'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Two
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Part One
Fri, Feb. 19th
1426 ZULU
Bethesda Naval Hospital
Washington, D.C.
A tall brunette, obviously highly pregnant, was literally running up to the reception desk, supporting her belly with one hand. All color seemed to have drained from her face and her eyes resembled those of a frightened deer caught in a car's headlights. The nurse on duty immediately grabbed the receiver of her telephone, ready to call an obstetrician but something in the woman's face made her stop.
"Can I help you, ma'am? Are you in labor?"
"No. I need to see my husband."
"Is he a patient?"
"No, he just likes it here. Hell, of course he's a patient!"
"Which ward is he in?"
The brunette made an impatient gesture with her hands. "How am I supposed to know that? That's your job to tell me. If I knew I wouldn't be wasting my time with damned formalities!"
The nurse was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the woman's stare. 'Those Navy wives think they own this place...' she thought, frowning. A young woman with light brown hair stepped up to the counter now and put a comforting hand on the brunette's shoulder.
"Calm down, Mac," she said in a low, soothing voice, "Let me handle it, okay?"
The brunette closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then the nurse, to her surprise, saw her actually smile at her friend. "Thanks, Claire."
The younger woman turned to the nurse. "I'm Doctor Claire Farnham. Colonel Rabb," with her head she motioned to the pregnant woman beside her, "Received a call that her husband was admitted here yesterday night with a gunshot wound. He's Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. Could you please tell us where he is?"
'Colonel? Okay, I see. Never mess with angry Marines.' The nurse suddenly saw Mac in a totally different light. The commander's arrival had caused quite a lot of trouble for the night shift because he had been in such poor condition and for hours they hadn't been sure if he would live. Probably this angry-Marine attitude was the only way his pregnant wife could cope with the dreadful news she must have just recently received. In a compassionate but still matter-of-fact tone, the nurse informed the two women of the commander's condition.
"I see. He was admitted shortly after 0030, unconscious. He was shot twice. One bullet hit the stomach and one grazed his head. He lost a large amount of blood and immediately underwent surgery. He's in the ICU now. That way and up to the right."
"Thank you." The young doctor gave the nurse a warm smile, hooked her arm through the colonel's and led her down the corridor.
In front of Harm's door Mac and Claire were met by the surgeon who had operated
Harm upon his arrival. He offered both women a warm handshake.
"Colonel Rabb, ma'am? I'm Lt. Cmdr. Ralph Zanelli. I understand Cmdr. Rabb is your husband?"
"That is correct, Commander. How is he?" Mac's hands held a tight grip on her purse.
Zanelli sighed. "To be honest, ma'am, we're not too sure right now. He did survive the surgery which is a miracle in itself but..." He hesitated.
Mac's eyes urged him to go on. "The truth," was all she could say in a low voice.
The surgeon swallowed, looked down for a moment and then forced himself to meet Mac's eyes. "He suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and we have no idea to what extent it may affect his systems. Right now he's in a coma."
Luckily, Claire had been prepared to support Mac's weight should she need to. As she felt Mac sway slightly at the impact of the news she immediately tightened her grip and helped her friend stay on her feet. Mac's voice was hoarse but firm when she spoke.
"Will he wake from it?"
"We can't tell, ma'am."
"If he does, how could he be affected?"
"In every possible way. He could be his normal self. He could lose his memory. He could be partly or completely paralyzed. He could be mentally handicapped. There's no way to predict the consequences of his injuries. I'm very sorry, ma'am," the doctor added in a low, strained voice.
Mac only bit her lip until she tasted blood. Claire turned to Zanelli. "Thanks, Doctor. I know I'm not family, but I'm her obstetrician and a good friend both of hers and of the commander. I think, if the colonel wants me, that is, she might need me with her now. Could I go in, too?"
Zanelli hesitated only for a couple of seconds and then nodded. "Sure, go ahead." Placing a reassuring hand on Mac's back, he opened the door and let the two women in.
"His eyes are open," was the first thing that Mac remarked absentmindedly as she, in a state of haze, approached Harm's bed. Harm was lying in a half-seated position, tubes and cables connecting him to IVs and monitors all around him. A continuous, even beeping broke the silence of the room. A thick bandage had been applied to Harm's head, and from a pale face, his eyes seemed to be staring at the opposite wall.
"I know," Zanelli replied. "We tried to close them but the lids won't stay down. So every half-hour he receives eye drops. But I have some positive news, too. Two hours ago, we were able to disconnect him from the respirator. He's breathing steadily by himself."
Mac absorbed the information without showing any reaction. Her mind was entirely focused on her husband. Seeing his void, lifeless eyes stare into the middle of nowhere, she felt as if an iron clasp had been laid around her heart, like in the fairytale of Iron Henry. It hurt as if it were going to burst any moment. She softly took his hand, feeling it hang heavy and powerless in her own. The man she loved, the father of her child, had been reduced to the mere shell of himself. Holding his hand against her cheek, she fought her tears and suppressed a sob, squeezing her eyes shut against the overwhelming pain that made her want to scream.
It was an entire two minutes until she found her voice. "Who did it?" The words were barely audible.
"The police say that he must have been the victim of a robbery," Zanelli explained. "It appears he was shot and searched. His wallet was missing. The robbers must have been disturbed, though. His car showed signs of an attempt to open it. But they seemingly gave it up very quickly and fled. And they also didn't bother to search for his cell-phone that he carried in his security pocket inside his uniform. The wallet must have been enough for them. That's what the police told me"
Mac forced herself to go on, the investigator in her surfacing. "Any clues? Or any witnesses?"
"You should ask the police, ma'am, but as far as I know - none."
"Who found him?"
"Your neighbor called the ambulance, ma'am."
Mac took a deep breath and shook herself from her paralysis, turning to the doctor and managing a sad half-smile.
"That would be all for now, Commander. Thanks for your assistance."
"Aye, ma'am. Permission to speak freely?"
"Granted."
"I'll pray for you and the commander, ma'am. Never lose hope."
For a fraction of a second, Zanelli was able to see the stunning beauty of the woman in front of him, as a real smile lit up her huge dark eyes.
"Thank you, Commander. I appreciate that."
Coming to attention, the doctor turned and left the room.
Claire stepped up to Mac and put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "You want me to call anyone?"
"Yes, please inform Sturgis that he'll have to take over as temporary JAG and have him inform the office. And tell Fred that I want him to sit second chair in the admiral's trial. If Harriet asks if she can help in any way please ask her to look after Jingo. She has our keys. I'll try to reach Harm's mom, Sergei and the admiral. And Claire... thanks for being here."
The young woman gave her friend a quick compassionate hug. "Anytime, Mac. Anytime." Then she turned and left the room.
Although Mac had claimed that she wanted to talk to AJ as his defense counsel,
it nevertheless took quite some time until the call was passed on to him.
Finally he picked up the receiver.
"Chegwidden."
"Admiral? This is Col. Rabb."
"Mac?" AJ's voice was immediately full of concern as he heard her speak a little unevenly. "Is everything all right?"
"No, sir. Harm was shot yesterday night."
"Oh God... because of me?" AJ's grip on the receiver tightened until his knuckles turned white.
"I don't think so, sir," came Mac's calm reply. For the moment, she had managed to steady her voice. "It seems to have been a simple robbery."
"How is he?"
Her silence spoke volumes. AJ began to fear the worst. Finally she answered, her voice monotone. "He's alive but he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage. He's in a coma."
AJ dreaded the next question. "Is he likely to wake up?"
"No one can tell." Mac didn't trust her voice enough for any more words, struggling to hold back her tears that all of a sudden welled up again, now that she had to clearly face the facts, having to communicate them to others. AJ heard her suppress a sob, then another and another until her resolve broke. For several minutes he just let her cry, pained, scared and at a loss of what to say. He could count on one hand the times that he had ever seen Sarah Mackenzie cry. And never, never had he been witness to such bottomless pain in her. All he could do was not hang up and be there if she needed to talk.
Eventually, her violent sobs quieted. He heard her sniffle and blow her nose. "I apologize for my behavior, sir."
"Nonsense." Once again AJ applied his useful gruffness to hide his own inner turmoil. "It was necessary for you to cry, Colonel. Don't you apologize for that, understood?"
"Aye, sir." She again blew her nose. "I didn't cry, though, when I called Harm's mother. Or Sergei."
AJ's voice softened. "That was because you knew you had to be strong for them, Mac. You don't have to be for me. I'm a SEAL, remember? As long as I know you'll fight, I'll cope."
Mac let out a shaky sigh. It felt good to be allowed to be weak for once. "I don't know if I have the power to fight, sir," she admitted quietly. "What if it all comes to nothing? What if he doesn't remember me? What if he'll never be able to hold his child? What if his future would be being confined to a bed? I don't know if I would want him to live through that. And if I could live through it for that matter," she added, her voice even lower.
A sudden wave of rage flowed through the admiral's veins as he listened to her. If even Mac, his no-nonsense chief-of-staff, the tough gung-ho Marine with the iron will, was giving up on this, the commander had no chance whatsoever to come back to himself! Shaking with anger, the admiral addressed the woman that was closer to him than his own daughter.
"Don't you dare, Colonel!" he yelled into the receiver.
Mac gave a start. "Sir?"
"Don't you dare give up on your husband! He needs you, you of all people, Mackenzie! Should he have a chance to wake, it will be your voice, your attention and your determination alone that will bring him back, do you hear me? You mean more to him than life itself! It will be you that he comes back to if he does, and no one else! Now get your head out of your six and fight, Marine! That's an order!" Mac could hear her CO breathe agitatedly.
Some of AJ's force somehow made its way across the phone line. Mac swallowed, and all of a sudden, felt ashamed. Damn, if she wanted to be worthy of the green uniform she was wearing, running and accepting defeat was out of the question. Never leave anyone behind. She lifted her head. "Sir, yes, sir! " she answered forcefully.
"Semper fidelis, Marine," was all that her CO replied before hanging up.
Fri, Feb. 19th
2143 ZULU
House Mistral
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, NY
Cadet Third Year Jeannine Stiller hurriedly opened the door to her apartment and rushed into her room as she heard her telephone ring. Throwing her bag on her desk, she flopped onto her bed, and, a little short of breath, responded.
"Stiller."
"Preev'yet, Yanina Andreyevna." [Hello, Yanina Andreyevna.]
"Sergei!" Jeannine's face lit up upon hearing his voice. Sergei had once asked her what her middle name was, and as she had had to admit that she didn't even have one, he had asked what her late father had been called and had given her a Russian middle name - 'daughter of Andrew'. It was one of Sergei's qualities, to always think of sweet little things like this. And it made her heart jump.
His smile could be heard over the line. "Hi, my little one. How are you holding up?"
"Fine, thank you. And you? What did I do to deserve your unexpected call?" Jeannine lay down on her back, smiling at the ceiling, twirling the telephone cable around her left index finger.
Sergei's voice sobered. "I needed someone to talk to."
Jeannine's fingers stopped in mid-movement. "What's up? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I am, but my brother isn't."
Sitting up cross-legged on her bed, Jeannine felt her worries grow. "What happened?"
"Harm was shot yesterday night."
"Oh my God... how is he? Did he..."
"He's alive," Sergei replied to her unfinished question. "But barely. He suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and went into a coma. No one knows if he'll ever wake, and if he does, no one can be sure about his condition."
Jeannine could hear the pain in Sergei's voice. "I just wish I were with you right now," she said, wanting to hold and comfort him. She knew how much Harm meant to him, besides her own concern for her friend's well-being.
"So do I," he sighed. "Jan, I don't know what I would do without him. He's been my one anchor ever since I came to the States."
"Remember that you're not alone anymore. All your brother's friends are your friends, too. And then there's Mac. How does she cope anyways?"
"When she called me she seemed composed. But I know that's just a shell. I guess deep inside she's just plain desperate but she tries to be strong for the rest of us. And for little Trisha."
Thinking of her former room- and classmate who had helped her through her times of hell and had become one of her closest friends, Jeannine made a decision. "Sergei, do you still live in Arlington with them or are you done rearranging Mac's old apartment?"
Sergei had started to attend classes in aeronautical engineering in September at Georgetown University. So, living in Georgetown had appeared a comfortable solution and he, Harm and Mac had succeeded in talking Mac's former landlord into letting Sergei take over the apartment by the time she would have moved to the new house. In December, Sergei had begun to reconstruct the place and a week ago he had finally been able to move in.
"Didn't I tell you?" Sergei was embarrassed. "I moved in last Saturday. Everything is ready and I love it. Wait till you see it yourself. Why do you ask?"
Taking a deep breath, Jeannine prepared to reply, unsure if she was ready for this, having been involved with Harm's brother for less than two months, having seen him only once after having been to Washington for Christmas. But she wanted to see Mac and be there for her, even if it was only for a few days, without having to impose on her hospitality, though. Mac had more than enough problems herself. And Jeannine somehow felt she could trust the younger Rabb just as she could the elder. "I could come over for Spring Break," she offered slowly, her heart beating a little quicker than usual, "If you let me stay with you."
Sergei's answer held a slightly hoarse edge, telling Jeannine that he, just like her, was very aware of the possible consequences that her staying with him might have for the two of them. Nevertheless, he agreed. "I think Mac would like having you around, Janutchka."
"What about you?" Jeannine couldn't help asking under her breath.
"Me, too," she heard him say just as low.
For a few seconds the silence hung heavily between the between the two phones connecting Georgetown and Long Island. Then Sergei ventured a shy "Take care, little one."
"You, too."
"Dusvidunya, Yanina Andreyevna." [Goodbye, Yanina Andreyevna.]
Wanting to surprise him, she answered with a phrase that she had trained to pronounce correctly with Mac's help. She smiled. "Dusvidunya, Sergei Harmonovitch."
AN: [I made up the phonetic spelling of the Russian words myself. I hope I got it halfway right to be comprehensible in English. For a German reader, for example, I would probably have written 'Daswidanja'. So just be a little creative while reading, okay? Thanks!]
Sat, Feb. 20th
0312 ZULU
Bethesda Naval Hospital
Washington, D.C.
It was the continuous, suppressed sobbing that first penetrated the thick fog that was clouding Harm's conscious. He felt a sudden wave of pain as he realized that it was none other than his Sarah crying desperately over something. Mac, crying desperately? What the heck had happened?
Trying to get his vision into focus, he became aware of the white wall he was staring at. And his ears suddenly recognized the steady beeping of a heart monitor. This had to be an intensive care unit. A dull, throbbing pain, obviously lessened by painkillers, made itself known somewhere in his gut. And suddenly he remembered. Maryann Cramer had shot him.
He noticed that his left hand was clasped between Mac's smaller ones. She was obviously stroking his palm with her thumb. ['Hey, Marine, I thought you knew that no one gets rid of Harmon Rabb easily.'] Thankful that she was with him and eager to relieve her from her apparent insecurity about his well-being, he tried to squeeze her hand in return. But strangely, his fingers didn't obey his brain.
He tried to turn his head in her direction but his muscles seemed to be on strike. Unable to fight the growing sense of doom inside himself, he tried to look at her but his eyes wouldn't comply. It felt as if they were glued to the spot, always bound to stare at the white wall. He tried to close them to concentrate on his other senses, but his eyelids wouldn't budge.
Damn, this couldn't be possible! There had had to be at least one tiny part of his body that he could still command! Finding his lips refusing their service, too, he tried to at least emit some sort of groan, to somehow make her see that he was with her, but his vocal chords were in deep hibernation. ['Okay, accelerate your breathing, then,'] he ordered himself. But his lungs seemed to function on autopilot, steadily inhaling and exhaling without caring if he wanted to or not. Desperate anger and raging pain hit him mercilessly as he finally understood his exact condition: he was in a perfect cocoon, aware of all that was going on around him, but completely incapable of communicating with the outside world. Cramer had done a thorough job, taking him out for good.
His inner turmoil didn't go unnoticed by his heart monitor, though. The steady beeping accelerated, making Mac suck in her breath and look up. She immediately saw that the green peaks on the oscillator that represented his heartbeat stood closer to one another. Starting to tremble, she pressed the 'call' button. A minute later, Zanelli entered the room.
"What is it, ma'am?" As he walked past his feet, Harm could get a glimpse of the Lieutenant Commander's concerned expression.
['I'm at Bethesda,'] he noted, keen on learning every detail about his present state.
"His pulse has gone up suddenly," Mac explained in a shaky voice.
Puzzled, Zanelli checked the readings on the many machines Harm was connected to.
"There is definitely some brain activity going on in there," he confirmed, trying not to show his excitement. This could mean everything. Better not get the colonel's hopes up too high. "I wouldn't be surprised if it were just a slight irregularity, ma'am, that wouldn't tell anything about your husband's actual condition," he went on cautiously, "But we could give it a try." Turning to Harm he raised his voice. "Commander Rabb, do you hear me?"
Harm felt Mac clasp his hand more firmly. ['Damn, yes, I hear you! Don't you doubt your monitor, man, you're my one ally at the moment,'] he implored the doctor.
"Commander!" Zanelli put a hand on Harm's shoulder and shook him rather fiercely.
Harm felt the force of his grip but his inward cry of pain wouldn't surface. ['I'll get you for that one, Commander, once I'm out of here,'] he silently swore.
"You try, please, ma'am," he heard Zanelli address Mac. "He knows your voice."
Mac once more tightened her grip on Harm's hand. "Harm. Harm! Do you hear me? It's me, Sarah! Harm!!" The last sound came out together with a sob.
['Mac...'] Harm tried to reach out to her, despair choking him. ['I'm right with you, honey, can't you see?']
Mac tried once more to call him and then slowly let go of his hand, taking her chair again. Zanelli silently placed a hand on her shoulder, hurting for the woman whose child would probably never know her father as who he had once been. The doctor then shook himself from his grief, knowing he had to keep a professional distance. Having administered Harm his eye drops, he left the room.
Mac let her head rest on her arms on top of Harm's bed. "If this is our future I can't live through it," she sobbed, fresh tears flowing freely. "I can't, do you hear me???" she cried out forcefully, only to completely break down after, weeping her soul out for the man she loved, for the child she carried and for her own heart that was breaking into a million pieces.
Unbeknownst to her, only inches away, her husband was going through exactly the same ordeal. Only that he was slowly but steadily nearing the verge of insanity as the pressure in his body, heart and soul kept building up to no limits, leaving him without a valve to let it out, though. His eyes had no tears to shed.
Eventually Harm gave in to the voice that, at the back of his mind, tried to lure him into letting go and getting rid of the pain. Lost in her grief, Mac didn't notice that the steady beeping of the heart monitor kept getting slower and slower.
Mon, Feb. 22nd
1502 ZULU
Rabb residence
Arlington, VA
Once again Mac braced herself and hoped her Marine mode would get her through this. During the weekend it had proven extremely difficult to get her mind off Harm for so much as a minute. But she had work to do. The admiral depended on her. And maybe work would be the only way she could get through this. So she had told Sturgis that she would gladly take over the first chair on the Cramer case as well, knowing he would object for the sake of her pregnancy but also knowing that they were extremely short on personnel. In the end he had given in, making her promise to let Fred and Bud do as much work for her as they could.
Squaring her shoulders and drawing a shaky breath, Mac managed to smile as Fred pulled up in their driveway to pick her up. 'You can do this, Marine.'
Fred got out, rounded the car and opened the door for her to get in. "Good morning, ma'am. How are you?" He gave her a smile of sincere compassion.
"Thanks, Fred, I'm well, given the circumstances," Mac replied quietly, fastening her seatbelt.
"How's the commander?" Fred started the engine and drove off.
Mac sighed, frowning. "No change since Friday night. After the short period of increased brain activity he's just totally dropped out again. Seems as if something inside him struggled and then just let go."
"Are you going to see him today?"
"After my appointment with Claire, yes. Could you maybe drop me off?"
"How are you going to get back, ma'am?"
"I'll take a cab, that's all right, Fred."
"Uhm, ma'am, I almost forgot," Fred pulled to the side and took a letter out of his inside pocket, "Claire told me to give you this to read before seeing her today. It's the results of your examination in New York. She says you might want to prepare a few questions."
"Thanks." Biting her lip, Mac opened the letter while Fred drove on. From the corner of his eye the young lieutenant saw her skim the lines, frown, swallow and quietly put the letter into her purse.
"If I may ask, ma'am... is Trisha okay?" Fred's voice once again sounded very formal, a sure sign that he was unsure if he could ask his superior officer such a personal question, regardless of whether she was a close friend or not.
"Not quite, but I'm still relieved," came Mac's reply. "From what the doctor in New York explained to me, Trisha's heart irregularities could very well have turned out a serious congenital heart defect. But the results show that the heart is in normal shape. Our little one appears to suffer from a very light form of myocardiac insufficiency, though, and we need to go easy on her during the first years as it seems. I'll ask Claire for the particulars. Anyway, I was fearing far worse and, luckily, this thing isn't anything we can't handle. Our child having a heart defect would have been the cherry on top right now," Mac tried an attempt at humor, aware that she was still picturing Harm and herself raising Trisha together.
For a while they were silent. From the way Fred tightly clutched the steering wheel and stared at the street, Mac could tell something was bothering him. "What's on your mind, Lieutenant?" she asked gently.
Nervously clearing his throat, Fred cast a quick glance to where she sat. "You are due in less than two weeks, ma'am, right?"
"Eleven days."
"That means you could have your baby every day now, right?"
"I guess." Mac waited for him to go on, not quite sure where this was leading.
"Do you... do you really think it wise that I should take over on the Chegwidden case, ma'am? I mean, the admiral needs every help that he can possibly get. And if you should be out of it, too, when your daughter decides she wants to be born, that would leave me of all people to defend the U.S. Navy's JAG against murder charges." Fred had spoken in a rush, clearly not feeling well in questioning her decision to have him join the team.
With a small smile, Mac put a reassuring hand on Fred's arm. "Don't worry. You'll do just fine, Fred. In the eight months that we've been working together you have proven yourself an excellent lawyer. You are very precise in your research - which is what you'll mainly do as long as I'm still on board - and you are a diplomat in court who wriggles testimonies out of witnesses in a rather unorthodox way, I give you that, but it turns out to be just as efficient as Harm's creative cross examinations or my no-nonsense direct approaches. And Sturgis has promised me to keep himself updated on the case so you'd have an extra-class second chair, should I really be totally out of the game. Which I won't, I promise."
"Aye, ma'am." Fred gave her a quick half-smile, seeming not entirely convinced, but a good deal lighter of heart than before. "Here we are." With that he maneuvered the car into a parking space directly in front of Sydney Walden's medical practice. He and Mac had agreed to once again try to find out the nature of Sydney's preoccupation. As the Danny-drug line had led to no results whatsoever, this seemed to be the only lead left.
A young urologist had agreed to act as a substitute for Sydney until the practice would be legally sold in Daniel Walden's name. Only few patients had dared to make an appointment yet, the situation of their doctor having been murdered making them feel uneasy. Mac and Fred stepped up to the reception desk.
"Good morning, Col. Rabb," the receptionist greeted her rather uneasily, casting an unsure look in the lieutenant's direction. By now, all of Washington had read about everyone's favorite guitar-playing Navy commander having been shot, probably in connection with the murder trial the U.S. Navy's JAG was facing. What a story!
"Good morning, Lisa," Mac returned the greeting. "My colleague will be taking over for my husband. Meet Lieutenant j.g. Federico Prumetti from the Italian Navy." Fred and Lisa exchanged quiet nods. Mac went on. "Could we just have a look at Doctor Walden's files again as far as they aren't liable to medical confidentiality?"
"Sure, follow me, please, ma'am, sir." Lisa led them into Sydney's deserted administrative office, leaving them alone.
"So, ma'am, what are we looking for?" Fred asked Mac, glancing at the many, many folders with a lost expression on his face.
Mac's chuckle was bitter. "Everything and nothing, Fred. Let's just get this over with." She grabbed the first case and settled down at Sydney's desk.
A little while later - Fred had just finished the D's whereas Mac wasn't even halfway through B - the office door opened and one of the nurses stepped into the room, carrying a tray with two water glasses and a couple of cookies.
"I thought, you might want some of these," she said smiling, throwing a knowing glance at Mac's impressive belly.
"Thanks, Stephanie, I do appreciate that." Mac's grateful smile was genuine. She was about to turn back to her folders when she became aware that the nurse hesitated to leave the room as if something were bothering her. "Was there anything else?"
"Uhm..." Stephanie looked around uneasily, eventually closed the door and motioned for Mac and Fred to move closer. Facing the officers' questioning glances, she put one hand under her coat and pulled out a small, dirty folder that she must have carried stuck in the waistband of her trousers. "Two days ago, I had to get an electric saw from Sydney's house 'cause we needed to repair a cupboard at the practice. I knew she kept it with her garden tools, and as I was looking for it in the small shed at the back of her lawn, I came across this. It was actually hidden in a sack of earth." She handed Mac the folder that, in spite of all the dirt, seemed to be a recent one. "I thought it might be of interest to you, that's why I... well... kind of confiscated it." She smiled a little guiltily.
Thumbing through the folder, Mac's curiosity rose. 'Testicular cancer...' she mused, 'Quite a few recent cases among Sydney's patients.' Reading on, she whistled softly under her breath as she came by a scientific abstract on regional clusters of testicular germ cell cancer being attributed to a certain chemical called dimethylfomamide that had been used, among other things, in the repair of exterior surfaces and electrical components of the airframes of F4 Phantom Jets and other aircraft before being substituted by less carcinogenic substances.
'This would definitely be something I'd want to discuss with a military lawyer,' Mac thought, thrilled that they might have their first actual clue at hand, but still unsure about the possible connection between the cancer cases mentioned in the medical article and those that had obviously occurred among Sydney's patients. Deciding that she would study the medical details later, she went on skimming the pages while Fred and Stephanie were patiently waiting for her reaction.
The missing link was supplied a few pages later on. There were notes that Sydney had obviously taken in a great hurry, somewhere outside as raindrops seemed to have washed away a few words. Sydney had described something she must have found somewhere in the woods near D.C., Mac would need to make out the exact location later on, trying to figure out what had been washed away. But it seemed that a certain waste disposal company by the name of Minton Greenwood had made easy money, getting rid of toxic waste by depositing it in the woods. From what Mac could make out this quickly, Sydney had located all her new testicular cancer patients' homes within a closely confined area, had gone looking around and had found the site by herself. A description of the exact whereabouts was given on the page Mac had just turned. Sydney had taken samples of the chemicals that she had found there and one of them had indeed turned out to be dimethylformamide.
With a grim smile, Mac looked up and met the expectant glances of her two onlookers. "Thank you very much, Stephanie," she said slowly. "I think you just supplied some essential evidence in Admiral Chegwidden's favor."
"I hope so, ma'am," the young nurse replied. "You know, we all liked him very much and we were sorry that things didn't work out between him and Sydney..."
"I need a favor of you, though, Steph," Mac went on, earnestly gazing at the eager young woman. "Is there a laboratory you send samples to? Chemicals for instance," she clarified.
"There is, ma'am. Doctor Walden used to see to those things herself but I think I know whom she turned to. Is there anything you would need me to check out for you?" she offered.
"Actually, yes, there is. I would need you to go and collect a few samples from the laboratory. They have already been analyzed, the results are in here. But we need to keep the original samples safe. They might be vital evidence as well. Could you do that for me without raising too many questions? You can refer to me if they ask who authorized you." Mac hoped the young woman wouldn't be afraid and back away now.
Luckily, Stephanie nodded without hesitation. "Of course, ma'am. I'll call you."
Mac rose, safely storing the file in her briefcase. "I'll photocopy it for you, Fred, so you can take your time and go over it thoroughly." Turning once again to the nurse, Mac offered her a handshake. "Thank you so much for your help. I promise we will keep our source of information confidential."
The nurse nodded, obviously relieved. "Thanks, ma'am."
Fred and Mac greeted the staff, exited the medical practice and two minutes later found themselves in the privacy of their car.
"Yes!!" they exclaimed unanimously, giving each other five. It was the first real laughter that escaped Mac's lips since Harm had been shot. She knew he would approve seeing her like this.
Tue, Feb. 23rd
0223 ZULU
Bethesda Naval Hospital
Washington, D.C.
A soft 'click' indicated that Mac had finally arrived. Harm had been anticipating the sound for at least two hours, he estimated, wishing once more that he had Mac's inner clock. Always listening intensely, he had become more and more uneasy when she didn't show up for such a long time after the hospital shifts had changed. Harm had been able to, more or less, keep track of time by counting how often he had been administered his eye drops, and when 2100 had passed without any sign of Mac, he had begun to seriously worry.
Based on the fact that Mac always stayed with him until almost midnight he had concluded that she had somehow talked the hospital staff into softening the visiting regulations in their case, cunning negotiator that she was. Harm inwardly smiled. Mac would have succeeded in talking Romeo into staying with her after dawn and facing the consequences, had she been Juliet.
He caught a glimpse of her as she walked by his bed. Concerned, he thought that she looked tired and weary. Surely she had plunged herself into her work. She tended to do that every time she didn't want to face problems in her own life. He hoped she would tell him about it. Two days ago, she had started to share with him the events of the day and the thoughts that were troubling her, telling him that even though she didn't count on him hearing her, it nevertheless helped her to clear her mind and come to conclusions about what she had to do.
Feeling his hand clasped between hers, he heard a chair being pulled up and she settled down, softly kissing his palm.
"Hey, sailor, how are you doing?"
['Fine, now that you are with me, my favorite Marine. You know, Mac, you really shouldn't work so much. Think about Trisha...']
"I'm sorry that I couldn't come any earlier," she interrupted his thoughts, "But I had an appointment with Claire, you know." Her voice was quiet and thoughtful. "She received the results from Trisha's heart examination..."
['Oh God...']
"...and I talked them over with her at length." Mac sighed, absentmindedly stroking her belly.
['Tell me, Mac!'] Harm implored her silently.
"Well, at least it's not a genetic defect. But she does have a slight myocardiac insufficiency, so you'll need to be gentle on her, sailor, when you teach her to play basketball..." Mac's voice trailed away as she seemed to be hit once more by the revelation that it wasn't very likely for him to even carry her around. A sniffle conveyed to Harm the direction her thoughts had been drifting in.
['I swear to you, Sarah, you shall watch us play one day,'] he vowed, his heart aching.
Mac had, for an instant, removed her hands from his. When she clasped his hand again, her palms were wet.
['Oh my God, I can't bear when she cries and I can't do anything to comfort her.']
"Anyway," she managed an unsteady chuckle of embarrassment, sniffing again and trying to lighten the mood and distract herself, "I have good news, too. Fred and I came up with something substantial in favor of the admiral today."
['What? Hey, that's great, Marine! How did you...']
"I'm sure you would want to know how we did that, huh? Well, I hate to admit it, and probably I wouldn't if you were really listening, but... the evidence was given to us by someone else. We had no credit in finding out. You remember that young nurse Sydney has... had with her in the practice?" Mac's voice had turned thoughtful again. "Stephanie. Bright girl. She joined Fred and me in Sydney's office and confidentially handed us a folder that she had found hidden in a sack of potting soil among Sydney's garden tools. I'm really surprised that none of the investigators found it." She sighed. "Maybe it was completely buried, it's very dirty, you know, and the sack fell over when she was looking for the saw."
['Mac, come on, what's 'inside' the folder, dirty or not?']
"Sydney must have been very worried about it that she hid it so well," Mac went on with her musings.
['Maaac...']
"She must have feared someone knew and would try to look for it. Maybe it was him - or her - that killed her? What do you think?"
['I can't tell you what I think since I don't know what's inside!']
"Humph. Not very talkative today, Commander, are we?" Harm felt her gently trace the outlines of his face with her knuckles. He longed to close his eyes, to lose himself in her touch, but he had to limit himself to ignoring the white wall he kept staring at.
"As soon as I had a look at the contents I knew that we had the clue, Harm," Mac went on, getting up to sit on his bed, never letting go of his hand, distractedly resting it against her belly. Harm had her within his visual field now. She did look worn out and melancholy. But she was still incredibly beautiful to him. And he heard his heart monitor accelerate its beeping once more as he felt his daughter move against the back of his hand.
Mac looked up for a moment, not really excited. By now, she'd gotten used to the slight irregularities of his pulse. They had no real significance as long as her husband was so far away from everything. Quietly she went on with her tale. "It took me a little while to figure it out but I think I managed to get the facts into a reasonable order in my mind. All that's left now is to procure the evidence. Then we should be able to clear Chegwidden from any charges." Again she paused, lost in thought.
['What did you find, Mac? Please, tell me!']
"This is about an environmental crime, flyboy," she began to explain. "I guess, for Sydney it all started a while ago when she became aware that she had an amazing increase in the numbers of patients who were diagnosed with testicular germ cell cancer. She got suspicious and looked up where those people lived. As it turns out, they come from, more or less, the same area west of D.C. She seems to have done a little research on the occurrence of regional clusters of testicular cancer cases and she came up with a scientific abstract on a certain chemical called dimethylformamide that, until a while ago, was used in the repair of exterior surfaces and electrical components of F4 Phantom Jets and other aircraft, among other things. I think that's when she began to fear the military could be involved 'cause there's a deserted Air Force airfield not too far away from the area where her cancer patients live.
"So that must have been when she decided to talk it over with AJ. Anyway, she decided to snoop around a bit and somewhere nearby in the woods she found a spot where some waste disposal firm had easily gotten rid of their responsibilities and dumped their cargoes. She had them analyzed - the samples are secured these days, I talked Steph into seeing to it - and, actually, there seem to be firms that still use dimethylformamide, although it has been proven to be carcinogenic. I guess it's cheaper for them, and for the disposal companies, too, to just throw it away." Again she sighed, frowning. "I don't feel well at the thought that my daughter will grow up in a world that's slowly being destroyed by its own inhabitants. I mean, can we still let her go out and play without having to fear that she comes by some dangerous toxic waste? But I'll get those Minton Greenwood guys for what they've done, I swear to you, I will!"
['Wait... Mac, did you just say Minton Greenwood?'] Harm's mind was instantly on high alert, his heart rate accelerating considerably.
"Whoa, calm down, flyboy." Mac, with a wry smile, looked at him, caressing his cheek. "Your pulse is behaving as if you'd heard me. I promise, this case is almost wrapped up."
['Mac doesn't know about what I found out about the Cramer case! She hasn't seen the evidence I left in my car...'] Harm's stomach knotted tightly as suddenly all the facts were falling into place inside his mind, showing a most surprising connection between two cases that, at first sight, seemed to be completely unrelated. How could Mac possibly have a clue that her knowledge about Minton Greenwood's saving policies was putting her into grave danger?
To Harm, it was crystal clear that she had, through Sydney's discovery, stumbled over a double link to the Cramer case. First: Minton Greenwood belonged to the very same consortium as Branwick Industries. If Minton Greenwood made huge profits by using dishonest methods, this would explain how a small aeronautic firm like Branwick would be able to compete with enterprises like North Star. And second: Harm was sure that Branwick would have no scruples about using toxic and carcinogenic substances for their work if it helped them to save on the production costs and stay in the competition, in other words, to save their neck. He absolutely needed Mac to make the connection. And more important still: he needed her to see immediately that this knowledge could be lethal. Cramer hadn't hesitated for a second when it came to shooting him. Harm was sure she wouldn't spare a pregnant woman, either.
"Oh no, I didn't call the admiral all day!" Mac suddenly exclaimed, clasping her mouth with her hand. "I promised to him that I would let him know as soon as we were able to dig up something! Better do it at once, right?" She winked at Harm, let go of his hand and got off his bed to leave the room.
['Sarah, no! Don't tell anyone about what you found out! Call Fred and make him keep it secret! Don't call AJ, please, Mac, don't! Crap! How do I get through to her?'] Harm was frantically searching for a way to communicate with her, knowing all the time, though, that it was pointless. But he couldn't just let her walk into a catastrophe! He had to hold her back. But how, God, HOW???
Powerless to do anything, he watched her walk through his visual field, when she suddenly stopped, gasped and doubled over, clutching her belly.
['Sarah!!!']
Panting, she retreated and sat down on the edge of his bed, slowly relaxing, before, all of a sudden, her face distorted again in pain and she tried to suppress a groan. "Shit!" he heard her swear under her breath, trying to control her breathing.
"Harm," she panted, "Somehow I get the notion that your daughter has inherited her father's impatience." Again she had to inhale deeply. "Seems she just decided to be born a little early. I'm only glad I happen to be right here."
['I'm going to be a father... and I can't even be with Mac and help her through it! I know how she dreaded giving birth... damn! Hang in there, Marine, I know you can do this! Do you hear me?']
Another wave of pain made her suck in a deep breath and close her eyes, grimacing in agony. Harm watched, sharing her pains, unable to comfort her. When the tension lessened, Mac leaned back and reached for the 'call' button. Two minutes later a nurse entered the room.
"I think I might need Doctor Farnham," was all Mac had to say to make the nurse understand.
She quickly walked over and felt for Mac's pulse. "Stay where you are, please, Colonel Rabb, and try to relax. I'll have your obstetrician called right away. And I'll be back in a minute to get you to Delivery. Don't worry, ma'am." The nurse gave Mac an encouraging smile and hurriedly left the room.
['I'm right with you, honey, you'll do just fine,'] Harm tried to let her know as she leaned back against him.
"Don't worry, Harm. I've been through rougher things than this, I guess," she said, more to herself than to him, sounding rather shaky. For a moment she was silent. Then she added, so low that he almost didn't catch it: "I'm so scared, Harm, I'm scared like hell..."
['I know, honey. So am I.']
Three minutes later, the nurse was back with a wheelchair. She helped Mac get in and quickly wheeled her out of the room, leaving Harm sick with worry for his two girls.
Tue, Feb. 23rd
0809 ZULU
Bethesda Naval Hospital
Washington, D.C.
The cry made Mac open her eyes again. Although she was exhausted and at the verge of collapsing, she forced herself to sit up halfway and look at a beaming Claire who was approaching her with a little bundle.
"Is that her?" Mac whispered in awe as she caught her first glimpse of Patricia Jeannine Rabb.
"Yeah..." Claire gently lowered the baby into Mac's arms. "Congratulations, Mac. I know she gave you a hard time and we were worried about her heartbeat for a few moments, but I think I can safely say that you have a wonderful, healthy daughter that, in time, will grow stronger and be a happy little girl."
"She's beautiful," Mac murmured to herself, blinking away a tear. Trisha had instantly settled down contently in her mother's arms, recognizing the voice she had grown accustomed to hear. She was a tiny creature, almost as if she had been born earlier than just ten days before the set date. But still, she looked fully developed, with delicate, slender limbs, Mac's olive tan and black hair.
"She might be a little hungry," Claire suggested softly.
Smiling at her friend, Mac carefully neared Trisha's little head to her breast and had to bite her lip to stop it from trembling when she for the first time felt her daughter drink. Looking up with a teary smile, Mac found that Claire's glance had turned rather misty, too. The young doctor cleaned her hands and then sat down at Mac's bedside.
"I envy you, Mac," she confessed in a shaky whisper.
"Hey," Mac replied softly, "You're still young, Claire. I'm sure, in a few years we'll all have to come over to Italy to admire Prumetti junior."
Claire smiled. "Yeah, I know. It's just... hormones, I guess. I long to have children. And all children love Fred, you know. It's a picture for the gods to see him with them. He couldn't escape them, even if he wanted to. It doesn't matter if they know him or not, they just come to him and he could go on and play with them for hours and hours..." her voice trailed away as they watched Trisha drink.
Mac didn't say anything. She just reached over and squeezed Claire's hand, earning herself a grateful smile in return. A few moments later, Trisha decided that she'd had enough. She turned her little head slightly, made some indefinite movement with her tiny arms and then opened her eyes. Although Mac knew that almost all babies had blue eyes, her breath nevertheless caught in her throat. Those weren't 'just' blue eyes. Her daughter had inherited Harm's unique blue-green ones, and as the little girl seemed to try and return the radiant smile that her mother was giving her, Mac had a faint idea that, one day, her daughter would use her smile as a secret weapon, just as her father did.
"Claire, I... I'd like to take her to Harm's room for a moment. I know that he can't see her but I'd like to take her to him nevertheless. Do you think I can?"
"I don't know if that's okay with... oh, never mind," Claire interrupted herself with a smile upon seeing Mac's disappointment. "I'll explain the situation, should anyone complain. Come on, I'll wheel you over to him. But just a few moments, okay? You need to rest, both of you girls," she admonished.
"Aye, ma'am," Mac replied with a grin. "Could you hold her for a moment while I put my robe on?" She handed her daughter to her friend who carefully took her and seemed to revel in the feeling of having the baby in her arms.
"It's funny, Mac. I mean, this is my job. I do this practically every day. But still, every time I deliver a baby, it feels like a miracle," Claire mused.
"Because it is," Mac stated quietly, as she again took her daughter who had by now fallen asleep. She settled down in the wheelchair that Claire had pulled over, and silently they made their way back through the dimly-lit corridors until they reached the ICU. With a smile, Claire helped Mac stand, opened the door for her and immediately turned to wheel back the chair, promising to return and get her in a little while.
Harm was amazed that he hadn't completely lost his senses by now. He was sure
that he would have been pacing restlessly up and down the corridor, had he been
his normal self. Instead he was forced to be completely immobile. Which didn't
mean that the tension inside him was any less than it would have been
otherwise. He repeatedly prayed, listened, tried to relax, prayed, listened,
tried to relax, prayed...
... until finally, finally, he heard the by now familiar 'click' of his door. A second later a little side-light was turned on near his bed and then he saw her. Saw them. His wife and his daughter. In the dim light, Mac resembled the Virgin Mary herself, holding her child in her arms, her smile angelic. Harm's heart monitor again slightly accelerated its beeping.
"It's as if you knew who's here with me," Mac said softly, approaching him. Concluding that, although he probably couldn't, she would still take the chance and try to make him see his child, Mac sat down on Harm's bed within his visual field, close to him. Harm felt himself starting to tremble inwardly as she neared the little girl to his eyes. He couldn't quite bring himself to believe that he and Mac had created something so delicate and perfect.
"Harm, I want you to meet Patricia Jeannine Rabb. Trisha, this is your daddy."
['Daddy. Wow. Hey, little one, I'm sorry I can't greet you properly right now but I hope you know that I love you very much.']
"She's just perfect. I wish you could see her, flyboy."
['A beauty, like her mom.'] Harm desperately wanted to let Mac know that she was actually sharing this hallmark moment with him. ['God, help me! Let me find a way to get to her, please!] he implored. Trying to gather all that was possibly left of his force within his whole body, and collecting all the willpower he had within himself, he tried to focus on one small part of his immobile shell, battling against the unwilling muscles and the numb feeling. And with an inhuman effort, he finally succeeded in willing his body to react.
Mac's eyes widened in shock and her hands started to shake violently as she suddenly realized what was happening: slowly, incredibly slowly, Harm's left eyelid closed and opened again. A few seconds later, the movement would repeat itself. And again, for a third time, making tears of joy rise in Mac's eyes.
"Harm..." Mac managed to whisper as she quickly shifted Trisha's weight so she could hold her with one arm, and with her now free hand reached out to cup his face, tenderly caressing it with her thumb. Her huge eyes told of her inner turmoil and Harm could feel the trembling in her caress. A deep vertical furrow had appeared between her eyebrows and she was obviously holding her breath. But despite the increasing tension that was almost palpable in the room, Harm, for the first time since he had regained consciousness, felt a small amount of his pain dissolve as he savored the feel of Mac's fingers on his cheek, knowing that she had understood that he was with her.
Mac's face relaxed into a watery smile as realization dawned on her that she hadn't been left alone, whether or not Harm was able to fully profess his feelings. In the wink of an eye her life was back on track, strength and resolve rising within her. 'In the wink of an eye' - the phrase had taken up a totally new and literal meaning. It wasn't merely an expression for a moment in time, it was a promise that their road wouldn't end here at Bethesda. That there was a way to return into each other's arms. That all they had to do was not lose hope and fight. As they always had.
Briefly closing her eyes, Mac swallowed. "Almighty Father, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for bringing him back," she prayed in a whisper. Then her face again softened to a slightly embarrassed smile and she sniffed. "Pretty pathetic, huh? Anyway, I guess I'd better call Zanelli and let him know you're with us, sailor."
Panic instantly swept over Harm. ['No, Mac, don't! Please! You mustn't tell anyone that I'm back!] God, if she only knew about the connection between the two cases! Then she would understand that she and Trisha would only be safe as long as Cramer didn't suspect that Harm was able to pass on his disclosures to anyone. He absolutely had to make sure that no one knew. But how? ['Please, Mac, look at me, listen to your feelings. Don't push that button! Please!'] he frantically implored her.
Once again, it was his heart monitor that made Mac freeze in mid-action. The beeping had accelerated considerably without warning. Mac instantly turned her attention back to Harm's face, concern forcing her to bite her lip to prevent it from trembling.
"Harm!" Her eyes searched his face for any possible indication to what his obvious excitement could be about. Meeting his gaze, she suddenly convinced herself that she detected the slightest disturbance in his formerly absentminded expression. She looked closer, subconsciously shifting her baby back into both her arms and holding her tighter. In her husband's eyes, Mac read fear. Cold fear and desperation to tell her about it.
"Shhh," she tried to soothe him, her voice tight. "I don't know why this upsets you so much, but I won't call the doctor if you don't want me to. I..."
"Mac?" Claire had softly opened the door and tried to hide her bewilderment as she saw that Mac seemed so obviously distressed about something and could hear her talking to her husband as if in actual conversation. "Is everything all right?"
Mac turned, her facial expression resembling that of a chased deer. "Uhm... yeah... I mean..." Should she, could she trust Claire with what she had just found out about Harm's condition, when her attempt to call Zanelli had caused him such fear? Mac would have confided in Claire with anything, but something held her back, and it made her wonder why. She gulped and motioned for her friend to move closer. "Claire, I feel I need time with Harm and Trisha. Alone. And I need it now. Please, don't ask. I'll tell you later, right now I don't feel up to it. Please, could you arrange with Zanelli that he lets us stay here? Please."
Mistaking Mac's frantic impatience to know what Harm wanted to communicate to her for pain about Harm's condition and the need to somehow adapt to the situation, Claire nodded slowly. She put a soothing hand on Mac's shoulder. "If you promise to lay down and rest, I'll ask Zanelli for an additional bed to be brought over, all right?"
"I promise." Gratitude flashed in Mac's eyes for a second before the haunted expression took over again. Claire turned and walked out of the room.
Harm had felt overwhelming relief with the realization that Mac had obviously understood that he needed to tell her something. He was sure that, if Zanelli let her stay, they'd figure out a way to communicate. The instant that Claire had closed the door behind herself, Mac again locked her eyes with his. The anxiety showing on her face and his own fear of not being able to get his vital information to her made his heart ache.
Mac tried to use Harm's eyes as a window to his mind but wasn't able to read him. Although she was able to sense his fear, her psychic abilities couldn't make her understand what he wanted to tell her. 'Okay, think, Mackenzie. All he can do is move his eyelid. So his ability to communicate is reduced to some sort of binary code. 'Wink' or 'no wink'. This could work.'
"Harm," she addressed him in a clear but low voice, "Try to think binary. I'll ask and you answer. Winking means 'yes' and not winking means 'not yes'. I don't intend 'no', I'm talking of 'not yes', like the on/off-thing in a computer flip-flop. One or zero. Do you understand me?" Again chewing her lip, she anxiously waited for his reaction.
['I always knew there was a reason why I loved you so much, Marine.'] Almost lighthearted at the prospect of 'talking' to his wife, Harm inwardly flashed her his patented grin. And the slightest trace of it must have shown in his eyes as she responded with a smile of her own. Focusing on his left eye, Harm willed the lid down and up again.
"Are you able to completely control the movements of your eyelid?" Mac had to make sure that there would be no room for misinterpretations on her side.
Again, Harm winked.
Her relief once again threatened to overwhelm her, but luckily just then the door opened and a bed was wheeled in by Zanelli and Claire.
"Just for the record, ma'am," Zanelli stated with half-earnest frown, "I don't approve of this."
"Thank you anyway, Commander," Mac answered gratefully. "I promise to be prudent."
"I don't suppose I could dissuade you from staying, so I won't try, ma'am, but could you please make it an order so you take the responsibility?" Zanelli uneasily shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back.
Mac smiled. "Sure. Lt. Cmdr. Zanelli, I order you to let me stay with my husband tonight, and I take full responsibility of the situation. Does that suffice?"
Zanelli shook his head, chuckling. "It definitely does, ma'am. We'll take your daughter back to the Nursery for you. You shouldn't walk around any more now."
The moment Zanelli had said this, he regretted being receptive to pleading looks. The colonel's eyes begged him to give them a little more time. "Couldn't she stay another half-hour, please, doctor?" Mac asked him.
He exchanged a helpless look with Claire who just shrugged her shoulders in an 'Okay-with-me-if-it's-okay-with-you' gesture. Defeated, he turned back to Mac. "Half an hour. But after that not even ordering me will change my mind, Colonel. And please, remember that your husband needs his eye-drops. I'll leave that task to you, if you don't object. If you'll excuse me now, please, ma'am..."
"You have my permission to go," Mac replied, hiding her smile, seeing that Zanelli longed to leave the room.
"Aye, ma'am." The doctor turned and walked to the door, stopping in mid-stride, though, and turning back. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"
"Go ahead."
"You have a beautiful daughter, ma'am. Congratulations and my very best wishes, for all of you."
Mac smiled at the young man. "Thank you, Commander Zanelli."
The doctor smiled warmly in return and then left the room. Claire, too, walked out, but quickly popped her head back in and winked at Mac. "You owe me for this, Colonel."
"I know, Claire. Thank you so much." Mac watched as the door finally closed behind Claire. Then she immediately turned back to her husband.
Harm had been following the whole scene with a wide inward grin. Now that he had found a way out of his cocoon, an enormous weight had been taken off his heart, although he was still desperate that his limbs wouldn't budge. ['One thing at a time, Hammer. You will conquer this, you know you will.']
"Harm, can you feel this?" Mac's voice shook him from his musings. She was softly caressing his cheek again. Slowly he closed and re-opened his left eye, reveling in the feeling of somehow being able to return her tenderness, even if it were only passively.
Mac had put the still sleeping Trisha down on Harm's chest, securing her with her left hand, and he was overwhelmed at the sensation of the little warm bundle's weight. He saw Mac get up from his bed and close the distance between them. She closed her eyes as she bent down and kissed him very softly. He was aching to respond as she let her lips linger on his, her mouth caressing his immobile own.
"Did you feel that, too?" she asked in a whisper as she pulled back.
He winked again. ['I've rarely felt anything so wonderful, Sarah. I love you.']
She smiled as she returned to sit on his bed. She lifted Trisha to lie on her left arm and made sure they were seated within Harm's visual field. "You can see her, right?" she asked softly.
He winked. ['She's beautiful.']
Mac took his left hand in her right and neared it to the baby's face. Harm's heart skipped a beat as his fingertips touched his daughter's rosy cheeks. Mac helped him caress Trisha's little face, feel her hair, the warmth of her body and even the beating of her heart. Finally she put Harm's index finger into Trisha's little palm and by reflex the tiny girl's fingers instantly closed around it, the movement never waking her up.
Had Harm been able to cry, there would have been nothing that could possibly have held him back. From the bottom of his soul, he thanked God for his wonderful wife who had the unique gift to just sense what he needed most right now - to feel his daughter - and who had given birth to her, completing his life with his child's and her very own loving presence.
"I guess you long to say something, don't you?"
He winked. ['You have no idea... Mac, I...']
"Do you want to say thank you, flyboy?" she asked gently.
['Yeah.'] The eyelid went down and up almost instantly, telling how much he longed to thank her. Mac moved Trisha a little closer to him, knowing he needed a few moments to just look at her.
Feeling the slight pressure that the girl's fingers exercised on his index and seeing her sleep in her mothers arm, unaware of all the pain and struggles in the world, Harm's heart melted. ['My little one. In this tiny hand of yours, you hold not just Daddy's finger but the whole of Daddy's heart, you know that, don't you?'] He then realized that he had been conquered. ['Better be prepared to be wrapped around her finger in no time, Hammer,'] he silently admonished himself.
Just then Trisha woke. Harm felt her move her arms, tearing at his finger but never releasing it from her surprisingly firm grip.
"Look at her eyes, Harm," Mac whispered as she moved her closer still to his face. "They are yours."
Harm just watched in awe.
"Do you want me to tell her that you love her?" Mac's voice was not entirely even.
He winked, finding the movement getting easier with every new try.
Mac freed Harm's finger, took Trisha back to both her arms and cradled her against her chest, beaming at her. "Hey, little one, your daddy asked me to tell you that he loves you very much," she said softly, her voice taking on a new tone that Harm had never heard before. This was Sarah Mackenzie, the mother of his children. Only then did he realize in full that his dream had finally become reality.
"I guess she has my stomach," Mac observed dryly, still smiling at the little girl. With one hand, she carefully opened her bathrobe and began to feed her. Harm decided he had never seen anything so touching. After a couple of moments that they quietly enjoyed watching Trisha drink, Mac sobered and turned her attention back to Harm.
"So why don't you want me to tell Zanelli?"
Harm inwardly frowned. ['I don't want you to tell anyone, but maybe you should rephrase so I can answer, counselor.']
Mac seemed to notice her error and smiled a little embarrassedly. "I'm sorry, Harm. I think I need to get accustomed to this new way of questioning. Next try. Uhm... If I told anyone that you are conscious, do you think something might happen to you?"
['Finally we're getting somewhere.'] He winked.
"Only to you?"
He willed his eye to stay open.
"To me?"
He winked.
A little disconcerted, she went on. "To anyone else?"
He winked.
Her eyes widened in slight shock. "You don't mean Trisha, do you?"
['Mac, how am I supposed to answer a question like this?']
While Harm was debating whether or not she would misinterpret him, Mac realized her mistake. "Sorry. I'll rephrase. Do you think Trisha might be in danger, too?"
['Good girl.'] He winked.
He noted that Mac had switched to Marine-mode now, not wanting to face the anguish that came with his revelation. She went on. "Do you know something I don't?"
He winked.
"Is this about the Chegwidden case?"
He winked, silently imploring her to ask if it might go beyond.
"You found out something while I was away."
Again he winked.
Mac frowned. Sturgis had told her that Harm had been away to do research on the Cramer case, as he was too frustrated by the fact that nothing had come out in AJ's favor. "But Sturgis told me that you were investigating on Cramer's behalf."
['Follow this road, Mac, follow this road.'] He winked.
"Anything new?"
He winked.
"Could you clear the lieutenant commander?" Mac asked, not really knowing where she would be going with this line of questioning. He had told her that he was concerned about the admiral's case. Yet he had been investigating the explosion. There was some detail to the picture that just didn't fit.
['No. The opposite.'] Harm stared right through her.
"So Cramer is guilty?" Mac asked slowly.
He winked.
"There is more to it, right?" she inquired, suddenly wary.
Again he winked.
"So you investigated Cramer and you are worried about Chegwidden?" she repeated, trying to get a grip on some substantial information.
He winked, watching as she lifted a satisfied Patricia Rabb to her left shoulder and very gently patted her back. Seemingly in deep thought, she then adjusted her bathrobe and again cradled the baby in her arms as soon as the little one had settled down to sleep. All this seemed so natural with her, as if she'd always done it. Harm suddenly felt ashamed that he hadn't offered her the opportunity to be a mother years ago instead of talking about that ridiculous deal.
"So, if I read this right, you think there might be a connection between the two cases?" Her voice was heavy with doubt, her brow furrowing.
['There is, Mac, believe me.'] He winked.
"Okay..." she seemed to be talking more to herself than to him now, her voice low and thoughtful. "Let's find out how they might be connected." Looking up to meet his eyes again, she tried to approach the issue. "Do you have any idea who killed Sydney?"
['Not yet.'] He remained still.
"So that's not it." She was silent. Harm thought he could almost feel the thoughts spin through her mind. Suddenly her eyes widened slightly. "Wait... I remember that you seemed excited over what I told you. The folder and the things Fred and I found out. Does this have anything to do with what you're trying to tell me?"
['You go, girl! I knew you would figure it out.'] As he closed and opened his left eyelid, his heart monitor accelerated its beeping once again.
Mac's face relaxed to a slight smile. "Okay, so I'm headed in the right direction?"
He acknowledged, inwardly sighing with relief.
Meanwhile, Mac's smile had turned to a frown again. "So far, so good. But how in God's name might cancer cases be related to engine explosions?" she mused, a little exasperated.
['The aircraft, Mac. The link is the aircraft!'] he tried to help her.
"All right, Sydney has all those new cases. She looks for an explanation and finds it in environmental pollution, caused by a certain chemical called dimethylformamide. This stuff, she finds out, has been used in connection with fighter jets and..." Suddenly Mac paled and sucked in her breath, fixing her stare to Harm's. "Fighter jets," she repeated slowly. "Is this where the engines step onto the stage?"
A slow wink was her answer, and as she looked deeply into his eyes, she was convinced she could detect relief in his thoughts.
"I guess this thing is getting far too complicated to have it all explained by using this kind of binary language," she observed sarcastically as she began to understand what Harm seemed to have stumbled over. She tried a different approach instead. "Do you have any evidence concerning whatever this is?"
He winked, hoping the papers hadn't been discovered.
"Is it in your office?"
No reaction.
"At home?"
Still no reaction.
"Come on, Harm, don't leave me hanging here. At the Roberts' maybe?"
No reaction.
"Or at Fred and Claire's? No, they would have told me. Is it... in your car?"
['I was beginning to worry, jarhead.'] He winked.
"From what I'll find there - if I find it, that is - would I be able to understand the connection?"
He winked.
"Good." Mac let out a relieved sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear with the slightest of grim smiles. But all at once, she sobered, her eyes growing wide. "You were trying to take it home when they shot you. There were traces on your car as if someone had tried to steal it. But what if... what if whoever shot you wasn't interested in your car but in what was inside? Is that what happened?" With a worried expression in her huge eyes, she eagerly leaned forward. "Is it, Harm?"
['You got it, Watson.'] He winked.
Mac swallowed, getting an indistinct feeling that she might be very near the source of his fear for her safety. If he had indeed been shot for what he seemed to know... then, of course, his, their only way to protect themselves was keeping absolute secrecy about two essential facts: first, that she found out, and, second, that he was able to tell her. Her voice went down to almost a whisper: "Do you... do you know who shot you?"
['Damn right I know!'] He winked.
"Was it someone who could be a suspect in the Chegwidden case?"
['Sure she could, but I don't know. I hope you get me right, Mac.'] He stared, not moving.
"So it was someone connected to the Cramer case?"
He acknowledged her question.
"Was it... was it Cramer herself?" Mac couldn't bring herself to really believe it but she had to start somewhere. To her utmost shock, he instantly winked.
"Oh my God..."
['You understand now why you have to keep it secret, don't you, Sarah? If anything happened to you or Trisha...'] He didn't dare to finish the thought.
Mac's thoughts were headed in a similar direction. "First thing in the morning, I'll call Fred and tell him to keep everything secret. Then I'll have him look for the evidence that you left in your car. Now don't you worry, sailor, I'll be careful. We'll get the admiral out of this and I'll get Cramer's six for doing this to you. I swear to you, I will, and she's gonna regret this as long as she lives!"
['My Marine. I know you'll do just fine. And while I'm out of it, I'll be working on a little surprise for you.']
"Now I'll let you have your eye drops and then I'll lie down myself, right here. Claire should be here any minute to get our little one. Kiss Trisha goodnight, will you?" Mac had gotten up and neared the bundle to his face until her cheek touched his lips. "She's a miracle, isn't she, Daddy?"
Overwhelmed by the feel of Trisha's soft skin on his lips, Harm once again winked, trying to convey to Mac all that was going on inside him right now. Thank her, tell her that he loved her, that he loved Trisha, that he was glad to have found a way to her in spite of the chasm that was separating them.
As she softly kissed him goodnight, Mac's glance melted with his, and for the fraction of a second, she could read him. "We've made it this far, Harm. We'll make it through. I promise."
['So do I.']
To be continued...
Carnival ~*~ Dissonance ~*~ People vs. Chegwidden