| Subject: ...For Meritorious Service, Chapter 23c, part 3, section 1 |
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TxJAG_b
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Date Posted: 13:45:01 08/22/07 Wed
In reply to:
TxJAG_b
's message, "...For Meritorious Service" on 09:04:26 05/08/07 Tue
…For Meritorious Service, Chapter 23c, part three - one
A/N1: Disclaimers and other vital information can be found in story archive for …FMS which can be found at Ashley the Marine Advocate's website:
http://jagnavy-marineadvocate.net
and is being posted on JAG Haven on Voy.
A/N2: **~~** indicates flashback or dream sequence ( ) indicates the thoughts of a person. *~* indicates a scene shift not otherwise indicated by a JAG time stamp.
A/N3: Let's see I posted a long chapter in June so RL beat the heck out of me for July and part of August, so I guess we're even now. Thanks to Mary Ann for 'guest-beta' this time around. And a big thanks to Janlaw and Karen for their past betaing - okay, on with the story....
1850 Zulu
36th MEU Officers Club
Camp Chesty Puller
Near Mirbullah, Iraq
*
Monday, 14 July 2003
Mac momentarily paused as if considering her options. She had to make this look good.
The ‘soused’ Marine attorney swung around a little unsteadily and made a grand sweeping gesture with her free hand. “Yep, sure, why not? Tit’s free cuntry, well mosly free annywhay,” she said in an overly jolly manner to build up her bad joke, “Grab ya a seat, Colonel.”
Colonel Livingston gave her a grin that Mac thought the woman reserved for pets that amused her. “Thanks Cher , don’t mind if I do.” Darcy settled down gracefully next to her.
“Boilermaker.” She told the Sergeant.
The Sergeant put her drink on the bar next to Mac’s.
Darcy turned to Mac, “To opportune moments,” The Force Recon officer said raising her glass. Mac raised hers and they clinked glasses.
“Yep, wa’tever ya sed,” Mac garbled through a burp.
That elicited another paternal smile from Colonel Livingston. She took a short pull on her drink then gave Marine JAG a serious look.
“I’ve read your package Colonel. Interesting reading.”
‘Interesting reading’ the euphemistic phrase she had often heard officers use when reporting what they had found in her partner’s file.
She snorted and shook her head for effect, indicating she was not flattered by the Colonel’s kind revelation.
(Yeah,) she thought, (Harm and I are alike in so many ways….)
“If I recall correctly, you came into military service during your undergrad work in political science at the University of Minnesota ….”
(So the game begins,) thought Mac as her senses went on high alert.
Mac gave her a sly grin and wink. “Yup, naval rotcee…land of ten ‘housand lakes…and lake s‘perior.”
Darcy’s face took on a cold clinical look. “Taking that option is pretty impressive for a girl coming from a broken home and engaging in petty theft crime spree before she was nineteen.”
Mac nursed what was left of her drink. “Th’ Marines didn’ judge me based ohn my past.” she bit off somewhat sullenly. It was supposed to be part of the act, but her defensiveness about her past was real.
“Of course Hon,” Darcy said soothingly “I know that. You did very well. I mean, you went from Platoon Leaders’ Class to OCS during your summers in undergraduate school. Very impressive indeed.”
The Marine light Colonel tried not to let Darcy Livingston’s patronizing tone get to her. “Damn straight.”
“And you’re such a good lawyer, Cher. So why didn’t you go into law right away?”
“My uncle…wanted ta follow in ‘is footsteps….”
That was true; Mac, given a second chance at life through the actions of her uncle, had wanted to emulate the person she considered her mentor. So she went into logistics and ended up in Okinawa working on Lieutenant Colonel Farrow’s logistical staff. They supervised and coordinated supplies headed to Saudi Arabia for Operation Desert Shield and later, Operation Desert Storm.
“That’s very admirable indeed, hon,” Despite the patronizing tone being used, Mac felt like she trying to be nice…maybe this was just the way she talked to everyone….
“But it was your interest in forensic science and criminal pathology that lead Colonel Farrow to see you couldn’t be in logistics for the rest of your life….”
“Yeh, probbly so….” Mac was unsure where this conversation was going. Would Colonel Livingston bring up her affair with Colonel Farrow? And what about the subsequent investigation that she skirted because she was on her way stateside by the time it began? The Marine JAG braced for this next set of accusations.
“He admired your courage and determination. At great personal risk, he sponsored you going to law school. And your grades at Duke were impressive, in spite or maybe because of, what your major professor thought about you…”
Mac smiled at the memory of her major professor and nemesis, Juanita Ressler, who had once told her she would make a better lap dancer than lawyer.
“Yep, ‘show’d her.” The light Colonel said with grim humor.
“So you get through Duke, and things begin to heat up in the Balkans. After Naval Justice School, they send you into Bosnia to help with war crime investigations. Your personal interest in paleontology gave you good tracking and forensic skills -- just what they needed—and you were a lawyer to boot. That’s quite a package.”
Mac realized she needed to be careful. This is what was so dangerous about Darcy; she buttered people up before ‘skewering’ them with their personal secrets. Secrets that would force them into working for her.
“Dat wuz awhile back,” Mac said dismissively trying to regain the upper hand.
“Oh but Colonel, you underestimate yourself. Your mastery of hurdles and high jumping from your high school days combined with a natural affinity to learn languages made you very valuable to the Corps. DIA Intelligence attached you to 2nd of the 9th’s Force Recon….”
Colonel MacKenzie tried to remain nonplussed. “That was a long time ago,” she said momentarily losing her slur. Mac hurriedly took another swallow from her drink, not looking at the woman.
If Darcy noticed, she didn’t indicate that she did. The Force Recon officer seemed to be intent on flattering her new ‘friend’. “But you did some good work, Cher . Especially when you brought down that Serbian war criminal, Paclov, in Tinova….”
Mac remembered impersonating a Serbian farmer’s wife and then a Muslim refugee in order to get closer to that despot. There were some close calls, but in the end, they got him. “I guess it wuzn’t dat har’d,” she said aloud on purpose while taking another drink from her glass.
“Exactly; you and Sergeant Clemons did some very valuable work….”
Mac had had it with Colonel’s gooey praise. “Look, Ah ‘preciate all th’ sunshine you’re blowin’ mah whay, but why don’ ya tell me th’ real reason you’re here….”
Darcy’s fake smile slid away replaced by a cold dispassionate look. “You are very perceptive woman, Sarah.”
The Marine JAG gave her a drunken wink. “Ah, jush like ta git ta th’ point.”
Darcy nodded her head sagely, almost as if she was glad this part of the charade was over with. “Okay Sarah, I’ll level with you. We need help, specifically, we need *your* help.”
Mac put down her drink and gave a happy drunk’s smile. “Oh okey dokie. Whut’s th’ probelum?”
“Look Colonel, I’ll level with you, we need help knocking out Al Sahood’s terror cell.”
“Oh-khay, yu’ve got muh ‘tention…” She took another sip from her drink.
“You help us take out al-Sahood and I’ll make sure you get your Eagles.”
Mac who had been smirking at her ‘honey and milk talk’ stopped mid-swallow and looked at her. She slowly put her glass back down on the bar, her eyes wide in disbelief.
“Yu’re…ah, you promisin’ me a promotion!?”
Darcy’s eyes were glittering. She focused her attention completely on Mac like a snake trying to put a mouse into a trance. “There’s a war on, Mac. The Marines need smart soldiers who can lead with your kind of skills. You’ll be able to write your own ticket, Cher .”
Mac drained her glass and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked over at Livingston who was now smiling broadly at her.
“What’dya say MacKenzie, do we have a deal?”
Mac took her proffered hand. “Deal.” They shook on it.
Harm was outside the building with his tiny listening device. He had caught it all on tape. To the others it looked like he was talking on a cell phone headset – in reality, he was capturing Colonel Livingston making the offer. (Way to go Devil Dog….)
2119 Zulu
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
AJ still wasn’t comfortable with the vinegar odor of the newly installed drywall nor the mind numbing and cloying starkness of fresh paint that seemed to permeate every corner of JAG Ops.
He was trying to get himself back into the routine of doing the day to day work. Signing off on accident investigations, assigning JAGMan teams, approving docket changes, and so forth, but his mind couldn’t erase the horrifying images of just a few days ago.
Truth be told, the former SEAL was also worried about Rabb’s team. This Colonel Livingston was an unknown, in terms of a threat. AJ Chegwidden did not like unknowns. But he had a remedy for that.
The Admiral had turned in his overstuffed chair to look out his window for a moment when his intercom buzzed.
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“Sir, Gunny Galindez is here.”
“Send him in, Lieutenant.”
“Aye sir.”
The door opened and Gunny strode in, closing the door behind him. He came to attention in front of the admiral’s desk. AJ was still looking out the window. In his mind’s eye, the Admiral could still see the burning cars in the parking lot….
“Sir?”
The Admiral, still wearing his reading glasses, turned and gave JAG’s former administrative supervisor a fatherly smile and motioned to one of the chairs arranged around the desk.
“Have a seat, Gunny.”
Victor Galindez was not used to the Admiral acting this way. Usually the man was all business. The only other time he had been so friendly with the senior NCO was when he had requested a change in designator back in 2001 so he could join a combat unit.
The two men sat quietly for a moment. AJ picked up a padded envelope. “I wanted to thank you again for your help, Gunny.”
Victor was still haunted by what he thought had been sloppy performance during the attack. He kept turning his actions over and over in his mind. Examining and re-examining all the options. If he had only been a little faster, more observant…something.
The former sheriff’s deputy looked down at his hands. “Sir, I did the best that I could, but it wasn’t good enough to--”
AJ cut off the man’s self-recriminations. “Victor, you helped defend my command. I couldn’t have asked for more. You saved countless lives that day.”
“But not everyone Sir,”
The Admiral nodded silently. He knew what the Gunnery Sergeant meant. He didn’t want to be Superman. He had just wanted to save his friends from injury and death. It’s the wish of every survivor. It was also an emotion AJ knew well.
“No you didn’t, but you did a hell of job, Gunny.”
AJ got up from his chair and still holding onto the envelope, sat down in the chair next to the Gunnery Sergeant.
He sighed as he took off his glasses and laid them on top of it. “Son, you did all you could and more. We both knew this was bound to happen. We’ve been in combat.”
Victor grimaced. He knew what the Navy/Marine JAG was telling him was true. It didn’t make him like it any better. Nor did it make the pain go away. “I know, Sir, but, no disrespect meant Admiral…things like this are not supposed to happen here. These people…for the most part…are non-combatants…lawyers, legal clerks, paralegals….”
“I know Gunny. We weren’t ready. And I blame myself for that.”
“Admiral, you can’t--”
The hell I can’t, Gunnery Sergeant.” AJ said, sharply cutting off Victor’s explanation even before he had a chance to start it. The former SEAL shook his head.
“It’s my command and ultimately any failures in that command are *my responsibility*.” He gave the Gunnery Sergeant a wry look and uncharacteristically worried chuckle. “Hell, I expect the SecNav and CNO to roast me over an open spit soon.”
Victor Galindez could not believe they would do this Admiral Chegwidden. “You can’t let them do that to you, Sir,” he said forcefully.
AJ gave a soft snort of disgust. “What happens to me isn’t *my decision*, Gunny.” Then his mood turned thoughtful again. “But I do need a favor from you, if I may.”
He would do just about anything for the Naval/Marine Judge Advocate General. “Just name it, Sir.”
“Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie are involved in an undercover operation in Colonel Livingston’s Force Recon unit. They’ve got NCIS Special Agent Gibbs’ Major Case Response Team as backup, but I want a cleanup batter out there as well. To even the odds.”
Gunny nodded. “I understand, Admiral.” He was itching for revenge, but Victor wouldn’t go in half-crazed, swinging blindly. No, Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez was slow and methodical in his process to find the enemy. And when he did strike, he wanted to them to be sure they knew who was hitting them.
“I have two weeks’ leave on the books with my, um, current employer, Admiral. I can leave from Andrews on the next flight to Baghdad.”
AJ nodded grimly. “Good. I was hoping you would say that,”
He handed the man the sealed padded envelope. “Here’s your orders. I recommended your, uh, ‘reassignment’ to 2nd Force Recon with your ‘current employer’s’ blessing. Colonel Livingston’s company Gunnery Sergeant went missing last week, so they asked for a replacement.”
Victor gave the Admiral a sardonic smirk as he took the envelope. “I’ll do my best to live down to her standards, Sir.”
AJ tried to stifle it, but a harsh chuckle escaped from his lips. “I knew you would, Gunny. Colonel MacKenzie has been made acting legal liaison for Colonel Livingston’s unit. Rabb’s been assigned to MEU’s SJAG team as an advisor for the upcoming military operations to be undertaken by the Force Recon unit.”
“What about Commander Turner and Lieutenant Roberts, sir?”
AJ stood up and Gunny followed suit. “They are working with Special Agent Gibbs’ team.”
“I’ll give them a wide birth and stick to Colonel MacKenzie like glue, Admiral.”
“That’s the plan, Gunny,” he stuck out his hand “Good luck, son.”
They shared a warm handshake. “Thank you, sir.”
1816 Local
NCIS Morgue
Washington Navy Yard
Anacostia, Maryland
Medical Examiner Teresa Coulter held up her ID so that guard at the Naval Yard Guardhouse could see it clearly. As the man examined her ID, a team of combat engineers were finishing their inspection of the ambulance she was in. As they finished, they gave the guard a thumbs-up sign.
The guard, a very young Corporal in full combat gear, nodded. “Okay, Commander, the morgue is over that way,” He motioned with his head while keeping his rifle within easy reach.
“You can drive down into the underground garage and deliver your package to Dr. Mallard there, ma’am.”
Thank you, Corporal,” Teresa said as she took her ID back. She turned to her orderly/driver. “Let’s go.”
The ambulance truck slowly pulled away from guardhouse and headed toward the underground garage entrance.
As they pulled up the morgue entrance they were met by two men in surgical scrubs. One younger African-American and the other, an older man wearing steel rimmed glasses.
A team of orderlies opened the back door of the soft top HMMWV ambulance and pulled out the shroud covered gurney. Teresa got out of her side of the truck and made her way back to towards the team and who she thought were two supervising medical examiners.
The older man lifted his head as she came closer. “Ah my dear, you must be Commander Coulter. Gibbs told me to expect you.” He held out his hand.
“And you must be Doctor Mallard,” Teresa said smiling pleasantly as she lifted hers to shake his hand.
Doctor Donald Mallard smiled gallantly. “Ducky, please, my dear.” He took gentle hold of her hand and gave it a kiss. “Delighted to meet you.”
Teresa caught her surprised laugh before it could escape. She was stunned and flattered by his manners. “All right…Ducky it is.”
Gerald fought hard not to roll his eyes. This seemed to happen every time Dr. Mallard met a pretty woman. He plugged in his MP3 and inserted the ear pieces. The music would keep him from hearing the playful banter he had heard many times before. He motioned to the orderlies to push the gurney into autopsy.
As Ducky and Teresa entered the room, the orderlies had placed Paul Colwell’s naked body on the autopsy table and left the room.
Dr. Mallard walked over to Colwell and began examining his face. “Did we get to him in time, Commander?” he said as his continued his preliminary examination.
“We almost didn’t,” Teresa said, quickly picking up on his train of thought. “The graves registration folks started to put up a fight until I showed them my orders.”
“Don’t judge them too harshly, my dear, they were just doing their job,” he looked down and gave the dead man a gentle smile. “Isn’t that right, Sergeant?”
Teresa had heard that Doctor Mallard talked with his ‘patients’ as he called them. Though maybe a tad eccentric, he was the best forensic medical specialist employed currently by the military, so this ‘trait’ was overlooked.
He looked up at the forensic pathologist. You know, Commander, the Marines have a very special routine they go through for anyone killed in combat. Very elaborate.”
Teresa nodded. “I know, I served a tour in Afghanistan last spring.”
Donald Mallard looked up her and gave her a friendly, understanding smile. “I see. Well, let’s not keep the good Sergeant waiting. Shall we get started?”
As Ducky started to select a scalpel to make the initial incision, Abby Sciuto walked into the morgue.
Teresa raised her head and took in the site of the Goth girl wearing a lab coat that was entering the room. “Doctor Mallard, I think one of your technicians needs you…”
Donald ‘Ducky’ Mallard, M.E. raised his head squinted, his face showing his confusion and momentary irritation at being interrupted before he saw who it was.
“What? Ah Abigail, good to see you. Have you met our guest this evening?”
Abby was all smiles. “Hey Ducky, You mean the guy on the table?” Then she stopped when she saw the woman in Navy Commander’s summer uniform. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you--”
Ducky chuckled and shook his head. “Ah, where are my manners this evening? Abby, this is Commander Teresa Coulter; she’s a Forensic Pathologist for the Navy.”
Abby stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet ya Commander,” Before Teresa could say anything or shake her hand, Abby looked down at the body on the table with a devilish smile. “Ooo Ducky! Are you going to be working on this guy?”
Ducky smiled at the Goth girl’s bluntness. “If by working, you mean doing an autopsy, then yes Abby, we are.”
Abby put hand together like a begging youngster. “Can I help…pleeease Ducky? I promise, I’ll do everything you say….”
Ducky raised his hands in supplication. “All right, Abby, all right. You can help--”
The head NCIS lab technician did something very close to victory jig, before she grabbed Ducky in a bear hug. Teresa was a little taken aback by the Goth girl’s overt display of affection and enthusiasm. “Yay! Thanks Ducky!!” She grabbed a scalpel off the table and took a deep breath while closing her eyes.
When she opened them her voice was very business-like and serious. “All right, what do I do first?”
0505 Local
Camp Chest Puller
Batchelor/Visitor Officer Quarters
Harm made a beeline straight for the shower stall. Despite the fact that he and Mac had consummated their relationship a few days ago, thoughts of her were eating him alive. One would think the sexual tension and anticipation would lessen some now that they had become more familiar with each other. But that was not the case, in fact; if possible, the tension was now even worse.
And those feelings were only aggravated by the fact that they had to stay apart. Mac was now playing the part of fallen woman who had been lured to the dark side. It wouldn’t make sense for Harm to come around after their infamous ‘blowup’ in the bar.
But he longed to feel her body against his, touch her supple skin, listen to the rhythm of her breathing…damn! He had to stop thinking like this or he was going to drive himself nuts!
Harm strode into the shower stall and turned the water on full blast. It was an icy cold blast at first that slowly turned tepid. The Commander knew he didn’t have long before they would cut the water off whether he had washed off the soap or not, so he had to hurry. His mind, though, was still focused on that sexy Marine partner of his. Dammit, why couldn’t he get her off his mind?!
About that time, his brain told him something was odd about the way his clothes felt—his clothes! Harm looked down and sure enough, he was standing in his desert fatigues and boots, in the shower, tepid water cascading off him.
(Hammer, you’re an idiot…) he grumbled to himself.
He was about to finish rinsing the rest of the soap off when he felt a presence. He turned and saw Mac staring goggle eyed at him. The shock of seeing her standing there sent him skidding into the shower wall.
“Geez Mac," Harm almost yelped as he caught his breath, “don’t you even knock before checking in on me?”
Mac gave him her best saucy smile. It was still early and probably very few of Darcy’s ‘eyes’ were out at this hour. So she decided to take advantage of that fact and try to find the Commander. She did.
“I did knock, Sailor, but you must’ve been off somewhere in the ozone. Speaking of which, Harm, do you always take showers fully clothed?”
She looked him up and down, six foot plus of wet Commander wasn’t a bad way to start the day, though the clothes did make him look more comical than sexy.
Harm was in full damage control mode. “Uh, it was…I was hot, and, I was, um, trying to cool off.”
Mac’s smile grew wider. “And I guess the soap was supposed to help with the, uh, cooling off?” she said playfully.
Harm knew she was playing with him, but he stuck to his story. “Absolutely, soap helps because--"
“Harmon Rabb, that is the weakest defense I have ever heard,” she giggled at his straitlaced-ness. He could be so cute at times.
“That soap is sometimes hard to get off of clothes, Harm, maybe I ought to join you and help get it off ….” she started unbuttoning her blouse and moving into the shower. She loved teasing him like this.
Harm backed further into the stall. “No, Mac, no…I’m just a little overheated, that’s all….”
An uncomfortable silence fell between them.
He sensed he had hurt her feelings. “Uh, Mac….”
Mac’s eyes were riveted on the floor. “No Harm, you’re right,” she sighed, “this probably wouldn’t make things better….”
He wasn’t going to stand for another one of their ‘wrong time, wrong place’ scenes. Not after everything they had been through.
“C’mere Marine,” he said huskily as he snagged her arm and pulled her into the still running shower.
“Harm! What?! No! Umf-”
Mac’s protests were squelched by a passionate kiss, an open-mouthed kiss as he embraced her. Mac whimpered as she grabbed at him and returned the kiss. Then they pulled away and stared hungrily at one another.
“Uh, would this be awkward moment number 398?” Harm managed to quip as he wiped the water off his slicked down hair.
“Um yeah,” Mac said biting her lower lip. Then she smiled shyly, "I guess I’d better let you finish taking your cold shower, because now I need one.”
She managed to rub her water soaked clothed body on him as she got out of the shower and headed down the hall to the female shower area.
Harm turned around and thunked his head on the shower wall. It was going to be a long day.
2159 Local
Dominion Hospital
Near Fairfax, Virginia
Even though the lights were off in her room, Marla was having little luck trying to sleep. Her cast was itching again and she had to fight the urge to dig fingernails under the plaster cast and scratch.
Although it would probably feel good temporarily, she might injure her leg which would necessitate an even longer stay. And Admiral Chegwidden would probably not appreciate that.
“Well, there’s always counting sheep….” she said wryly to herself.
As Sergeant Givers turned over on her left side, she noticed the door opening.
Carly Clemons quietly stepped inside the darkened room and closed the door. She stood there for a moment, silently observing the quiet form of the Sergeant. Then she turned to leave.
“Major?” Carly stiffened for an instant, like a robber caught in the act. She slowly turned around.
The voice was low and thick. “I thought you were asleep, Sergeant.” She cleared her throat. Marla strained to see her eyes, but could not tell in this gloom whether she had been crying. Maybe she just had a frog in her throat.
“Not tonight, ma’am.” She said quietly. “My leg’s been bothering me….”
Carly came closer to the bed. “What’s the problem, Givers? Should I call a nurse?”
Marla noted though she really couldn’t see her face, she could clearly hear the concern in her voice.
No ma’am, it’s nothing like that,” the Sergeant said hurriedly, not wanting to appear weak in front of an officer. “My leg just itches a little.” The moment she let that slip out, she regretted it. She waited for the inevitable reproach.
“A little….” Carly repeated skeptically.
“Okay, a lot….” Marla admitted. She was surprised that the Major really did seem concerned about her welfare. Why did she?
“Where’s your comb?” The Major asked.
“Right here in my night stand.” Carly opened the drawer and after a few moments produced her comb.
“Okay Sergeant, you have to hold absolutely still while I do this. I don’t want you injured any worse than you already are, read me?” Her words sounded gruff, but her tone was like that of a concerned mother.
“Aye, aye ma’am.”
Carly slid the comb into the area between the top of her foot and her cast. She began to briskly rub it back and forth inside the cast.
“How does that feel?” The Major asked cautiously.
Feeling that infernal itching replaced by the brisk rubbing motion was heaven. Marla sighed audibly. “Thank you ma’am, it feels wonderful.”
“I knew I would. I had the same kind of cast when I broke my leg in two places during Operation Desert Storm.” She looked intently at the Sergeant. “Would you like me to do the underside of your foot?” Carly asked gently.
“Yes ma’am, please, if you would, I’d be grateful.”
Sergeant Givers saw Carly smile a happy smile for the first time that she could remember. The Major quickly pulled the comb out and inserted it between the sole of her foot and the cast and began briskly rubbing again, earning another satisfied sigh from Marla Givers.
“Thank you ma’am.” Marla said earnestly.
Carly Clemons smiled again as she put the comb back in the drawer. “Don’t let the nurses know I did this, they’ll have a hissy fit.”
“Yes ma’am,” replied Marla gratefully as she repressed a snicker. It was like two girlfriends sharing a secret. She watched as the Major turned to leave. “Uh, Major?”
Carly turned back to face her. “Yes Sergeant?”
“Why did you come, I mean, tonight? Not meaning any disrespect ma’am , I’m grateful for you taking care of my itching, but I thought you didn’t think much of me.”
Carly Clemons stood quietly for a few moments. In silhouette, she looked like the perfect Marine officer in her uniform and service cap, but Marla heard the tear filled gasp that escaped from her.
“Sergeant,” Carly said, her voice husky with emotion again like it had been when she first came in the room. “Don’t ever let anyone make you think I don’t care about the people under my command.”
Marla just laid there silently looking at her.
Carly’s shoulders hunched and the Sergeant could tell she was crying as well.
“When you were shot and fell down those stairs…all I could think was it was my fault. I should have been out front, not you. It was my own fear that kept me from leading from the front. Instead, like the coward I was, I let you take the point when I knew better. I knew that terrorist was in there. I’ve been in operations like this before and I let my fear get the better of me and in doing so, I almost got you killed.”
“But you didn’t ma’am.” said Marla reaching up her hand to Carly’s face. It was wet with tears. Sergeant Givers was shocked that Major Clemons was so concerned about her and remorseful?
“Ma’am, I’m a United States Marine. I didn’t question you then and I don’t blame you now. You told me to take point and I did. I got shot because of my own carelessness. Ma’am, if it hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead right now.”
“Don’t try and sugarcoat it Givers,” she said huskily her voice thick with tears. “I screwed up and almost got you killed. But I can make up for that.” She unpinned her rank pins from her uniform and laid them on the table beside the stunned Sergeant.
“I’m unfit to wear these gold oak leaves.”
Before Marla could say anything else, Carly slipped out the door and was gone.
End part one, part two to post next week
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