harm wouldn't either.
"So all we can do is wait and see," Sarah stated. It wasn't what they wanted to hear, but there wasn't a person in this room who would want the truth sugar-coated. "So what now?"
"That's the good news," Dr. Stafford said. "We did discontinue the Commander's sedation a few hours ago and he is experiencing an increased level of consciousness. He's not quite awake yet, but I expect he will be shortly. Also, we've been weaning him off the ventilator all day. His SIMV has been two for the last couple of hours, which is very good."
At their confused looks, he elaborated, "SIMV is basically the number of breaths per minute that the vent is forcing air in and out of his lungs. In other words, he's pretty much breathing on his own. A respiratory specialist will be on hand to remove the vent once the Commander regains consciousness. I understand from Dr. Reed he was already hoarse from all the time he spent in the water, and now he's had a breathing tube down his throat for the better part of a day. We won't let him talk too much yet. It will also give us a chance to evaluate some of his motor skills by seeing if he can write out what he wants to say."
"How long will we be able to stay with him?" Trish asked.
"Not too long, at least for now," Stafford replied. "Don't be surprised if he tires quickly. He may fall asleep not long after he regains consciousness. This is completely normal and he'll probably tire easily for some time to come during his recovery. I also understand the Commander's brother is arriving this evening."
"Last we heard," Mac explained, as Trish looked down at her lap, uncomfortable with the subject, "he's due to arrive sometime after 1900." Clay was supposed to call Mac either at the hospital or on her cell phone once they landed in New York to give her a firm arrival time in Norfolk.
"Since I'm sure you'll be back to see Commander Rabb then," Stafford continued, "we'll keep the visit short for now. If he feels up to it, perhaps a longer visit will be in order later this evening after his brother arrives, or more likely, tomorrow."
"Thank you, Doctor," Sarah replied. "Is there anything else we need to know about Harm's condition?"
"That should cover everything," he replied, "unless you have any specific questions."
"I think we'd all like to be with Harm now," Mac said for all of them.
-----
Harm was lying on his back when they entered his room, the head of his bed elevated to a forty-five degree angle. A woman in a Marine uniform was listening to his chest with a stethoscope while a nurse in hospital scrubs stood by. Mac studied the other Marine for any hint of Harm's condition, but the woman didn't seem overly concerned about anything as she straightened up and moved to the foot of the bed to make some notes in his chart. "This is Captain Fleming," Stafford introduced the Marine. "She's serving as the Commander's respiratory therapist. Nurse Downs is assisting her. Captain, Nurse, this is Commander Rabb's wife, Colonel Rabb; his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Burnett; and his grandmother, Mrs. Rabb."
"How is he, Captain?" Mac asked as she pulled up a chair to the head of the bed, sinking wearily into it.
"His breath sounds are good, Colonel," she replied, handing the chart to Stafford so he could read her notes. "Pneumonia is still a concern because of the length of time he was in the water and the setbacks he's had. His system is depressed due to all the trauma, but steps were already being taken before the seizure to guard against pneumonia, so I'm hopeful that we can hold off an infection. He's breathing on his own, for the most part, so we're going to remove the vent after he regains consciousness."
"So Dr. Stafford said," Mac said as she took one of Harm's hands in hers. It still felt slightly chilled, but nowhere near as cold as it had been in the hours after he'd been pulled from the water. The rest of the family settled around the bed, Sarah sitting beside Mac, while Trish and Frank took up positions on the other side of the bed. Trish clasped Harm's other hand, careful not to pull the IV tubing going into that arm.
"You should talk to him," Fleming continued. "When he regains consciousness, with his likely disorientation, it's possible he's going to fight the tube in his throat. If he hears familiar voices as he wakes up, it will help calm him until we can remove the vent."
Mac stroked his hand. There was so much she wanted to say, but she didn't know where to begin. Her fingers traced the contours and plains of his hand as she tried to find the words. His hands were so strong, she mused, and they could be so gentle, but the hand she held felt so limp in hers. "Oh, Harm," she whispered, fighting back tears. "I'm here, Harm. So are your parents and you grandmother. We all love you and we just want you to come back to us."
"That's right, Darling," Trish added. "We're here for you, as long as you need us."
The others added their own words of encouragement, pleading with him to wake up. This went on for close to ten minutes with no sign of further consciousness from Harm. Finally, Mac thought she felt his fingers move against hers. She glanced up at his face, but could see no sign that he was waking up. Looking across the bed at Trish, she saw her watching Harm as well, a hopeful expression on her face. "Did you feel that, too?" Mac asked.
At Trish's nod, Mac looked back at Harm. "Harm, your mom and I are both holding your hands," she said. "Can you squeeze our hands? Come on, Harm. You can do this."
This time, when Mac felt the slight pressure of his fingers curling around hers, his eyelids fluttered. "That's it," she encouraged him. "It's time to wake up. Open your eyes, Harm."
Harm slowly turned his head towards the sound of her voice, struggling to do as she asked. He managed to halfway open his eyes before the lids fluttered closed again. Mac felt his fingers tense in hers as he almost imperceptibly started struggling, his mouth trying to move.
"The vent," Fleming reminded her.
"Harm, it's okay," Mac assured him, while Trish stroked his temple soothingly. "You're on a ventilator, but the doctor said that it will be taken out shortly. Just open your eyes."
The sound of her voice seemed to calm him, as he relaxed his hand in hers. His eyelids still fluttered, and Mac mentally counted eighty-six seconds before he managed to open his eyes all the way, his gaze focusing on her immediately. She lifted her hand to her mouth, overcome with emotion as she felt Sarah clasp her shoulder. Frank sighed with relief as he and Trish leaned against each other. "Welcome back," Mac whispered.
His eyes blinked slowly as he turned his head slightly to take in each of them in turn. He focused on his mother last, his eyes clouding at the sight of the tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm just so happy to see you," Trish assured him, recognizing the direction of his thoughts.
"Commander, this is Dr. Stafford," Stafford said from his position at the end of the bed. Harm slowly turned his gaze in that direction in silent acknowledgement. "Good, Commander."
Stafford glanced at Fleming, who nodded as she moved to the head of the bed between Trish and the wall, the nurse taking up a similar position on the other side of the bed next to Mac. "Commander, I'm Captain Fleming," she said. "We're going to remove the vent now. After I've removed the tape securing your endotracheal tube in place, Nurse Downs is going to suction the tube and your pharynx. When I tell you to, I want you to take a deep breath and then cough while I remove the tube. I'm going to then put an oxygen mask on you. I just want you to breathe normally. If there are no signs of respiratory distress, I'll remove the mask."
She turned to Mac. "Colonel," she said, "there's a cup of shaved ice and a spoon on the table behind you. After the mask has been removed, you can give him some to help moisten his throat before he attempts to speak."
Quickly and efficiently, they went about their work removing the ventilator. As the tube was pulled from Harm's throat, he squeezed Mac's hand almost painfully. "I know it's painful," she whispered, "but it's over now. Just try to relax."
As the oxygen mask was fitted over his nose and mouth, Harm's hold on Mac's hand eased. She pulled her hand from his, shaking it out to restore the circulation. "Some grip you've got there, sailor," she said in a half-teasing tone, trying to sound relaxed.
"Okay, Commander," Stafford said, moving to stand beside Frank, and holding out his hand to Harm, "I want you to try to squeeze my fingers with your left hand as hard as you can. As Harm did so, Stafford commented, "Your wife's correct. That's some grip." He took a pen out of his lab coat pocket. "I want you to try to follow this with your eyes without moving your head." Harm did as he was told, the doctor nodding as his eyes followed the pen perfectly. "Are you right-handed or left-handed?"
Harm lifted his right arm slightly off the bed in reply. Stafford held the pen out to him, Harm taking it and gripping it as if to write. The nurse took a notepad off the table and set it on Harm's lap. "Commander," Stafford said, "I'm going to ask you some simple questions and I want you to write your answers. What is your name?"
Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr.
His handwriting was a bit shakier than normal, but his response was readable and there was no pause as if he was trying to think about what he was writing. "Okay, Commander," Stafford continued as he glanced at Harm's chart. "What is your date of birth?"
25 October 1963
Stafford glanced at the chart to confirm the answer. "Good. Do you know why you're here?"
Harm paused, his brow furrowing in concentration. Finally he wrote two words on the pad, but Mac thought he looked like he wasn't quite satisfied with his answer.
Stafford noticed his expression and assured him, "Don't worry. 'Plane crash' is what I'm looking for right now. I don't expect you to know why you woke up in Portsmouth when the last thing you probably remember is being on the carrier. Who are the ladies sitting on your right side?"
Sarah Rabb
Stafford waited, a concerned look in his eyes when Harm didn't write anything else. Then a look of comprehension appeared. Both of the ladies on his right were named Sarah Rabb. "Maybe that was a little too easy," he conceded. "Who's sitting to your left?"
My parents, Trish and Frank Burnett
"Very good, Commander," Stafford said, making some notes in the chart. He glanced at Fleming, nodding towards the oxygen mask.
She nodded and removed the mask. Harm started to open his mouth to speak, but Fleming shook her head. "Not just yet, Commander. Colonel?"
Mac turned to grab the cup, spooning some ice up. She turned back and held the spoon towards Harm's mouth. She could see the frustration in his eyes at having to be spoon-fed, but he took the ice without complaint. She fed him a few more spoonfuls before he shook his head. She glanced at Dr. Stafford, setting the cup and spoon back down after he nodded.
"Commander," Stafford requested. "Please tell where you work."
Harm swallowed hard a couple of times before answering in a whispered croak, "JAG HQ, Falls Church, Virginia."
At the doctor's puzzled look, Mac explained in a quiet voice, "He does work at JAG, but he keeps up his flight status. He'd just finished his carrier landing qualifications and was leaving the carrier when – when he went down."
"Okay," Stafford said, turning his attention back to Harm. "What's the last thing you remember?"
Harm's brow furrowed in concentration. "I was on the carrier," he whispered after a moment. He looked at Mac, the corners of his mouth turning upward. "I asked you to marry me." The smile quickly turned to a frown. "No, you're Sarah Rabb now. I married you, right?"
"Yes, you did," Mac replied, swallowing hard. She glanced at the doctor, but he smiled reassuringly at her. She remembered what he'd said about some disorientation and relaxed slightly. She realized that Harm had a ways to go before he was his normal self.
"But how did I …." His voice trailed off and he studied Mac for a long moment before he continued, "How did I get back to the carrier? I left …. I was going back to Washington …. I called you?"
"You called me before you left the carrier," Mac confirmed. "But you crashed on the way back to Norfolk and you were taken back to the carrier."
"And….?" Harm asked. "The doctor said …. this is Portsmouth?"
"That's correct, Commander," Stafford said. "You suffered a head injury during the crash and you were brought here by helo for surgery."
"But …. my helmet?" Harm asked, his hand going to the back of his head where his surgical incision was covered by a bandage.
Mac looked down at the floor before answering. "The Coast Guard said that you weren't wearing it when they pulled you up. Don't worry about it. It will probably come back to you. I'm sure there's an explanation for why you weren't wearing it."
Harm looked at her dubiously, but Trish added, "She's right, darling. Just concentrate on getting better. There'll be plenty of time later to try and figure out exactly what happened."
"But …." Harm began.
"That's enough talking, Commander," Stafford interrupted. "You can spend a few more minutes with your family, but then you need to get some rest. Tomorrow, we'll run some tests to make sure that there are no complications from your injury and surgery, but things look promising so far."
"So when can I get out of here?" Harm whispered.
The question brought chuckles and grins to his family. "Figures that you would have a problem following doctor's orders," Mac teased.
"Slow down, Commander," Stafford said. "You're going to be our guest in ICU for a couple of days, at least. After that, we'll see, but I'd plan on spending at least a week in the hospital."
"Just concentrate on getting better," Mac said when she noticed Harm roll his eyes at the doctor's last statement. "We'll all be here until you get out of the hospital. Consider it a chance to spend some long-overdue quality time with your family."
"I have some other patients to look in on," Stafford said, "so I'm going to leave you to spend just a little more time with your family. I'll stop back by later this evening to see how you're doing."
"Thank you, Doctor," Harm whispered before Stafford left the room.
Trish sighed heavily and Harm turned to her, reaching for her hand. "Sorry," Harm said. "I …."
Trish waved him off. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she assured him. "I'm just relieved …."
"We all are," Frank added when Trish couldn't go on. "It's been a long couple of days for all of us, but the important thing is that you're back with us."
"Thanks, Frank," Harm whispered. He looked at his grandmother, who had been largely silent so far. "Gram?"
"You know what I'm going to say," Sarah said. "Don't worry about us and …."
"Just focus on taking care of myself," Harm finished softly, his eyelids drooping.
"And now you can focus on taking care of yourself by getting some rest," Sarah added. "The doctor said you'd likely fall asleep not long after waking up."
"She's right," Mac forced herself to respond. She wasn't ready to leave Harm yet, but she knew that he needed his rest. Maybe now she'd be able to get some sleep herself, now that she'd spoken to Harm and knew that he was getting better. "Get some sleep. The doctor said we could come back this evening after supper, and if you're up to it, we'll get to spend more time with you then."
"'kay," Harm murmured, his eyes closing. They each took turns kissing his forehead, or in Frank's case, clasping Harm's hand. As they turned to walk out, Harm reached a hand out, calling softly, "Mac…."
The others left the room to give them a moment. Mac sat back down on the edge of the bed, taking his hand in hers. "What is it, Harm?" she asked.
His eyes opened, his gaze focused intently on hers. "Renee?" he asked quietly.
Mac swallowed, wondering what to say. Now was not the time to deal with this, but he probably wouldn't let her put him off too much. "She's here in Norfolk," she finally said, looking down at their clasped hands, "although I think she's headed off to her hotel for now. They're not letting anyone but family in right now."
"She knows?" he whispered.
"Yeah," Mac replied. "She found out when she got here last night."
"Mic, too?"
"He arrived at the same time she did, so yes," she answered. "I agreed to meet with him tomorrow morning for breakfast to explain everything."
"Sorry," he whispered. "I wish I could help you with this. I guess I'll need to talk to Renee sometime."
"Don't worry about it," she said, her tone a little too bright. If Harm noticed, he didn't let on. "I can handle Mic. My life is with you now and he's going to have to accept that. And Renee will just have to understand that you're not up to explaining things to her yet."
She leaned over, brushing her lips against his. "I love you," she said as she pulled away.
He flashed her his familiar grin briefly before his eyes closed again. "As if I could forget," he murmured. "Love you, too."
-----
1935 HOURS LOCAL
INTENSIVE CARE UNIT
PORTSMOUTH NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER
"Gram," Mac greeted her in the hallway as she arrived. Sarah enveloped her in a warm hug, and then led her into the waiting room to sit down. "Were you waiting for me?"
"I wanted to be out here when my grandson arrives," Sarah replied. "Trish and Frank went in already to see Harm. They were going to tell him that we each wanted to see him separately, so that he didn't wonder where you and I are. He still doesn't know Sergei is coming."
"Good," Mac replied.
"What time did Mr. Webb say they'd get here?" Sarah asked.
"Should be anytime now," Mac replied. "They were a little late landing because of the weather. It won't take long to get here from the airport, and I would assume Clay would already have transportation arranged, so they should have been able to leave there pretty quickly."
"While we're waiting," Sarah said, "why don't you give me your impressions of Sergei?"
"I would have thought Harm would have told you all about him already," Mac countered.
"He has," Sarah explained, "but that's from a brother's perspective. I've always thought Harm would make a wonderful big brother. As you know, he has such a big heart and such compassion. But I'm interested in an outside perspective, so to speak."
"Well," Mac said, gathering her thoughts, "he's very well-mannered. He's definitely got his brother's stubbornness. After Harm introduced Sergei as his brother, I could see the resemblance. Not in the way Sergei looks. I'm sure you've seen pictures, so you know he's blonde and quite a bit smaller than Harm. There's something in his eyes though, that reminds me of Harm."
"They have their father's eyes," Sarah said.
"But there's something else," Mac continued. "He seemed so …. I don't know …. settled, I guess. In all the years I've known Harm, I've never seen him like that."
"I think that Sergei didn't grow up with the uncertainty that Harm did," Sarah mused. "He never had to wonder what happened to his father. He knew his entire life that his father died before he was born. In a way, I guess Sergei never knew what he was missing, not the way Harm did."
"I wonder what Harm would have been like if he'd grown up with that kind of certainty," Mac wondered.
Sarah didn't get a chance to reply, as a nurse stepped into the room. "Colonel Rabb," she said to Mac, "there are two gentlemen here to see you." She stepped aside to let Clay and Sergei enter the room.
"Colonel," Sergei greeted Mac, his eyes going wide as he looked past her to Sarah. "Grandma?"
Sarah, with tears in her eyes, nodded, rising to meet him halfway across the room. They threw their arms around each other, hugging tightly. Mac smiled as she watched the union.
"Too bad Harm isn't in here to see this," Mac mused as Clay sat down next to her.
"How is Harm doing?" Clay asked.
"He's fine," Mac replied. "I haven't seen him since before I spoke to you earlier, but Trish and Frank are in with him now. They're keeping Harm distracted until Gram and I come in with Sergei."
"He doesn't know his brother's here?" Clay asked in surprise.
"Gram and I talked this morning when the Admiral took us to pick up Harm's car and mine from the air field," she explained. "We thought it would be a nice surprise for him, after everything that's happened."
"And how are you doing, Mac?" Clay asked.
"I'm fine," she insisted, "just worried about Harm. It's been a rough couple of days."
"So I understand," Clay said, "and not just because of the crash."
"I guess," Mac said evasively, not wanting to get into it with him. She wasn't up to dealing with Clay's usual smart-aleck comments. "So what's Sergei's situation? How long can he stay here?"
"He's on a standard 90-day visitor's visa," Clay explained. "If that's not enough time to establish paternity, we can get a six-month extension later. Sergei has an international driver's license along with his Russian one, but I didn't arrange a car for him since he doesn't know his way around here, and I figured he'd be spending most of his time with his family. A.J. got him checked into the same VOQ that you're at, which will make transportation easier."
"Thank you," Mac said. "I'm sure Harm will be grateful as well, for everything you've done. He didn't take it very well when Sergei disappeared and when he found out Sergei was a prisoner …. I'm sure I don't have to tell you what kind of memories that brought up."
"Look," Clay said, rising, "I need to get back to Washington. Tell Rabb ….."
"I know," Mac said, sparing him from getting emotional. "Are you going to be available by cell phone? I'm sure Harm will want to thank you himself when he's able."
"Tell him not to worry about it," Clay said with a shrug. "I'll just remind him later that he owes me another one."
-----
Sarah took a step back, studying her grandson critically. Even through the clothes he wore, she'd felt bones poking out when they'd hugged. She had a job ahead of her putting some meat back on him. "After Harm's better," she said, "you'll have to come up to the farm. You need some good home cooking to fatten you up. Harm and Mac can come too. I'm sure they'll be able to use the time away from Washington."
Sergei smiled. "You remind me of my mother, Grandma," he said. "She always thinks I need to eat more."
"Sounds like your mother is a smart woman," Sarah said. "Does she know you've been released?"
"Yes, Grandma," he replied. "Mr. Webb let me call her from the airport in Moscow. She is sad that I'm not coming home, but she understands why I needed to come to see Harm. She said that she hopes he will be well soon."
"Sorry to interrupt," Clay said, stepping up to them, "but I need to get back to Washington, so I'll leave you with your family now."
"Mr. Webb," Sergei said, "this is my grandmother, Sarah Rabb. Grandma, this is Mr. Clayton Webb. He works for your State Department."
"I've heard a lot about you from Harm, Mr. Webb," Sarah said in a tone that said she knew exactly what kind of work he did for the government. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for what you've done for my grandsons."
"You're welcome, Mrs. Rabb," he replied graciously as she reached up to kiss his cheek. "Good luck to your family."
"Hello, Colonel," Sergei said as Mac joined them after Clay walked out. He kissed both of her cheeks in greeting. "It is good to see you again."
"I'm glad to see you, too," Mac replied, "but please. Call me Mac. We're family now. And speaking of which, are you ready to see Harm?"
"How is he?" Sergei asked. "When we spoke to you from New York, you said that Harm had woken up?"
"Yes," Mac replied, "A few hours before I spoke to you. Gram and I haven't seen him yet this evening since we've been waiting for you, but the nurse said he's doing okay. He's been sleeping on and off since we saw him earlier, according to her. Trish and Frank, Harm's mother and stepfather, are in with him right now."
"They know I am here?" Sergei asked worriedly.
"Yes," Sarah said, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. "They've known since shortly after Mr. Webb called the Admiral this morning and told him that you'd been released. Don't worry. It will be fine. Frank knows a thing or two about trying to fit in with a ready-made family. As for Trish …."
"I am the son of her late husband with another woman," Sergei pointed out.
"Look, I'm not going to say that Trish is going to welcome you with open arms," Sarah said, "but she realizes that you are both here because you love Harm. It will just take her some time to get used to having you around. And if you need to, you can talk to me or to Mac."
"Of course," Mac agreed. "Trish loves her son and once she sees how much you love him too, I think it will be easier for her."
-----
Mac knocked on the door to Harm's room, then pushed it open, sticking her head inside. Harm turned to her immediately, a smile on his face. "I was beginning to think that Mom and Frank were the only ones here to see me," he said, his voice not as hoarse as it was earlier, although it still wasn't as clear as his regular speaking voice.
"Not quite," Mac said, stepping into the room. She closed the door behind her, but remained standing there, her hand on the doorknob. "In fact, Gram and I have been waiting for a surprise visitor to arrive. That's why your parents came in first."
"Who?" Harm asked. "I thought they were still only letting family in."
"They are," Mac said mysteriously.
"But …." Harm began as she turned around and opened the door, stepping aside as Sarah entered, followed by Sergei. Mac smiled as Harm's eyes widened at the sight of his brother, his smile brighter.
"Sergei!" he said, struggling to push himself into a sitting position, ignoring the cries of "Harm!" from Mac, Trish and Sarah as he grabbed his head. Ignoring the pain, he finally managed to sit up as Sergei sat on the edge of the bed. The brothers embraced, Harm's eyes squeezed shut as tears fell down Sergei's face.
After a moment, Sergei pulled away, gently helping his brother lay back as Harm opened his eyes. "It is good to see you, Harm," Sergei said, blinking back tears.
"Hey, I'm fine," Harm tried to assure him, his breathing a little heavy at the exertion of sitting up. "Besides, you don't look much better than I do."
"I am uninjured," Sergei said.
"No, you're just skin and bones," Harm pointed out, his eyes closing.
Sergei looked back at Sarah. "Grandma has said that she will take care of …. fattening me up," he said.
"And Harm will probably need some good food, too," Sarah said, "after spending at least a week in this place. Trish, Frank, this is Sergei Zhukov. Sergei, this is Harm's mother, Trish Burnett, and her husband, Frank."
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Burnett," Sergei said, trying to mask his nervousness. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
"It's good to meet you, too, Sergei," Frank said, shaking Sergei's hand.
Hesitantly, Sergei turned to Trish, holding out his hand. She took it after a moment, managing a half-smile. "It's good to meet you, too," she said. "I know Harm is very happy to see you."
"Thank you, Mrs. Burnett," Sergei replied.
Sergei looked at his brother, concerned. "Perhaps I should come back tomorrow," he said. "Harm is asleep."
"No, I'm not," Harm protested, although his eyes didn't open. "Anyway, you just got here."
"But the doctor said we could stay longer tonight only if you are up to it," Sarah said firmly. "You've been fighting to keep your eyes open just in the few minutes that Mac, Sergei and I have been in here, and I'd be willing to bet that you also were when Trish and Frank were visiting with you."
"Your grandmother knows you too well," Trish said.
"Traitor," Harm murmured.
"Why don't I make it an order, Commander?" Mac interjected in a half-teasing tone. "You get as much sleep as you can tonight. If you can keep your eyes open for more than a couple of minutes at a time tomorrow, we'll stay longer."
"I will still be here tomorrow, Harm," Sergei said. "Mr. Webb has arranged a ninety-day visa for me."
"Should have known Webb had something to do with this," Harm said tiredly. "Someone make sure to tell him thanks from me."
"I already did," Mac assured him, "and he said that he'll remind you later that you owe him another one." When Harm was too exhausted to even chuckle, she added, "We'll see you tomorrow, okay? As soon as they'll let us in, we'll all be here."
Harm didn't reply, having fallen asleep. Quietly, they all left the room, Sergei murmuring in Russian. As he stopped just outside Harm's room, he noticed Sarah, Trish and Frank all giving him puzzled looks. "I am sorry," he stammered, "it is just …."
"That's not the Harm you remember from Chechnya," Mac finished for him. "Even knowing what he's been through, you still expect him to be the same stubborn, take-charge man he's always been."
"Yes," Sergei said softly.
"Sergei, have you eaten anything recently?" Trish asked as they started towards the elevators.
"A meal was served on the airplane," Sergei replied a little warily, "but that was many hours ago."
Frank shot an approving glance at his wife. "We've been catching up on sleep today," he continued, "so we agreed to go get something to eat after visiting Harm. You're welcome to join us. Or if you want to sleep, we can drop you off at your hotel."
"Mr. Webb said that he made arrangements for me to stay at the same place you are staying," Sergei said. "I am hungry. I will join you."
"Good," Frank said. "Mac, since I'm sure you've been down here many times, maybe you can pick a good restaurant for us. Nothing fancy, just good casual dining."
"There's an Applebee's just a few miles from the Naval Shipyard," Mac said. "Harm and I often eat there if we're staying at the shipyard VOQ."
"Fine with me," Sarah said, putting an arm around Sergei. "We can give Sergei his first taste of American dining and we can all get to know each other better."
----
To be continued….