A Little Lower Than The Angels
Chapter 14
Disclaimers: As previously stated
Spoilers: Anything up to and including A Tangled Webb II in season 9. 'Dog Robber II' from Season 7 will be referred to.
A/N: Definitions at the bottom of the page.
God Preserve the United States.
We know the Race is not to the Swift
nor the Battle to the Strong.
Do you not think an Angel rides in the whirlwind
and directs this Storm?
John Page to Thomas Jefferson on the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
0630
Monday
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
Admiral Chegwidden sat at his desk looking at the computer screen. He had only slept a few hours last night, his mind still occupied with what had to be done in the next few days. He had even surprised himself with all that he had been able to accomplish over the weekend. It was as though he had taken his life into his own hands again and it filled him with an energy he hadn't had, in some time.
He had been doing some research to prepare for this meeting, at home and here in his office, since he had returned from Paraguay. Just now he was perusing a Department of Veterans Affairs website about PTSD and women in the military. He was amused that the fact sheet actually stated that Shakespeare's Henry the IV would have met the criteria for PTSD. Meredith would have gotten a kick out of that. Shakespeare aside, he knew that the disorder was as old the concept of the military itself, it had just been called by a different name.
Tackling this issue with Mac today was not going to be an easy task. Mac, in her own way, was as difficult to convince that she needed help as Rabb was. On the surface he was sure Mac wouldn't give any indication of the horror she had witnessed over the past week. If he were to accomplish what he intended, Mac would have to cooperate. He wasn't going to wait until the worst of symptoms presented themselves. Reviewing the information over the last few days, left him thinking that Mac could be a poster girl for the disorder. History of child abuse, substance abuse, previous traumatic situations…. He read '...one cannot make a PTSD diagnosis unless the patient has actually met the 'stressor criterion.' Mac's years of experience in the Marines and her understanding of combat situations would work in her favor. Though the total percentages of women who were diagnosed with this disorder were small, he knew he would be lax in his duty if he didn't address the possibilities, proactively.
His eyes came to rest on one of the diagnostic criterion posted on the site, the words 'psychic numbing' jumped out at him. '…an emotional anesthesia that makes it extremely difficult for people with PTSD to participate in meaningful interpersonal relationships.'
It occurred to him at that moment, that he met that criterion, if the state of his personal life was any indication. Just then, in his peripheral vision, he saw Mac through the open blinds of his office, as she walked across the still empty bullpen.
A few moments later, she was in his office and seated in front of his desk.
"How are you Colonel?" The Admiral sat behind his desk and folded his hands in front of him.
"I'm fine sir."
"Good, good, there are some things need to be discussed in order to…make your transition from the situation in Paraguay, back to your job here as my Chief of Staff run smoothly."
"Sir?"
"Given what you experienced in Paraguay…."
"But I'm fine, sir." She quickly and uncharacteristically interrupted him.
The Admiral gave her a stern look. "Colonel."
"I'm sorry sir" She looked down at her hands, not realizing until then that she had one clenched tightly inside the other.
He hadn't missed her body language. His instincts had been correct; she was having a difficult time. The Admiral changed his tone of voice and began again.
"Mac, I have witnessed your courage, dedication to duty and I have no doubt as to your ability to fulfill your duties here at JAG."
With that statement, the tension level in the room dropped considerably. "Thank you, sir."
"Don't relax yet Colonel; you may not appreciate the rest of what I have to say."
Mac waited.
The Admiral stood and walked over to his window. "You asked me once whether I thought there would ever be a female SEAL's in the future, do you remember?"
"Yes sir, as I recall, it was a short, but frank discussion." Mac smiled at the memory, it was one of many occasions when the Admiral ended a short and very blunt statement. I believe your answer was..."No, I don't."
He turned back toward her, folding his arms in front of his chest. "It is my opinion, that while your skill and experience qualify you to complete many tasks as well or better than your male counterparts, the way you process what you experience is completely different and therefore, requires a different approach. PTSD, while not a new concept to the military, is a relatively new concept with women who are serving today."
"PTSD…Sir?" Where had this come from? Mac felt completely blindsided.
"Let me be direct Colonel, over the past week, you have suffered an extremely traumatic experience. What I know of your history makes me duty bound to place you in a situation that will allow you to overcome that trauma, while maintaining your position here at JAG."
"So you're requiring me to undergo a psychological exam and counseling sir?"
"I am, you will report to Commander Vera McCool at Bethesda tomorrow, you will follow up with the Commander, as she recommends."
"But Sir, I..."
"This is not up for debate, Colonel, you will do this."
Mac was quiet for a moment, and then she said "You're requiring both Commander Rabb…and myself to attend counseling..."
"My orders for you and the Commander are two separate issues. The reasons for my orders for each of you have nothing to do with each other, and require no more explanation than I have given, Colonel. You are individuals in this office; your relationship will remain outside this office, are we clear?"
"Yes, sir"
"You're dismissed."
Mac stood at attention and then turned on her heel and left the Admirals office.
The Admiral watched her leave and then the thought occurred to him, that this was one of the hardest things he ever had to do since he had come to JAG. Getting in Rabb's face yesterday had been difficult but then there were times, he had to admit, it was extremely gratifying.
Mac was different, she always had been. He knew that requiring Mac to do this would seem to her, to add insult to injury. Even in light of that, it had to be done, because he knew that sooner or later the unaddressed trauma had to surface, and it had the potential to ruin everything Mac had worked for.
His thoughts on this matter only served to reinforce what he believed about himself. It was definitely time to retire, he was too attached to his people, being objective was more than difficult. When Bud had lost his leg and nearly died in Afghanistan, he had spent weeks haunted by his role in his transfer to shipboard JAG on the Seahawk. 10 years ago, both of these tasks would have been done without a second thought.
Now he had no doubt, it was time begin the paperwork and get the process started. By the time it was completely processed, he hoped to have his two senior officers set on a path that would allow them both to complete their careers successfully.
Time would tell.
1545
Tuesday
Bethesda Naval Hospital
Bethesda Maryland
Harm sat waiting for Captain Morrison to return to his office. He had undergone an MRI yesterday, and had been given a full exam by not one, but two physicians. One of them was Captain Morrison, a flight surgeon, the other, a neurologist, Colonel Pope.
He had been given a battery of tests. It had been more than a little disconcerting and a great deal more than Harm had expected. He prepared himself for what was coming about his flight status; he knew he would be restricted, at least temporarily.
He had been told to return to Captain Morrison's office this afternoon to discuss the results of his MRI.
When Captain Morrison entered the room Harm stood and came to attention.
"Stand easy Commander and be seated."
"Sir"
The Captain carried a file with what looked like an x ray film tucked into it, which he opened and placed on his desk in front of him.
"I've just spoken with the neurologist and with the radiologist who read your MRI. Your physical exam was within normal limits; however there are some concerns with regard to your MRI."
He stood and motioned for Harm to come closer as he placed the film on the lighted frame on the wall. He took out a pen and pointed to a spot on the front of the film. "Commander, this is where you sustained the blow to head"; he then directed Harm's attention to a very small spot at what appeared to be the back of his head.
"Do you see this small white line, here commander?" There was a very small spot on the film, if the Captain had not directed him to it, Harm might not have seen it.
"Yes, sir"
"The radiologist believes and I concur that this is a contra coupe lesion. It is very small and the damage, so far, is limited. The neurologist also reviewed your films and report and is in agreement. His assessment is also that you have suffered a Grade V concussion."
Harm frowned, this didn't make sense, he felt fine, and he didn't feel as though he had any kind of brain injury.
"Contra coupe?"
"When you crashed and suffered a blow to your head, in front, it actually caused your brain to 'bounce' for lack of a better word, off of the back of your skull, thus injuring your brain in two places. In front and in back. You are fortunate that the lesion is not larger, the neurological damage could have been profound.
Right now, it doesn't present symptoms that will hamper your ability to function normally, though you are demonstrating some minor symptoms of post traumatic syndrome, with your complaint of head aches and dizziness."
"I don't understand,"
"Your symptoms should dissipate within the next 30 days, Commander. However I am temporarily terminating your flight status for 60 days." He began to walk back toward his desk and directed Harm back to the chair in front of his desk.
"Sir? I expected to be temporarily restricted, but I'm fine, I've had… maybe one headache since I returned, how can I be brain injured?"
"I have been reviewing your case file Commander. You had a serious injury with loss of consciousness two years ago. That coupled with your recent injury poses too great a risk."
"Sir, I didn't incur a head injury at that time."
"Commander Rabb, your whole body was traumatized in that ejection, you were unconscious for some time after your rescue and you also suffered post traumatic amnesia after regaining consciousness. You were returned to full flight status less than a month after your injury."
"Apparently, the flight surgeon didn't feel I was NPQ at that time."
"That was his privilege; I am not that flight surgeon, Commander."
"Yes, sir" Harm reined himself in, he had expected to be restricted, but he didn't want the diagnosis of brain injury anywhere in his record.
"You should know that my recommendation will be that you only be allowed to return to Medical Service Group 2 upon your return to flight status."
"You're permanently restricting me from shipboard aircrew?" Harm had not expected this.
"Commander, I could not in clear conscious allow you to return to carrier duty given the injury you sustained. I have no doubt that the repeated traps would injure you further."
Harm couldn't believe it; the Captain was essentially saying he'd never fly an F 14 again. He'd fight it, there had a way.
Harm's expression gave away his intentions
. "It is your right to appeal my findings, Commander Rabb, but I will recommend that you not be reinstated to Medical Service Group 1 without approval from SBFS in Pensacola."
"Yes, sir."
"Report back to me in 60 days. That will be all"
Harm stood and came to attention and left the room.
1730
Tuesday
Mac's apartment
Georgetown
Mac stood in her kitchen setting things up for Harm to make dinner. He wouldn't tell her what it would be, saying he wanted to surprise her. Harm wasn't officially back at JAG, though they both saw that as just a formality. Mac's case load was light, since so much was handed over to Bud and Sturgis prior to her departure for Paraguay.
She did as she was ordered and kept her appointment with Commander McCool earlier this afternoon. She didn't suppose it was too bad, for a psych session, but she resented being ordered to be there. Her coping mechanisms were well established, she didn't need a shrink to tell her how to use them. They'd worked for her so far, why did she need to do anything any differently?
She'd like to see Commander McCool or anyone else go through what she had in her lifetime and be able to cope. The thought made her angry, though she didn't want to dwell on it. Mac followed orders, it always worked for her before, and there was no reason it wouldn't now. Hopefully, she'd be able to tell this shrink just enough so that Commander McCool would feel that she'd helped Mac 'overcome her trauma'.
Still angry at the thought, Mac smirked and shook her head, walking back into her living room; she looked out of her front window to see Harm getting out of his SUV. He was in uniform, God; it was great to see him in uniform. She'd always loved him in summer whites, truth be told, she preferred them to dress whites, but she'd never tell him that. She grinned, thinking that he already knew too well how good looking he was, but then Mac noticed his expression, it was solemn and sad. What had happened? Harm said that today was just a follow up on his physical and all the testing he had yesterday, he was sure he was fine.
She watched until he disappeared from her line of sight. Hurrying to her door, she opened it and watched until she saw him step off of the elevator. He still wore the same troubled expression but when he saw her, it changed immediately to the one that Mac could never truly resist. He turned his beautiful smile on her, full force.
"Hey…waiting for me?" She looked so beautiful standing there, in just a white t shirt and jeans. The t shirts had a feminine cut at the neckline, showing of her delicate bone structure and shoulders. This is what he needed, standing there, just for him.
She hid her concern about what she saw in his expression, just moments ago. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I'm hungry Sailor, where are all the good things you're going to make me for dinner?"
In fact he'd driven around for over an hour, his promise of dinner for Mac lost in his effort to trying to get a handle on how he felt about this.
Harm stopped mid stride. "Oh… I didn't bring them, I forgot about dinner. Do you want to go out?"
"Not necessarily, get in here flyboy; I'm sure we can find something for dinner."
He walked into the apartment and before Mac had fully closed the door, he gathered her into his arms. "Hmm, hello you."
She felt so good in his arms and after this afternoon, he just wanted to lose himself in her. He leaned back just enough to kiss her. "You know, you taste ...delicious, uh…can we have dinner…later?"
"We can." Mac kissed him again, not quite allowing him to deepen this kiss.
"Good." He skimmed his hands down her back and let them rest on her hips
"Everything went okay today at Bethesda?"
The question pained him immediately but he pushed the pain away as quickly as it came. "Okay, I guess, the neurologist says I sustained a concussion, I think he said GradeV. The flight surgeon terminated my flight status for 60 days, and doesn't want me flying F 14's anymore."
"What?"
Harm couldn't hide the sadness anymore, but he didn't want to talk about this. He couldn't say anything, he couldn't go there now. He just wanted her. He could shut it out, if he could just be with her. He rested his forehead against hers.
"Are you okay, Harm?"
Harm pulled her into an embrace, and brought his lips to her ear and in a voice thick with need, he whispered. "Physically, I'm fine. The rest, I don't want to talk about, not now," closing his lips around her ear lobe, he teased her. "I've got something a lot more interesting in mind."
Mac turned her head toward the voice that sent tingling sensations all the way to her toes as Harm covered her mouth with his, its taste taking him just where he wanted to go.
When she thought about it later, Mac would never understand where the irritation with his obvious evasion of the subject, had come from. Harm had always been this way; she knew how to get what she wanted from him, most of the time. However, this time, for whatever reason, she couldn't let it go. She breathlessly broke the kiss.
"The only time you want to talk about anything is when it's about me. Let me in Harm."
Softly closing his lips around her full top lip and then teasing her bottom lip, he asked. "When did I shut you out?"
Mac was unable to resist deepening the kiss, but after a long moment she answered him. "You don't shut me out, anymore….you just…..distract me."
Harm began stroking and caressing her back, brushing his lips lightly over the soft skin on her neck, he asked. "Mmm… how?"
His ministrations were stealing her breath. "You know how…..you distract me….with…."
Harm moved to her shoulder and opened his mouth for a taste of the skin there, the neckline of her shirt allowing him full access.
At that moment, Mac found the strength to say the last word of her sentence, "sex."
Laughter rumbled from deep in his chest. "I do not." All the while sliding his hands down to the small of her back and pulling her intimately closer to him.
At Mac's knowing look he answered, "What?"
Harm's laughter had given her a chance to catch her breath, "Stop it Harm." She slipped out of his embrace. "We need to talk about this."
He would only grin slyly as he looked at the front of her snug t shirt; he looked up at her, making sure she understood. He knew… that she was as aroused as he was.
He walked back over to her and braced both arms on each side of her, resting them on the kitchen counter. He repeated the same words she said to him, when he suggested she talk to someone about her nightmares "I don't want to rehash the past; I don't want to do that with you…I don't want to do that with anyone.….I just want to be happy, with you." Waggling his eyebrows at her, sure he had won; he leaned in to kiss her again.
Stung by the fact he had used her own words against her, Mac ducked out of his arms and on the other side of her kitchen.
"How are we ever going to get through this if we can't talk about it? You have to let go of your little obsession Harm, before it kills you."
Harm's playful mood disappeared immediately, "You don't know what you're talking about, and it's not an obsession Mac." Harm was angry that she could call how he felt about flying a 'little obsession.'
"I hate it when you speak that way, as though flying is a little game I'm playing…. Was I playing a game when I flew a Stealth out of the Iranian Desert and landed it, safely, on a carrier? Was it a game in the Persian Gulf, when I outran that Nuke? Or was it fun and games when we took out those Stingers in Paraguay?" He stepped back from her, a sarcastic gleam in his eyes. In the back of his mind he knew this was overkill, he wasn't half as angry at Mac as he was at the situation, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. Captain Morrison had made it clear, that part of his life was over.
Mac placed her hands on her hips and smirked. "You mean when we crashed in Paraguay?'
Harm was looking at her angrily but at her words, his face became completely expressionless. He turned away from her and walked into her living room and picking up his keys, walked out her front door.
Mac was stunned for a moment, and then followed him, "Harm?"
But it was too late, he was already gone.
She walked to the door, but did not open it. She placed her open palm on the closed door. 'Damn it Harm', she thought, 'why are you doing this?' She had just wanted to help, why wouldn't he let her?
She walked quickly to the window and watched as he got into his SUV. Why didn't he see that he was lucky to be alive, why wasn't it enough that he was a brilliant attorney, that he was going back to JAG and that she loved him? Why did flying come before everything, even his life? Then Mac had another thought….
Why the hell did she bring up that crash in Paraguay?
Two hours later…..
After her anger at the situation had subsided; she was left with the worry of where Harm was and what he was going through, alone. She had to find him.
Mac had driven by his apartment, and then thinking he might have gone to the Mall, she drove there and parked. She wandered the grounds…looking a man whose image and profile, she would know a mile away.
Unexpectedly, she happened to meet someone, someone she hadn't seen in quite awhile. It was Meredith Cavanaugh, sitting on one of the many benches that lined the reflecting pool.
"I haven't seen you at JAG lately."
Meredith smiled "No."
Something about her answer and expression, told Mac not to ask why.
Meredith quickly changed the subject. "What brings you out to the Mall all alone? I understand you and Commander Rabb are seeing each other."
Mac only smiled and nodded.
"It's about time, AJ tells me that you're practically inseparable now."
'Not today' Mac thought. "I just decided to get out and take a walk by myself, it's a beautiful evening, and I didn't want to waste it."
"So the Commander won't be meeting you?"
"No, I don't think so." How she wished he were.
Meredith smiled knowingly, they were fighting, Mac's face was an open book. "How about a cup of coffee? There's got to be a Starbucks close by, I think we have one on every corner now."
Mac laughed and decided to humor her, she thought that if she did, maybe Meredith wouldn't ask the real reason she was walking around in the Mall, alone.
She was mistaken.
After they had sat down to have their coffee, Meredith intimated that she and AJ weren't seeing each other anymore. She asked that Mac not say anything to AJ, that she was sure he would tell her sometime.
"I'm sorry." They seemed like such a nice couple, the Admiral had seemed so lonely when she came into his life.
"No, don't be, it seems we both decided that it was time. AJ is a wonderful man, but he and I both knew that we didn't have a future. He's thinking about retirement, and I don't think he could see me as part of the plan."
Meredith changed the subject again this time catching Mac completely off guard when she asked, "So, what are you and Harm fighting about?"
Mac was taken aback by her direct question. "I didn't say we were fighting."
Meredith knew her powers of perception were still in place and Mac smiled and shook her head. "It's nothing."
"I'm sorry my dear, but if I may, I'd like to say something. In my observation of you both, you appear to be very passionate people. Passionate about everything, and I'm sure, that would include, each other. Surely you don't expect everything to be smooth sailing just because you've finally given in to that passion….do you?"
Mac looked down into her coffee cup, Meredith's frankness causing the color to rise in her cheeks. "I guess not."
"Of course not," She reached over and rested her hand on Mac's forearm. 'It would be a shame that the same passion that brought you together, would drive you apart, wouldn't it? You're not thinking of doing that are you, Mac?"
This was getting far too personal. "No."
"I'm sorry dear, I've overstepped. My only intent was to help you."
It was time for Mac to turn the tables on Meredith and redirect this conversation. "What about you? Are you sure everything is over between you and the Admiral?"
Meredith smiled, "I am, what we had, was nice, it was comfortable but it was not passionate and I don't think either of us are too old for passion. I know that I'm not. Our passions are what make us human; they separate us from the angels."
Meredith's words brought to mind the verse that Mac had overheard in Sadiq's compound being read by one of the missionaries. 'You have made him a little lower the angels, you have crowned him with glory and honor….' That was Harm, and maybe that was why it was so hard for him to let go of flying….maybe that was what he felt. The very thought of him now brought unshed tears stung her eyes and she willed herself to focus again on Meredith.
"I'm glad you and the Admiral parted friends."
"I am too, and I hope that you and your Commander, never part at all. That truly would be a tragedy. " She had reached across the table and patted her hand. "I should go." She quickly stood, "It was good to see you again Mac."
"Nice to see you again Meredith."
With that, the two acquaintances went their separate ways, Meredith back to the stack of essays that her students had written, and that she had to begin to grade tonight, and Mac to try and find Harm, make things right between them.
1955
Tuesday
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
Admiral Chegwidden was turning off the light over his desk, getting ready to leave for the day. He turned to walk around his desk and glancing out the window, he noticed Mac's red corvette driving through the main gate into the JAG parking lot.
He watched as she drove around the lot, and then she appeared to be slowly circling the building. He could see from his vantage point that Mac was alone, and if she didn't park her car and come up, he was sure he knew why she had come. She was looking for Rabb.
He had spoken with Captain Morrison earlier that afternoon. He would have his formal report tomorrow, but the flight surgeon had been clear. There would be no more carrier quals for Commander Rabb.
Knowing that Rabb had been unconscious as long as he was after he crashed, the Admiral knew he'd be grounded for at least a year, but the flight surgeon told him that he intended to strongly recommend that Rabb only be allowed Medical Service Group 2 clearance. The Admiral was sure this was going to be a hell of a pill for him to swallow. Now, it was clear, Rabb would have to live up to what he'd told him he really wanted. To return to JAG and do the job.
He looked down at the parking lot again, seeing Mac make another pass through the lot. If the look on Mac's face was any indication, Rabb wasn't taking this well. 'Damn' he thought. There was no way he could intervene. Not now, to his mind, it would just make the situation worse.
What was it with these aging aviators anyway?
Hell, Rabb was nearly 40 years old. Then it came to him, he knew what he could do. There was someone Harm knew and trusted and understood him, because God help him, he sure didn't.
Tom Boone….speaking of aging aviators.
TBC
A/N: I took much of my information from the United States Naval Flight Surgeon Handbook, 2nd Edition and the Manual of Medical Department USN Aug. 2002
A/N: The quote at the top of the page is from John Page to Thomas Jefferson on July 20th 1776, on the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
I'm embarrassed to say that I considered not using the first line of the quote, not wanting to stir any type of political discussion, but then, I thought the heck with it, that I would include it. I did it simply because it is the truest desire of my heart.
I have always loved this quote, and the idea of the angel in the whirlwind.
Harm and Mac are in a whirlwind now, if anyone needs an angel, they do.
Definitions:
NPQ: Not Physically Qualified
SBFS: Special Board of Flight Surgeons: A board that evaluates medical cases due to their complexity or uniqueness.
Medical Service Groups: Active Naval Aviators are divided into these three groups based on the physical requirements for the purposes of specific flight duty assignment.
Group 1: Aviators qualified for unlimited duty.
Group 2: Aviators restricted from shipboard aircrews duties.
Group 3: Aviators who are restricted to dual control aircraft only and must be accompanied on all flights by a co pilot of Medical Service Group 1 or 2.(This one would have our hero jumping up and down, grin)
PTSD: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
PTSD information was taken from the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs Website.
The Mall: Located in downtown Washington DC. Includes the land stretching from the grounds of the Washington Monument to the US Capital Building and includes all the monuments and museums in between.
I went off the deep end with definitions….didn't I?
