Title: “And Miles to Go Before I Sleep”

Author: RocketScience@aol.com

Rating: PG, for language

Summary: A speculation of how the major characters
would react to Bud’s injury.

Spoilers: Everything, and I do mean everything.

Disclaimer: These characters aren’t mine. I’ve got
enough characters in my house, so I’m just borrowing
them for playtime. 



Author’s Note: Sorry Mac fans, I just had to torment
her once again. J

This one is for Vivienne, who relentlessly bugs me to
write. The title is from a Robert Frost poem entitled,
“The Road Not Taken.” 

 

 



The Commander had just exited the de-briefing room
after his latest adventure with the dirty bomb and the
Colonel was waiting for him with a report in her hand.
“Commander Rabb,” someone called from inside the
briefing room. 



Harm was already perusing the report and was in the
middle of giving the Colonel grief about the quick
preparation. “What did you do, Mac? Write while you
were on the bridge?” 



Mac started to reply when Harm held up a finger and
turned back to the debriefing room. “Yes?”  



“The XO requires either you or Colonel Mackenzie’s
signature on a report, ASAP” the voice relayed the
message. 



Mac entered Harm’s line of sight and the infamous
wordless communication commenced. If it were
verbalized, it would be spoken with a light tone of
humor, each accusing the other of not crossing the t’s
and dotting the i’s, while denying that he or she had
been the culprit in the first place.  



Mac replied to the message, “Understood. Please relay
that we are on our way to his office.” 



“We!?!” Harm exclaimed. 



“You are not allowed out of my sight until you read
and sign that report, Flyboy. And for your
information, I did not work on it while I was on the
bridge, I worked on it while you were in pre-flight,
while you were waiting to launch and after the mission
was over and you were in line for recovery. All
together, about 4 hours.” Mac concluded as they made
their way through the labyrinth of the carrier, with
Harm in the lead. 



She continued as they wound up the stairs to the XO’s
office. “And you can get us to the XO’s office faster
than I could do it myself.”  



Harm grimaced. “I’m only objecting to the “we” part
because I still reek of jet fuel, sweat and a few
other malodorous things. I need a shower.” 



Mac reached forward and grabbed his arm. “Hold a
second, here.” She sniffed at him, imitating a dog.
“You smell like a human being who has been working
hard.” 



“I smell like I’ve been ridden hard and put away wet,”
he continued to complain. 



“Do you think that I can’t handle a little “manly
odor”? Lord, have you ever been in the field with
Marines?” she teased him. 



“I’m just trying to stay out of trouble,” he mimicked
a whiny little boy.  



They climbed to the top of the stairs, but Mac had
reached the landing first and turned suddenly back to
Harm. By standing on the higher step, they were very
close to being at eye level. Mac whispered to him,
“Actually, I like both the natural cologne you are
currently wearing and the other aftershave you use
too. Shut up about the stink, before I remember how
much fun riding hard and being put away wet can be.” 



She flew through bulkhead door, leaving Harm behind.
He wasn’t moving at all, just digesting the suggestion
she had just dropped in his lap. Deciding to file it
away for future use, he stepped over the knee knocker
and dogged the door closed behind him.  



“Well......” he drawled out. “We could discuss traffic
lights at this point.” 



“How about we discuss job satisfaction?” she
countered, lighthearted. 



“That would depend on the parameters of the job,” he
replied. “Besides, the working parts haven’t been
properly lubricated for more than 14 months, so at
least one machine would need some maintenance to get
it up to the task required.” 



“Most mechanics use some sort of minimal periodic
maintenance. Usually artificial though and it doesn’t
quite address the scope of the larger picture,” she
parried back. 



Harm shook his head and laughed quietly, “Colonel,
this discussion on ‘periodic and preventive
maintenance’ will have to be a topic of discussion
during our next working dinner.” He indicated the door
to the XO’s office. 



They knocked and received an invitation to enter. The
XO was in the midst of preparing the “after-action”
paperwork. Both JAG officers sat in the proffered
chairs. 



“Oh, good. You are both here. That will let me get
several tasks done at the same time. Here is the C and
C report that needs a signature of a JAG, O-4 or
greater, that acknowledges receipt of a report about a
staff officer in the JAG corp being listed on the C
and C.” The XO was handing papers to them as he spoke.
“This next one is a priority authorization to BUPERS
for an emergency replacement of a staff JAG assigned
to a combat ship in a time of war. Also needs an O-4
signature. And finally, a request from the captain to
have the family notification completed by a member of
the JAG corp, as opposed to the normal notification
due to the circumstances surrounding the injured
officer.” 



Mac and Harm looked at the XO with puzzlement. Mac
spoke first. “Commander, you realize that we don’t
usually handle routine ship paperwork while we are
serving in our current capacity. Your ship JAG is well
acquainted with the necessary routines and paperwork
needed in after-action reports. In fact, we trained
him to do it.” 



The XO looked up from the paper whirlwind on his desk.
Softening his tone, he inquired, “Have you read the
names on the C and C report?” 



Harm read over Mac’s shoulder. In her ear, he softly
directed her to the bottom of the page. “Lieutenant
Bud Roberts.” His date of birth and serial number
followed the name. 



Harm continued to stare at the report. Mac recovered
first. “What is his condition, Commander?” The
cross-examination of a hostile witness had commenced. 



The XO winced slightly and flicked through a few more
papers, pulling out another one. “This one is a few
hours old, but it seems that the Lieutenant stepped on
a land mine and has sustained life-threatening
injuries. He was put on a med-evac flight for the
nearest critical care facility and was due to go into
surgery upon arrival.” 



The ambush arrived from the other side. “And what was
his mission ?”  



“Why was he unaccompanied by field units?” 



“Whose responsibility was it to inform one of us that
we were to assume the on-site JAG officer’s duties?” 



“Has communication with THE JAG, Admiral Chegwidden.
been established? If so, when? What orders did he
give?” 

 

 



0356 Local

McLean, Virginia 

 



“Chegwidden.” The Admiral commanded into the phone. 



“Admiral, it’s Colonel Mackenzie.”  



The Admiral sat straight up in his bed, ignoring the
tangle of sheets. 



“Go ahead,” he said. 



“I’m calling from the Seahawk, Sir. There has been an
incident with Lieutenant Roberts.” Mac was giving him
the information in small pieces, knowing he had just
woken up. 



It was bad news, the Admiral didn’t get calls in the
middle of the night at his residence from the JAG
Chief of Staff if it was anything that could be dealt
with in the light of the day. 



“How bad?” 



“He stepped on a land mine, while he was in-country.
The latest information we have is that he was
airlifted in critical condition to a field hospital in
Saudi Arabia.” 



“Jesus Christ! What the hell was he doing in-country!
He’s a ship based JAG! 

Mac, find out what his condition is!” he raged,
swinging his feet over to the floor. 



“Yes, Sir. I’ve got Commanders Rabb and Turner
virtually interrogating his Jagman, as well as the
medical flight crew. We do know that a casualty report
has been generated, and a BUPERS request for a
replacement has been forwarded. At this point, our
biggest concern after Bud’s health is the notification
for Harriet.” Mac continued. 



“I’ll take care of it, personally.” The Admiral
promised. “I don’t want her to hear of this from a
total stranger.” 



“One moment, Sir. Commander Rabb has information about
Bud’s condition. He’s getting on the line now.” Mac
added. 



Harm settled the headphones comfortably. “Sir,
Commander Rabb here. I’ve just spoken to the base
hospital in Saudi. Lt. Roberts was taken into surgery
three hours ago for an amputated right lower leg, and
unspecified injuries to the chest. His condition is
rated as critical. There is no other information
available at this time.” Harm sounded frustrated. 



“I understand, Commander.” The Admiral paused. “Okay,
people. Here is the plan.”  



“Rabb, you get on a plane to Ramstein. I will be
putting Harriet on the first plane I can. Meet her,
get her oriented and focused on Bud’s recovery. Mac,
you get to the hospital in Saudi and get Bud out to
Ram as soon as medically feasible. Charge the miles or
travel arrangements to JAG HQ. Have either of you seen
Commander Turner?” 



“I have, Sir. He is in the ship JAG office, getting
things coordinated to maintain smooth operations.”
Rabb chimed in. 



“Excellent. Any questions?” 



“No, Sir.” Harm and Mac chorused. 



“Good. I’ll send the new orders in about an hour.
Carry on.” Chegwidden hung up the phone. 



Dropping his face in his hands, he scrubbed back and
forth in a futile effort to erase the phone call from
reality. Facing the facts, he stood and dressed in his
everyday whites. 

 

 

 

 



0637 Local

Home of Bud Roberts and Harriet Sims-Roberts 



Harriet collapsed on the living room floor. Stretching
her heated muscles, she looked for the remote control
to turn off the advanced kickboxing/aerobic workout
videotape. Spying it under the coffee table, she
clicked the annoying instructor to mute. That
accomplished, she reached for her towel and water
bottle. Walking back to AJ’s bedroom, she kissed the
warm cheek waking the 3-year-old up slowly.  



“Morning, baby boy!” she whispered. 



“I not baby, I AJ.” The little boy opened his eyes and
smiled at his mommy. 



“I know, AJ. I just like calling you my baby boy.”
Harriet teased. 



“I thirsty, momma.” AJ sat up. 



“Come on. Let’s get some juice before we get ready to
go.” Harriet opened her arms for AJ. Holding him on
her hip, like a much younger child, she navigated to
the refrigerator and handed him the child cup of juice
she had prepared the night before. Hearing a strong
knock on the door, she frowned and continued walking
with AJ on her hip to the door.  



Looking out the peephole, she saw the Admiral, her CO
at the front door. Holding AJ even closer, she opened
the locks and swung the door open.  



“Admiral.” 



“Lieutenant.” 



“May I come in?” 



“Yes, Sir,” Standing to the side, Harriet invited the
Admiral into the living room. She let go of AJ,
whispering in his ear telling him to get dressed.  



Harriet followed Admiral Chegwidden and sat down on
the opposite couch. She waited for him to speak. 



“Lieutenant Sims. I have some bad news.” He stopped. 



“Go on, Sir.” Harriet’s face had lost its ruddy color
from the workout. 



Taking a deep breath, he continued. “Bud has been
hurt. From what we know he has been taken to surgery
in Saudi Arabia.” 



“Okay.” Harriet waited. 



An awkward moment passed. 



“Lieutenant. I can arrange for you to meet Bud as soon
as he is able to travel.” The Admiral offered.
“Actually, I had thoughts of sending you to Ramstein
today.” 



“I can be ready in 1 hour, Sir.” Harriet automatically
responded. 



“Anything I can help you with?” the Admiral offered,
knowing that Harriet didn’t go out of town often and
might need assistance. 



“Permission to be excused, Sir?” she asked. 



“Carry on.” The Admiral was astonished. He had
expected histronics, more questions than he had
answers for, but not this……..robot. 



Harriet walked to the kitchen and began making eggs
for breakfast. Quickly preparing her breakfast and
little AJ’s, she picked up the phone and hit speed
dial #2.  



“Monica, it’s Harriet. I need to go out-of-town for a
week or so. Are you available?” A pause. “I’ll drop
him off, is 30 minutes ok?” Another pause. “I’ll
update you when I know more.” 



She hung up the phone and peered into the living room,
where the Admiral still sat, and asked, “Would like
some eggs, Sir? I need to use them up.” 



“No, thank you. I’m not hungry.” The Admiral replied. 



And true to her word, 30 minutes later, Harriet was
dressed in her officer’s everyday khaki uniform, her
travel bag was sitting beside the front door and AJ
was trying to get his shoes on the right foot. 



“Momma” he wailed in frustration. “My feet don’t fit.”




Harriet sat down on the floor, taking AJ’s feet in her
hands. “Well, pumpkin, the shoes need to match the
feet, like this.” She corrected the shoe problem and
kept his feet in her hands. 



“AJ, Momma needs to do some work for the Admiral. I’m
not going to be home for a few nights, so you will be
staying with Monica.” Harriet quietly explained. 



AJ was quiet for a moment. “Michael at Monica’s too?”
he asked. 



“Yes, Michael is at Monica’s,” she replied. 



AJ’s face had a huge grin. “Cool, I get to have my
very own brother!”  



Harriet swallowed the lump in her throat. “I will be
calling you and making sure you behave, AJ Roberts.” 



“Ok, Momma. I will be a good boy.” He paused and
turned to the Admiral. “Mr. Admiral, Sir, may I ask
you a question?”  



Admiral Chegwidden hunkered down to AJ’s eye level.
“Sure.” 



“Will you tell my Auntie Mac and my Unca Harm where
Monica’s house is? Unca Harm brings me toys and plays
plane with me on Saturdays and Auntie Mac takes me out
to eat on Wednesdays.” He explained seriously. 



“Yes, I will when I talk to them again.” The Admiral
promised. 



“Ok, Mommy. Let’s go.” Little AJ was satisfied. 



They proceeded out the front door, with Harriet
carefully locking the door behind her. The Admiral had
already decided to drive Harriet and AJ, so she
wouldn’t have to worry about parking her car at the
airport. They dropped AJ at Monica’s house, with just
a quick kiss and hug goodbye. 



During the ride to Andrews AFB, the Admiral gave in to
his curiosity. “Are you ok, Lieutenant?” 



“So, far, yes, Sir. I least I think so, Sir.” Harriet
started to doubt. 



“Who is Monica, if you don’t mind my asking?” he
inquired, changing the subject. 



“A fellow Navy and Navy wife. Monica has reserved her
commission to raise her children. Her husband is also
on a carrier, but deployed in a different battle group
than Bud’s. She has a son who is only 3 months younger
than AJ and we trade child care back and forth as
necessary. Last month, she was recalled for 3 weeks to
the West Coast. She is a personnel specialist, working
with battle groups. She makes sure they have all the
personnel and supplies as they deploy.” 



The Admiral grunted. “Not an easy job in today’s
Navy.” 



“No, Sir. It’s not. But she is very good at juggling
priorities, looking at the small details and keeping
the big picture in focus.” Harriet continued. 



“I know someone like that, too.” He commented. “She
runs my JAG office.” 



“Yes, Sir. Colonel Mackenzie is an officer that anyone
would want to work with.” Harriet commented. 



“Lieutenant. I was speaking about you.” He growled. 



“Oh. Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Harriet decided to
shut up after that. 



Not much later, the Admiral cleared through the
security at Andrews and pulled up to the personnel
flight terminal. “Let’s go, Lieutenant.” 



As he walked to the desk, he dismissed the personnel
coming to attention on his behalf. The desk clerk was
a young Ensign, fastidiously checking orders against
manifests against identification. 



“Good morning, Ensign Murchison.” 



“Good morning, Admiral, Sir.” The Ensign stammered. 



“I need to have my JAG office manager at Ramstein AFB,
by tomorrow morning – their time.” 



The Ensign checked his computer. “I have a flight
leaving for Ramstein in one hour. Can your officer be
at the gate at that time?” 



“Yes, Ensign. She is right here.” The Admiral motioned
Harriet to the desk. 



“Your orders please, Lieutantant.” The Ensign asked. 



Harriet turned to the Admiral. “Sir, we didn’t cut
orders from the office for me.” 



“Not a problem.” Pulling out his cell phone, he called
Tiner. “Petty Officer Tiner, prepare travel orders for
Lieutenant Sims to Ramstein AFB, return date in 10
days, tasking to interface and liason with traveling
JAG staff. Fax all 7 copies to the Andrews flight
booking desk, in not more than 10 minutes. I’ll sign
them here.” Folding the phone closed, he looked
around, muttering, “I know there is coffee here
somewhere.” 



The Ensign picked up the telephone and summoned a
Petty Officer from the back room, directing her to
escort the Admiral and Lieutenant to the flag
officer’s waiting room. “I’ll send a runner when the
orders come through, Sir.” 

 

 

 



0637 Local

Ramstein AFB 

 



The Commander unfolded himself from the waiting room
seats and stretched. The Petty Officer who was in
charge of the gate had just gently woken him from a
light snooze. “Sir, the flight from Andrews has landed
and is on the taxiway. It should be at the jet way in
a few moments.” 



Harm nodded an acknowledgement. Turning to the windows
to watch the plane, he pulled out his cell phone and
hit the speed dial button for Mac. 



“Colonel Mackenzie,” she answered. 



“Hey, it’s me. What’s going on?” he asked quietly. 



“We’re supposed to land in a few more hours. Bud is
holding his own, but he will need some reconstructive
surgery in the next 2 days. They just did some basic
repair work and will assess the damage to the nerves,
muscles and bones in another 24 hours. The doctors I
spoke with indicated that his knee may or may not be
recoverable for a prosthesis. The chest wounds we
heard about were relatively superficial, requiring
about 50 stitches altogether. He was conscious after
the initial surgery, but then they packed him full of
painkillers for this flight.” Mac struggled to give
him just the facts. 



“Harriet is getting off of the plane as we speak.”
Harm said. 



“Will you make sure the arrangements for immediate
transport to the base hospital are complete?” Mac
asked. 



“Sure,” Harm said, still quiet. 



“Hey, flyboy. What’s wrong?” she had caught the
hesitation in his voice. 



“A little too much deja-vu. I’ve made the same flight
you are on, with the same destination. I’m not looking
forward to being in that hospital again.” He said
sadly. 



“Oh, damn. I forgot you were deployed in the Gulf for
that first ramp strike. Hey, I’ll be there in a few
more hours and we’ll make sure you don’t have too many
deja-vu moments.” She promised. 



“I’d appreciate that. Keep me updated.” Harm ended the
call as Lieutenant Sims approached. 



“Commander Rabb, Sir. I hadn’t expected you to be
here.” She exclaimed. “Do you know your way around
here?”  



Rabb tried to smile, but managed only a grimace. “You
could say that.” Walking towards the motor pool, he
instructed the Lieutenant, “Let’s get you checked into
the VOQ.” 



There was a small hassle at the VOQ about the
availability of a private female room for a
Lieutenant. A quick phone call to JAG HQ by Commander
Rabb fixed the situation with little trouble. Harriet
quickly settled into the room and met Commander Rabb
outside the front door. 



“So, Sir. What do you need me to do?” Harriet chirped.
“But if you don’t mind my observation, you look like
hell, Sir.” 



Harm pulled off his stereotypical aviator sunglasses
and stared incredulously at Harriet.  



“What did the Admiral tell you?” he demanded. 



“Just that Bud was hurt and you, the Colonel and
Commander Turner needed my assistance.” She
summarized. 



“How badly did the Admiral say he was injured?” Harm
inquired. 



Harriet paused for a moment. “Actually, Sir. He didn’t
say. I assume it is only a broken bone or something
and with the events of the last several days, Bud
isn’t available to help you with the follow-up, so he
sent me here to help get the JAG staff in the field
back into the office.” 



“Let’s go over to the local JAG offices. We need a
private place to talk.” He ordered. 

 



The Commander was able to secure an unused office at
the local JAG office. Inviting Harriet in, he pulled
out a chair and sat down beside her. “Harriet, in here
there is no rank. I am only a concerned friend and the
godfather to your son.” He paused, reaching for her
left hand and giving time for Harriet to acknowledge
his statement. 



He continued, “Harriet, Bud was seriously injured
yesterday morning. He was in-country and was
inspecting the rebuilding of a mistakenly destroyed
school when he stepped on a land mine.” 



Tears slipped down Harriet’s face, in large
quantities. Drawing a deep breath, she whispered, “How
badly was he injured?” 



Harm paused again, gathering his strength. “His right
leg was amputated, but the knee may or may not be
salvageable.” 



“Oh dear God.” Harriet sobbed quietly. 



Harm handed her a handkerchief, and allowed her a few
more moments to process what he had said. 



When she was ready, she lifted her face up, “Where is
he now? When can I see him? Were there any other
injuries?” 



Harm gripped her hand tighter. “He is on a med-evac
flight with Mac right now. I talked to her as your
plane landed and she indicated they would arrive in an
hour from now. She and I have made arrangements for
Bud’s rehabilitation to begin immediately and we will
make arrangements to have him transferred to Bethesda
as soon as medically possible. He will need another
surgery to prepare his leg for a prosthesis. He also
has about 50 stitches in the chest area from the nicks
and cuts from the shrapnel.” 



Harriet continued to wipe the tears from her face.
Taking several deep breaths, she got herself back
under control and put on her best officer’s face. “So,
what needs to be done around here?” 



Ninety minutes later, still in the borrowed office,
his cell phone rang. “Commander Rabb,” he barked into
the phone, juggling it while typing on his laptop.
Upon hearing the voice, he paused and listened. “We’ll
be right over.” 



Shutting down the laptop, he caught a glimpse of
Harriet’s face as she looked up from assembling a
file. “Bud and Mac are at the hospital.” Harriet
nodded an acknowledgment and continued her work. 



“Lieutenant.”  



“Yes, Sir.” 



“The paperwork can wait. People are more important
right now.” He ordered. 



“Yes, Sir.” She closed the file and remained in her
chair. 



Harm stood and held her cover out to her. “Let’s go.”
He said compassionately. 



“Yes, Sir.” 



They made their way across the base to the hospital.
Turning the ignition off, Harm didn’t look at Harriet.
“I’m not all that excited about going in there either,
Harriet. After my almost-fatal ramp strike I ended up
at this very hospital for 4 weeks, in complete
traction. I was told that there was a possibility I
would never fly again by a complete stranger. Please
remember that you have the three of us to support you
when the going gets rough.” 



“Yes, Sir.” Harriet didn’t trust herself to say
anything else. 

 



A few moments later, Harm had located both Mac herself
and Bud’s room. Mac was standing in the visitor’s
lounge sipping a cup of coffee. As she saw the two
officers, she set it down on a table and went to
Harriet. 



Harriet came to attention. “Colonel.” She said
formally. 



“At ease, Lieutenant.” Seeing the torment in Harriet’s
eyes, she moved over and placed her hands on Harriet’s
upper arms.  



“He’s coming out from under the sedation. The doctors
were doing another evaluation and asked me to step
out. Harriet,” Mac paused. “He doesn’t know yet.” 



The younger officer could only nod.  



Mac dropped her left arm and propelled both of them
towards Bud’s room. “Let’s get the doctors together
and get an update.” 



The doctors met them at the door, an orthopedic
specialist, a managing physician, and the head nurse
of the floor. The group ended up in the lounge again. 



“First of all, we need to know who has the
authorization to make decisions for Lieutenant
Roberts’ care,” they addressed Mac as she was the one
who had accompanied Bud on the flight. 



“That would be me.” Harriet spoke. “I am his wife.” 



Mac passed over the paperwork that confirmed Harriet’s
authorization. She had the originals that were on file
from the carrier. Harm was impressed that she had been
well-organized to get them before jumping the COD to
Saudi Arabia.  



The doctors continued their update. “Mr. Roberts will
remain listed in critical condition for the time
being. He has suffered extreme trauma to his right
lower leg, and due to the extent of this injury, the
blood loss, the additional secondary wounds to the
chest, and the field conditions, the risk of infection
is very high. Anyone entering the room will be asked
to scrub their hands thoroughly and to wear a
protective gown. We will be watching him closely for
any signs of infection for the next 48 hours. If he is
able to remain infection-free for that time span, then
we will secure permission at that time to begin
reconstructive surgery on the remaining portions of
the right leg, with the ultimate goal of fitting Mr.
Roberts with a prosthetic leg.” 



Harriet absorbed all of this information and asked
only one question. “When can I see him?” 



1037 Local

Ramstein AFB, Base Hospital

Room 316 



Mac finished scrubbing her hands and rinsed them
carefully. The nurse helped her with the gown and then
turned to assist the Commander. The nurse was blond
and exactly the type of woman he had dated in the
past. “Sir, if you could bend at the knees a bit, I’ll
be able to tie you up.” Hearing the innuendo in her
comment, Mac turned to dress her down. The nurse had
the good grace to look embarrassed and flushed red. 



“That’s okay, Ensign Buffen.” He obliged to her
request. 



Mac and Harm entered the room to see Harriet perched
on Bud’s bed, holding his hand and speaking to him
softly, stroking his face, even though he wasn’t fully
awake. They stood awkwardly to the side and end of the
bed.  



Thirty minutes later, his eyelids fluttered. Harriet
reached over and held a cup of mostly melted ice chips
that had been left by the nurses for when Bud woke up.
Harriet took the plastic spoon and held a few chips to
his lips. “Open your mouth.” She instructed quietly. 



Bud took the chips and relaxed against the pillow
again. Five minutes later, she coaxed more ice chips
into him. For another 30 minutes, she murmured and
coaxed him to consciousness. His eyes opened and he
focused on her. 



“Hi, sweetie.” His voice was a gravelly whisper. 



“Hi yourself.” Harriet smiled gently. 



“You look an awful lot like my wife,” he croaked. 



She reached over and kissed him on the lips. “Now what
do you think?” 



Bud was quiet for a long moment. “I think that
something must be really bad for you to be here,
wherever here is.” 



“We’re at the Ramstein Base Hospital.” She replied,
tears starting to flow. 



“Sweetie. It will be okay. Whatever it is.” Bud tried
to reassure her. 



“Yes, it will.” She promised. 



“So, are you going to tell me why you are crying and
I’m flat on my back in a hospital bed?” he prompted. 



Harriet shook her head back and forth and looked to
the other two officers standing around the bed,
pleading silently for them to say the words that would
become reality. 



Harm and Mac looked at each other and silently agreed
that Harm would break the news. 



“Bud.” He stopped, clearing his throat.  



“Commander Rabb? Did you get the dirty nuke?” Bud
asked, confused about the time frame. 



“Yes, I did. But….Bud. Do you remember how you were
hurt?” 



“Not at the moment. But I’m sure someone will tell me,
eventually.” He said. 



“You stepped on a land mine, and your right leg has
been damaged.” Harm managed to say. 



“That’s what is hurting.” Bud observed. “But if I’m
already at Ramstein, that means they will be ready to
take the cast off and get to the rehab work pretty
soon.” He relaxed into the pillows again. 



Harm shook his head. “I’m sorry, Bud. It’s more
complicated than that. Your right leg was amputated by
the force of the explosion.” 



Bud suddenly sat as upright as he could. Staring at
the empty space that should have been the lower
portion of his leg, he was incredulous for many
minutes. Giving into the exhaustion of sitting so
suddenly, he collapsed against Harriet. Her arms
automatically went around him. Rocking him back and
forth, she comforted both of them. After a time, she
eased him back onto the pillows and continued to hold
his hand. 



“Oh, God. Harriet. What do we do now?” Bud’s voice was
despondent. 



“We heal, Bud. That’s all we can do.” Harriet replied.




“Will I be able to walk again?” he insisted. 



“The doctors will look at your leg tomorrow to find
out how much damage was done.” She said. 



“How much damage??? I blew the damn thing off!” Bud
tried to yell, but croaked instead. 



“No, sweetie. Your knee is still mostly intact. But it
has to heal correctly and you have to fight off any
infections.” Harriet started to calm him down by
stroking the side of his head again. 



“What a nightmare.” Bud groaned. 



“Yes, sweetie, it is. But we’ve been through these
things before. We’ll get through this one too.”
Harriet whispered, bringing her lips to his forehead. 



“I’m so tired.” Bud whined. 



“I know, Bud….I know. Get some sleep. The most
important thing you can do right now is rest and fight
any infections.” She straightened up, yawning. 



“Hey,” Bud grabbed her hand. “How did you get here
anyway?” 



“The Admiral put me on a plane and Commander Rabb got
me from the airfield to here.” She explained. 



“Where’s little AJ?” Bud mumbled, starting to succumb
to sleep. 



“He’s with Monica.” She replied. 



Bud’s eyelids fluttered shut. “Sleep with me?” he
asked his wife. 



Harriet smiled through her tears. “There no place I’d
rather be.” Kicking off her shoes, she carefully
turned on her right side, cuddling up next to Bud.
Nestling her head against his, she draped her left arm
carefully across his chest and shoulder. Letting her
eyes close, she drifted into sleep herself. 



Harm watched the scene with something close to awe. He
had never before been privy to “pillow talk” between a
married couple, especially at this time of crisis. At
a loss of what to do next, he grabbed a light blanket
from the other bed and stood helplessly with it in his
hands. 



Mac’s voice broke through his warring conscience. “May
I have the blanket?” 



Wordlessly, he offered it to her. She gently tucked
the blanket around Harriet and put the bar on the bed
back up. Blindly, she turned to exit the room, leaving
Harm behind. 

 



2137 Local

Officer’s Club 

 



Mac sat rigidly at a table, a drink in front of her.
She had been there for two hours already and the drink
had not yet been touched. Her eyes fixated off in
space, hands folded around the warming drink. The
other occupants of the bar left her alone, after the
Marine Lieutenant Colonel had rebuffed all advances of
the single officers to engage her in flirting and
conversation. She had turned her cell phone to vibrate
and had left it in her purse, which was draped over
the back of the chair.  



Harm entered the O-Club, intending to shoot a little
pool and get his mind off of Bud Roberts. A beer even
appealed to him, he was technically off-duty. He was a
little ticked with Mac too, as she gave him the slip
earlier that day at the hospital. In fact, the more he
ruminated about it, the more angry he became. “She
promised to at least be around, while we were here.”
He thought to himself. Pulling up a bar stool, he
ordered a beer and tuned himself to listen to the
local scuttlebutt. 



“Damn, she’s beautiful.” A Marine Major commented a
few seats over from Harm. 



“Yes, but if that isn’t a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, then
I don’t know what is”, his companion commented. 



“Besides,” the first one commented, “She’s out of my
class. She’s oak leaves, but I didn’t catch silver or
gold.” 



Harm turned his head to nonchalantly observe the
subject the two of them were discussing. He didn’t
immediately see whom they were speaking of, but
continued scanning, becoming interested in the
conversation for the lack of anything else to do. 



His beer arrived and as he pulled out his wallet to
pay for the drink, he saw the object of their
discussion. 



“Shit, damn, hell.” He said out loud, drawing the
attention of the two Marines.  



“Yes, Sir. That’s what we thought when saw the oak
leaves.” The Marines were somewhat friendly to the
Navy Commander. 



Harm mostly ignored them. “Hey, I want to send a drink
to the lady colonel.” He told the barkeep. 



“She’s not accepting drinks tonight, Sir.” The barkeep
replied. 



“What is that drink in front of her?” Harm asked, with
his heart pounding. 



“Vodka tonic.” The Bartender replied. “She’s been the
recipient of at least 10 other drinks in the last
several hours, but turns all of them away.” 



“Several hours?” Harm inquired. 



“Yes, Sir. She’s been here quite some time. Getting a
lot of attention too.”  



“Set me up with an ice water. Send her a tonic water
with a twist of lime, light on the ice. Please make
sure she knows what is in the drink.” He ordered.
“When you serve it, tell her that is from Flyboy.” 



“And if she refuses?” the Barkeeper insisted. 



“She won’t.” Harm paid for his beer and Mac’s drink. 



The marines to his side immediately placed a friendly
bet that she would refuse the drink.  



A few moments later, the bartender set Harm’s water
next to the untouched beer. Harm turned to watch the
bar waitress serve the tonic and lime to Mac. 



Mac did not look up as the waitress approached yet
again. “Ma’am, a Flyboy bought this for you. It’s a
tonic water with a twist of lime.” 



Mac nodded an acknowledgement. “Leave it.” She
ordered. 



The waitress set the fresh drink down and asked, “May
I take this other one?”  



“Not yet. Um, could you do me a favor?” Mac requested.


 



The waitress made her way over to Harm. “The Colonel
said that you could join her, if you knew her
nickname.” 



Harm picked up his glass of ice water, ignoring the
beer. Leaning forward, he whispered the nickname in
her ear. 



The waitress smiled broadly. “That would be correct,
Sir. Enjoy your evening.” 



Harm made his way over to Mac and sat in the chair to
her side. 



“This isn’t good, Marine,” he observed. 



“An astute observation, Navy.” She shot back, still
looking at the drink. 



He placed his hand on her back, right over the
shoulder blade, caressing gently. 



“What can I do to help?” he asked. 



“I think I need to get out of here, but I really,
really want to drink this vodka tonic.” Mac answered. 



Harm hesitated, just a second, then plunged ahead.
“What is bothering you ?”  



“It’s stupid.” Mac said to her drink. 



“It must be a big deal.” Harm said. 



“It’s not.” She replied. 



“So, tell me then.” He countered. 



“Not here.” She said. 



“Then where?” He pushed. 



“Not a damn ferry, that’s for sure.” She argued. 



“Ok, how about the VOQ?” he suggested.  



“Oh, God. Way too many ears.” She shivered. “Besides,
they are out of rooms.” 



“That rules out the waiting room at the hospital too.”
He pushed some more. 



“Yes.” Mac’s voice was distant, preoccupied. 



“So where did you get a room at?” Harm asked. 



“Local hotel, off-base.” She looked away from the
drink, finally. 



“Can we go there?” Harm queried. 



“I suppose.” Was her unenthusiastic reply. 



“You walking out of here on your own power, or do I
have to carry you?” Harm demanded. 



“Walking, under my own power, thank you.” Mac rudely
replied. 



Harm dropped his hand from her shoulder and stood up.
“Well, then Marine, get your ass in gear.”  



She let go of the drink and started to scoot back. 



“Harm, I can’t.” she paused. “I need that drink.” 



Harm leaned down to her ear, whispering, “Being in my
arms is better than a damn drink any day.” 



Mac didn’t move. “What are you offering me? A
quickie?” 



“No, Ma’am. We’ve been through this territory before.”
Harm countered. “I am offering the warmth of the arms
of someone who cares about you, the serenity of being
with your best friend and the understanding of why you
are sitting here, without any, and I do mean any,
accusations of weakness.” He finished the sentence,
still bent to her ear. 



He held out his hand, for her to take. 



“A lifeline.” He offered. 



Mac grasped his hand and rose from her chair. “Get me
out of here.” 



Harm pivoted them towards the front door, and wrapped
a protective arm across her back. 



“March.” He ordered. 



She sighed as they made their way out to his rental
car. “That undercover gunnery sergeant gig made you
think you are some kind of Marine.”  



Once in the car, he asked, “Are you hungry?” 



“Not especially.” She replied. 



Arriving after a silent drive at her hotel, he parked
the car and they both sat in the car looking at each
other. “Awkward moment, number 318.” 



“No, just thankful that we were able to communicate
back there in the O-Club.” He said. 



Mac flopped her head against the headrest. “It really
is stupid. And for some reason, I can’t yet put it in
words.” 



“Let’s get out of military officer mode and connect as
friends,” he suggested. “It might make the
difference.” 



“I need a long soak in the tub. Maybe that will clear
my head.” She said. 



Harm took the hint, that she needed some time to
herself. “I’ll head to the hospital for a while and
check on Bud and Harriett, while you soak.” 



Mac dug in her purse for the room key and passed the
duplicate over to Harm. As she turned towards him, she
placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “You are a good
man, Flyboy.” 



He grabbed at her, managing to hold her for a short
minute. “Need help getting up the stairs?” he
inquired. 



“No, I’ll be okay. I know you are coming back to check
on me.” She replied. 



He returned her kiss, but a quick one on the lips this
time. “I promise.” 

 

 



2356 Local

Mac’s Hotel Room 



Harm let himself into her room, praying that she kept
a hold on her self-control and didn’t take a detour
into the mini-bar or the local store. He was relieved
to see that she was standing, staring out of the
window and still damp from her soak. She looked
comfortable dressed in a tank top and sleeping pants. 



Mac heard Harm enter the room. She continued to stare
out the window, arms folded and emotions tightly
clamped down.  



Harm saw that she was not ready to talk. Peeling off
his clothes down to his undershirt and jeans, he
slipped his shoes off and padded over to Mac. Taking
another large risk, he slowly worked his way into her
personal space until his chest was against her back.
Her only reaction was to lean a fraction into his
chest, so Harm pushed his luck and wrapped his arms
around and over hers, tangling their fingers together.
Dropping his forehead against the crown of her head,
he paused for a few minutes to enjoy this physical
closeness that she had allowed. The scent of her
shampoo lingered, and he let himself relax and
remember her scent. 



Mac couldn’t believe that he could read her mind so
well. The one thing that she desperately craved was
physical contact with another human being. The crazy
part of this great need was that only Harm would be
able to help her, and she had stood there for some
time before he came in trying to figure out how to ask
him to hold her.  



They stood there, for many long minutes. Finally
giving in to the temptation to speak, he asked, “How
much sleep have you gotten lately?” 



“Enough to survive, but when I have the opportunity to
sleep, I can’t,” Mac said softly. “I tried to sleep
after we left the hospital this morning, but I just
can’t get them out of my head.” 



Finally, Harm felt like they were getting somewhere.
“What can’t you get out of your head?” 



“Did you see them?” she asked. 



“Bud and Harriet?” he clarified 



“Yes.” Harm waited for a longer answer from her and
was rewarded. “I’m glad I didn’t marry Mic. I don’t
think either one of us could have done that for the
other.” 



“Done what?” Harm was a little confused. 



“Suppported each other, unconditionally. Harriet and
Bud have been through so much turmoil, with just the
normal stuff of both of them being active military and
Bud going through and finishing law school. Then with
Baby Sarah and now this. How much more can they
endure?” she fumed. 



“I don’t know, Ninja-girl. I don’t know.” Harm
soothed. 



Mac fell silent again, listening to her inner battle. 



“So what is it, in all of this, that has you upset?”
Harm probed. 



“I just have this feeling that it has all slipped
away. Everything that I thought I wanted, the career,
the good man, the kids. Watching them today, I just
had this overwhelming sense of how wrong I had been.
I’ve been so focused on my career and being a tough
Marine in a man’s world that I have just absolutely
lost the things that were important to me in the
beginning.” Mac paused, drawing in a deep breath after
her confession. 



She continued. “And the more I thought about it, the
more wrong it felt. Shit, Harm, I feel like I have
nobody. I’m not even a speck in this universe and the
loneliness is so vast. I walked into the O-Club today
just to get a drink of water and ended up 3 hours
later almost falling off of the wagon again.”  



“The most important thing in there is almost, Mac. You
didn’t take that drink. And that is the most important
thing.” Harm reassured her. 



“I know.” She replied, sighing. 



“Mac.” Harm began. “Are you completely over Mic
Brumby?” 



Mac didn’t answer. 



Harm felt like an intruder for asking that when she
was still so upset. He started to drop his arms and
back off, but she gripped his fingers with hers. 



“Don’t leave.” She pleaded. 



“I stepped over the line again,” Harm was contrite.
“Your personal business is none of my business.” 



“I disagree, Harm.” She whispered. 



“Huh?” Harm didn’t understand. 



“My personal business is your concern. And you have
done a pretty good job of showing me that lately.”  



“Okay.” Harm didn’t trust himself to say much more. 



Both were silent for a long time. Harm slid his hands
off of her arms and wrapped them around her waist,
resting his hands on her abdomen. Mac reveled in the
feeling of being wrapped in his arms, listening to him
breathe and feeling the caress of his hands through
the fabric of her tank top. 



“You are thinking about something.” She playfully
accused him later. 



“Yes.” Harm admitted. 



“Care to share?” she teased. 



“I………..was day-dreaming.” He began. 



“It’s night, Harm.” She countered, still in less
serious frame of mind. Harm’s presence and their
physical closeness had relaxed her. 



Harm didn’t respond. 



“Flyboy, are you going to sleep back there?”  



“No.” was the whispered response. 



“What were you wool-gathering about?” she insisted. 



“The future.” He replied. 



“Anything in particular?” she probed. 



“Yes.” Again, only a whisper. 



“Is this another “only with you” moment?” she asked,
more seriously. 



“Yes.”  



“I don’t know if I should be upset or flattered.” She
began to doubt that he would confess what he was
thinking. 



“Me, either.” Harm admitted. 



More time passed, in comfortable silence. 



“You tired?” she asked. 



“Yes.” He replied. 



“Sleep with me?” she asked. 



Harm didn’t respond.  



“Hey. Answer.” She demanded. 



“I think we’re sailing on the Edmund Fitzgerald this
time, instead of the Titanic.” He referred to their
talk on the Admiral’s porch. 



“No shipwrecks. I just……need to be held. If….that’s
okay with you.” She whispered to the stars, heart
pounding. 



He slowly spun her around. Running his hands up her
arms again, he tangled his fingers into her short,
silky hair. “Yes. More than okay. Anytime you need me,
I’ll be here.” He promised. They both had tears in
their eyes, threatening to fall. Harm continued, “I’ll
confess about my day-dream once we’re settled in.” 



They broke apart for the final preparations for sleep.
Harm made it to the bed first, pulling the covers back
for Mac. Settling in an embrace, similar to what they
had shared at the window, he placed his free hand on
her abdomen again. Unconsciously, he stroked feather
light caresses against the exposed skin. 



Mac remembered the last time they had touched so much,
while attempting to sleep. Stuck in the boondocks of
Afghanistan. This encounter promised to be less
stressful. Hopefully, they would both get more sleep
this time. She smothered a yawn. 



“Comfortable?” she inquired. 



Harm had not dreamed of the contentment simply holding
her, fully dressed, would bring. But halfway dreading
his rash comment about the day-dream, he decided to
wait a little longer. 



“Ummm. Hmmm.” He practically purred. 



“Good night, Harm.” Mac was disappointed, but did not
let it bother her too much. This was Harm, the
emotional recluse, she was cuddling with. 



“Going to sleep already?” he commented. 



“Thinking about it.” She countered. 



“Can you stay awake a little longer?” he asked. 



She yawned again. “I’ll try. But you seem to be able
to put me to sleep.”  



They lapsed into silence again. 



He continued to caress her skin. “I was dreaming, uh,
thinking about if …..no, when we get around……. to that
promise we made….. what it would be like if ………our
baby was growing right under my hands.” Harm
stuttered. 



Mac suddenly twisted around to face Harm. Her tears
were falling in a flood now, but she was smiling.
Reaching over the space between them, she kissed him. 




Each was aware of only the taste of the other. Moving,
caressing, touching, giving, receiving.  



Breaking the kiss, she whispered back. “It would be a
wonderous thing.” 



They smiled at each other, eyes sparkling. Harm
reached up and dried her eyes, then moved in for
another kiss. Again, they cataloged the taste and feel
of the other, without fear of discovery or of guilt. 



This time, Harm broke the kiss. “I’d like to make an
addendum or two to that contract.” 



“Only two?” she smiled brightly, only the starlight
illuminating her face. 



“Okay, three addendums.” They resumed their cuddling
position. 



“One at a time, flyboy. This contract is too important
to me.” She tucked herself within his arms. 



“Addendum number 1” he began. “Rings on our fingers.
That we give each other.”  



“I agree to that stipulation.” She said. 



“Addendum number 2” he continued. “More than 1 baby
that we go halves on.” 



She drowsed in his arms. “I like that one too,
Counselor.” 



“And number 3,” he paused. “The five year time limit
is null and void and should be replaced with as soon
as possible.”  



“Agreed.” She mumbled. 



He knew that she was almost asleep. “Sleep well, my
Sarah.” 



For the first time in a long time, she smiled herself
to sleep. 



THE END