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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 2 ******
0515 Zulu (1415 Local) 121st General Hospital Seoul, South Korea
Bleary eyed and badly wrinkled, Harm stopped at the information desk and requested directions to the Critical Care Unit. He’d finally made it to Seoul, but he wouldn’t relax until he could actually see Mac. There was a crowd around the desk, and Harm was forced to wait for several minutes before finally asking his question. A harried receptionist said something about the fourth floor and pointed vaguely toward a bank of elevators and Harm sprinted to catch one before the doors closed. Inside, he jabbed the appropriate button with one long finger before moving to the back of the car, oblivious to the stares of his companions. He was out of patience. Nearly twenty four hours had passed since he’d last talked to Dr. Lee – twenty four hours during which he’d heard absolutely nothing about Mac’s condition. He tapped his foot and forced himself to slow his breathing while he waited for other passengers to enter and exit the car. Finally, the elevator doors opened on his floor, and he walked quickly to the duty station. An elderly nurse looked up from her work. "Can I help you, Sir?" "Yes. I’m Commander Harmon Rabb. I’m here to see Sarah Mackenzie." The nurse pulled out a chart and scanned it quickly before picking up a phone. "Dr. Lee? Commander Rabb is here." She hung up and smiled at Harm. "The doctor wants to talk with you before you see her. If you’ll just wait in there…" She indicated a door across the hall. "He’ll be with you shortly." "Thank you." The room Harm found himself in was filled with stiff backed furniture and outdated magazines. In one corner, a box of tissues shared space with a scraggly ivy plant on a tile topped table. An ancient vending machine stood against the far wall next to an overflowing wastebasket, the only sign that the room had ever been inhabited. Unable to relax enough to sit down, Harm paced the length of the room. Four long strides took him to the opposite wall. Four more brought him back. He turned, repeating the pattern several times before the door finally opened to admit a middle aged man in the long white coat common to doctors everywhere. He was shorter than Harm, and rounder, but his dark eyes were kind. The name embroidered on the coat pocket told Harm that this was the doctor he had spoken to on the phone so many hours before. Harm stopped pacing and returned the older man’s firm handshake. "Commander Rabb, I assume?" "That’s me. How is she?" "Well, she’s still with us. We had a few scary minutes on the operating table when we almost lost her, but she pulled through." Harm breathed a sigh of relief, but stiffened again as Dr. Lee continued. "We’re not out of the woods yet, though. Even with the shunt, her intracranial pressure is still dangerously high, which means she could drop into a fatal seizure in an instant. She’s young, though, and strong and healthy, so I’d say she has about a fifty-fifty chance of survival." He stopped for a moment, gauging Harm’s reaction to his words before he went on. "We’re doing everything we can for her, Commander, but I’m not going to make any promises. She’s in rough shape. Things could go either way." "Is there anything I can do?" "Just be there for her. Talk to her. It doesn’t matter what you say, as long as she hears your voice. Don’t expect her to respond to you, though. She hasn’t yet come all the way out of the anesthesia from her surgery, and even when she does we expect her to be in a coma for at least a few days. But research tells us that caring support from family and friends can make the difference." Harm’s mind had caught on the word ‘coma’ and he didn’t hear the rest of what Dr. Lee said. "She’s in a coma?" "Yes, but that’s ok. As I said, it’s normal for this type of injury. Her body has shut down all but the most vital systems in order to devote itself to her recovery. If she doesn’t come out of it within a week or so, we’ll start to worry. For now, though, it may be the best thing for her." "Can I see her?" "Yes, but you might be shocked by her appearance. We’ve got her hooked up to a lot of equipment that monitors any change in her condition. She’s on a respirator and a heart monitor, and she’s got IV drips in both arms delivering fluids and medication. Her head is heavily bandaged, and we’re giving her oxygen. It’ll be a lot to take in, but I assure you, it’s all in her best interest." He put a hand on Harm’s arm. "I suspect that this is going to be hard for you, and you’re not going to want to leave her, but I ask that you keep your visit short - ten minutes at the most." A nurse put her head in the door. "Dr. Lee? You have a phone call on line three." "Thank you. I’ll be right there." He turned back to Harm. "Will you be staying nearby?" Harm sighed in frustration. He’d like nothing better than to stay by Mac’s side until he knew she was ok, but it just wasn’t possible. "I’m afraid not. I’m under orders to report to Camp Liberty Bell today. I had time for a brief stop here to check on Mac, and then I have to head north. I’ll be checking in whenever possible, though, and I can assure you that I’ll be here anytime I can squeeze in the time and the transport." "I understand. I have your number. I’ll contact you if there are any changes in her condition." Doctor Lee opened the door and led Harm over to the nurses’ station. "Please see that Commander Rabb is attired in sterile clothing and allowed in to visit Colonel Mackenzie." "Right away, Doctor." The nurse stood and moved over to a supply cabinet, where she selected a set of scrubs and a surgical mask. The doctor turned back to Harm. "We’ll do the best we can for her." "Thank you." The nurse handed the pile of clothes to Harm and directed him to a place to change. He did so quickly, and she showed him to Mac’s room, leaving him with a slight nod at the door. He stood in the doorway for a minute, taking in the scene before him. The hiss of the respirator. The steady beep of the heart monitor. Point. Counterpoint. Endless, rhythmic, and somehow reassuring. His eyes traced the tubes and wires that crisscrossed Mac’s body like so many strands of overcooked spaghetti. He breathed in the sharp smell of disinfectant and the slightly stale odor of recycled air from the hospital’s ventilation system. In one long stride he reached her side and gently lifted the paper white hand that rested on the crisp cotton sheet. He looked at her, desperately hoping to find her looking back. But her eyes were closed, her face so pale as to almost blend in with the bandages that covered her head. Ordinarily self-contained to a point that most people found annoying, Harm felt tears form in the corners of his eyes. He brushed them away impatiently. This was no time to lose control. He had to be strong. Had to convince her to keep fighting. "Mac? It’s Harm." He waited, hoping against hope for some response. There was none. "I’m here, Mac. I got here just as soon as I could. Everybody back at JAG sends their love. They’re all praying for you." He tightened his hold on her hand. "I don’t have to pray, though. I know you’ll be ok. The kick-ass marine we all know and love wouldn’t let an ambush keep her down for long." Harm’s voice trembled, and he paused to bring it back under control. "The admiral told me what happened. At least, he told me as much as he could find out. That must have been some battle." He watched her for a moment, the steady rise and fall of her chest under the blankets giving the illusion that she was just sleeping. Harm sat with Mac for as long as he could. He talked nonstop, telling her anything and everything that came into his mind. He hoped that she could hear him. Hoped that she would know that somebody was close by watching over her and praying for her safe recovery. All too soon he felt a nurse’s light touch on his shoulder. "I’m sorry. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave now." "Could I have just a couple of minutes? I … don’t know when I’ll be able to get back, and there’s something I still have to say." The nurse considered his request, and then nodded. "Two minutes. That’s it." "Thank you." She left, and Harm turned back to Mac. "Mac… Sarah… I have to go. I’ve been assigned to replace you at Camp Liberty Bell. This whole thing is blowing up in our faces, and we’re scrambling to avoid a war. But before I leave, there’s something I have to say. Something that should have been said a long time ago. I only hope I haven’t waited too long." He paused to gather his thoughts, and then plunged in. "Mac, I…you have to come back to me. You have so much to give to the world, so much to give to JAG, so much to give to…" He stopped, trying to sort out the tumble of thoughts and feelings flying around on the inside of his head like so many caged parakeets. "You know I’ve never been much good at ‘letting go,’ as you put it, but I’m ready now. I think I’ve been ready for a long time. I just…didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t find the words to tell you how much you mean to me. I know I’ve been a jerk at times. Hell, I’ve been a jerk a lot of the time lately. But that’s just because I’ve realized how much I need you in my life, and that scares me. Needing people is dangerous business, and I just couldn’t handle it if I lost you. Please, Mac. Get well. Come back to me and I promise you I will do whatever it takes to make things right between us." With a final squeeze, he gently laid her hand back on the bedcovers. He turned to leave, but paused, turned back, and leaned down to place a soft kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Mac. Get well for me. Get well for us." He forced himself to leave then, refusing to look back, certain that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to leave her. Quickly locating the room where he had changed earlier, he put his uniform back on and tossed the scrubs into a nearby hamper. Then he hurried out of the hospital, not stopping again until the front doors whispered closed behind him. Seating himself on a nearby bench, he dropped his head into his hands and finally allowed his feelings to rush through him in a tidal wave. That couldn’t have been "his" Mac up there. The Mac he knew was vibrant and full of life. Even sitting still, she always gave the impression of barely controlled energy. The woman in that hospital bed had been pale and motionless. The steady beep of the heart monitor and the hiss of the respirator had been the only proof that she was even alive. He’d hated having to leave her, afraid that he would never see her alive again, but he knew that she would have wanted him to do his duty to his country. She wouldn’t want him sitting by her side, worrying, when there was something he could do someplace else that might actually be useful. His cell phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts. He flipped it open. "Rabb." "Rabb? Chegwidden. Where are you?" "I’m in Seoul, Sir. Just came out from seeing Mac." "How is she?" "Not good. She survived the surgery, but Dr. Lee says her pressure is still dangerously high and it could go either way." "Is there anything you can do for her?" "Not really, no." "I thought not. Listen. You need to pull yourself together. Get yourself out to Camp Liberty Bell ASAP. We’re putting together a plan to resolve this mess. How soon can you get there?" Harm glanced at his watch, glad that he had already reset it to local time. It was almost fourteen hundred hours. He quickly calculated the time difference and realized it must be just about midnight back home. By the time this was over with, his body clock was going to be so screwed up, he wouldn’t know whether he was coming or going. "I can be there in about forty-five minutes." "Better get going, then. This thing is coming together in a hurry, and your presence is required." "Yes, Sir. On my way." They hung up, and Harm walked to the jeep he had parked in the visitor lot less than an hour ago, grateful that General Singleton had made it available to him. He was also glad that Camp Liberty Bell was so close to Seoul. He doubted if he would have made it had the trip been longer than thirty miles. As it was, he pulled into camp at nearly fifteen hundred hours. Heavily armed security guards searched both him and the jeep before he was allowed on base. Once there, he reported directly to General Singleton’s office. He suspected the general would be waiting for him. He was right. "Enter." The voice was brusque. "Commander Harmon Rabb Junior, reporting as ordered, Sir." "It’s about time you got here! All hell’s breaking loose and my new JAG has to make a pit stop in Seoul!" "Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir." Harm realized he was going to be doing a lot of tongue biting with this officer. If he didn’t, he’d likely say something that would get him in a world of trouble – not that that would be so unusual. "Well, you’re here now, at least. We have a briefing with the SecNav, the Joint Chiefs, and the Military Armistice Committee in thirty minutes. Best grab a bite to eat before it starts. You won’t be any good to me half starved." "Yes, Sir." Harm turned and left the room, his back ramrod straight, shoulders tense. He didn’t glance back as he closed the door, so he missed the thoughtful expression on Singleton’s face. On his way to the mess, Harm flipped open his cell phone and punched the auto dial he had programmed for the critical care unit at the 121st. "Critical Care." "This is Commander Harmon Rabb. I’m calling to check on Colonel Mackenzie’s condition." "One moment, please." Harm waited impatiently. The soothing music from the hospital’s call waiting system grated on his nerves. Time dragged by for what seemed like hours, but was probably only seconds. Just as he felt ready to throw the cell phone at a wall in frustration, a voice came back on the line. "Commander Rabb?" The doctor sounded rushed. Tense. "Yes." "Dr. Lee. I apologize for making you wait. We’re in a bit of a crisis here. The colonel started running a fever shortly after you left, and we’re having some trouble bringing it down. We’re administering intravenous medications and we have her packed in ice. There’s not much more we can do except wait and hope for the best." "Can I talk to her?" "Excuse me?" The doctor sounded puzzled. "I’d like to talk to her. I…" Harm had never been so frustrated with "duty" as he was at this moment. "I can’t be there. There’s no way I can get away right now. But I need to talk to her. She needs to know she’s not alone in this." There was a long pause. Harm knew his request was highly unorthodox, but every fiber of his being vibrated with the need to do this. "I don’t see how it could hurt. Hang up and call back on this number," said Dr. Lee. Harm retrieved a pen from his pocket and wrote the number in the only place available at the moment, his hand. "That’s my cell number," said Dr. Lee. "I’ll make sure she can hear you." "Thank you," said Harm, and immediately disconnected and punched in the new number. "Commander?" "Yes." "Here she is." Harm heard a soft rustle as Dr. Lee placed the phone on the pillow by Mac’s head. In the background, he could faintly hear the familiar sounds of the monitors and the respirator. "Mac? It’s Harm. Your doctor tells me you’re not doing too great. We’re all helping you in every way we know how, but you need to step up to the plate now. You have to decide not to let this keep you down. You can do it. I know you can. Remember, marines are supposed to be tough. Show the world just how tough you are. Don’t let the corps down by …." There was a sudden change in the background noises. It took Harm a moment to realize that some type of alarm was sounding. Words filtered through the connection, and he tensed as he realized what was going on. "Get that…. IV…..STAT!" "….seizing!" "Watch….shunt!" " …crash cart…..!" "Mac?!" he yelled. "Mac!" Two passing soldiers, heavily armed and edgy, snapped startled looks and loaded weapons in his direction, but Harm didn’t even notice. Every ounce of his being focused on his best friend. He knew she couldn’t hear him. Knew there was no way to reach her right now. Knew that she was more alone now than she ever had been before. He wanted to scream his frustration. Wanted to commandeer a helicopter and get to her as fast as he could. Damn the North Koreans. To hell with JAG. Mac needed him, and he was an hour away. She was alone, and so was he… The very air he breathed was choking him, and his heart contracted painfully with every fragment of sound that filtered through the tiny earpiece. But there was nothing – not one damn thing he could do. "Get that….!" There was a clatter, and the line went dead. Harm fought the impulse to immediately redial the number. A ringing cell phone would only distract the medical team, and that was the last thing he wanted to do right now. He flipped it closed and slipped it into his pocket, struggling to bring himself under control. He wanted to slam his fist into a wall, but he knew that would only hurt him without doing a damned thing to fix the situation. He broke into a jog. Maybe if he worked up a sweat on the way to the mess, it would help release some tension. The sandwich and coffee Harm choked down at the officer’s mess had all the flavor of damp newspaper. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to eat, but he knew Singleton was right. He’d be of no use to anybody on an empty stomach. Harm couldn’t even remember his last meal, and he was self-aware enough to know that he would crash soon if he didn’t get some food and caffeine into his body. Twenty minutes later, he reluctantly turned off his cell phone and reported back at base HQ. A sergeant showed him into the conference room, where base command was assembled and waiting for him. "It’s about time," snapped Singleton. "I told you to grab a bite to eat, not to order a full course meal!" "Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir," Harm knew he wasn’t late for this meeting, but it seemed best not to antagonize the general. "Well, have a seat then. Let’s get this show on the road." Harm sat and took a moment to look around, familiarizing himself with the setup while he waited for the conference to begin. The small windowless room was equipped with an impressive array of technology. A large, semi-circular table surrounded by comfortable swivel chairs dominated the space. Slim notebook computers waited at each place, fresh legal pads and pens beside them. One side of the room boasted a row of fax machines, laser printers, and a multifunction copy machine. Along the back, a narrow table held a large coffee urn, mugs, several pitchers of ice water, and assorted snacks. Huge plasma screens filled most of the wall space. The center one currently displayed a United Nations logo, and Harm knew this was the screen that would soon host the living images of the other members of the crisis team. Maps filled the remaining two screens. On the left, Harm recognized detailed drawings of Camp Liberty Bell, the DMZ, North and South Korea, and hundreds of miles of surrounding ocean. The screen on the right displayed current satellite data clearly labeled to indicate military installations and troop movements. However remote this outpost might be, this room kept it intimately connected with the rest of the military community twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Harm pulled over a legal pad, picked up a pen, and leaned back in his chair, waiting for the meeting to begin.
0630 Zulu (0130 Local) The Pentagon Washington, D.C.
A.J. looked around. Despite the late hour, the men around him were alert and focused – the nation’s top military minds coming together to solve a problem that could change the course of history. On arriving for the meeting, he had somberly greeted all of the Joint Chiefs and the Secretary of the Navy before seating himself at the large table, impatient for the conference to begin. This would be the first time he’d see Rabb since the younger man had left the office two days ago, and he was more than a little concerned about how well the officer was handling this crisis. The screen came to life, and A.J. got his first disturbing look at his lead attorney. Deep shadows ringed Harm’s eyes, and he was long overdue for a shave. His hair, though military short, was unkempt and spiky, his uniform badly wrinkled. As the conference progressed, Harm fidgeted restlessly, and though his advice was sound, it was obvious that he was distracted. A.J.’s concern grew, but there was little he could do except wait for the meeting to finish. The group worked steadily for three hours, going over troop and fleet deployment and readiness, discussing the pros and cons of various responses to what was already being referred to as "the ax murder incident," a term that made Harm visibly cringe. The Seventh Fleet had been moved into Korean waters and placed on high alert, the crews ready for battle at a moment’s notice. Two battalions that had been dispersed throughout South Korea on various assignments had been brought in and repositioned along the DMZ. Guard details had been doubled and were heavily armed. All preventive measures had been taken, but final decisions had yet to be made on an appropriate response to the killings. The group debated for several minutes before Harm interrupted. "Why don’t we just take out the damn tree?" He immediately had the attention of the entire team, his disheveled appearance and disrespectful language shocking them into silence. A.J. finally broke the ominous quiet, hoping that the force and timbre of his tone would clearly communicate to Rabb that he was skating on whisper thin ice. "Excuse me?" Harm apparently detected the edge of steel in his commanding officer’s voice, and sat up straighter in his chair. "Sir. It seems to me that if we just go in there and cut the tree down, they’re going to realize that they can’t behave like savages and get away with it." Harm looked around at the other members of the team. "Look, I know the temptation is to do something big and impressive, but if we push too hard, we’re the ones who are going to get blamed for starting a war. The one thing that started all this still exists. It’s a tree. And it blocks the line of sight between two vital observation posts. I suggest we get a superior force in there and cut it down." He held his temper and language in check this time, but A.J. knew that Harm was barely in control of himself. He’d been afraid of this, but there’d been nothing he could do. The fact of the matter was that Harm was his best attorney, and this situation called for the best. He sighed. "That might be a viable option, and it’s certainly a legal one. But is such a step sufficient to make our point?" Harm didn’t answer, apparently deciding it was for others to resolve that issue. He’d had his say, and for now, he was going to sit back and let his superiors hash things out. Another hour later, the group had finally settled on Harm’s suggestion. The tree would come down. They weren’t taking any chances, though. Camp Liberty Bell was to be cleared of sensitive equipment and prepared for destruction in the event Operation George Washington should result in further action on the part of the North Koreans. Then, a force of sixty would be detailed to cut down the tree, at which point Liberty Bell was to be locked down and moved to Threat Condition Charlie. The meeting finally wound to a close, and people started to stand and stretch. A.J. spoke up when he saw Rabb stand and move to leave, obviously in a hurry. "Rabb. Wait just a moment. There’s some JAG business I need to discuss with you." He saw Harm stop and turn. A look of irritation crossed the younger man’s face, but was quickly banished, one more indicator of how close Harm was to losing his grip. "Sir?" "Won’t take long, Rabb. Have a seat." He watched as Harm slumped back into a chair, military bearing temporarily abandoned. A.J. said his goodbyes to the SecNav and the Joint Chiefs, and waited for the conference room on the other end to empty before speaking again. "How’re you doing, son?" Rabb looked up from where he’d been resting his head in his hands, obviously surprised. A.J. had never called him "son" before. It was a little unnerving. "Holding my own, Sir." "Are you?" A.J. asked gently, "holding your own?" Harm stared at him, and A.J. suspected he was trying to figure out why he was being nice. The admiral watched carefully until he saw Harm’s shoulders rise and fall in a long sigh. "I…" Harm stopped talking for a minute. "I’m trying to, but…" He stopped and took a deep breath. "She’s…not doing well. I tried to call right before this meeting. I was talking to her and…something happened. I don’t know what, really, but I heard somebody call for a…" His voice had become uneven, and he stopped, trying to get it back under control. A.J. spoke up. "You were talking to her? I thought she was in a coma…" "She is, Sir. I….called on Dr. Lee’s cell phone. He agreed to put the phone on her pillow." "Ahhh… I see. And then what happened?" "I’m still not sure. I…heard them call for a crash cart, and …then I got disconnected." He looked up at A.J., his gaze agonized. "Sir, I…I don’t know what I’ll do if…" He dropped his head, and his shoulders shook. A.J. knew that Harm was making a last ditch effort to keep his emotions in check, but it appeared to be a losing battle. He could think of only one thing that might help. "Rabb," he said commandingly, determined to regain the younger man’s attention. Harm’s head jerked up, his eyes bright, but his features composed. "Call the hospital. I’d like an update on what’s going on." "Sir?" "Now, Rabb." "Yes, Sir." Harm pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. He punched in the long series of numbers automatically. A.J. watched, waited, and listened, hoping desperately for good news. "Yes, this is Commander Rabb calling for a status on Colonel Mackenzie?" "Yes, I’ll hold." Rabb paced the length of the room and back, tension evident in everything about him. "Dr. Lee? How is she?" The conversation became very one-sided for a while, and A.J. grew impatient. He cared about Mac too, and this wait was intolerable. He continued to watch Rabb, only relaxing when he saw Harm’s shoulders drop. "Thank you, Doctor. Yes, I understand. I’ll check back in a few hours." He flipped the phone closed and looked at A.J. "Well?" The admiral was impatient, and Rabb was quick to reassure him. "She’s resting. She had a seizure because of the fever. Somehow she managed to dislodge the shunt, and they had to rush her back up to surgery to repair it. She still has a fever, but they’ve brought it down out of the danger zone. Her intracranial pressure has stabilized. It’s not coming down yet, but Dr. Lee sounded optimistic." Suddenly, Harm looked absolutely exhausted, and it occurred to A.J. that the man’s internal clock must be hopelessly screwed up by now. "Rabb. Get some sleep. There’s nothing more you can do today." Harm grinned weakly. "You mean tonight, Sir? We’ve been here so long the sun’s gone down." "Whatever. Go." "Yes, Sir." Harm left the room, and A.J. disconnected the video phone. He sat there for several minutes, feeling the weight of his responsibilities and, suddenly, of his age. With a heavy sigh, he gathered his notes, and slowly left the room.
1212 Zulu (2112 Local) Camp Liberty Bell Seoul, South Korea
Harm left the conference room and walked slowly toward the VOQ. Every muscle in his body ached with exhaustion, and although he was still desperately worried about Mac, he knew he had to get some sleep. He was so preoccupied with the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other that he almost bumped into General Singleton. With a monumental effort, he pulled himself to attention. The general scrutinized him carefully for a minute. "North Koreans want to meet with us in the morning. You’ve got about eight hours. Put it to good use." "I will, Sir." Harm hesitated for an instant. "Sir, may I requisition a jeep for a couple of hours? I’d like to make a quick trip down to Seoul." General Singleton stared at him. By rights, the younger officer should have been about ready to fall over. Indeed, when he’d first spotted him walking away from the conference room, he’d looked like he was barely able to stay on his feet. Now, though, the prospect of a trip to Seoul seemed to give him new energy. "Just be sure you’re on time for the meeting in the morning. Report to my office at oh eight hundred." "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Harm saluted, and when Singleton left him, he sprinted for his room at the VOQ where he changed into a fresh uniform before making the trip back to Seoul.
**** End Part 2 ****
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