Author: Gibson

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. Much to my mortification, JAG and all characters belong to The 500lb Gorilla. You could sue, but all you’d get is my beat up old Gibson J-45, and you could probably get one in much better condition at Steve’s Music on Queen St. W.

Category: AU, Vignette, Romance H/M

Rating: GS

Summary: A Sequel to No Greater Love. So many people asked me for a sequel to this story when I first posted it, and to be honest, I really had no intention to do one. I mean, in my mind a sequel would be redundant – of course Harm would recover! Of course Harm and Mac would be together, be agonizingly happy… be fruitful and multiply… However, after much humming and hawing, I decided a sequel didn’t necessarily have to be obvious, and maybe there would be a way I could do it and still make it fresh. I guess by now a sequel is a moot point because it’s been so long, but I thought I’d post it anyway. You’re kinda going to have to (re-)read the original story first as there are some direct references you might not get if you don’t remember it or never read it. Don’t worry – it’s not long! (just click on the title to go there)

Because this took place directly before The Enemy Below and therefore changed events, assume that Bud never went to that ground breaking because he was too concerned about Harm, and therefore he never got his leg blown off.

Thanks for reading!

NO GREATER GIFT

You came home on a Tuesday. I remember the day so well that I think it must be permanently imbedded in my memory. I remember every smell, every conversation, every stop light I hit on my way to the airport with such intense clarity that it was like time was suddenly moving at half-speed. I was so anxious I couldn’t sleep… so scared I couldn’t eat… and a couple of times I felt I might actually be physically ill.

You were finally coming home to me and I didn’t know what to expect. That time we’d spent together at Landstuhl had been so brief and we hadn’t had time for anything but to confirm that we were still on the same page as we were that night beneath the Afghan stars. Now, two weeks later, it felt like you’d been through so much without me that physically seeing you again was going to be different. It was going to be amazing… or horrifying… or a complete disaster, and not knowing which was almost killing me. The only thing I knew for sure was that as of 14:20 hrs that afternoon, my life would irrevocably change.

I couldn’t get over the fear that I had left you alone out there. I knew you understood I had to go, but I was afraid of what your mood was going to be. In talking to you on the phone, your emotions had run the gamut several times over. Sometimes you’d be fine and others you’d be agonizingly depressed. Sometimes the best I could hope for was cool and detached and still other times you were warm and suggestive – doing your best to sound hopeful for our future… our future – how I loved the sound of that phrase. At some point though, I stopped trying to reassure you that it didn’t matter to me how much you recovered because I knew you – and I knew you would never be happy until you were whole again. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if you ever had to face a day that you knew that would never be.

It was my understanding from your calls that minor nerve damage in your back was causing your legs weakness and they weren’t always doing what you wanted them to do, but with the aid of braces and crutches, you were working hard to get back. I would just have to see for myself how much of your description was accurate about that. Your vision was coming back in chunks you said, but I could tell it was frustrating for you. Some days there would be large spots in your vision where you could see, but then you would wake up to find them gone again. Even when the vision was there, it was all you could do to concentrate to use it. In frustration, you once said it was like learning how to knit and walk a tightrope at the same time. It scared me to no end that that analogy was even a quarter as accurate, and I couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for you to be by yourself. You were hopeful though, because everything improved as the swelling went down, and although not clinically established as being helpful, they had promised you more dives in the hyperbaric chamber once you got back to Bethesda. The biggest surprise had come a little over a week after I left. You had phoned ecstatic… giddy actually. At first, I didn’t quite catch on to what you were trying to tell me.

“It works.” You stated in a husky whisper.

Lots of things ran through my mind – your eyes? Your legs? But these were both “plural” nouns… I wracked my brain trying to think of what singular thing didn’t work before… but of course, you hadn’t told me before that it didn’t work. No wonder your emotions had been out of control.

“Oh Harm…” was all I could respond once I’d figured out the riddle. Leave it to you to make this a huge priority… although you are a man, should I have expected any different?

After the Duty Officer advised us that the plane was on final, I left the waiting area and stepped outside into the bright sunshine. Heat rose from the tarmac in the sticky June air and I watched anxiously as fate delivered my future to me.

We stood there together, the Admiral and those from the office that could make it, and knew it was going to be hard for you. Always a man to be so strong, you’d have to be escorted from the C-130 in a wheelchair. It had to have killed you a little bit – especially in front of your friends – but in the end, you managed a bit of a smile… that is until you got near us and the tears welled up. I’m not sure if it was relief, frustration or just an overwhelming sense of being a broken man in front of us, but it caused you to turn away and motion for the corporal to stop the chair – getting angry at him when the young medic didn’t catch on.

“I said STOP!”

I could see the Admiral glancing at me nervously, but I refused to acknowledge him.

“I’m sorry…” you managed awkwardly. “… I just want to get up. Is that her up ahead?”

The marine bent down into your ear. “About 20ft in front of you, sir. She’s got a two star with her… and a few others of about your rank.” You just nodded your understanding.

I refrained from covering the distance on my own and helping you cuff the crutches to your forearms because I knew you would want to do it without help, and I tried valiantly to resist the onslaught of tears when you struggled to your feet. But as usual, you were strong and proud and stoic to a fault and I don’t think I’ve been more honoured to call you my friend than I was at that moment.

I think the Admiral shared my pride for he never mentioned the breach of protocol when I took you in my arms the instant you were before us… before you even had a chance to acknowledge him. He pretended not to see the tears in your eyes as you sniffed into my shoulder. Never mentioned them I think because there was the glimmer of a tear in his as well, and because he knows I heard the catch in his voice when he called you “son”.

I know what he was thinking then, for I’m thinking the same thing now as I lay here in bed with you three months later, watching you as you sleep – ‘When is your good fortune going to run out Harmon Rabb Jr? When is that omnipresent shield of safety and dumb luck going to suddenly crumble around you and you are ripped from our presence like a bad wax job? And will any of us survive that day?’

The sun is just coming up and the red is reflecting through those clear dividers of yours, throwing brilliantly complex patterns on us both. It’s highlighting those fading scars that still linger from that awful night in the desert – yours on the outside, and mine in my heart – for all the pain I’ve gone through in my life, I’ve never had my heart broken twice in the space of 15 minutes as your life faded away while you were still warm in my arms. I will never recover from that – never in a million years. I suppose in a way it was a good thing, for I know I will never take you for granted, and I guess that is a great gift I have been given.

I try to suppress the urge to reach out and trace your bottom lip with my finger, or your little bent ear. Funny, that ear. How in all this time did I never notice it was bent? It took Harriet to point it out to me one day. I guess my mind refused to accept that something about you could be flawed, even in the slightest bit. I suppose I always did have it a little bad where you were concerned. But now you are whole once again – and I can relish in your slightly dark humour as you ceremoniously disposed of those crutches last month - exchanging them for that same cane you had from your dunk in the Atlantic the last time you were almost taken from me. Your eyesight has been back completely for almost two months now. The brain is such an amazing thing – I am in awe of it almost as much as I am in awe of you… and that’s saying something, let me tell you.

I smile broadly as you reach out in your sleep and grasp my thigh to bring it closer to you. I wonder if you have any idea how much I’d like to wake you up right now and make love again. Making love with you is an indescribable experience. To say it is sexually gratifying would be the understatement of the century, yet it is so much more. When we’re together we are able to convey all the feelings and emotions we have never been able to put into words before and now I’m beginning to realize why – the depth of emotion we feel for one another I think can never be put into words – maybe that was our problem all along. It’s only through our most intimate moments that we can fully tell each other how we feel, and for my part, I feel an insatiable need to tell you how I feel over and over again. It is one of the many magnificent things I have come to discover about our relationship since we started into your “list”. That amazing, wonderful list that may very well have kept you alive that night. I have to chuckle quietly as I remember your almost pubescent joy when you realized it only took you three and a half minutes to get me to scream your name in passion that rainy Sunday afternoon. And that was including the time it took you to get my clothes off…

On your list, there are still two things left undone – one because you refuse to marry me until you can stand at the alter without help – and the other because… well, I suppose I don’t really know for sure because the way we’ve been at it, I most definitely could be pregnant… but all I know is, that part will happen when it happens, God willing. For now, I am simply happy to have you here among us. I don’t think you will ever understand the rock that you are to so many. For years I tried to quash it – probably the obstinate pride in me that refused to allow you to know because if you were aware I worshipped you, I’d just be one of a thousand women who fell at your feet… and I so wanted to be different. Despite that gigantic Flyboy ego, God I wanted you to want me. Little did I know that what I considered arrogance was simply your attempt to cover up your insecurities. That persistent fear you had that no one you loved would ever stay. Well, I hate to break it to you but I’m staying Harm. You’re it for me. I guess I always knew. We have connected like I never imagined I could with anyone, both emotionally and physically, and my heart is so intertwined with yours that to separate us would surely kill me. So sleep my sweet, and I will thank the fates above that I have been given this precious gift to watch you.

THE END.