Grief

Pairing: Harm/Mac, Mac/Gunny

Rating: TV-14

Spoilers:

Disclaimer: DPB and CBS and Paramount own these characters, not me. Everything else is mine; don't touch it.

Feedback: Thanks to everyone who's sent me feedback, but like most starving artists, I'm greedy. Constructive criticism is the only way for me to improve my writing. Please, take time to tell me what I'm not doing right as well as to lavish me with praise. ;) I can't read minds, so send your comments, cares, and concerns to stacey2545@yahoo.com

Author's Note:This wasn't what I wanted to post. It's awful short, there's a minor plothole (Baby Sarah was born in November, not May) and I think there should be a flashback somewhere in the middle, but I had a fight with my muse. Guess who won? This story isn't like the rest of the stories in this series (it's from Harm's POV for one and there isn't any thread imagery), but it advances the plot so... Be forewarned, this story is subject to revision. Plot points, aren't however, so for all you hoping that this is just Harm's bad dream... Sorry, folks. Take your complaints to my muse. She hasn't deigned to tell me her name, but she looks like Stitch, likes to build and destroy, and does a mean Godzilla impression. You'll know her when you see her. I just hope for your sake it isn't down a dark alley. Okay, enough with the author's note (which I doubt any of you bothered to read anyway :P).

I stand outside the ER at Bethesda on what should be a gorgeous spring evening. But how can it be a beautiful evening when somewhere in the building behind me Mac is miserable, mourning a child that will never be?

With a sigh of disgust, I flop down on a nearby bench. Slouched down, I rub the gritty exhaustion from my face before reluctantly dragging my cell phone from my pocket. Mac asked me to call him. Actually, she begged me to. As much as I wanted to, as furious as I was, I couldn't deny her. Not when calling him might ease her pain. That doesn't mean I have to like it.

Muttering under my breath, I scroll through my phone book until I hit GALINDEZ. It takes a few minutes of internal conflict before I make myself press SEND.

Four… Five… Six rings and I'm greeted by the brisk, business-like recording on the bastard's answering machine. Probably off knocking up some other officer, screwing her, her life, and her career.

I know the moment I think it how ridiculous that is. I saw his face when the admiral made his announcement. I'm half-surprised he hadn't fabricated some excuse for getting here by now.

I contemplate leaving a message but in the end I hang up. He'll come here before he goes home anyway.

I start to head back inside but the desperation in Mac's voice nibbles at my conscience. No matter how much it stings my pride that she asked for him and not me, there are more important things to be concerned about here. I call his cell phone before I can change my mind.

He answers on the first ring. "Galindez."

"It's Rabb," I say simply.

"Any news on the colonel?" He is definitely trying to keep his voice carefully professional, but I hear the strain. He's still at the office.

I open my mouth but no words come out.

"Sir?" He's starting to lose that hard-won composure.

"She's …" A lump wells up in my throat as it finally hits me. I can't force the words out, which for his sake is probably better. He doesn't deserve to hear it like this. No matter how much I hate him right now.

"How is she, sir?" The tension fairly crackles along the line. Or maybe that's just the cellular static.

It takes a couple tries, a couple throat-clearings before I swallow the lump in my throat enough to tell him, "She's been asking for you."

"I'll be right there," he says and hangs up before I can say another word.

I'm pacing the hall outside her room when he shows up, still in uniform and a credible mask hiding his apprehension. He spots me immediately and is by my side before I can warn him how dangerous that might be to his health right now. In the time since I called him, I've had the chance to work myself up into a righteous anger. I'm not sure what bothers me more-that he knocked up my best friend, completely fucking what was left of her career, or that he moved in on my woman and I hadn't even known she was seeing anyone until she told me she was having his baby.

"How is she?" he asks breathlessly. His voice is soft and fearful, like he actually cares about her. Cares about her the same way I do. Then again, Brumby once said we were all a little bit in love with her. Why should Gunny be any different? But he is, isn't he? The rest of us may be in love with her, but we aren't fucking her too.

"You might want to sit down for this, Gunny."

"Jesus," Gunny swears under his breath. His eyes close and he sinks into a nearby chair, letting out the breath he's probably been holding since he hung up on me. The life seems to go out of him and he whispers with resignation, "She lost the baby, didn't she?"

I sigh and sit down in the hard plastic chair beside him. Spinning my cover in my hands, I say gently, "There was nothing they could have done. It was the shock that did it. They were able to stop the hemorrhaging. It took surgery to set her arm, and she has a nasty bump on the head, but the doctors say she'll be just fine."

He doesn't look at me, too busy fiddling with the eagle-globe-and-anchor pinned on his cover. "When can I see her? You said she was asking for me."

"She's been in and out. She's sleeping right now."

He swallows hard. "I don't care. I just… need to see she's all right, you know?"

"I understand." He starts to rise and I stop him with a hand on his arm. He turns to face me and my stomach drops at the grief in his gaze. Worse than when Fareeza died. I let go of his arm and gesture back at the chair he just vacated. "Before you do, there're a couple things you need to know."

"Such as?" He doesn't sit, instead crossing his arms and getting a hard look in his eyes. He's prepared for battle.

"The admiral knows she miscarried. So do Bud and Harriet and Sturgis."

He shrugs. "It's not like they wouldn't have known she was pregnant eventually."

I nod. "But they've all assumed it was mine. And I've done nothing yet to correct them."

Ah. A reaction. He looks up and glares at me, clenching his cover in his fist. Then he stands up and for half a second I think he's actually going to take a swing at me. But he overcomes the impulse. "You goddamn, son of a bitch," he hisses. I can't remember the last time I've seen him this angry. At anyone or anything.

"Remember who you're talking to, Gunnery Sergeant," I snap. My voice is just a little too loud; we draw a few looks from passing nurses. Making a conscious effort to lower my voice, I say, "Look, I just didn't want her to have to deal with the questions."

"And there won't be questions if they think it was your child?"

"Not as many. And there won't be the disapproval either."

He growls and actually pulls back for a punch when the admiral walks up. Suddenly I realize how foolish it is to start this here when we aren't even out of the line of sight from Mac's room down the hall.

"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?"

"No, Sir." Gunny drops his fist discreetly. "How's the colonel?"

"Awake. And asking for you." The admiral doesn't seem concerned with why Mac might be asking for Gunny. He just takes it in stride. Or maybe he knows?

Gunny nods. "Then if you'll excuse me, sirs."

The admiral nods his approval but Gunny's already halfway down the hall.

We stand there in awkward silence before he says, "I'd hate to be in his shoes right now."

My heart starts pounding. Does he know? "Sir?"

I try to keep my voice even but something-maybe the shock I can't quite keep out?-gives me away, for he eyes me oddly. "The guilt. He distracts her while driving and she's nearly killed in a car accident. Couple that with the fact that-as far as I can tell-they haven't completely resolved whatever argument has been distracting her for the past month… I think anyone would be uncomfortable. What did you think I meant, commander?"

I shrug and start to make up some excuse when Sturgis joins us, a steaming styrofoam cup in each hand. "Admiral, commander."

The admiral and Sturgis exchange an indecipherable look. "What's the latest?" he asks, passing us both a cup.

"Gunny's in with her now," the admiral says, taking a sip of his coffee and grimacing.

"You sure you don't want any?" I ask, trying to hand it back to Sturgis. The last thing I need right now is coffee churning in my stomach.

He shakes his head. "Thanks, but I think I've hit my limit on caffeine. Three cups while we all waited for Mac to get out of surgery, another two when we found out… Well, Bud and Harriet…"

I swallow the lump that rises at the thought of how this must be affecting them. Bad enough this happened at all, but now? Just the time of year is hard on Bud and Harriet. First, baby Sarah, then, Bud's leg. Now this. God dammit! Why do these things always seem to happen in May? "They're probably taking this rather hard. Bringing back memories and all."

I feel the looks they both direct my way. I can hear the questions they want to ask. But I respond to neither, focusing intensely on the coffee in my hand.

An awkward silence while we all try to think of something to say.

Finally the admiral thinks of something. "I hope you ordered them to go home and rest, commander."

Sturgis tries to put on a bright face and fails. "I tried. It took a while before they actually listened. They just left a few minutes ago."

"Which sounds like a good idea. Things are well in hand here, visiting hours are almost over…" The admiral chokes down another gulp of coffee and tosses the nearly full cup in a nearby trashbin. "If you'll excuse me, I'll see you two in the morning."

He starts to walk away and then pauses, and half turns back. "If you think you need some leave, Commander, feel free to take it. You have more than enough time on the books, and, all things considered, I think we can spare you a few days." He walks off without another word and leaves me there with Sturgis.

"Look, buddy. I don't presume to know what you're going through and I'm not gonna pry," he says with a hand on my shoulder and a significant look, "but if you need to talk, you know where to find me." He gives my shoulder a squeeze and walks off leaving me alone with my thoughts.

He knows. I don't know how, but Sturgis knows. The question is, how much? He was there earlier today when Mac stormed in. He has yet to say a word about Gunny. Even if he does know what's really going on here, I don't think he'd say anything, but if push comes to shove, I don't think he'll lie about it either. Shit. Now what?