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Flashpoint
Author: Pixie Rating: PG Classification: Jag Story. Romance/Angst Spoilers: Anything's possible… Disclaimers: JAG and its characters are the sole property of DPB Productions. No copyright infringement is intended.
****** Part 5 ******
0847 Zulu (1747 Local)
Beep Beep Beep Beep The repetitive sound puzzled Mac. Where was it coming from? What did it mean? Her body felt stiff and sluggish, refusing to move when she asked it to. She struggled to open her eyes, becoming increasingly frustrated when the stubborn lids refused to move. She fought to understand where she was and what was happening to her, but her mind was blank. She’d been sent somewhere. That much she remembered. But she didn’t know who had sent her or where she’d gone. Gradually, it dawned on her that she was lying in a bed, and she tried to stretch out her hand, hoping to gain information by touch since her eyelids wouldn’t cooperate. Concentrating all of her energy on her hand, she commanded it to move. Beside her, there was a sudden rustle of fabric and then the soft pad of rubber soled footsteps. She heard a door open and a voice call out. "Doctor Lee? I think Colonel Mackenzie is waking up." ‘Doctor? What doctor? And why would anybody get excited about me waking up?’ Mac was puzzled. None of this made sense. She decided that gaining control of her body was more important than solving a mystery, and redirected her attention to her eyelids. Come on. This was ridiculous. She was a highly trained combat marine. Her finely toned muscles had seen her through all kind of scrapes. So why couldn’t she get one tiny little eyelid to function? Before she could panic, a calm, reassuring voice sounded close beside her. "Glad you decided to join us, Colonel." ‘Join? Join who? I didn’t decide anything…’ She wanted to tell the voice it was crazy, that she didn’t want to join anybody. She just wanted to get her damned eyes open. She struggled, forcing every bit of energy she could muster into this one simple task. ‘Open,’ she said, though her mouth never moved. Mac’s entire being existed only in her mind right now. Somehow, she had to teach her body how to function again. "Colonel, don’t panic. What you’re feeling right now is normal." ‘Normal? THIS was normal? For who? A slug?’ Mac was feeling a lot of things right now, but "normal" was definitely not one of them. Mac had momentarily stopped listening to the voice while she struggled, but its deep resonance was soothing somehow, and despite her frustration, she began to listen more carefully to what it was saying. "Colonel, you’ve been pretty sick. Had us all worried there for a while." ‘Us? Us who?’ "You’re probably going to find that it’s really hard to make your body cooperate with you for a while." ‘Hard? Impossible was more like it. Did this guy have any clue what he was talking about?’ "I think you’re going to be ok, Colonel." ‘He thinks?!? He thinks???’ she screamed silently. ‘What the hell does he mean by that?’ "You’ve been asleep for almost a week, and some of your muscles have taken a bit of a vacation. It’ll take some work, but we’ll have you back on your feet again in no time." Mac sincerely hoped this man knew what he was talking about, but right now, all she wanted to do was sleep. The simple task of moving a single finger had completely worn her out. "I imagine you’re pretty tired. Sleep now, and we’ll talk again when you wake up." ‘Sure. No problem. Sleep. I can do that.’ Mac allowed herself to drift back into oblivion, completely unaware of Dr. Lee rearranging her pillows and checking her vital signs, a pleased look on his face. Mac had no idea how much time had passed since the last time she’d fought her way to consciousness. For some reason, that bothered her, but she wasn’t sure why. The steady beeping sound had stopped, replaced by some type of soothing music. Classical, she thought. Beethoven, maybe? She didn’t take time to puzzle over it. She had more important things to do – starting with getting her damned eyes open. Mac focused all of her energy and concentration on her eyes, grimly determined to finally see where she was. She felt somebody take her hand. By the feel, it was a man, and she wondered if it was Harm. Then she heard the voice again and knew that it wasn’t. Disappointed, she went back to working on her stubborn eyelids. Finally, she felt them respond to her command. Mac found herself in a dimly lit room, which turned out to be a good thing, since she had a splitting headache. Gradually, her eyes picked out the form of a kind looking older man sitting beside her bed. She didn’t recognize him, and wondered fleetingly who he was. That question was quickly abandoned for more urgent concerns. Where was she? Why was she here? Why were there no familiar faces? "Hi there," he said, seeing her watching him. "Did you have a good nap?" ‘Nap? Didn’t he say something before about me being asleep for a week? Never mind trying to figure out why I was asleep for that long. Isn’t a week an unusually long time for a nap?’ "You look like you’re feeling a little better. I’m glad to see you’ve gotten your eyes to open. That’s a good sign. If you’ll bear with me, I’ll try to set your mind at ease about a few things, ok?" Mac slowly blinked her eyes at him, hoping he would know that she meant that as a ‘yes.’ Her mouth felt like it’d just done a short ration tour in Iraq without her, and she was desperate for some moisture. Evidently, the doctor was aware of her discomfort, because he offered her some ice chips before he went on. "You’re in the 121st Military General Hospital in Seoul, South Korea. You’ve been with us for just about a week, now." Mac blinked at him again, noticed it had gotten significantly easier, and went back to trying to make her hands move while she listened, grateful for the cool drip of water down the back of her parched throat. "My name is Doctor Lee. I lead the medical team that has been looking after you." ‘Team? I needed a team? That couldn’t be good.’ "You need to understand that you were pretty badly injured when you came in here. You had three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a dislocated shoulder." ‘Wow,’ thought Mac, ‘How did that happen?’ "The worst of it, though," Doctor Lee went on, "was the head injury." ‘Head injury? Is that why I have this terrible headache?’ "We had to perform surgery to repair the damage to your skull. I expect you to make a full recovery, but it’s not going to happen overnight." He picked up her hand to check her pulse, apparently not willing to completely trust her well being to the complicated machinery that surrounded the bed. Satisfied, he gently laid her hand back on the bed before going on. "You’ve probably noticed some memory loss, but rest assured that this is normal for an injury of this type and severity. With time and luck, it’ll all come back to you." While the doctor had been talking, Mac had been struggling to make her hand move. Finally, she felt a definite twitch, and she looked up to see Doctor Lee smiling at her. "Very good, Colonel. Keep that up and we’ll have you back on your feet in no time." Mac closed her eyes, worn out with the effort to make her muscles comply with her wishes. As she drifted off, she wondered why she hadn’t seen or heard from Harm yet. She remembered how frantic she had been with worry when his plane had crashed in the Atlantic a few years ago and was disappointed that he apparently didn’t feel the same level of care and concern for her. Realizing that once again she was going to have to make it through a difficult experience on her own, she allowed the darkness to take her and dropped into a deep sleep. Mac was momentarily disoriented when she woke up and found herself in a new room. This one was brighter, flooded with warm sunlight. Most of the machines were gone, left behind in a fuzzy no-man’s land she could barely even remember. She knew that her condition was continuing to improve when her internal clock kicked in, telling her that it was early morning. She gave herself some leeway for inaccuracy. After all, anybody who’d spent a week in a coma deserved a little room for error. Mac decided it was time for a little self evaluation. She felt stiff and achy, like she did when she awoke from an unusually deep and dreamless sleep, and she still had a splitting headache, though it had eased slightly since her last awakening. . She desperately wanted to roll on her side and get a better look around her, but her muscles, normally strong and flexible, refused to comply with her orders. She settled for an experimental finger flex and swore to herself that by the end of the day she would regain control of her arms. There was no way she was going to spend one more minute in this bed than she absolutely had to. She turned her head, pleased when her neck did as it was told. Her initial scan of the room told her that she was alone, the only other bed unoccupied and neatly made up. A small television hung from a wall bracket, and a disturbingly cheerful painting adorned the wall opposite her head. The walls, painted a pale yellow and bordered with a bold geometric pattern, were probably meant to look cheerful, but they only annoyed Mac, whose sense of style was offended by anything overstated. She preferred a subtle, classic look, and this room was anything but subtle. Mac realized she was thirsty, and searched for a way to get a drink, eventually managing to get her hand up high enough to activate the nurse’s call button on the rail of her bed. Moments later, a cheerful young nurse bustled in, her shoes squeaking annoyingly against the polished linoleum floor. "You’re awake! That’s good news. I’m Mitsie. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you on my ward. You’re a hero, you know. I heard how you fought all those awful Koreans. I am so honored to be your nurse." Mac rolled her eyes, but Mitsie didn’t see it. She was too busy adjusting Mac’s covers and checking her vital signs. Just what she needed. A cheerleader for a nurse. She cleared her throat, relieved to find that the soreness had abated some and that her saliva glands were functioning somewhat better than they had earlier. "Excuse me," she said, but her voice, ragged and weak, hardly sounded like her own. "Please. May I have some water?" Mitsie straightened, surprise and pleasure lighting her face. "You’re talking! Oh! That’s just wonderful! Wait until I tell Dr. Lee!" Mitsie bustled from the room, leaving Mac puzzled, thirsty, and wondering just what type of hoops she would have to jump through in order to earn a simple glass of water or a few ice chips. A few minutes later, Dr. Lee entered the room, a smile lighting his face when he saw that Mac was still awake. "Hi there," he said. "Starting to feel a little better?" "Not really," Mac whispered hoarsely. "Thirsty…" "I imagine you are! I wonder that Mitsie didn’t get you some water…" He sounded annoyed as he reached for a pitcher on the table beside the bed and filled what looked like a sports bottle. The cap he screwed on the top had a long tube attached. He fixed the bottle to a bracket on Mac’s bedrail, and directed the end of the tube into her mouth. Mac sucked in a draft of cool water, her eyes full of gratitude. While she drank, Dr. Lee talked. "I’m sure you’ve noticed your new accommodations. We thought it time for you to graduate out of the Critical Care Unit. You probably feel like you’ve been mowed down by a gorilla, but rest assured that you will recover in time. Now. I know you’re anxious to get on your feet, but I’ll tell you right off that it’s not going to happen overnight. Your brain forgot a few things while it slept, and we’ll have to teach it all over again. I fully expect you to make a complete recovery, though, and you should be back on your feet in a few weeks." He smiled at Mac and reached for her hand, checking her pulse almost without awareness of what he was doing. "I contacted Commander Rabb at Camp Liberty Bell. He said to tell you he’s happy you’re awake and that he’ll try to get down to see you in a few days." He laid her hand back down on the covers, patting it in a fatherly way while he smiled at her. "Harm? Here?" Mac croaked out in surprise. She hadn’t expected that. "Yes. He’s here. Well, up at Camp Liberty Bell, actually. Been there all week. I understand he took over for you when you were hurt." Mac’s mind stumbled over this new information. Harm was here. In South Korea. And yet she was alone? He hadn’t even bothered to come visit her after the doctor had told him she was awake. Her mind grappled with the news. Despite the roller coaster ups and downs of their relationship, Mac had thought she and Harm meant something to each other. The dawning realization that she’d been wrong devastated her, and she turned her head away to look out the window, not wanting Doctor Lee to see the pain in her eyes. Apparently, he didn’t notice anything wrong, because his voice was upbeat and cheerful when he went on. "Looks like you’re doing just fine. In fact, I’m so pleased with your status that I’m going to go ahead and make arrangements for you to meet with a physical therapist. How does that sound?" "Great," Mac said, but her voice sounded flat, even to her own ears. The doctor left soon after, and Mitsie bustled back into the room, her cheerful voice making Mac want to scream with frustration. "I’ll bet you’d like a nice warm sponge bath," she crooned as she fluttered about the bed in a manner that reminded Mac of a trapped sparrow she’d once rescued from a hardware store. "I’m ok. Really. You don’t need to worry about it." "Nonsense. You’ll feel so much better when you’re all clean." Mac sighed and gave in, reluctantly acknowledging that she was in no condition to take on even this wisp of a nurse. She endured the humiliating experience in silence, grateful when it finally ended so that she could drift into another nap. Who would have guessed that sleeping for a week would be so exhausting….
1015 Zulu (1915 Local)
It had been two days since Mac had been removed from the respirator, and though Harm called the hospital every time he got a chance, there had been no change in her condition. Camp Liberty Bell was still locked down while the bureaucrats traded insults. Harm was reminded of a couple of kids on a playground, arguing over a toy truck until they finally broke it. He shook his head. He just wished they’d settle it so that he could go to Mac. It was killing him to be away from her for this long, and telephone calls just weren’t the same as being there to see her in person. He’d worked hard, trying to keep busy and distracted so that he wouldn’t go completely crazy over his forced confinement, but he hadn’t been entirely successful. His mind insisted on entertaining itself with thoughts of Mac at every opportunity. As a result, he wasn’t sleeping well, which made him tired, cranky, and less than willing to make allowances for any kind of stupidity. He wasn’t alone in his sour mood. Everybody on base was grumpy and short tempered, itching for freedom and a change of scenery. Harm just hoped the North Koreans wouldn’t do anything stupid. The men wouldn’t need much of an excuse to pick a fight, and once started, they’d be difficult to stop. This particular evening, the third since the tree had come down, Harm had finally run out of work to do. Determined to keep himself busy rather than go stir crazy, he had spent two hours at the fitness center in a fruitless attempt to work off his frustrations. The effort had been a complete failure, and Harm was still restless. Deciding to take a walk, he slipped on a clean shirt and stepped out of his room. He walked aimlessly for several minutes, finally ending up near a newly renovated barracks. He stopped there, looking north toward the uninhabited no man’s land that was probably the most dangerous place on the planet. In a rare moment of introspection, he considered the sheer insanity of man’s imaginary lines in the sand. No other species in the world behaved quite so strangely. Most creatures were able to work out their differences in a mutually agreeable manner, but humans were different. Humans were stubborn and proud, and incredibly stupid at times. They considered themselves to be the most intelligent beings on the planet, and yet Harm strongly suspected that if things kept going the way they were, they would eventually be the cause of their own extinction. He shook his head ruefully, realizing how ridiculous his thoughts had become. It wasn’t like him to wallow in philosophical conjecture. He was, and always had been, a man of action more than one of thought, so where that last bit had come from was beyond him. Abruptly, Harm realized that it was getting late. To his left, the sun was setting in a glorious display of color, turning the undersides of the few wispy clouds delicate shades of pink and purple. Harm shrugged off his thoughts and turned to go back to the VOQ, thinking he should probably grab some dinner before the Mess closed for the night. Before he could take more than two steps, the door of the barracks slammed open, and men started pouring out. Harm, startled, caught one soldier by the arm as he ran past. "What’s going on?" "There’s been an alarm. In the JSA. Something about the bridge." "Mind if I tag along?" "Nope. We can use all the help we can get. Load up." Harm swung himself into the truck, grateful that he was already in his BDU’s. Within moments, the truck pulled up in the Joint Security Area and parked behind the press building, not wanting to broadcast their presence to whoever was on the bridge. Lieutenant Mathers split the group in half, signaling them to approach the bridge silently from opposite directions. Nobody knew what was going on out there, and they weren’t taking any chances. There were sixteen men altogether, and eight circled south, creeping up on the Bridge from below Observation Post Three. The other eight, Harm included, moved stealthily to the north, keeping themselves as low to the ground as possible, grateful for the fading light of evening. There wasn’t much cover, and the men were forced to move slowly so as not to draw the attention of their North Korean counterparts. The PKA men were heavily armed. Harm, and the other soldiers in his group, had only their brains and their bare hands for weapons. Harm prayed it would be enough. Soon, they circled back to the west, creeping ever closer to the bridge. There was no sign of the N. Korean guards, or of the other eight men who had come along on this mission. The evening was quiet, with only the ever present sounds of native wildlife to break the stillness. Harm had begun to wonder what had caused the alarm when he noticed a small movement near the Bridge of No Return. He twisted his head sharply in that direction. At first, nothing moved, and he thought maybe a small bird had distracted him. His instincts screamed otherwise, though, and he silently signaled the soldier next to him, requesting a set of binoculars. Harm brought the instrument to his eyes and peered carefully at the place where he had seen movement, stiffening when he recognized Lieutenant Kim. The officer was busy with something Harm could only guess at. Needing a closer look, Harm signaled to the other men to cover him, and carefully inched his way forward. Ten agonizingly slow feet later, he paused for another look, and felt his anger rise as he realized what was going on. Lieutenant Kim was wiring the bridge with some type of explosive charge. Harm was puzzled at first as to why Kim would do this. Then he realized that, for Kim, it was all about salvaging his dented pride. In Kim’s mind, blowing up the bridge would prove to the Americans once and for all who was the better soldier. Harm wasn’t about to let that happen. He inched steadily closer, deliberately not looking back at the men behind him, aware that they would frantically signal him to back off. His concentration on his goal was so intense, that he started when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. Mathers was beside him. The two men watched Kim for a minute, each considering the options. They couldn’t allow him to blow up the bridge, but it was impossible to tell how close he was to doing just that. Kim’s continued slow movements beneath the structure seemed to indicate that he was still setting the explosives in place, and Harm didn’t see any type of detonator, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Detonators could be tiny. Easy to hide. And equally easy to discharge. Harm knew that getting too close to the bridge right now could be a death sentence, but he had a bone to pick with the other officer, and he was damned if he was going to allow caution to cause him to miss a chance to even the score. The man had been the cause of two deaths. He’d almost killed Mac. And now he was trying to humiliate the South Koreans, the Americans, and the United Nations. Harm wasn’t about to let that happen. Harm tapped Lieutenant Mathers on the shoulder to get his attention. Silently, he indicated that he should work his way off to the south of the wiry Korean and cause some type of distraction. Meanwhile, Harm would attempt to work his way around behind Kim and take him by surprise. Mathers seemed tempted to argue, but the look of steel in Harm’s eye apparently convinced him otherwise, and he began to slither slowly away in the direction Harm had indicated. Harm waited a few minutes to give the other man a head start, and then began to ease forward. Long minutes passed, the peaceful nighttime landscape undisturbed by any hint of the drama that was about to unfold. Harm had started to wonder if Mathers was going to act when he heard the distinct cry of a hoot owl from several yards downstream. He saw Kim stop what he was doing, the unusual sound distracting his attention from his work. The owl cried again, closer this time, and Harm took advantage of Kim’s temporary loss of focus to inch the final short distance toward the young soldier’s position underneath the bridge. A twig broke beneath Harm’s foot, and before he had time to curse his clumsiness, Kim had spun around, whipping a short knife from a sheath belted at his waist. The two men stared at each other for several seconds, anger bubbling between them like molten lava. They sized each other up. Kim was shorter than Harm, and wiry. Harm was taller and in top physical condition. But Kim’s biggest advantage was the deadly weapon that gleamed in his hand. The lieutenant grinned, his white teeth reflecting the newly risen moon, his eyes narrowed in anger. "So…we meet again… Commander." Kim’s voice was low, smooth, and confident. Harm was pleased. If Kim felt that sure of his abilities, Harm had a pretty good chance of winning this fight. Overconfidence could be a deadly enemy. "Apparently so," he said calmly. "You are a foolish man. You cannot win this fight." "Maybe not," Harm answered noncommittally. "But you hurt somebody who means the world to me, and I’m not going to just let that go." Kim snickered crudely. "That woman soldier belongs to you?" he laughed. "It’s a cowardly man who allows his woman to fight his battles for him." "Ahh, see. That’s where you’re wrong, Kim." Harm’s voice was low and dangerous now. He fought to maintain control, his eyes never leaving his opponent’s face. "The colonel is a better soldier than you can ever hope to be. I suspect that’s why you attacked her from behind that day. You knew you couldn’t beat her in face to face combat." The lieutenant’s face darkened in anger. He was a proud man. Nobody called him a coward and lived to tell about it. With a sudden silent lunge, he attacked, attempting to use the element of surprise to overcome his opponent. Harm was ready, though, and he dodged just in time, watching as Kim’s momentum took him past Harm and almost tumbled him into the river. Kim recovered quickly and turned, readying himself for another lunge, but more careful this time. He and Harm faced off, staring at each other across the short space that separated them. The hoot owl cried out three times in quick succession, letting Harm know that help was nearby if he needed it. Harm knew he needed to handle this on his own, though. If it began to look like a gang of Americans beating up on a lone North Korean, the international fallout would be ugly indeed. "That’s one of yours, isn’t it?" Kim said. "Were you afraid, Commander? Smart enough to know you would need help to take me down?" "Not at all," said Harm, refusing to be baited. "They’re just along to enjoy the show and to pick up the little pieces of you that I’m going to scatter from here to Seoul." Kim laughed and lunged toward Harm again. This time, Harm grabbed his arm, and the two men went down in a desperate fight for control of the weapon. Kim twisted like an eel and Harm felt a stinging sensation along his side. He didn’t take time to evaluate it, though. Kim had attacked him. Mathers had seen it happen. He was well within his rights to defend himself. Harm grabbed Kim’s wrist, forcing the smaller man to release the weapon. With one hand, Harm threw it toward into the swiftly flowing current of the Sachon river, thus evening the match. The two men struggled, and Kim squirmed free, leaping to his feet and launching a series of karate moves that spiraled Harm back toward the bridge. Kim came after him relentlessly, never allowing Harm a moment to catch his breath. Battered and bleeding, he backed away from the younger man, waiting for a chance to turn the tables. Then, unbelievably, Kim slipped on a loose rock and went down. Harm wasted no time moving in and taking back the advantage. He pinned Kim to the ground, pushing his head under the water until the man fought for air. Finally, the younger man stopped fighting, and Harm slowly relaxed his grip, planning to subdue him and turn him over to the authorities. Despite his anger, Harm knew that he had to do the right thing or live with the consequences forever. He began to stand up, dragging Kim to his feet. Kim suddenly came to life, swinging his leg back and around in a kick that would have brought Harm to his knees had not the fates interceded on his behalf. Once again, he slipped. His left leg collapsed under him, and he lost his balance, toppling backwards into the water where he lay still and unmoving, a dark red streak joining the waters of the Sachon river and flowing downstream. Harm regained his balance and looked over at Kim. He had hit a rock when he fell, the angle and shape of it cracking his skull like an overripe coconut. The man was dead – no longer a threat to anybody. Wearily, Harm dragged himself up the riverbank and away from the bridge, leery of any retaliatory action on the part of the soldiers who now stood along the river, staring wordlessly down at their fallen comrade. Harm was startled when Lieutenant Mathers approached the bridge and began calmly disconnecting the explosive charges Kim had set. The lieutenant’s courage was impressive considering the size of the group of North Koreans who stood watching his every move. But the real shock came when one of them detached himself from his peers and moved underneath the bridge, silently working with Mathers to free the structure of the dangerous packages positioned at precise intervals along its underside. A few short minutes later, it was over. Two PKA soldiers had slid down the banks of the river, and dragged Kim’s body back up, disappearing into the small white guard house with their burden. Several American soldiers dashed up to Harm to help him to his feet. Only then did he acknowledge the searing pain on his left side and the too familiar liquid warmth that signaled potentially dangerous blood loss. He smiled weakly at the men who surrounded him and attempted to stand, immediately realizing that it was a really bad idea. The edges of his vision blurred and he swayed unsteadily. Two of the men caught him before he could fall, keeping him on his feet for what felt like a ten mile trip back to the truck. Once there, he collapsed gratefully and allowed the darkness to take him, finally succumbing to the pain and weakness that had steadily intensified during the long hike back to the transport vehicle.
2226 Zulu (0726 Local)
Harm awoke, stiff and sore, in a hospital room. The events of the night before flooded back, and he cautiously felt his side, noting the bandages that covered it from just above his hip to just under his arm. Evidently, he’d taken a pretty deep gash. Harm silently cursed the trick of twilight that had made him miscalculate the lieutenant’s lunge. Struggling to sit up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The wave of dizziness that washed over him would have made him fall to the floor but for the sudden grasp of strong arms beneath his own, easing him back against the bed. "Easy there, Commander. You’re in no shape to be going anywhere." Harm recognized Doctor Lee’s deep voice and smiled up at him ruefully. "Thought I’d check in for a bit, doctor – see why Mac seems so comfortable here." Dr. Lee chuckled. "Well, I’d have been just as content not to see you in one of my beds, but since you’re here, feel free to make yourself at home." He sobered. "That was quite a gash you took. For a while there, we thought we were going to save the colonel but lose you." Harm grinned. "I’m not that easy to get rid of, Doctor." "Glad to hear it," Doctor Lee smiled. "I take it you didn’t get my message last night?" "Message?" "Yes. There’s some news about Colonel Mackenzie." He paused, deliberately waiting for Harm’s impatient response. "Well?" "She’s awake." Harm’s heart soared in relief, and he tried once more to get out of bed, frustrated with his body’s apparent determination to keep him away from Mac. Doctor Lee pushed him firmly but gently back against the pillows. "Sorry, Commander. I can’t let you go to her just yet. You lost too much blood for my peace of mind last night. You need to stay here for at least a few hours until I’m satisfied that you’re not going to damage yourself any further by moving about too soon." "I need to see her." "And you will. Tonight." Doctor Lee’s voice held a note of steely determination, and Harm sensed that resistance was futile. "For now, I want you to rest. It’s the best thing you can do for yourself." He took pity on Harm then. "I’ll tell her you’re here and that you’ll see her tonight. Would that help?" "Maybe a little," Harm said, his voice still tinged with frustration. "I’ll let her know. Now, I imagine you’d like to call her, but I’m going to ask you to wait. You really do need to rest now." He smiled when Harm glared at him, but his eyes were serious. "We can do this my way, or I can have you put in restraints. Your call." Harm had to admit that he was suddenly completely exhausted, and though he desperately wanted to see Mac, a nap sounded pretty damned good right now. He leaned back and closed his eyes, deciding that voluntary rest would be far preferable to being chained to his bed indefinitely. He was incredibly frustrated at once more being kept from seeing Mac, but wasn’t quite desperate enough to risk being strapped to his bed, a step he was certain Dr. Lee would take if he felt it necessary. Reluctantly, he closed his eyes, and within minutes, he was asleep. Several hours later, Harm awoke to the sensation that he was being watched. He turned his head toward the door, surprised when he saw Admiral Chegwidden sitting casually in a chair near the bed, looking back at him. The admiral looked exhausted, a feeling Harm well remembered from his own lengthy trip across the Pacific. "Welcome to Korea, Sir." "Hmm… Not much of a welcome, if you ask me. I hear you pulled another one of your crazy stunts." "Not crazy, Sir. Lieutenant Kim couldn’t be allowed to blow up that bridge. I just did what I had to do." "And coincidentally evened the score on Mac’s behalf. All nice and tidy, huh?" "Sir, that wasn’t my motivation." "Rabb, I’ve known you for a long time now, and I’d be willing to bet my next paycheck you didn’t really think about your motivation. You charged into the situation like you always do, convinced you were the only one who could make things come out right." A.J. looked annoyed. "You got lucky, Rabb. That’s all there is to it. Kim could just as easily have killed you last night. You know it. And I know it. The fates must have been smiling on you again." "Maybe not so much, Sir. I feel like hell." A.J. nodded. "That’s not so surprising, seeing as how you look like hell, too." "Gee, thanks." "No problem. Now I suggest you tell me what happened. Start to finish." "Yes, Sir. It happened like this…." Harm talked for forty-five minutes, recounting everything that had happened since his arrival in South Korea except for the details of his visits with Mac. A.J. listened carefully, only rarely interrupting to pose a question or gain clarification. When Harm finally finished, A.J. simply nodded and stood up. "O.K., then. Is there anything else I need to know before I walk into the lion’s den?" "Just that General Singleton can be a bit…testy at times, Sir." "I doubt he’ll pull that stunt with me, Commander. Have you been to see Mac yet?" "Not yet. Doctor Lee was pretty determined that I not get out of bed until he o.k.’s it. I suspect he’s left orders with the nurses to chain me to the bed if I so much as twitch." A.J. grinned at that. "I like the good doctor already." He turned, one hand on the doorknob. "You can rest easy, Commander. She’s doing much better. I visited her a little while ago. She’s alert and talking, and seems to be regaining some muscle control. I’m sure she’s going to be fine." "I sure would like to see that for myself, Sir." "In time, Rabb." A.J. turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him. Harm sat up and stretched gingerly. His muscles were still a bit stiff, and his side throbbed with a dull ache, but overall, he felt almost human again. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, relieved that he no longer felt dizzy. Carefully, he retrieved his clothes from the small cabinet across from the bed. Enough was enough. It was time to visit Mac. When the door to his room opened a few minutes later, and Doctor Lee entered, Harm was pulling on his shoes. "I kind of thought you’d be up and about," he said. "I don’t suppose anything I can do would convince you to rest for a while longer?" "I’m afraid not. I need to see her, Doctor." "I understand. Please. Sit down for a moment. I need to speak with you." Harm sat, wondering what the doctor could possibly have to say that would cause him to have such a serious look on his face. "I’ve just visited with Colonel Mackenzie." Harm stifled a groan. "I thought she was recovering…" "She is. Physically, she’s coming along better than we could have expected." "I don’t understand." "It’s her emotional state I’m concerned about. She’s depressed. Unresponsive. Sometimes patients get that way, but it doesn’t usually happen when they expect to make a full recovery. I wanted to warn you before you go down there." "I appreciate that, Doctor, but it’s been days since I’ve seen or talked to Mac. Short of fulfilling your earlier threat to cuff me to my bed, nothing’s going to keep me from going to her now." "No, I don’t expect so. She’s on the first floor. Room 169." Harm was on his way out the door, his long strides barely slowed by what must have been fairly intense pain in his left side. Doctor Lee smiled. The colonel was a lucky woman. Harm halted in Mac’s doorway, suddenly feeling fifteen again, tongue tied and anxious that the girl he liked might not like him in return. Mac was propped up against her pillows, the bed raised slightly to allow her to sit comfortably. Encased in a dark blue sling, her left arm rested against her stomach, and her head was still heavily bandaged. Harm assumed it would be several days before the wrappings came off. Her face, still pale, no longer had the pinched, slack look of somebody on the brink of death. She was looking out the window, though Harm had no idea what she might be looking at. He stood in the doorway for several long moments, unable to take his eyes off of her. His relief at finally seeing her upright and awake was so intense that he found himself temporarily unable to move forward. Some small sound from him must have alerted her, because she slowly turned her head in his direction. "Hi, Ninja Girl," he said softly. "Hi." Her voice was flat. Unemotional. She turned back toward the window, effectively shutting him out. Doctor Lee had warned him that she was depressed, but her reaction just now stunned him. He had seen a lot of moods from her over the years, but this was a new one. What could possibly be wrong? "Mind if I come in for a few minutes?" "Suit yourself." Same flat voice. She hadn’t even turned to look at him this time. Whatever was bothering her was serious. He pulled up a chair, sitting beside her but resisting the temptation to take her hand, a move that had been automatic to him when she’d been unconscious. He searched his mind for something to say that might pull her out of her mood. Finally, he decided to start with small talk and see where it led. "Mac?" "Hmmm?" "How much do you know about what’s been going on?" "Not much." Her tone indicated that she didn’t care to hear it now, either. Harm sighed. "Do you want to talk?" "Not really." "Fine. Then I’ll just sit here for a while if you don’t mind. It’s a long walk back upstairs and I don’t think my ribs are quite ready for it yet." That got her attention and she turned back to look at him. "Your ribs?" "Yeah. Managed to get myself cut up a bit last night. It’s no big deal. I’ll be fine in a few days." "Oh." She turned away again, her temporary interest waning the instant she assured herself that he was ok. Harm sat with her for a long time, but Mac kept her silence, continuing to stare out the window. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Well, I’d better get going. Doctor Lee’s probably going to send out a search party for me pretty soon. I’ll be back to see you first thing in the morning, ok?" "Fine." She finally turned to look at him, her expression blank. "I’ll see you then." "Goodnight, then." "G’night." Harm left the room, and Mac turned back to the window, her thoughts far away. It had been difficult sitting with Harm just now. She’d wanted to scream at him. Beg him to tell her when he’d stopped caring enough to check on her when he was just a short drive away. She’d thought they meant more to each other than that. Thought that maybe, if she got really lucky, she might one day be able to share so much more with him than simple friendship. Evidently, she’d been deluding herself, and the realization was heartbreaking. She felt tears well up in her eyes and brushed them away impatiently. This was not time to start wallowing in self-pity. It was obvious she was alone in the world and probably always would be. She’d just have to make her own way. Mac turned from the window with a silent groan when Mitsie bustled in again. "Hi, there! How are you feeling this evening?" The nurse’s bright smile and bubbly voice grated on Mac’s frayed nerves. "Fine." "Glad to hear it." Mitsie bustled about the room, tidying the already spotless area and straightening an imaginary wrinkle in the bed sheets before reaching for Mac’s wrist to check her vital signs. "Was that your Commander I saw leaving? He sure is handsome. You know…" She leaned closer to Mac as if to share a secret. "The nurses are all talking about how lucky you are. I hear he was frantic with worry about you when you were in that coma." Mac looked at Mitsie in surprise, but the nurse went on, apparently unaware of her patient’s stunned expression. "I hear that Doctor Lee even gave the commander his personal cell phone number. He never does that. Apparently, the commander would call on the doctor’s cell phone and Doctor Lee would put the phone on the pillow by your ear." She wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Mac’s arm and inflated it, totally oblivious to Mac’s reaction to her words. "I just thought that was the most romantic thing I’d ever heard. Is it true, Colonel? Is that really what happened?" Mac, scrambling to arrange her thoughts, replied in a faint voice. "I have no idea." "No, I imagine you wouldn’t. You were in a coma after all. And then when you finally came out of it he couldn’t get to you because they locked down his base. That must have made him crazy." Mitsie placed a dinner tray on the small table next to Mac’s bed and opened a carton of milk, peeling open a straw while she talked. "Then he shows up here last night near death himself from a knife fight with some North Korean soldier. I don’t really know what happened, but I heard a rumor that your commander killed the man with his bare hands." Her eyes wide, Mitsie looked down at Mac. "I don’t think I could ever do that, could you, Ma’am?" She waited a moment, but seeing that Mac wasn’t about to answer, decided a change of subject might be in order. "Is there anything else you need, Ma’am? I can help you with your food if you like." "No. You’ve done quite enough. Thank you." "You’re very welcome, Ma’am. I swear, you’re just about the nicest patient I’ve ever had." With a bright smile and a little wave, Mitsie left the room, and Mac stared at the closed door in consternation. She’d treated Harm horribly. She’d assumed that he hadn’t cared enough to check on her, when in reality he’d done everything he could to be with her. She sighed. She’d really screwed this one up. Tomorrow, she’d have to see what she could do about setting things right.
**** End Part 5 ****
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