the Light
Chapter 4
The trial date came somewhat faster than Harm had anticipated. Over the last couple of weeks the Commander had truly tasted what it was like to be living on autopilot. He started to set his alarm clock for 3 a.m. - thus interrupting his sleep before the nightmare could really set in, and sat awake each night, going over the testimony he was going to give in court when the time would come. At least this kind of step-by-step recounting of his misadventures he could control, even if it still left his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He found that large quantities of coffee and lots of exercise could compensate somewhat for his lack of sleep, and he forced his body to gradually adapt to this regime.
He went through each day purposely avoiding any and all encounters that could potentially require any sorts of heart-to-heart talks. Robot-like he worked almost non-stop on the ever-increasing pile of administrative cases that the Admiral sent his way in order to "ease his transition back into the routine of casework," as his C.O. put it. He rarely, if ever, left his office, keeping his door closed and thus effectively shutting out all of his colleagues who were hesitant to barge in uninvited.
Mac was the only one who tried, but all she would get from him were polite but evasive answers accompanied by his trademark ear-to-ear smiles, which he used quite successfully to keep people at a distance. After a while she gave up ... and that's when it happened. The phone call. Harm never thought that a simple "Hello, Commander" could send a cold shiver through his entire body.
"Commander, this is John Nettleback. ... Commander? Are you there?"
Harm didn't realize he was silent. Waking up from his stupor, squeezing the receiver so hard that his knuckles turned white, he
cleared his throat, trying to calm his racing heart. Get a grip, Rabb! "Yes ... I - I'm here, Mr. Nettleback. I recognized you." He could almost imagine the other man smile on the opposite end.
"I finalized the trial date, Commander. Your testimony is one week from today." Nettleback paused, expecting a reaction, and coughed uncomfortably, as silence greeted him from the other end of the line. "I would like to meet with you some time this week to go over your testimony."
Harm felt his hand tighten around the receiver, threatening to crush the plastic. "Why don't you come by tomorrow?" he offered, surprised at how cool he sounded.
"Terrific! I'll see you tomorrow then, Commander."
"Yeah... Goodbye, Mr. Nettleback." Harm was certain that, by the time he up the phone, the plump attorney was beaming from ear to ear.
"So the trial is on, I take it?" came a familiar voice, startling Harm out of his thoughts. He looked up to find his C.O. leaning against the door frame of his office with his arms crossed on his chest.
"Admiral," he stammered, "I ... didn't see you come in."
A.J. narrowed his eyes, nodding slightly. "So it appears." Pushing himself forward and closing the door behind him, the former SEAL strode over to his senior attorney's desk, plopping into a chair across from him.
"Commander," he began quietly, "I know you must be aware that these proceedings are not going to be easy. The attorneys on both sides are going to make you relive everything you've been through in Afghanistan. EVERYTHING."
A sharp intake of breath told A.J. that the other man was all too aware of that.
"Harm-," he tried again.
"N-no, Sir," the quiet interjection stopped A.J. in mid-sentence. "I am, like you said, aware of that," the younger man continued slowly. "And I am also ... aware that the defense is going to do everything in their power to shake me ... make my testimony worthless." The blue eyes hardened, gleaming like a pair of icy-cold slivers of glass. "My job is to not let that bastard go free," he added tensely, earning a frown of concern from his C.O. "And that's what I intend to do."
A.J. observed him in silence for a while, debating on whether or not to say anything more. The look on his young friend's face was one of stubbornness and pure determination, but, somehow, A.J. knew better. Part of him wanted to reach out and shake the living daylights out of the pigheaded aviator; to force him to open up, to let everything out and let others help him. But Chegwidden also knew the power of the infamous Rabb stubbornness and, with a heavy sigh, the Navy Judge Advocate General stood up, having decided to surrender his position for the time being, but making himself a note to have a long talk with the one person he hoped would be able to make a breech in Rabb's makeshift fortress - Lt. Colonel Sarah Mackenzie.
***
Several days later.
"Sir, I've tried talking to him. He shuts me out." The marine Colonel sounded almost desperate, and A.J. Chegwidden leaned forward in his chair, giving her a sympathetic smile.
It must have been tough on her - first dealing with the possibility of never seeing Rabb again; then watching him struggle for his life on the hospital bed; and now this. It's hard enough being shut out by your best friend, let alone by the person you're in love with. Yes, A.J. was well aware that the feelings his two senior officers held for each other have long passed the point of simple friendship. If he had entertained any doubts on the subject, they evaporated that day in Afghanistan, when he saw the way she held him in her arms and heard the way he whispered her name - a relieved, grateful whisper of a man whose most fervent and desperate prayer had just been granted.
"I am familiar with the Commander's pigheadedness, Colonel," he acknowledged. "And he is not doing himself any favors by being this way." A.J. stopped, noting the slight widening of her eyes. "Smooth, A.J.," he thought, "Real smooth. She's worried enough about him without you adding to her troubles." "He's going to open up, though," he amended, "...eventually. And I think you are the best person to handle it when he does."
She opened her mouth to object, but A.J. simply raised his hand, silencing her. "And, before you say anything, a professional ... a
therapist would have about as much luck getting him to open up as an enemy soldier during an interrogation. You know that as well as I do, Mac," he said; his voice soft but insisting. "It's not going to be easy for you OR for him, but has to happen. If he doesn't let it all out, it WILL break him. I have seen it happen before."
A.J. paused again, letting the words sink in. He had already lost too many friends who, having seen what they've seen, having lived through literal hell on earth, have become prisoners in the hell created by their own minds. He didn't want to see Rabb join their ranks. And the realization that his young friend may just be heading down that same road was breaking his heart. A.J. wasn't afraid to admit it, at least to himself - he was truly worried. Glancing up at the auburn-haired woman who sat before him, he saw in her worry-clouded eyes a reflection of his own thoughts.
"Stick with him, Colonel," he insisted gently.
"Never had any real intention of letting go, Sir," she responded without breaking the eye contact. Her features hardened with a sudden resolve that reminded the old SEAL of a phrase Rabb once used to describe her - "hard-core, ass-kicking Marine," was it? If the situation wasn't so grim, he might have even chuckled at the idea of what would happen to the Commander if he tries this Marine's patience.
Her voice interrupted his brief musings.
"With your permission, Sir, I'd like to get on with this."
A.J. nodded, dismissing her. As her petite figure disappeared behind the closed door, the Admiral ran a tired hand over his balding head and whispered into the thickening twilight of his office, "Good luck, Sarah."