A/N: How much can a person take until it breaks them? I apologize in advance if the courtroom scene isn't realistic. The purpose wasn't to be precise about legalities, but to show Mac's state of mind.
Broken
USS Seahawk
2100 Local
Mac stood on Vulture's Row, looking to the flight deck below. She was oblivious to the smell of jet fuel, something that used to bother her. The sound of the fighter jets taking off and landing brought her a sense of comfort.
No, comfort wasn't the right word. How could she be comforted by Harm's "other" love? The very thing that took him away from her forever. Maybe it brought a sense of closeness to him. Or more likely memories.
She recalled a time several years earlier when she'd found him watching flight operations. The two of them had been on an investigation near the Bermuda Triangle. They talked about the mission and about Harm's "obsession" with finding his father. He'd questioned her about Dalton Lowne, and she'd accidentally revealed she had a tattoo.
Harm teased her about it, and although she'd laughed and shrugged him off, the thought of him "discovering" her tattoo sent a shiver of excitement through her. Of course, it was nothing compared to when he saw it for the first time.
Mac had gotten the rose tattoo shortly after she met him. It was on her right abdomen, just low enough for a bikini to conceal. Harm was almost reverent when he kissed it. She'd confessed she'd gotten it after they met in the White House Rose Garden.
The sound of an incoming Hornet interrupted her thoughts. The landing was near perfect, the pilot snagging the number three wire. Even after all these years, it still amazed Mac how men and women could land these jets with such accuracy.
Another memory flashed through her mind. She was on the Seahawk, this time watching from the bridge as Harm flew a Tomcat past the ship with a nuclear missile on his six. She was both terrified and proud of her new lover.
But as she warned him, his luck ran out. Anger and despair cascaded through her, bringing a screeching halt to any pleasant memories. Suddenly, she couldn't bear to watch another jet. Didn't care if she never saw another pair of gold wings again. Not when they weren't worn by her flyboy.
Mac rushed to open the door and nearly bumped into Sturgis.
"There you are. I've been looking for you."
"What is it, Sturgis? I really don't want to be bothered right now." Mac didn't intend to be rude, but all she wanted to do was go to her quarters. She was angry over the admiral sending her on this investigation. He should have sent someone with knowledge of the UCMJ and experience in flying.
Right. Like there's anyone around JAG with both qualifications these days.
She was angry that in three days, she and Sturgis hadn't made any progress. All they had was a lot of speculation and accusations that they couldn't prove. The accused pilot claimed he did nothing wrong, but something was amiss in his statements. Mac just wished she could put her finger on what it was.
But most of all, she was angry with Harm. If he were the one investigating, he'd already have this thing wrapped up. He could see through whatever façade Lt. Reaves was hiding behind.
Damn Harmon Rabb Jr. for trying to be the hero. Damn him for leaving her.
But there was no reason to take her wrath out on Sturgis. He was an innocent bystander. Mac took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Sturgis. What's going on?"
"A new witness, Ensign Brian Cooper, has come forward."
"Why just now?"
"Apparently, he felt intimidated by Lt. Reaves, but his conscience got the best of him."
"Then let's go. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get out of here."
JAG Headquarters, Three Weeks Later
1000 Local
After interviewing Ensign Cooper, Mac and Sturgis had enough evidence to charge Lt. Reaves for negligent homicide. When they turned in their investigation findings to Admiral Chegwidden, he assigned Mac as lead prosecution with Sturgis sitting second chair. Bud and Lt. Cdr. Armstrong were defense council.
The trial moved along swiftly. Bud's and his client didn't have much to offer in line of a defense. Which is probably why he agreed to allow Lt. Reaves to take the stand in his own defense. When Reaves sat in the witness chair, something inside Mac snapped.
The young lieutenant was arrogant and confident in his skills as a pilot. Perhaps too confident. He had a long record of pushing the envelope and taking chances. This time he'd gone too far, and because of his reckless actions, a good officer had died.
Mac stood to cross examine. "Lt. Reaves, you have a reputation for pushing the limits. On the day in question, were you hot-dogging it?"
"Objection," Bud said.
"I'll rephrase, Your Honor. Lt. Reaves, were you flying recklessly?"
"I wouldn't call it reckless. I was confident in my abilities as a pilot."
"But isn't it true you often try to show off for the rest of the squadron in order to prove you're the best? Isn't it true you don't like to play second fiddle to anyone? Isn't it true you were afraid someone else would get ahead of you and you needed to boost your ego?"
"Objection. Council is badgering the witness."
"Sustained. Tread lightly, Colonel."
"Lt. Reaves, would you care to explain to us what you were doing that day?"
"I was flying a mission, Ma'am."
She walked over to stand in front of the members, then turned back to the defendant. "You weren't scheduled to fly that mission, were you?"
"That's correct, but I volunteered."
"You volunteered. And why was that?"
"Because I swore to defend my country. We're fighting a ruthless enemy. Our very lives are at stake."
Mac scoffed. "Lives at stake. How much more for those who fly with you?
"Objection," Bud said.
Mac continued. "So, you had to jump in the save the day? Because no one else could do it like you. Isn't that the only reason you volunteered?"
"Your Honor."
"Not because you care about your country, but because you needed to massage your ego. You needed to prove to yourself and the world that no one can do it like you."
"Your Honor, I object." Bud's voice grew louder.
Admiral Morris banged the gavel. "Sustained."
But Mac ignored him as she paced the floor. "What is it about you pilots? Why can't you accept the fact others can do things just as well?" She reached to brush tears from her eyes. "Why do you continually put the lives of others… and you own lives… in danger… And because of that someone died. How many more will have to die?"
Her tears flowed freely now. She looked up at the ceiling. The spot where years earlier Harm fired an automatic weapon. "Why, Harm, why?" She sank to her knees.
"Your Honor, I move for a rece—"
Admiral Morris didn't give Sturgis a chance to finish. "Granted. The members are excused. Court is adjourned until 0900 tomorrow. Commander, please see to your co-counsel."
Bethesda Naval Hospital
1830 Local
Admiral A J Chegwidden tapped lightly on the hospital room door, then waited until he heard a faint, "Come in."
He eased the door open. Lt. Harriet Sims stood up from the chair where she'd been sitting at Mac's bedside.
"At ease, Lieutenant. How is she?"
"They gave her something to help her rest. She's been sleeping most of the time."
Chegwidden looked at the woman lying in the hospital bed. She looked small and weak. Almost frail. Far from the strong marine he'd known the past few years. After her breakdown this morning in the courtroom, he ordered Harriet to take her to Bethesda. Mac had rallied enough to put up a feeble protest, but he'd pulled rank to say it was that or take mandatory leave.
Afterwards, he'd spent the day trying to figure out where, as a commanding officer, he'd gone wrong. Other than Mac's initial reaction upon learning of Rabb's death, he thought she'd accepted it. Yes, he knew the past six months had been tough for her. It had been rough on everyone at JAG who had worked with the commander.
A J knew Mac had changed since then. She refused to associate with anyone outside work. In retrospect, sending her to the Seahawk had not been his best idea. What he thought would help her break through the barrier she'd enclosed herself in had only reopened the wound. And this time she needed help in order for the hurt to heal.
The first time he introduced Rabb and Mackenzie, he sensed something sparked between them. That's why he gave them the warning not to get too close to one another. He'd watched the two of them over the years.
After the departure of their last "significant others," he expected they would finally get heads out of their sixes and admit their feelings for one another. But Mac ran to the Guadalcanal and Harm… Well, Harm continued to be Harm.
But something changed around the time of the tribunal. As long as it didn't interfere with the conduct and good disciple of the office, A J didn't pry into the private lives of his officers. But he wasn't blind either. Didn't take a genius to know their relationship had moved beyond the bounds of friendship.
He'd spent the day trying to undo the damage Mac caused in the courtroom. Defense council wanted a mistrial. Sturgis, naturally, was opposed. And if Admiral Morris wasn't so fond of Mac, he might have charged her with contempt of court. Instead, he'd phoned mid-afternoon to inquire about her.
"Sir?"
A J momentarily forgot Lt. Sims was in the room.
"I'm sorry, Harriet. What were you saying?"
"I hate to leave her alone, but I really need to get home. Bud phoned to say he was working late and I need to pick up little A J."
"Go ahead, Lt. I'll stay with Mac for a while. I don't imagine they'll allow anyone to stay after visiting hours." If Rabb was here, he'd defy orders and do it anyway. And Mac would do the same for him.
"Thank you, Sir."
"Harriet?"
"Yes, Sir?"
"Did Mac say anything else? About Harm, that is?"
"Not that I know of. Other than brief answers to the doctor's questions, she's barely spoken a word."
"Thank you, Lieutenant." He waited until Harriet gathered her things, then sat in the chair beside Mac's bed. A J was no doctor, but he'd seen enough to know she had a long road to recovery ahead of her. And right now, he wondered if she ever would.