Fate's Price
Mac looked up from the court report she'd been reading, glancing at the intercom. "Yes, Petty Officer?" "General Cresswell for you on line one." "Thank you, Jennifer." Mac picked up the telephone and pushed the button. "Good afternoon, General." "Colonel MacKenzie. I've been hearing good things about what you're doing out there. Are you sure we can't convince you to stay?" "I've already got my separation papers," Mac hedged. "Strange things happen sometimes with military paperwork, Colonel. Things get lost or changed in the strangest ways…" Mac laughed, but the sound was weak, even to her own ears. She changed the subject. "What can I do for you, General?" "I thought you'd like to know that we've identified your replacement. He'll be there by the first of next week. That gives you two weeks to help him get settled before you leave." He paused. "Your termination date is August 31, right?" "Yes, sir. It is." "Okay. A little less than two weeks, then. He's due to report to you on Monday." "He, sir?" He laughed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so secretive. I'm sending Commander Turner." "Commander Turner, sir?" Mac pictured Turner dealing with Doom and Gloom, and smiled to herself. That should be interesting. "Do you have a problem with that, Colonel?" "No sir," Mac said hastily. "Not at all." "Glad to hear it. Oh, and Colonel?" "Yes, sir?" "I'm sending Vukovic along with him. It's time to get some fresh blood in this office and he's been practically begging to go out there since you left." Mac resisted the urge to groan. Of all the things she didn't need right now, Vukovic probably topped the list. "Understood, sir." "Keep me posted, Colonel." "Will do." Mac hung up the phone and reached for her calendar. If Sturgis was going to be here on Monday, she might be able to juggle the schedule and arrange the following weekend off. With him here, she wouldn't feel like she was leaving the office without a command presence. ******** Harm checked his inbox for the third time since dinner. It had been days since he'd heard from Mac. She wasn't returning his emails, and every phone call he made rolled to her voice mail or her answering machine. She hadn't even been around over the weekend, which was particularly unusual for her. He was certain he'd have been informed if anything serious had happened, but nevertheless, her continued silence was worrisome. Instinct was telling him to get to San Diego as soon as he could find a flight. Reality and responsibility held him back. He bent his head over the papers he'd brought home from the office, forcing himself to focus on his work. If he didn't hear from her by the end of tomorrow, he'd call Harriet. It was a last resort, but still better than this constant brittle silence. ********** Monday, August 22, 2005
There was a tentative knock on her door, and she looked up. "Enter!" The door opened, and Lieutenant Davis stepped inside. "Ma'am? Do you have a few minutes?" Mac flipped off her monitor. "Come in, Lieutenant." Mac waited until Davis had seated herself in the chair in front of her desk. "Is this about the Dorland case?" "Yes, ma'am. The verdict just came in." "And?" "Guilty, ma'am." Mac nodded. "When's the sentencing hearing?" "Tuesday afternoon." Mac made a note on her calendar and looked up. "What did you and Captain Gomez decide about the sentence recommendation?" "Nine months confinement, bad-conduct discharge, reduction of rank, and forfeiture of pay and benefits." Mac nodded. "I don't hear anything in there that includes sending him back to his ship." Davis's lips twitched. "Captain Gomez talked to the skipper. Apparently, the skipper doesn't want Dorland back. Gomez looked a little rattled when he told me about the conversation afterwards." Mac held back a grin. She could well imagine the skipper's reaction to Gomez's rather unorthodox suggestion. "As I recall," she said, after a moment, "Captain Gomez didn't believe severe punishment would be appropriate in the Dorland case - but what you've just suggested is a pretty stiff sentence. Does he agree?" Davis nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I'm not sure what made him change his mind, but something did." "I'd like to hear that from the horse's mouth," Mac said, keying the intercom. "Petty Officer, please ask Captain Gomez to come to my office." "Right away, ma'am." Jen's voice came back promptly, and Mac flipped the intercom back off, returning her attention back to the open case file on her desk while they waited. Moments later, the door opened, and Gomez stepped inside. "You requested my presence, Colonel?" "I did." Mac waved him to a chair. "Have a seat, Captain." He sat down, ignoring Lieutenant Davis. "I take it this is about the Dorland case, ma'am?" "It is." Mac nodded. "We were just talking about sentencing. Do you agree with Davis's recommendation?" "Which is?" He glanced at his partner and then back at Mac. "I mean, I know what Lieutenant Davis and I talked about, but I'm not sure what she told you," he said. Mac raised an eyebrow, but let it be. "Lieutenant Davis suggested nine months confinement, a bad conduct discharge, reduction in rank, and forfeiture of pay and benefits. Do you agree?" He nodded. "Yes, ma'am." Mac observed him for a moment, puzzled. "The last time we talked, you were recommending leniency. What changed your mind?" "Dorland did, ma'am." Mac waited for more, but Gomez wasn't forthcoming. Finally, she sighed. Talking to a brick wall wasn't anything she hadn't done before. "Dorland did… how, exactly?" Captain Gomez shifted uncomfortably, but didn't answer right away. "Captain?" "Ma'am, I'd rather not discuss it further." Mac stared hard at him for a few moments, curiosity warring with ethics in her mind. Finally, she sighed. "All right, Captain. You're dismissed." Lieutenant Davis started to stand, but Mac waved her back to her seat. "One moment, Lieutenant." When the door closed behind Gomez, Mac turned back to the younger woman. "I understand your apology to the court on that other matter was most eloquent." Davis gave her a short nod. "I did my best, ma'am." "See that you do your best not to behave that way in one of my courtrooms again. Understood?" "Yes, ma'am." "Dismissed." Mac watched the other woman leave, and then turned back to her computer. She'd just opened her email program again when the intercom buzzed back to life. "Colonel?" "Yes?" "There's somebody here to see you, ma'am." "Who is it?" "Commander Turner and Lieutenant Vukovic." Mac took a deep breath as she felt another bolt slide into place, and yet another door closed behind her. "Send them in." She stood, automatically straightening her uniform blouse, and moved around the desk to greet her replacement. ********** Harm paced the floor of his small furnished flat, oblivious to the room around him, his mind wrestling with the problem of Mac's strange silence. She wasn't answering her email, and she wasn't returning his calls. When he called her work number, he either got voice mail or Jen's excuses about Mac being in meetings or out of the office. He felt like he was hitting brick walls everywhere he turned, and it was driving him crazy. He grabbed the telephone, quickly dialing the familiar number and then drumming his fingers on the scarred end table while he waited for somebody to pick up the line on the other end. "Hello?" "Bud! It's Harm." "Captain! How are you, sir?" Bud sounded genuinely pleased to hear from him, and Harm smiled. "I'm doing fine, Bud. How are Harriet and the kids?" "They're doing great, sir. The twins are crawling now - getting into everything, and AJ and Jimmy are about as typical as any two brothers ever are." "In other words, they fight," Harm smiled. "All the time," Bud laughed. "Harriet's about ready to lock them both in their rooms and throw away the keys." In some ways, Harm envied Bud. The other man had a beautiful wife, a gorgeous home, and four healthy children. On the other hand, Harm didn't yet have a wife, was living in a furnished flat, and his one child was facing years of painful rehab. "How's Mattie?" Bud asked, almost as if reading his mind. "She's doing well, actually. She seems to get along great with her therapists, and her mobility's improving every day." "How's her mood?" Bud well knew the emotional challenges of recovering from traumatic injuries. "She has her moments," was all Harm said, preserving Mattie's privacy. There was no need to share her moments of frustration and depression with the world. She wouldn't appreciate it. Bud laughed. "I'm sure she does, sir." "Bud, I hate to ask you this, but have you heard from Mac lately?" "I haven't sir, but I think she usually talks to Harriet during the day. All that wedding talk makes my eyes glaze over." There was a brief silence, and then, in a puzzled voice. "Is there a problem, sir?" "No. I'm sure it's nothing. I just haven't heard from her in a few days and I was starting to get a little concerned." "I'm sure she's just busy, sir." Bud. Ever the diplomat. He'd make a good ambassador someday. Still, it was probably best not to pursue this conversation any further. Whatever was going on with Mac, it didn't sound like she'd shared it with the Roberts clan. "I'm sure you're right, Bud. Listen. I need to get going. Give Harriet my love…" "I'll do that, Captain. You take care of yourself, and we'll see you for the wedding." "Looking forward to it." Harm ended the call and sat back. Now what? ********** Saturday, August 27, 2005 Mac locked the door of her rental car and started toward the monolithic concrete structure. She'd come to talk to the one person she knew she could trust with her secret agony, the one person who wouldn't be shocked by her confusion, whom she could trust implicitly to help her clarify the shifting kaleidoscope of thoughts that had disturbed her sleep and derailed her appetite for nearly three weeks. She took a deep breath and pulled open the heavy door that separated 'inside' from the rest of the world. She'd been here before, though not as often as she would have liked. It wasn't easy getting away from her job to travel all the way to Kansas, but even when she hadn’t been able to visit, they'd kept in touch through letters and phone calls. She approached the registration window, signing her name on the visitors log and then doing her best to make herself comfortable in the hard plastic chairs, along with the handful of other visitors who had arrived for morning visitation. The prison housed close to five hundred military prisoners from all branches of the armed services, but there were fewer than twenty people in the waiting room. A guard called for attention, and Mac stood up, comfortable in simple tennis shoes, jeans, and a t-shirt. Prison rules were strict, and Mac knew better than to wear anything that might set off the metal detectors or raise eyebrows. Both mistakes were surefire ways to have visitation denied. At the guard's instruction, she placed her personal belongings and car keys into a locker, slipping in a quarter to lock it shut. She kept a Ziploc baggy of spare change and dollar bills in her hand. The guards would inspect it before they'd let her through to the visitation room. Those things done, she waited while the rest of the group finished locking up their things and lined up to go through the metal detectors. Mac watched the other visitors, intrigued by the mixed group of humanity that had come together this day for a common purpose – to spend a few precious hours with an incarcerated loved one. One young woman cried openly. An older lady twisted and untwisted a rather bedraggled handkerchief. Two kids, obviously siblings, pulled each other's hair every time their mother turned her back, and above them all towered a balding gentleman who held himself stiffly aloof, looking down his hawkish nose at the odd collection of people as though observing a colony of ants. Finally, they were shepherded through the metal detectors and into the main visitation room where they scattered, each family group silently marking out the territory they thought would provide them and their loved one with the most privacy. Once everybody was inside, a door on the other end of the large room was opened, and Mac saw her Uncle Matt for the first time in nearly a year. She moved across the room, aware of the guards' watchful eyes, but fighting the urge to break into a run. He opened his arms, and she burrowed into them, feeling for that brief instant like she was home, and nothing and no one could ever hurt her. It ended all too soon, as a nearby guard cleared his throat meaningfully. Mac dropped her arms back to her sides, painfully aware that it was the only hug they'd be allowed until visiting hours ended. She backed away, but continued to hold his hands, savoring the feel of his strong grip. "Hi, Uncle Matt." "Hello, Sarah." He smiled gently at her, and then led her over to a chair. "It's good to see you." They sat down across from each other, with a small table between them. Mac knew she couldn't do more than hold his hand, but she accepted that restriction gratefully in exchange for the opportunity to be near his calm strength. "I'm sorry it's been so long since I've visited," she said. "It's tough to get out here, I know. They plopped me down right in the middle of nowhere." She smiled. "We used to say that Red Rock Mesa was the middle of nowhere." "Maybe, but at least I liked it there." "Are you doing okay, Uncle Matt?" "Well, it's definitely nicer here than it ever was in the castle," he said, referring to the old disciplinary barracks. "I'm an old soldier. I rather like my creature comforts these days." "I know. You used to complain bitterly about the summer heat in the old building." He nodded. "And the winter cold. Frostbite is not your friend." Mac cringed. "Ouch." "Yeah." He nodded, and then changed the subject. "You look tired, Sarah." "I am, a little." "You're getting married next week, aren't you?" She nodded. "September third. I wish you could be there." He shrugged. "But I can't, so you'll just have to write me a long letter and tell me all about it." "I will." Something about her voice must have alerted him to trouble, because he stared hard at her for a few seconds. "What's going on, Sarah?" "What do you mean?" "I've known you for too long for you to be able to bluff me, young lady. There's more to those circles under your eyes than pre-wedding mayhem, isn't there?" Mac hesitated, and then nodded. "Talk to me." She smiled a little. "You sound just like Harm when you say that." He grinned. "I'd say that's a good thing, since you're marrying him." Mac stood abruptly and moved a few steps away, coming to a stop in front of a motivational poster. She sensed him standing behind her, but didn't turn around. His voice, when he spoke, was gruff with concern. "Sarah?" "I don't think I can do it, Uncle Matt." "The wedding?" She turned around to look at him, tears pooling in her eyes. "I don't think I can give up the Corps." He studied her for a few moments, and Mac swiped angrily at her tears, scrubbing away the signs of weakness and frustration. Matt led her back over to the chairs and they sat down, but he didn't say anything right away, choosing instead to study his fingernails while he waited for her to pull herself back together. Finally, she took a deep steadying breath, and he looked back up. "Okay?" She nodded. "Yeah." "Good. Now. Explain yourself." Mac smiled at the gruff words. Warm and fuzzy, he wasn't - never had been, really. But she'd give her life for him in a heartbeat, and suspected he'd do the same for her. She struggled to put her jumbled thoughts into something vaguely resembling logical order, finally settling for a helpless shrug. He wasn't impressed. "Come on, Sarah. You can do better than that." She sighed. "I love Harm, Uncle Matt." "Did I say you didn't?" "No…" "Then I find it interesting that you jump right to that point, all defensive-like." "It's just… " She blew out a breath. "I don't know if loving him is enough." "Enough for what?" He looked honestly puzzled. "Enough to take the place of what I'm giving up." "Which is what, exactly?" She shrugged, mildly irritated. "My career, the Marines, command… " "Uh huh." He didn't sound impressed. "I love my work, Uncle Matt." "I know you do, Sarah. I also know how much you love Rabb. I think I knew it before you did." That surprised her. "How…?" "Your letters." "My…" He waved an arm, taking in the entire room. "I don't get a lot of excitement in here, Sarah. I think I've read each of your letters at least a hundred times. Would you like a quote?" Mac lifted a hand. "Umm… No. I'll pass." He smiled. "That's what I thought. So what are you afraid of?" "Afraid?" Mac bristled. "That's what I said." "I'm not afraid, Uncle Matt." "If you weren't afraid, you wouldn't be so torn up over this. You'd be moving on to the next phase of your life without a second thought." "Wait a minute. Are you saying I should just walk away from everything that's given my life meaning for fifteen years?" "It isn't for me to tell you what to do, Sarah. Only you can know that." "But you think the reason I can't make up my mind is because I'm afraid." "Change is hard, Sarah. Change is letting go, moving on, taking risks." He shrugged. "Wait a minute. Now you're saying I'm not strong enough? That I don't have enough courage?" "I'm not saying that at all. You are." Mac sighed in frustration. "You aren't exactly helping, Uncle Matt." He leaned forward, his expression earnest. "I can't really help you with this one, sweetheart. You're the only one who can make this decision. I just want to make sure that whatever you do decide, you do it for the right reasons." "And what should those reasons be?" "You tell me." Mac thought about that for a few moments, and then nodded. "Okay, then. The way I see it, as long as I stay in the Marines, I know what my days are going to be like. I know what's expected of me, and how to do my job, and I know I do my job well." She shrugged again. "I'm good at being a Marine, Uncle Matt." "And?" He encouraged. "And nothing, really. It's the devil I know." He laughed. "You're saying Rabb is the devil you don't?" Mac grinned. "Well, he can be difficult at times, but that's not what I was saying, really." "Then what were you saying?" "I know how to be a Marine and a lawyer. I don't have a clue how to be a wife and a mother." "And so we come full circle." "I don't understand." "You said it yourself, Sarah. It's the devil you know versus the devil you don't." He watched the two kids as they wrestled over a candy bar on the other side of the room. "I can't do this for you. You're the one who has to decide if you love Rabb enough to take on the challenge of the unknown, to redefine who you are in terms that don't rely on your identity as a Marine." "And if I don't?" He brought his eyes back to hers, his expression serious. "If you don't, then I guess it's better if you figure it out now." Mac stared at him, her eyes wide. "What are you saying, exactly?" "That if you decide not to leave the Marine Corps, you owe it to Rabb to let him know now – not on your wedding day. You have to let something go, Sarah. This is one of those times when you truly can't have it both ways." The guard announced the end of visiting hours, and Uncle Matt stood up. "I'll support you, no matter what you decide, Sarah. But I won't support your not being honest with him. He deserves that much from you." He wrapped her in another tight hug, whispering against the silk of her hair. "I love you, Sarah. Always know that. No matter what." "I love you too, Uncle Matt." She choked out the words on a sudden flood of tears. "And I miss you." "I miss you too. Be well." He let her go and moved to join the line of prisoners getting ready to return to their cells. Around her, several people were already crying. As the line started to move forward, Matt turned to her one last time. "You know," he said, "Patton once said that there's a time to take counsel of your fears, and a time not to listen to any fear. Which is this for you?" "I wish I knew, Uncle Matt." "You do know, Sarah. You just have to trust yourself." And with that, he stepped through the door, and was gone. ********** Saturday, August 27, 2005 Mac trudged wearily up the single flight of stairs to her apartment. It was near dark, and all she wanted was a hot shower, some decent food, and her bed – in that order. She'd thought about her uncle's words all the way home, deciding finally that he'd been right. She was scared. Scared she wouldn't be a good wife, scared she wouldn't be up to handling Mattie's needs, scared, most of all, that her identity would be swallowed up by theirs. She sighed. So much for her brave words to Harriet all those weeks ago. Apparently, her bravado only extended to her professional life. Then, on the plane, she'd watched a couple with two young children. The family had been so happy, laughing and talking together, and when the little ones fell asleep, one in her mother's arms, and the other curled up in the window seat, Mac had suddenly understood. Identity wasn't external. It didn't come from a thing you did, or a place you lived. It didn't reside in husbands, or children, or even careers. Identity was deeply personal and intrinsically individual. Creating it was like making something out of clay. The shape could be changed by the spinning wheel of life, but the end result, be it a thing of beauty or a shapeless lump – was entirely up to her. Giving up the Marine Corps didn't have to mean giving up who she was. It only meant changing the shape a little, pinching off a bit of clay in one place, and adding it someplace else, until she came up with something entirely new, but no less pleasing than the original. She realized that her thoughts had carried her almost all the way down the hall, and she shifted her keys in her hand, preparing to slip them into the lock. A small sound nearby startled her from her introspection, and she jerked her head up, instantly alert. A tall, familiar form moved out of the shadows toward her. "I was wondering when you'd get back," he said
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