This part is going to go by fast. I didn't' want to linger on it forever. ;)
Jackie
PART 8 – Heart Attack
December 16, 2005
1030 Local
Joint Legal Services Southwest
San Diego, California
Harriet always had an innate sense of caring for those around her – something that became more pronounced as she joined the ranks of motherhood. This sense was on full alert when Colonel Sarah MacKenzie stumbled into work that morning. It wasn't the fact that Mac had barely said two words to anyone as she entered – the Colonel was known to have varying degrees of mood swings – nor was it the fifth cup of coffee (in less than 3 hours) that Jen had been seen preparing. No, it was Mac's eyes that gave her away.
Walking into the break room, Harriet found Jen leaning against the cabinet stirring creamer into the Colonel's coffee cup. "Is that for the Colonel, Jen?"
Jennifer Coates nearly jumped out of her skin. "I'm sorry, ma'am. . .You startled me." Her mind was on other things this morning. Mac wasn't acting right and all attempts to use her stellar psychological jargon weren't working this time. Working so closely with Mac, Jen had started to realize one detail – it was easier to extract information from the males. Chegwidden and Cresswell were pussy cats at times. Mac, well she was a bit harder to decipher sometimes. "I was just making another cup for the Colonel."
Harriet nodded, noticing the worry and that underlying question that she knew Jen couldn't bring herself to ask. In the last few years, Petty Officer Jennifer Coates had grown, matured and learned how to really deal with the Navy. At Mac's suggestion, she was even considering OCS. "I understand, Jennifer. . .I'll take that to her. . ."
"Thank you, ma'am." She sighed in relief. "If it's anything serious ma'am. . .I know you shouldn't tell me, but I just want to know that the Colonel and the Captain are alright." With that, she came to attention and waited for Harriet to dismiss her before heading to the office.
After grabbing a cup of coffee for herself, Harriet put her brave front on and decided to enter 'The Dungeon.' (A name lovingly given by officers and enlisted when a certain Colonel was on the warpath.) She almost collided with Mac as she stepped out of her office with a flourish. "Lieutenant, where is Coates?" Glancing around, she spotted Jen in front of the filing cabinet, attempting to organize Mac's. . .umm. . .filing system. (If you could call it that! Nope, not even the years could change the fact that Mac's desk and files were a mess.) "Coates? My coffee?"
Daring to act amused, Harriet waved the fresh mug of java in front of Mac. "I have it ma'am. . .I needed to discuss something with you."
Mac glanced at the cup of coffee, noticing that Harriet had one of her own. That didn't bode well. Whenever Harriet came in with a cup of coffee for herself it only meant one thing – time for a chat – a long chat. Those chats were sometimes personal and other times business. As office 'manager' Harriet was given the task to look over the enlisted personnel and make sure that the bullpen ran like a well oiled machine while Bud babysat the officers and worked as Chief of Staff. She took the coffee mug from Harriet's outstretched hand. "Come on in and close the hatch behind you." Sliding into her own chair, she pointed across to the two in front of her desk. "Take a seat, Lieutenant."
"Thank you, ma'am." To her credit, Harriet knew how to play the game when it came to Mac. Shooting from the hip was necessary. "Permission to speak freely?" She saw Mac practically deflate and feared that the conversation would not go pass this little hump. To her relief, the Colonel nodded in agreement. "Thank you. . .Is something wrong with you?"
The coffee mug that Mac was holding came down on the desk with a resonating 'thud.' Some of the liquid swished around and spilled out onto the desk. "Shit." Taking a few tissues from the box on her desk, Mac quickly cleaned up the spill before it leaked elsewhere. "What makes you think that something is wrong?"
Ah, yes, the infamous answering a question with a question. It was something similar to what Bud would do when he was having a bad day. Specifically, when she and Bud are having a bad day. It was suddenly clear now. "It's Harm isn't it?. . .Did you two have a fight?" Arguments happened between the best of people and while they weren't always detrimental, it could sometimes leave you feeling lousy. Mac's answer though, wasn't expected.
"I wish." Pinching the bridge of her nose had helped stop the tears from falling earlier that day. But, she couldn't continue that way. Damnit, why was this so hard? Stubbornly, a droplet ran down her cheek and onto the smooth wooden surface of the desk.
Harriet sat horrified. She'd seen Mac in tears twice before, it wasn't something that the Marine did easily, especially not in this setting. "Mac?"
"Harm's gone. . .The Navy needs him to fly some top secret mission. . .That's all I can say about it but. . .He's gone. Left this morning and doesn't know when he'll be back." If he'll be back. Her mind taunted her, making the coffee in her stomach churn. Stop it! He's coming back. But how could she be sure?
Many didn't understand the military or how difficult it was to walk away from someone you loved. They didn't understand what it was like to have someone you love walk away from you. It was the price they paid for serving their country. A price that they paid willingly for in the back of their minds they always knew that separation was a possibility and that military jobs were not set in stone. The JAG crew had been lucky for a long time and only suffered their first blow when Harm had decided to change his designator, leaving the office in a shaken upheaval. It was this constant ebb and flow which brought the Roberts' to San Diego, a move that Harriet loathed but came to love when she was reunited with her impromptu family. But, this wasn't just a move, a change of billets. From the matter in which Mac spoke, this was serious. "I'm sorry, Mac." There was really nothing else she could say, it wasn't like when Bud left for sea duty, there was nothing safer than a military ship. With pilots, just shooting off of the deck was detrimental.
When Harriet had arrived at the office that morning, Mac resisted the urge to run to her for advice. Memories flooded her of the first time Harm had gone – it was much different then, she was still trying to sort feelings and emotions. This time, they were sorted and cataloged. This time, it hurt, for real. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Sighing, she closed her mouth and turned her chair to the side. Get a hold of yourself, MacKenzie! You're the damned commanding officer. From the side, she could feel Harriet's concerned gaze on her. You're the commanding officer, but that doesn't mean you're not human. "How. . .How did you cope with Bud being gone when he left for sea duty?" She had a vague idea how things went on between the two of them, but that didn't mean much. Harriet, though much more fragile than herself, also had a knack for putting up walls when they suited her. In her case, those walls were in place to protect her from Lauren Singer's nosiness.
"E-mail. Online Chats. Ship to shores whenever time afforded it." She thanked God every day for those modern forms of communication. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes, it was as if Bud were right there with her.
"No." Mac turned her chair back so that she could look at Harriet. The information that she wanted wasn't about communication, it was about dealing. "No. . .How did you do this? It hasn't even been a day and I'm. . .I've never felt this before. . ."
Harriet swallowed down the lump at her throat. It was difficult seeing a normally strong woman show her true emotions. From experience, people with walls as high as Harm and Mac's felt more than others – emotions ran deeper. "I had you guys around and little AJ. I did a lot of praying and though I am not overly religious, I would go to the chapel once a week, light a candle for Bud and our other service personnel out there." She sighed deeply, then sat forward, cupping the mug of coffee with both hands. "The first. . .month or so, I cried. . .I cried a lot, actually." She smirked nervously. "It got better. . ." Again, this was different, the sadness in Mac's eyes told her so. "This is serious isn't it?"
"Yes. . . It doesn't help that it's the holidays."
"That's never fun, no."
Mac shook her head. "That's not what I meant, though. . .Harm's father. . .he went missing on Christmas eve. . .That's just a couple of weeks away. . .I don't want to think this way, Harriet, but I can't help it. . .What if that's his fate?. . .We've never been able to discuss it with our friends because of the logistics and classified information involved, but the search for Harm's father unearthed things that I preferred not to know." How could someone hold a man captive for so long, away from his family?
"I'm not going to lie to you, this will be difficult. . .Even with Bud, I knew he was safe on the ship, but I had this nagging feeling, you know?"
For sure Mac knew that feeling. Damn that 'special gift' of hers. "Yes, I know. . .I guess. . .I'll just have to cope."
"We're here for you, Mac. . .You know that. . .Even if it's only a shoulder to cry on." Grinning, she stood up. "I promise I won't tell that the Colonel actually cries."
Mac chuckled. "You know what can happen if you ruin my rep, Lieutenant."
"Very aware of that, yes ma'am, and I don't want to spend the rest of my days in Antarctica."
Standing as well, Mac came around the desk and gave Harriet a hug. "Thank you Harriet. . .It's nice to know I have people on my side."
"Always. . ." She stood at attention, waiting to be dismissed, when Mac's sudden, jubilous 'oh!' stopped her. "Ma'am?"
From under the paperwork, Mac produced a square, black box. Grinning, she opened it, offering Harriet a peak at its contents. Inside sat Lieutenant Commander epaulets baring one star. "I want to have a little party tomorrow for you. Bud's out for the day on a case and I am sure he'll want to pin these on you himself. . .Congratulations, Commander." In truth, Harriet had earned them much sooner, but taking time off to care for the kids had pushed the promotion back some. "I'll keep these here until tomorrow." She hugged Harriet once again, the younger woman's grin was infectious. "Dismissed, Commander."
After Harriet stepped out, Mac went back to her desk, put the box away and settled into her chair. She felt only marginally better and hoped that these new emotions would ease some. The thoughts that Harriet's 'nagging feeling' comment brought up were hard to squash. Truth be told, she had that nagging feeling and if it was one thing that Mac could count on, it was that those feelings were usually right on. For Harm's sake, she hoped those feelings were wrong.
December 18, 2010
0855 Zulu
USS Patrick Henry
Undisclosed Location
Stepping off of the COD, Harm found the decks of the USS Patrick Henry to be surreally quiet. The hustle and bustle was oddly tamed now and a nearly full moon cast an eerie glow over the, otherwise, dark decks. Damn, he thought, recalling too well that the only times things were this quiet around a carrier was wartime. Towards the bow he spotted two Tomcats, cockpits open, parked in front of the area where the blast shields would pop out when needed. He recalled Desert Storm and having to wait all night, sleeping inside the F-14's confined space, waiting to be launched. As much as he loved the Tomcat, spending the night strapped inside of her cockpit was a bit much.
"Hey, Hammer." A familiar timbre called as he walked inside and began to remove the necessary gear.
Harm glanced up at his friend and smiled. "Keeter. . .Did some pretty lady toss you out of your bunk this morning?" He joked, pulling in his oldest friend for a 'manly' hug. "How are you?"
Keeter shrugged. "As well as can be expected, under the circumstances." His demeanor shocked Harm who would normally see a confident pilot, no matter the consequences.
"I haven't seen you this shaken up since. . .well, ever really."
"Our mindset is one that can deal with these things, but let me tell ya something. . .I'm scared. . .I have this vibe that's scaring me shitless." That brutal honesty was one he knew not to share with pilots, but this was his friend and if he could somehow save Harm, he would. "C'mon, you're bunking with me during this cruise. . .Meeting is on at the ready room in three hours, that gives you some time to sleep."
Three hours later, Harm found himself wandering into an ensuing brawl in the ready room. Two men that he didn't know were being pulled apart by two others. Keeter stood in the middle, yelling at the top of his lungs. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I will not tolerate this type of behavior from you officers! God damnit, people, we're on the same side, let's show that. . .Now, sit the hell down and I don't want to hear a peep out of you for the next hour." He glared at the man, a Lieutenant, which started the fight. "Richards, you and Laurens are grounded, if you can't work together then I don't want you on any of my squadrons. . .Head down to your bunks, pack it up and I expect to find you both on the next COD out. . .Am I understood?"
A muffled "Yes, sir." was said in half unison as both men headed out with their tails between their legs. From his vantage point at the back of the room, Harm shot Keeter an amused expression which was waved off.
"The government sent you here because you are the last and best crews proficient in the F-14 Tomcat's capabilities. . . Having said that, this does not mean that you are just to pick a plane and head off. . .You will be tested." Heading towards the greenie board, he pointed at the name of all pilots, under them the name of the chosen RIOs. "Pilots and RIOs have been selected by myself and the Airboss. . .Since we had word of your arrival we've been trying to select the best pairs based on past performance and training performance." Grinning, he turned to the group. "Today we'll get to test our theories. . .You'll do a set of four quals. . .Two day time and two night time. . .All I ask is that you don't screw this up, you pay attention to our LSO's and. . .for God's sake, don't dump them in the drink." Of anything, he prayed the last wouldn't happen. The F-14s were retrofitted with technology that had yet to be used on any aircraft, millions of dollars had been spent in making twelve of those jets fully useable again. Four were used to train, the others were on the ship at the moment. "Alright, find your crew and let's begin."
The idea for these impromptu quals came from Captain Loftness himself who didn't wish to allow any screw ups on their newer missions. All crews needed to be checked on if they were to work together. Too many lives had been lost and he was seeking for a way to lessen that count. The quals consisted of a crew (pilot and rio) to shoot off of the carrier, perform several aerial maneuvers, circle around the carrier, come in for a landing only to kiss the decks and take off again.
Harm's RIO, Lieutenant Commander Andrew Bailey, could be described as a cockier than hell, loudmouth. Not surprisingly, his call sign was 'Muzzle.' One hour later, as they sat inside an F-14, readied to be catapulted, the man was not shutting up. "So, yea. . .I said to her 'Baby, if you ain't into pilots, you ain't into anything good.'" He finished the last of his stories, chuckling jovially at a joke that Harm found neither entertaining nor amusing.
"Be quiet while I radio in, alright?" His glare through the rearview mirror received a smug smile and a thumbs up. God help him. "This is Alpha One-Niner-Five, ready for take off."
"Affirmative Alpha One-Niner-Five. . .Ready to launch."
Here we go. Seconds later, the catapult moved into action, shooting the Tomcat off the deck. "Wooh!" Harm yelped in exuberance as he pulled the stick backwards, bringing the fighter up on a steady climb. "This is great." Being back on a Tomcat was one of the most wonderful experiences ever. While the Hornets were fun to fly, this was his baby, the plane he learned on. There was just a mystique about Tomcat pilots that seemed to have more of a flare than any other. He was in his element.
Muzzle, though, had only uttered a sentence. "Alright, Hammer, let's see what you can do."
Harm pushed the plane through the clouds, moving it through several twists and turns as the crew below instructed him. After a final turn, he dipped the plane downward, searching for the carrier. "Muzzle, everything alright back there?" The carrier came into view through the clouds on the starboard side. Taking a peak through the mirror, he found Muzzle wasn't doing too well. "Muzzle? You alright?"
"Alpha One-Niner-Five, everything alright?" The tower spoke into Harm's radio, but he was too busy with his RIO to worry about anything else.
"Muzzle, WAKE UP!" Damnit! The man seemed to have passed out, a sign that didn't bode well. He'd hoped that in the rush to get the crews up that the flight surgeon hadn't missed something in his evals. "Negative Wonderland, Muzzle is not looking too hot. . ."
"Understood Alpha One-Niner-Five, come on home."
"Roger that." Two minutes later, Harm was back onboard, going through the usual run through when it came to shutting down the plane. He popped open the cockpit for the emergency crew that was running towards them.
Later, outside of sick bay, he sat with Captain Loftness and Keeter. An incident report was already filled out based on what he saw – or rather – what he didn't. Now, they had to wait and see. "I have countless theories running around my head at the moment." Harm confessed, thinking back to about half a dozen JAG cases involving Pilot and RIOs. "You know, I actually had a case once where the RIO let the pilot asphyxiate on bad O2 just because he wanted the other man's wife."
Keeter's eyebrow rose slightly. "Bad O2 is a possibility, God knows we've been working double shifts half of the time, something could have screwed up."
"CAG, I'd rather not go there until we know for sure." Loftness was uneasy with situations like these, especially considering that their next missions would be exhausting feats. He didn't have the time to endure any type of trial for personnel who did their job incorrectly. "A trial is the last thing we need right now."
Maybe it was the only thing they needed? If a suggestion of impropriety towards Harm was valid, he wouldn't be allowed to fly. Keeter pushed the issue a bit more, if anything to save his friend from a fate that it seemed no pilot could run from. "Skipper, I hear what you're saying, but the JAGs won't see it that way. . .And if Muzzle thinks Rabb was responsible, there will be a trial."
Than again, maybe not.
The onboard Doctor, Lieutenant Commander Jefferson Winchester, stepped out of sickbay. His lips were a thin line, his eyes displayed his worry. "It's not good, gentlemen. . .Apparently Lieutenant Commander Bailey suffered a heart attack."
Harm stood, exasperated. "A heart attack? Jesus."
"It was a minor one. . .He will be alright, but he can't be on a jet at the moment. . .Captain, you'll need a new RIO." The doctor glanced towards Keeter and Loftness. "I'll have my official report for you in an hour."
While Loftness looked relieved, Keeter didn't. After the skipper walked away, he turned to face Harm. "I need to talk to you, privately." The pair headed down to their stateroom and that's when Keeter threw Harm up against a bulkhead. "Listen to me. . .Dump the plane."
Holding his hands up in surrender, Harm was blindsided and rendered powerless. "What the. . .?"
"I'm your friend, Harm. . .I don't want your death on my conscience, alright? Plus, Mac will kill me if something happens to you. . .For the love of God, go out, say the fucking thing malfunctioned and crash it."
Taking a slight step to the side, Harm managed to step away from Keeter and straighten. "I'm not going to run away from this, Jack. . .You know me too damned well. . . I don't run away."
"Do you want to die?" Keeter emphasized the word, sighing deeply. "You're my friend. . .my oldest friend. . .Man, I don't want you to go down like your father did. . .Or mine."
Harm sighed, as much as he wished he were back home, with Mac, this was his job. This was what he signed up for, he wouldn't run now. "I'm not running, Jack. . .I don't run. . .Frankly, I wouldn't be able to look Mac in the face again and tell her I decided not to do this." He turned towards the porthole and glanced out. "I'm not afraid of dying. . .If this is my fate, then it is. . .I've accepted it."
"You think you're never going home." It wasn't a question, but a statement that Keeter believed to be factual. "You're already dead if you're thinking like that, Rabb."
Angrily, Harm whipped around. "I will go home, Keeter. . .Mark my words. . .Now, get out there and find me a RIO." He was damned if this whole thing was going to shake him up to the point that he was afraid of the plane that made him a famous pilot. This was his birthright.
Over the loudspeaker, he could hear his name being called. "Captain Rabb report to the Bridge, ASAP. Captain Rabb to the bridge, ASAP."
Vukovic was lying in his bunk when that request hit his ears. "Rabb's onboard?" How the hell had that happened without him knowing? As far as he remembered, nothing Hewitt said about Rabb's involvement was concrete, at least now without him being onboard and now, here he was. No doubt the man had to know that he and Mac were now 'getting along', that alone would probably unnerve him greatly. Yes, Rabb looked the jealous type. "Guess we're going to have a chat later." He grinned and settled back into his cot with a satisfied grin.
On the Bridge, Harm found Loftness, the Mini Boss and the XO in deep conversation. Lines of worry were etched into each of their faces. On the monitors above he could see a Tomcat being launched and the crew quickly setting to recover another. Despite his years flying off of the carriers, the efficiency in which things worked still amazed him. "Captain Rabb reporting as ordered." He stood at attention, waiting for the Skipper.
"At ease, Captain." There was a slight change in Loftness' persona. Despite the tumultuous ongoing of his ship, he managed a sly smile. "Have you found a RIO yet, Rabb?"
Find a RIO? He'd only just got the news about him needing one. "No, Skipper. . .Haven't gone searching for someone crazy enough to fly with me."
Loftness' grin spread wider. "Come with me." The two made it out to Vulture's row just in time to find an F-18 Super Hornet hitting the one wire. "Damn Lunatic." He sighed, waiting for the plane to stop and its crew to disembark.
"Not a picture perfect landing." Harm said with a grin. Staring downward, he spotted a very familiar figure. His luck had suddenly changed. "Skates."
"You two make a good team, I'll have to admit that." He patted Harm on the shoulder and set off back into the Bridge.
1155 Zulu
USS Patrick Henry
Undisclosed Location
"Congratulations on making Commander, Skates. . .You deserved it." While taking a stroll around the carrier, Harm found his RIO sitting in the mess nursing a cup of coffee. Sauntering towards the area with the java, he grabbed a mug and poured himself a cup.
Skates grinned. "Just doing my best, sir. . .Congratulations on your Captaincy, I read about it a few years back on the Naval Times. . .London, huh?" She pointed at the seat across from her, which he took with a smile.
"That didn't last too long. . .Something about being in command, sitting behind a desk all day, gave me a bad taste in my mouth." He chuckled, then took a sip of the badly brewed coffee. Wincing slightly, he placed the mug back on the table and sighed. "Damned coffee still tastes like nuclear waste."
"So what are you doing now?" Skates was curious. Though they'd spent a good amount of years without communicating, she still considered Harm a friend, a good friend. If it wasn't for his heroics, she would have been shark bait.
"I'm a Reservist. Work training pilots out of San Diego. . ."
"Reserves, huh?. . .Once I got my oak leaves I went that route too." She chuckled at his amused expression and shrugged. "Well, my husband didn't like me spending so much time away. . .So, we compromised. . .Two weekends a month, two weeks a year. . .I get to fly more than ever now and civilian life is nice."
Harm smiled, one thing about Skates, her exuberance for life was infectious. "Have any kids?"
"No. . .Can't have any." She sighed, a slight sadness casting over her features. "It's fine though. . .I mean, the Navy is my life, it's always been. . .Times like these, it's better not to have too many attachments." She was one hundred percent right about that one. Settling back, she glanced outside as another plane took off. "This is really happening, huh?"
"Yea, it is." He said sadly, still not recalling feeling this bad during the Gulf War. "I'm confident though, especially with you as my backseater." It was true, besides his first RIO, Mace, there wasn't anyone else Harm trusted so implicitly.
Skates would share his sentiment. "We're a good team, huh?"
"The best."
Standing, she stretched slightly. "Guess we better get going. Skipper told me something about Quals?" At Harm's nod, she chuckled. "Don't look so happy about them. . .Guess they are trying to weed the best from the not so best?"
He swallowed down the rest of the bitter liquid, then set after Skates. "Just don't have a heart attack on me, huh?"
