| Subject: Tears for Allah - A JAG/NCIS Novel |
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TxJAG_b
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Date Posted: 12:00:16 05/04/11 Wed
Title: “Tears for Allah”
Author: TxJAG_b
Email: txjagbc1@yahoo.com
Rating: PG/R language, violence, suggestive comments, adult language
Spoilers: Any season from 1 to 10….
Classification: A JAG/NCIS adventure mystery thriller – Action/Adventure
Summary: Begins just before JAG -“Close Quarters” and continues past “Fair Winds and Following Seas.” AJ has just announced he is retiring as JAG. Harriet has not announced her upcoming reserve status, Cresswell is not on the scene yet, but he soon will be, Jen and Mattie are still with Harm right now, Sturgis and Harm have buried the hatchet – as have Bud and Sturgis. The events of ...For
Meritorious Service have just taken place. The events of NCIS Season 1 have not taken place yet, but they soon will.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of Donald Bellisario, Belisaurius Productions, Paramount Pictures and Columbia Broadcasting Service Entertainment – this story is for non-profit entertainment of JAG fans only. No copyright infringement is intended or implied.
A/N1: Thanks to Janlaw, Karen and Mary Ann on the initial feedback for this story. They all said - you have to write a sequel - so here it is.
A/N2: ( ) Thoughts of the person *~* scene change not
indicated by a JAG time stamp *~*~*~*~*~* dream or flashback sequence.
A/N3: - In light of the events of the last few days, I should let you guys know that the little scene witnessed
in MTAC was written about a month ago. Glad I didn't post
this on Saturday or Sunday.... ;)
Flashbacks:
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Court Martial of the crew of Firefly One…
The terrorist attack on JAG Corps Headquarters…
Harm flying his mission over Objective India and subsequently getting shot down…
Mac with her Force Recon team fighting Colonel Livingston, Captain Lewis and their henchmen….
*******************************
Tears for Allah, Chapter 1
1421 Local [Romeo]
State Highway 22
Near Beallsville, Pennsylvania
Harm slowed down as he turned on his turn signal. Mac yawned and stretched, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she moved around in her seat. She looked over at him concentrating on driving through the Pennsylvania countryside.
“When did I fall asleep?” she asked her voice still slumber thick.
Harm gave her a gentle smile “After we got off the Pennsylvania Turnpike. You kept nodding off so when you finally fell asleep, I decided not to wake you.”
Mac’s disappointment was evident. “Oh but I wanted to see the countryside Harm, it’s so beautiful up here.”
“You obviously needed the rest, Marine.” Harm said gently, “We’ve both been pushing ourselves pretty hard since we got back to the States.”
“Did we go through any covered bridges yet?” She asked looking around. Harm was a little taken aback at how excited she was about going on this trip. Most of his other girlfriends had cringed at the idea of visiting his grandmother. Not Mac; she has jumped at the chance to do this. She was like a kid going to Disneyland for the first time.
“Uh, no, not yet,” he said, curious about this change in the normally reserved manner of his Marine partner.
He obviously had given her a bewildered look.
“What?” She replied, oblivious to the reason for his puzzled expression.
“It’s just I’ve never seen you like this before Mac,” the aviator/lawyer said honestly. Harm momentarily broke eye contact with her so that he could concentrate on the merging traffic on the two lane highway.
“What do you mean?” she pressed.
Harm tried his best to concentrate on driving. He now at least could sense when he had said something wrong rather than blundering further into the minefield of relationship misunderstandings. “Uh well, you’re acting a little like a kid waking up on Christmas morning.”
“I am?” she said coyly.
Uht oh. “Uh yeah,” he said unsure whether she would understand his comments or not. If she didn’t she might order him to stop at the next gas station so she could call Sturgis to take her back to Washington.
She turned around in her seat to face him. “Harm, maybe you’re used to all this fresh air, sunshine, and green fields but I didn’t get much of this when I was a kid. In fact, it was pretty rocky and desert-like where I grew up. We didn’t have much in the way of green grass and trees.”
“Don’t get me wrong Mac,” he said trying to pull his foot out of his mouth, “I enjoy this area too, I’ve just never seen this side of you before.”
Oh no. “My happy girlish side?” She inquired, giving him a penetrating look.
Harm felt as if he had just dug his hole that much deeper and Mac was now throwing dirt in on top of him. He began to sweat.
“Harm?” That voice meant ‘answer me – now’.
He glanced over at her. “Look Mac, I’m sorry if what I said came out wrong….” He really wished right now some intriguing piece of scenery would appear over the horizon that would distract Mac. But there was only rolling hills at this point.
She sat silently looking at him for a moment. Harm was beginning to think he needed to just suture his lips shut when he was outside of the courtroom.
She sighed and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Harm, I may be a Marine Lieutenant Colonel, but I’m also a woman who enjoys drives through the countryside, especially to places I’ve never been before.”
“Sure Mac,” he said quickly. He glanced at her, hoping a quick smile would help the situation. “I’m really sorry if I offended you.” There, that ought to help the situation, he thought.
Unt uh. “Let me finish Commander,” she said; her voice momentarily hard. He nodded.
She got closer to him. “Harm, I enjoy drives through the countryside, especially when they include a person I enjoy being with, but if you can’t handle the ‘girl’ in me, then you need to examine why you can’t.”
Harm glanced over at her pretty face. (I enjoy girls, Marine, in fact probably too much. That’s what gets me into trouble.) “Mac, its not that I can’t handle girlish outbursts, I’m glad you’re able to relax with me--”
She put her index finger to her lips – a compliment with an unintended insult. In times past this would have lead to the mother of all verbal arguments with him. But in the three months they had been a couple, she had begun to understand his thought processes around pretty women. “That’s good enough Harm, don’t try to overdo it.”
She grinned at him.
Harm gave her a warm smile and a chuckle. “Glad you understand my mouth sometimes gets in the way of how I really feel about you.” He said honestly.
“I’ve learned that men often say more than they should when they are around a pretty lady they are trying to impress.” She gave him a knowing smile.
“Ouch Mac, you wound me,” he said with look of mock hurt on his face as he glanced over at her again. He winked for emphasis.
Her laughter tinkled through the car. “Just keep your eyes on the road Flyboy; I don’t want to end up in a traffic accident because you were ogling me.”
“Now you’re just flattering yourself,” said Harm with mock haughtiness. “I can keep my mind focused on the task at hand.”
“Oh is that so, Hormone?” she said seductively, placing her hand on his thigh and lightly blowing in his ear.
“We’d better pull into this gas station, we’re running low on gas,” he said a little unsteadily. Her laughter tinkled though the Lexus again.
1421 Local [Romeo]
NCIS Headquarters
Washington Navy Yard
Gibbs walked into the darkened theater-like MTAC [Multiple Threat Assessment Center] room. On the front row of the movie theatre-like seats sat Director Tom Morrow with a Marine Sergeant and 1st Lieutenant intently watching the screen.
Gibbs stopped for a moment and took in the images. It was a first person view of an assault on a fortified house – probably Afghanistan judging from the terrain and surroundings. The lead soldier must’ve had some high tech camera link up that fit into his helmet. It looked like one of those first person shooter games that Tony had been bugging him about lately.
The voices were tense.
‘Bravo Leader to Bravo two; do you have the target?’
‘Bravo Two to Leader, I have the target…’
‘Bravo Two you are cleared to engage…’
Suddenly the image lit up as the green low intensity images being broadcast showed bright green streaks of light heading toward the fortified house.
‘Bravo Two to Leader, target eliminated!’
The scene grew blurry as the first person image jiggled and jumped. Obviously whoever was broadcasting was moving closer to the house. Gibbs could make out several other soldiers making their way to the house as well.
‘Bravo Zulu Two! Bravo Five! Do you have the package?’
The lack of response was immediately noted. The Sergeant opened up his secure cell phone and began talking into it. Both the Lieutenant, who Gibbs now recognized from his MP days, and Tom Morrow were peering intently at the screen.
‘Bravo Five,' the voice repeated, 'Do you have the package?’
The pause this time was not nearly as long.
‘Bravo Five to Bravo Leader; the package is secure; I say again; the package is secure!’
Bravo Leader’s response was lost as everyone in the room, including Gibbs, breathed a sigh of relief. The Lieutenant smiled and shook hands with Director Morrow as both men stood. The Sergeant put away his cell phone and made a notation in his PDA before standing as well.
Tom looked over at the technician monitoring the bank of keyboards and monitors against the far left hand wall.
“Tell Major Benton NCIS appreciates his efforts.”
“Yes sir,” replied the technician as he began relaying the news to Major Benton aka ‘Bravo Leader’.
The NCIS Director turned to Gibbs. “Gibbs, do you know Lieutenant Gracin?”
“I do sir,” Gibbs replied, immediately reaching out for Gracin’s outstretched hand.
“Good to see you again Gunny,” Gracin said to the gray haired head of the Washington, DC Major Case Response Team as they shook hands.
“Likewise, Staff Sergeant,” Gibbs said with a wry smile. “When did you make the jump, Mustang?”
Lieutenant Lance Gracin gave the former Gunnery Sergeant a dry chuckle. “Back in '01, just after we hit the ground running in Afghanistan. They needed officers with experience after 9/11, and my CO said I’d make a hell of an officer, so I took the plunge. When did you become a Navy Cop?”
Leroy Jethro Gibbs chuckled “Back in ’91, Lance. It’s been a while….”
Lance Gracin nodded. “So it has.” While the two men had been talking, the Sergeant had moved up to join them. “Aw, where the hell are my manners? Gunny, I mean, Special Agent Leroy Jetho Gibbs, this is my aide and right hand man, Sergeant Phil Dayton.”
“Sergeant,” Gibbs said as he shook the man’s hand.
Dayton looked as if he didn’t know whether or not to trust this man his senior officer ‘knew’. Gibbs surmised that the good Sergeant was the keeper of Luke’s secrets as well as his schedule.
“Special Agent Gibbs,” Dayton said stiffly.
“Don’t mind him, Gibbs, Phil takes a while to warm up to everyone.” Gracin said glibly. But deep down Gibbs knew that Dayton was in for a ‘dressing down’ when they left NCIS.
“Well gentlemen, I hate to cut the reunion short, but we have urgent business….”
“Sorry sir,” Gibbs said automatically.
“Sorry Director,” added Gracin.
Dayton just stood silently.
Tom gave both men an understanding smile. “Special Agent Gibbs’ team took the lead on capturing Colonel Darcy D’Acerville Livingston, the renegade Force Recon commander in the 2nd Marine Division, Lieutenant.”
Dayton looked stunned. “The Corps owes you a debt of thanks, Special Agent Gibbs.” he said with a hint of awe.
Gibbs smiled. (One wall down; two hundred more to go….) “It would have been better if we had taken her alive, Sergeant.” Gibbs said honestly.
Luke nodded. “True enough Gunny, but don’t sell yourself short. That snake was bad news and stopping her put a major crimp in Jama’at al Jihad al Islami’s plans--”
Now it was Gibbs’ turn to look stunned. “Al Jihad? She was working with al Jihad?” His mind flashed back to his fight with Mohammed Zahari aboard that research vessel and nearly getting killed because of Agent Blackadder’s rookie mistake.
“Sorry Jethro,” the Director said understanding what was going through the Senior Agent’s mind. “It was need to know.”
“I understand sir,” Gibbs said recovering quickly. If Tom Morrow had been allowed – even unofficially – to share this information with him, he would have.
“Which brings me to why we’re here, Gunny.” Gracin said.
He handed Gibbs a thick folder. The Special Agent began leafing through it, noting the names of various members of the group – Mustafa Atef, his brother, Kabir Atef, Mohammed Zahiri, – all who were dead now, but there were others, such as former PLO bodyguard Sadik Fahd and Rafid al-Wahib also known as Master Gunnery Sergeant Rudy Wilbane and even some names he hadn’t heard of before. Gibbs noted there a star by one name – Hamid Abinjinad
“Who’s Hamid Abinjinad?”
“Former Iranian Intelligence agent and recruiter,” Lance Gracin replied. “He was responsible for turning Dahab Fadwa; you knew her better as Darcy D’Acerville Livingston. It was part of their efforts to start a home grown terrorist cell here in America. Ms. Livingston/Fadwa came from a rich and privileged background; not unlike the members of the Symbionese Liberation Army.”
“Or John Walker Lindh, Lance,” Gibbs replied.
The Director nodded his agreement to Gibbs’ statement. “He’s also been involved with recruiting a number of students of Arabian descent and is a fixture in the organization’s College and University recruiting efforts, Gibbs. We’ve got tabs on him, but some of his protégées have gone underground.”
“Like who, sir?”
“They’re listed in the annex sheet on the next page.” Tom Morrow said to his Senior Agent.
As Gibbs flipped to the page, Lance added his comments on the list of protégées.
“One you might have run across, Special Agent Gibbs, is Sean Macklin; an exchange student from Ireland, known to have sympathies with a splinter group of the IRA and he is friends with several ex-members of the IRA itself.”
Gibbs looked at the brief bio and shook his head. “I’m not familiar with him, Lance.”
“I’m surprised Gunny; he was seen with Lieutenant Loren Singer a few months before she was killed--”
Gibbs’ mind immediately swung back to the Singer investigation. (Dammit, I told Tony and Vivian to chase down any and all suspects!) “He was?”
Tom and Lance exchanged glances. “You didn’t let him know?” Lance Gracin said somewhat incredulously.
Tom Morrow actually looked embarrassed. “It wasn’t central to the case.” He said brusquely. “Our focus was on the JAG Corps Headquarters officers. Specifically Theodore Lindsey and Harmon Rabb, Jr. Macklin had last been seen talking to her about five maybe six months ago. He hasn’t been seen since.
“Just about the time that Lieutenant Singer became pregnant…” Gibbs said thinking aloud.
Tom cut to the point. “Gibbs, al Jihad is like a hydra; we’ve killed or eliminated several heads, but I want to make sure all of them have been completely cut off and that this animal is dead.”
“Yes sir, I understand.”
Director Morrow didn’t mince words. “Reopen the Singer case. If Singer had ties to al Jihad, maybe Lindsey does too.”
*~*
“Oh Harm, a covered bridge!” She gushed as they continued up the highway after just leaving the downtown area of Beallsville, “Pull over and let me take a picture of it.”
Harm smiled as he turned the car toward the side road. “I’ll do better than that Ninja girl; we have to go that way to get to Grams’ place. How about if I pull over here so you can take a picture of it before we cross?”
She smiled gratefully at his suggestion. “Where’s the camera?” she asked hunting around her seat.
“It probably slipped under the seat when you were asleep,” he replied as he joined in the search. “Here you go,” he said handing it to her.
“Thanks,” she replied, taking it and hopping out of the SUV as it rolled to a stop.
The late afternoon was bright and clear. Just upstream from the covered bridge was an old flour mill, its wooden wheel gently rotating in the steady current of the bubbling creek. The green oak and walnut trees framed the two structures perfectly.
Mac snapped two quick pictures of the idyllic scene. “Oh Harm, it’s so breath taking,” she sighed as she turned to face him.
The Naval Commander sat in his seat with his door open, looking at his favorite Jarhead framed by the picturesque background. He wished he had the camera. “Yeah, it sure is.”
His mind snapped back to present when he glanced at his watch. “We’d better get a move on, Grams is expecting us for dinner. C’mon Marine.”
*~*
Medical Examiner Donald Mallard, carefully, gently pulled a sheet over the remains on his examining table. He always tried to preserve his female guests’ modesty. “Well my dear,” he said softly to her as he covered the lower half of her body. “You can finally rest; I’m so sorry we had to keep you here so long.”
Ducky was truly sorry for the delay. With everything that happened after Commander Rabb was exonerated and the real killer found, Dr. Mallard had hoped for a quick burial for Lieutenant Loren Singer, but that was before the attack on JAG Corps Headquarters and Colonel Livingston’s bloody rampage.
Now the good Doctor was trying to make amends in his own unique way. He hated leaving someone like this for so long. He was writing up the final report on the autopsy of Loren Singer when he noticed the blank space on the report regarding the determination of the fetal remains – not that it was important to anyone outside this room, but Ducky was a stickler for details and he was sure Loren would want to know the details about her unborn child.
“Gerald? Confound it! That man is never around when I truly need him! Gerald!! Where the devil are you?!”
He was about to call Abby to see if he was with her when a nervous looking tall skinny lad with tousled hair and black horn rounded rimmed glasses stuck his head in door to Autopsy.
Ducky looked at the man for a moment. “Yes? Can I help you?” He said, trying not to sound too impatient though he really was aggravated with Gerald at the moment.
“I – I was looking for a Doctor…” he looked at the sheaf of papers in his hand. “A Doctor…um, Mallard?” The man’s tone indicated he wasn’t sure that was the correct name.
Ducky smiled gently at the lad. “I’m Doctor Mallard.”
“I’m James Palmer, uh, my friends call me Jimmy.” He sounded like he had practiced saying that in front of a mirror about a thousand times. Jimmy started to stick out his hand and then realized the sheaf of papers he was carrying was preventing him from doing that. “Oh, ah, uh, sorry, let me just--”
For a moment the two engaged in a half dance as Jimmy tried to find a place to set his papers. All the tables were full.
Ducky chuckled. He liked this lad. “It’s quite all right, Mr. uh, Palmer. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Well, I uh just graduated from pre-med, and I uh was wondering, I know that there aren’t any openings right now, but could you--”
Ducky held up his hand to stop Jimmy’s rambling recitation. “You’ll have to go to the employment section of the NCIS web page and put in an application,” Doctor Mallard said sternly.
Jimmy looked like he wanted to smack his head. “Oh right; I knew that--I’m uh, so sorry, Doctor Mallard…”
Ducky chuckled again. “It’s quite all right, m’boy; we’ve all been in your situation.”
Jimmy brightened at that revelation and seemed to relax. “Thank you, Doctor.”
Dr. Mallard moved closer to Jimmy Palmer and spoke in low tones. “And while I don’t have any openings at the moment, I might have an internship opening for the fall, that is, if you’re interested.”
“Oh, oh yes sir! Absolutely Doctor Mallard! Thank you!!”
Ducky gave Jimmy another gentle smile. “That’s quite all right, lad. Course, you’ll have to pass the security screenings….”
“That won’t be a problem, Doctor,” Jimmy assured him.
“Good, good…” Jimmy could see that Doctor Mallard was a very busy man – after all, he had seen the news accounts about the attack on JAG Corps Headquarters a few weeks ago – no doubt some of these bodies were from the attack.
He was about to excuse himself when a young African American wearing headphones walked into Autopsy.
“Ah, Gerald, there you are!” Ducky said with some relief in his voice.
Gerald looked puzzled. Had Doctor Mallard been looking for him? “Doctor, this just came back from the lab; those tests you wanted?” He handed the thin manila folder to the Head NCIS Medical Examiner.
“Ah yes. Thank you, Gerald; would you be so kind as to show Mr. Palmer out?”
Gerald took stock of the nervous looking man clutching the sheaf of papers. Job hunting. “Of course, Doctor; this way, please….”
“Oh right; uh, thank you again, Doctor Mallard.” Jimmy said as Gerald led him out.
Ducky though was already absorbed in the report Gerald had given him. “You’re welcome, Mr. Palmer,” he said distractedly as he continued reading the report. Then Ducky’s eyes hit something quite unexpected. “Oh my,” he said in a quiet surprised voice.
*~*
Harm pulled the Lexus SUV into the asphalt driveway toward the old white colonial two-story home.
His mind pulled him back to a time when he made this drive while he was recovering from his ramp strike. Grams didn’t judge him or question him about his visit when he arrived. She just welcomed him and told him he had to stay, at least for dinner if nothing else.
~*~*~*~
He had stayed there for about two weeks. He wasn’t supposed to report back to Norfolk for another month and the therapist had told him a visit to see family that was close by would be a good thing.
Grams had kept the conversation light and pleasant as they caught up on family news. Towards the last day of the visit, he had surveyed the pictures on her hallway wall of his grandfather with his squadron and a shot of him in his Wildcat, that famous Rabb smile looking back at him. His eyes moved to his father standing by his Phantom jet, his mother standing proudly by him holding a very young Harmon Rabb, junior.
‘He always loved flying Harmon,’ she said quietly as she stood behind him, knowing that he was looking at his grandfather, Harm had never met him. ‘Just as your father did.’
‘Yeah,’ he remembered saying, ‘But my flying days are over Grams, I’m out of the aviator business for good.’ At that time he really thought his flying days were over and he really wasn’t sure what he was going to do next.
‘Don’t be too sure of yourself, Harmon Rabb, junior,’ she had softly admonished. ‘When the time is right, you’ll climb back into that cockpit.’
~*~*~*~*~
He stopped near the entrance to the house. Mac could tell Harm was deep in thought.
She gently laid her hand on his shoulder. “Harm, we’re here,” she said softly. “Are you okay?” Concern was etched into her pretty features.
He gave her a quick smile. “Sure Mac,” he turned to see his grandmother come out of the house through the sliding glass door. She was a little frailer than she had looked last time he saw her, but she was all smiles and still full of energy as she walked toward them.
Both got out of the Lexus as she got closer.
She hurried over and gave him a big hug. “Harmon, its so good to see you again,” She pulled back and looked at the pretty woman standing quietly by the other side of the SUV.
“You must be Mac,” she said warmly as she walked around the front of the SUV headed for the Light Colonel.
“Yes Ma’am, pleased to meet you,” Mac said formally, sticking out her hand.
“Oh stuff and nonsense,” Grams said pulling Mac into an embrace. Mac gave Harm a surprised look as she slowly returned the older woman’s hug.
Grams pulled away at and looked at this pretty younger woman with the same first name as hers. “Now you call me Grams or Grandma Sarah, none of this formal military politeness, young lady.”
Mac smiled and began to relax. “Yes Ma’am—I mean, yes Grams.” Mac gave a small nervous laugh at her miscue.
“That’s better hon,” She looked sharply at Harm. “Well, are you going to stand there all day letting the flies gather on you? Get your stuff out of the car and bring it inside Harmon.”
Harm grinned. “Aye, aye Ma’am.” He went around to the back of Lexus and opened the back hatch.
She gave Mac a quick disapproving stare. “You military types are all alike, aren’t you?”
“It’s part of our training…Grams” Mac said feeling embarrassed for some reason. It was funny how parents and grandparents can do that to younger people.
“Well now hear this, missy. As long as you two are on my farm, there will be no military rules and regs, I’m just plain Pennsylvania farm folk and Harmon’s grandmother. You can be polite if you like, but no salutin’ or any fancy stuff like that. You’re liable to make my cows nervous, and I can’t afford that.”
---TBC...
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