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The
Cost of Courage Author: Pixie Rating: PG Category: JAG Story Spoilers: This story is part of the summer 2004 Virtual Season. As such, anything up to and including the season 9 finale (Hail and Farewell) and the first three VS episodes is fair game. Disclaimers: Neither JAG nor its characters belong to me. I'm not making any money from this little escapade, so please don't sue me.
***** Part 2 *****
1553 Zulu (1053 Local)
Harm knocked lightly on Mac's doorframe before walking in. "Got it." She didn't need to ask what he was referring to. "And?" He dropped the thick file on her desk, then made himself comfortable in the chair opposite her. "See for yourself." Mac quirked an eyebrow at him, then opened the file. For several long minutes, there were no sounds in the office except the occasional rustle of paper as Mac turned a page. Finally, she closed it and sat back in her chair. "Wow." Harm nodded. "That was pretty much my take on it, too." "Why do you suppose he disappeared like that?" "I don't know, but I'd suggest we ask him that as soon as possible." "Have you contacted his family yet?" "No. I'm not sure that's a good idea until after we talk to him." "I don't know. If I was his wife, I'd sure want to know that he's alive." "Mac, according to that," he gestured service record, "he disappeared more than ten years ago. It's going to be a hell of a shock to his family when they find out he's still alive." "Maybe, but I still think they deserve to know." "Not without his knowledge and approval." Mac sighed. "You're right. I know you're right. I just can't help thinking how cruel it'll be to his family if he goes back into hiding." "No crueler than what he's already put them through." Mac shook her head sadly. "True." A thought occurred to her then. "We should probably run this by the admiral." "I'll do that. Why don't you head over to Bethesda. Might be less threatening if only one of us goes." "Deal. You'll let the admiral know where I am?" "Absolutely. I'll even go you one better." She gave him a curious look. "If you'll call me on your cell after you get authorization from the colonel, I'll take care of contacting his family." "You'd do that? This was my idea, after all." "Yes, but like most of your ideas, it was a good one. I'll call." She smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks." He favored her with a dip of the head and a warm smile. "You're welcome." "See you when I get back, then." "Looking forward to it." Something in his voice brought Mac's eyes around to his, and for a split second she allowed herself to sink into the warmth of his gaze. Then, with a quick smile, she turned, and was gone. ********* At Jennifer's nod, Harm entered the admiral's office, closing the door behind him and coming to attention in front of the imposing wooden desk. He noticed that the office was beginning to take on the personality of its new owner. Framed diplomas and awards were springing up on the walls like dandelions in springtime. Baseball paraphernalia had been replaced by the scales of justice and a bronze figurine of the Statue of Liberty. "At ease, Commander." The admiral's voice brought Harm's attention back to the matter at hand, and as he changed position, he mentally ordered his words, preparing himself for the question he knew was coming. "What can I do for you, Commander Rabb?" "Sir, Colonel Mackenzie and I took the liberty of requesting Colonel Martin's service record." "Colonel Martin?" "The homeless Marine we discovered yesterday afternoon." "I see." The admiral regarded him for a moment before asking his next question. "And you pulled his service record because…" "Sir, we felt an obligation to locate his next of kin." "How odd…" "Sir?" "It would appear that hospital policy changed dramatically while I was stationed overseas." "Excuse me, Sir?" Blankenship folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward. "In the old days, the hospital was responsible for contacting next of kin," he said, eyebrow arched. "Yes, Sir. They still are." "Then I'm afraid I don't understand." "Sir, Colonel Martin is a decorated Marine. Colonel Mackenzie and I…" "Colonel Mackenzie and you?" "Yes, Sir." "Where is the Colonel, anyway?" "She went to Bethesda to see the colonel." "I see. And she did that because…?" The admiral continued to look politely confused, and Harm resisted the urge to squirm uncomfortably. The man had an annoying way of making him feel like an ensign all over again. "She wanted to get his permission before contacting his family," Harm explained, careful to keep his voice even and respectful. "I see." Admiral Blankenship considered that for a few moments. "I assume this…extracurricular activity isn't going to interfere with your regular duties?" "We'll make sure it doesn't, Sir." "And the reason this is so important to the two of you would be…?" "Sir, he served our country for more than twenty years. Helping him out seems like the least we can do." Harm could almost see the wheels turning in Admiral Blankenship's head as he considered the ramifications of allowing two of his senior officers to continue to be involved in the case of a homeless man. He waited, deliberately withholding one piece of information that would, more than likely, have swayed the admiral in their favor. He and Mac hadn't discussed it with Colonel Martin, and he didn't see the point of getting the admiral involved until he was sure Martin wasn't going to disappear again. The admiral finally spoke, his gaze assessing. "Carry on, but keep me informed." "Yes, Sir." "Dismissed." *********** Mac knocked on the door, then waited for the gruff order to enter before going in. "Good morning, Colonel." She smiled brightly at him. "I'm not a colonel anymore," he corrected, not meeting her eyes. "I'm just plain old Calvin Martin." "Well then, good morning, Mr. Martin." He didn't respond. Instead, he turned his head to stare out the window. Mac walked over to stand beside the bed. "How are you feeling today?" "What's it to you?" he snapped. "Well, considering the shape you were in when we found you yesterday…" She allowed her voice to trail off. "I'm fine." He turned a glare on her, and she almost stepped back from the piercing blue eyes. "You can go now. You've done your good deed for the week." Mac ignored the uncharitable response. Instead, she pulled up a chair and sat down. "We pulled your service record," she said, once she was comfortable. "Yeah. I guessed you wouldn't be able to control your curiosity." "You had quite a career." He stared at her, locking his gaze on hers for several long heartbeats before speaking. "It is a tale told by an idiot. Full of sound and fury. Signifying nothing." He turned his head away, staring at an abstract print hanging on the other side of the room. Mac waited, considering her response, then she allowed Shakespeare's words to drift softly into the room. "Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak whispers the o're-fraught heart, and bids it break." That brought his eyes back to her, but the defensive anger in them was almost palpable. "My grief is my business." "You're right," she said. "It is." "Then why are you still here?" "Because I want to help." "You can't help me." "Maybe I can. You haven't given me a chance." Mac stared evenly at the colonel, refusing to back down from his obvious anger. "I don't even know you," he said. "Then let me call somebody who does." "No way." "Colonel…" "No." The finality in his tone would have stopped a tank. It wouldn't stop a Marine, though. Mac didn't even blink. "Your family needs to know you’re alive, Colonel." "Why?" "Because they love you." He looked at her incredulously. "How could you possibly know that?" he asked. "I've seen your service record." "So?" "So it takes a good man to build a track record like yours. Two tours in Vietnam? Grenada? Panama? Desert Storm?" "So I was a decent soldier. Doesn't make me a decent human being. In fact…" He paused. "Never mind." "Never mind what?" "It doesn't matter." He turned away from her again. Mac folded her arms, relaxed back into her chair, and crossed her legs, making herself comfortable. Time passed in a silent battle of wills, until he finally turned back to her. "Don't you have someplace else to be?" "Nope." Mac's casual tone was deliberate, goading Calvin into a response. "So how long are you going to sit there?" "As long as it takes." He sighed in frustration. "I don't understand you." "What's to understand? I'm a Marine." She lifted a shoulder in a subtle shrug. "Marines don't leave men behind." He snorted at that. "That shows what you know," he sneered. She raised an inquiring eyebrow, but he merely sighed and turned away again. Finally, in a voice almost too low to hear, he conceded. "Fine. Call my wife. But don't be surprised if she's not exactly thrilled to hear that I'm still alive and kicking." He turned back to her, his voice weary. "Now, will you go? I'm tired." Mac stood. "My partner or I will be in touch." Calvin gestured dismissively. "Whatever." He closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, turning his back. Mac watched him for a moment, then left the room, careful to close the door quietly on her way out. *********** 1605 Zulu (1105 Local) When the telephone rang, Rashimi sat back on her heels, pulling off her gardening gloves and shaking her head to get the hair out of her eyes. "Hello?" "Rashimi Martin?" "Yes…" She didn't recognize the voice, and anticipating yet another telemarketer, she allowed her finger to hover over the disconnect button. "Ma'am, this is Commander Harmon Rabb. I'm with the Judge Advocate General's office." That puzzled her, but only the azaleas witnessed her confusion. She stood up, brushing dirt and leaves off her slacks. "What can I do for you, Commander Rabb?" "Ma'am, are you alone?" "That's none of your business, Commander - if indeed you really are a commander." Irritated now, she moved toward the house, her mind occupied with thoughts of a cool glass of lemonade. "I apologize, Ma'am. I didn't mean to offend. It's just that I have some…difficult news." "I'm not a shrinking violet, Commander. Spit it out." "Yes, Ma'am." There was a brief hesitation, and Rashimi had her hand on the screen door when he spoke again. "Ma'am…we've located your husband." She almost dropped the phone, then overcompensated, and her knuckles turned white in response. "What did you say?" Her voice sounded strained to her own ears, but under the circumstances she figured that was understandable. "I said we've found your husband." "Where…" She swallowed hard, and tried again. "Where is he?" "He's at the naval hospital in Bethesda." Fear sliced through her. "Is he okay?" "He's going to be fine, Ma'am." "What happened to him?" "I don't think I'm the person to talk to about that, Mrs. Martin." She sighed in resignation, fully aware that Cal probably wasn't going to want to talk to her, either. "No, of course you aren't." "Can you come?" "Of course. I'll be there as soon as I can get a flight out." A thought struck her then, and a fist tightened around her heart. "Commander?" "Yes, Ma'am?" "Does Cal know you're talking to me?" "Yes, Ma'am. He does. We wouldn't have contacted you otherwise." The fist loosened slightly, but she was still worried. She hadn't seen Cal in thirteen years, not since he'd disappeared. She couldn't help wondering how things would have changed between them. She shoved the worry out of her mind. "Thank you, Commander. I'll be there as soon as possible." "You're welcome, Mrs. Martin." The call ended, and she automatically turned the telephone off, then went into the house, her mind churning with a hundred details and a thousand questions. She glanced at the mantle on her way through to the kitchen. There, looking back at her with bright eyes and sappy smiles, was her favorite picture of Cal and her. It had been taken on their honeymoon, more years ago than she cared to remember, and memories of the happy times brought tears to her eyes. "What happened to you, Cal?" she asked the empty room. She touched his image with a gentle finger. "I miss you." Then she turned and started up the stairs. The lemonade could wait. There was packing to be done and phone calls to make. **************** Harm hung up and looked over at Mac. She'd appeared in his doorway as he was hanging up. Now, she targeted him with a quizzical look. "Well?" she asked. "That was Rashimi Martin." "And?" "And she's going to come." "How did she sound?" "Shocked, mostly." Mac sat down and crossed her legs. "How's our friend the colonel doing today?" Harm asked. "Physically, he seems to be doing as well as can be expected." "And mentally…?" "Mentally…I don't know, Harm. He's depressed. And angry about something. But talking to him was rather like talking to a tank. He didn't do much talking back." "How did he react when you asked to contact his family?" "He fought me on it," she said. "But you got him to agree…" She smiled at him. "I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be." The comment sent his mind in directions it definitely had not been given permission to go, and he scrambled to bring his wayward thoughts back under control before answering her. "I've noticed that about you, Mac." He left it at that. Let her wonder about double meanings. He smiled inwardly when he saw her eyebrow quirk suspiciously, but he pasted an innocent expression on his face and waited to see what she'd say next. "What did Admiral Blankenship say?" She'd decided to change the subject, apparently. Interesting. "His opinion seems to be that as long as Colonel Martin's case doesn't interfere with our other work, it's okay for us to pursue it. I have the impression that'll change if anything comes out of this that could reflect poorly on him." "Him specifically? Or JAG in general?" He grinned. "Either." "I see…" She stood up. "Speaking of regular work, I have a desk full of cases and a court appearance first thing in the morning. I'd better get going." "Yeah. I'm a little behind too. Looks like I'll be here late tonight. Maybe it's a good thing Mattie's with her dad this week." Mac met his eyes. "How's that going, by the way?" "Mattie?" She nodded. "Mattie, Tom…joint custody." "Well, you know what they say. Every cloud has a silver lining." He shrugged. "I imagine as time goes on she'll spend more and more time with him, and less and less with me. I'll miss her, but I'm happy she and her dad are working things out before it's too late." "You have a knack for that, you know it?" That puzzled him. "A knack for what?" "For putting families back together. You did it for me, you're doing it for Mattie…" He shrugged self-consciously. "I guess I spent so many years regretting the loss of my own father that I can't stand to see anybody voluntarily give up theirs." She smiled at him. "I can understand that. Still, it's pretty amazing." He ducked his head, vaguely embarrassed. "Thanks." "You're welcome." She hesitated for a moment, until Harm looked up at her. "Is there something else you wanted to talk about?" he asked. "I was just wondering…Have you heard anything more about those pictures Webb sent you?" "The last time I talked to Catherine, she said they were working on it, but they don't have any solid leads yet." "Do you think that's true? Or do you think she's keeping something from us." He shrugged. "No way to tell for sure, Mac. You know how they are over there." She sighed. "You know, it sure would be nice to put the whole mess behind me once and for all." She looked sad, and Harm wanted to gather her in for a hug. He couldn't, though. Not here. He settled for a supportive response. "I know you do, Mac. If…you ever want to talk about any of it, I'm here." "Thanks," she said. "I appreciate it." She left then, and Harm returned his attention to the files that were threatening to bury his desk.
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