~~~Stormy
Seas and
Walking down the
stairs, the echo of Mac’s shoes on the steps thundered in her head,
intensifying the dull ache already there.
She welcomed the coolness of the railing as she grasped it with her
right hand to steady her descent. Unable
to see Harm’s expression as he walked behind her, Mac wondered what was going
through his mind at the moment. So much
had come out during the session today—the night in
Since they had left
the second floor hallway Mac hadn’t said a word, just an occasional sigh. It had been a long time since Harm had seen
her in such an emotional state and it tore at him to know she was hurting and
he didn’t know where to begin to make it better. Instead of pushing her to talk
about it, he continued to walk with her out of Maddie’s building, keeping a
protective step behind. The early
evening darkness was already illuminated by the glow from the streetlights,
causing their shadows to mingle with one another as they crossed the street to
her car.
Ever since they had
left Maddie’s office, he had been entertaining the idea of driving her
home. But he knew he would be given the
“I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself” speech that he’d heard so many
times before. And of course leaving her
Corvette behind would have never been an option for her.
As they approached
her car, Mac already had her keys out.
He waited while she opened the door and slid behind the wheel. Harm then stooped down by the open door to
peer in.
“I’m parked up the
street a bit—give me a minute and I’ll be right behind you. Okay?”
He was a little concerned that she might change her mind about having
him follow her home. But seeing how
drained she looked he knew she wouldn’t give him a fight.
Deciding to broach
his idea with her after all, Harm said, “Look, Mac, you’re tired. I think it would be best if I drove you
home.”
“You’re kidding,
right? Leave my car here?” she said almost incredulously. “I’m alright to drive home—really.” Seeing the serious look on his face Mac knew
he wasn’t kidding. He was right, she was
incredibly tired and she truly wasn’t looking forward to driving either. Even thought it was only about a twenty
minute ride, when you’re exhausted, twenty minutes could feel like forty.
Contemplating his
suggestion, she asked, “What about my car?” His idea had better include a
contingency plan for my Corvette, she thought.
“I’ll drive you
home in it. When we get to your place,
I’ll call Sturgis for a ride back to get my car,” Harm explained, silently
hoping that Sturgis was home so he could retrieve his own car when all was said
and done.
Too worn-out to
argue with him, Mac nodded and said, “Okay” in a weary voice. The session today had taken the life right
out of her. Maddie had warned her that
she would feel exhausted and she did, but her whole body ached as well. Her only concern at the moment was getting
home and going to bed—no matter how that was accomplished.
She climbed out of
the car and walked around to the passenger side, opened the door and slid in.
Harm shut the car door for her and watched her buckle up before returning to
the driver’s side and getting behind the wheel.
Glancing briefly in her direction to make sure she was okay, he then
started the car and pulled away from the curb, beginning the journey to her
apartment.
Harm thought about
finding something soothing on the radio, but wondered if it would be too much
for her at the moment. Out of the corner
of his eye, he saw Mac rub her temples—a gesture he’d seen dozens of times
before—usually accompanying a headache.
So he decided to let silence envelop the vehicle instead.
Mac knew he meant
well by driving her home, but she also hoped that he wouldn’t want to talk
about today’s session either. Frankly,
she had had enough. Right now her head
was throbbing, but her emotional collapse was the icing on the cake, as far as
she was concerned. For a split second,
she berated herself for falling apart like that in his presence. In the same instance, she was grateful he was
there to catch her. Had this happened
when she was 19, it would have resulted in a drinking binge.
Mentally she ticked
off the years and months since her last drink—Dalton Lowne’s death—4 years 8
months—an accomplishment to say the least.
It certainly wasn’t one of her finest moments, she recalled. Harm had tried to reach out to her and she
had reacted by pointing out his faults when she was clearly the one with the
issues. Now this, she thought. She
briefly glanced in his direction, wondering where all these issues would take them this time. Harm looked in her direction, a concerned
expression filling his face. Mac
whispered “thanks,” allowing her lips to form a small smile. Harm returned the smile, saying “Anytime.”
****
1855 hours
Before long, they
were pulling up in front of Mac’s apartment.
Harm parked the ‘vette and exited it before Mac had even unbuckled her
seatbelt. He opened the door for her,
watching as she retrieved her purse from between the two seats and got
out. There was so much he wanted to say,
but he couldn’t. Rehashing everything
that transpired today would do more harm than good. So, he stood there, trying to gauge her emotions
before saying goodnight.
Mac was incredibly
relieved to be home. Harm was in over-protective mode at the moment—and
although she was grateful—she truly wanted to be alone. They stood there facing
each other, neither knowing what to say at the moment. Mac shivered slightly as the cold autumn wind
swirled around her. Craving the warmth
of her apartment she started walking toward the door to the building, and
noticed that Harm wasn’t following her.
She turned to see him still standing by the car, pulling his phone out
to call Sturgis.
“Harm, don’t
bother,” she called to him, “You can use the phone in my apartment.”
He hesitated, “I
don’t want to intrude, I just thought you’d want some time alone.”
“I do. But, I’m not going to let you freeze to death
either,” Mac said, “Besides, it’s the least I can do—you did drive me
home.” Standing just inside the open
door, she motioned for him to follow her in.
Moments later, they
were in the hall outside Mac’s apartment.
Unlocking the door, Mac made her way into the room, turning on the light
as Harm followed her. Once he was
inside, he shut the door behind him. She
tossed her purse on the table and removed her jacket, laying it over the back
of one of the chairs. The first item on
her agenda was the aspirin. She headed
into the bathroom and quickly gulped the pills and some water. Returning to the living room, Mac was too
tired to do anything else at the moment, so she collapsed onto the sofa with a
sigh, kicking off her shoes.
Harm took off his
jacket and laid it on top of hers. Not
wanting to overstay his welcome, he walked over to her phone and dialed
Sturgis’ number. After about two rings,
he picked up.
“Hello?”
“Sturgis, its
Harm. Are you busy?”
“Not at the
moment. What’s up?”
“I need a favor. Could you pick me up at Mac’s?”
“Sure. Something happen to your Lexus?” he asked
hesitantly, curious as to why his friend needed a lift—especially from Mac’s.
“No, I just need a
ride,” Harm said, looking in the direction of the sofa and Mac, not really
wanting get into things right now with Sturgis.
He had wanted to keep the information to a minimum, for both their
sakes.
“Give me 25
minutes—okay?” Sturgis replied.
“That’s great. Thanks, buddy, I appreciate it,” Harm said,
hanging up the phone, relieved that Sturgis didn’t cross-examine him at the
moment.
He turned around to
see Mac still sitting on the sofa, head against the back with her eyes
closed. From this distance he couldn’t
tell if she was asleep or awake and just resting her eyes.
“Hey, you okay?” he
asked quietly.
“Um . . . fine,”
was the mumbled reply.
“Sturgis should be
here in 25 minutes.” He paused, and then
asked, “Do you want some tea or maybe something to eat?”
“Tea sounds good,”
she said, attempting to get up.
“Don’t get up—I
think I can find the water and the teabags,” Harm said as he walked into the
kitchen.
“Okay—thanks,” she
said resting her head on the back of the sofa and closing her eyes again. The tea was the only palatable thing she was
interested in at the moment. When her
earlier nausea had finally left her it also took her appetite with it. Now, exhaustion was clearly winning this
battle.
In the kitchen,
Harm set the kettle on the stove to boil while he retrieved the tea bags from
the canister, occasionally peering out to make sure Mac was alright. By the time the kettle boiled and he had
steeped the tea bags, Mac was sound asleep on the sofa.
Walking into the
living room, he softly called her name.
When there wasn’t a response, he set the mugs down on the coffee table,
noticing she didn’t move even as the stoneware clanked together. Wavering between leaving her be and making
sure she was comfortable, he decided on the latter. Harm gently picked her up—careful not to
disturb the sleeping Marine—and carried her into the bedroom, gingerly placing
her on the bed. He covered her up with
the blanket that was folded at the bottom of the bed. She never even stirred
from her deep sleep.
“Good night,
Sarah,” Harm said softly as he brushed the hair out of her eyes. “I promise things will get better.”
Waiting a minute or
two to make sure she didn’t wake, he then left the bedroom. After returning the mugs to the kitchen, he retrieved
his jacket from the chair where he left it. Scanning the apartment one last
time, he turned out the lights and left—locking the door behind him.
****
When Sturgis drove
up, Harm was sitting on the step outside Mac’s apartment, patiently waiting in
the cold—his jacket tightly zipped and his hands in his pockets for warmth.
Sturgis watched as
Harm quickly strode to the car and got in.
“Thanks,
Sturgis. I appreciate it. Ah, and you have the heat on—great—I’m
freezing.”
“Not a problem,
Harm,” Sturgis said. Curiosity getting
the better of him, he decided to got for it and ask what the hell was going
on. Harm was rarely without his vehicle
so something must have happened.
“So, what’s going
on? What happened to your car? It wasn’t stolen, was it?” Sturgis asked,
pulling his car away from the curb.
Harm shot his
friend a confused look and then realized he hadn’t told Sturgis where to
retrieve his car from.
“It’s in Old Town
Alexandria—I left it there.”
“Why did you leave
it there—did it break down?”
“This isn’t going
to be 20 questions, is it Sturgis?
Because if it is, I’m walking.”
“Come on, Harm—I’m
just asking. So what gives?”
Harm sighed,
wondering what he should tell Sturgis—if anything—about why he needed a
ride. What was going on between him and
Mac was their business. Although, he was
quite sure there was scuttlebutt around the office as to what was going on—the
counseling—he didn’t want it coming from him.
Picking up on his
friend’s uneasiness, Sturgis decided to let it drop, saying, “Look, Harm,
whatever it is, I’m sure there’s good reason for it. Let’s leave it at that. Okay?”
“Yeah, it was a
good reason. Thanks for understanding,”
Harm said. He hoped that Mac was
okay—and that she wouldn’t be too pissed that he carried her into the bedroom. He’d have to get his defense in order for
that one.
During the drive to
Old Town Alexandria, the conversation was kept light. Sturgis kept Harm up to date on the cases as
well as Bud’s progress for the PEB, managing to monopolize the chit-chat for
the entire ride. Harm only heard half of
what he was saying. His mind was elsewhere, occupied by thoughts of Mac and
where all this uncertainty would lead.
Today was stressful
for both of them. Mac—because she had to
relive the horridness of her teenage years.
And Harm—because he had felt powerless to stop the avalanche of memories
that brought her crashing down.
With the lack of
traffic on the roads, the ride to Old Town Alexandria didn’t take very
long. Sturgis dropped Harm off without
another question. Seeing his car in the
exact space he left it, he thanked his friend for the ride and scurried in the
direction of his vehicle, eager for the solitude of his apartment.
****
Mac’s Apartment
2315 hours
Images were dancing
around her dizzily. Muffled voices, then
screaming shattering the silence. She
cowered in her bed; those voices were just behind the closed door. Shattering glass startled her; and then
crying—smothered by empty apologies, yet again. One vision blended into
another. Now it was the jarring of a
vehicle as it slammed into something—then the darkness of unconsciousness and
the feeling of loss. Suddenly it all faded into a body—cradled in her
arms—blood and death surrounding her on the pavement. The figures were now spinning—a man was
grabbing her and . . . a gun—a flash of brightness—the explosion from the
barrel piercing her eardrums. The thud
of a body falling, the bright red of his blood spilling onto the rug. The cold air of death was filling the room
and her lungs—trying to suffocate her.
The pictures
changed again. Now she was walking into
a room—a maze—full of doors and mirrors.
Voices were echoing off the cold glass—“Do you love him?”
“That’s not a question you get to ask.” Her voice, her words. She tried to find a way out of the room but
the mirrors trapped her, spinning her around in her subconscious.
Again a voice —this
time an accent—“I was sitting here
wondering who you'd go to first. I have
my answer.”
Then more
voices—familiar ones—“Come to me . . .
you know the reason.”
“Anyone who has ever been involved with Mac
is either dead or feels like they are.”
The nightmare
consumed Mac. Bed sheets were tangled
around her legs as she tossed and turned, trying to run from her past. She struggled with the sounds and images that
were drowning her, hovering perilously between sleep and wakefulness. She clung to the blanket for dear life,
attempting to keep herself from getting lost in the labyrinth of her past.
Suddenly the dream
demons released her from their grip and she was sitting up in bed—completely
drenched in sweat and confused. Her
heart was pounding almost uncontrollably in her chest, making her gasp for
air. She didn’t know where she was or
how she got there. As her body and her
mind slowly adjusted, she realized she was in her apartment, in her own bed, still
in the clothes she had worn earlier.
There was a vague recollection of Harm and something about tea, but
everything else was just a blur.
The apartment was
dark, except for a dim light streaming through the curtains from the lamppost
outside. She had no idea what time it
was—her mind was still so clouded.
Judging by the darkness outside, she figured it was late. Unsure if she was by herself, she called out,
“Harm?” quietly at first, then a little louder.
She was alone and suddenly panic was gripping her.
Quickly she turned
on the bedside light and reached for the phone, pushing numbers she hoped were
the right ones.
Picking up on the
first ring, the voice on the other end groggily said, “Rabb.”
“Harm. . .” Mac
said with a desperation filling her already shaky voice.
By now Harm was
wide awake at the frantic sound of her voice. “What’s wrong—you okay?” he said,
turning on the light and sitting straight up in bed.
“I had a horrible
dream. I couldn’t wake up and I . . .” she cried into the phone, clinging to
the receiver like a lifeboat, the soothing sound of his voice a beacon in the
darkness.
“Mac . . . relax .
. .” Harm was out of bed, pacing the floor as he spoke with her, the anguish in
her voice ripping his heart out. I knew
I should have never left her alone, he thought, chastising himself for leaving.
“I’m just . . . I’m
sorry . . . I’m sorry for all this,” she gasped for breath, struggling to
control her emotions. Her sobs were
choking her words. She pulled the
blanket back up over herself, shivering in the coolness of the room.
“Hey . . . you have
no reason to be sorry for anything,” he said emphatically, “Now—I want you to
take a deep breath—okay?”
“Okay,” Mac
replied, complying with Harm’s request.
She inhaled sharply then blew it out with a huff.
Hearing her do it,
he asked, “Feel any better?”
“No,” she said, a
slight chuckle mingling with her tears, “Am I supposed to?”
“That was the
general idea,” he countered with a smile in his voice.
She snickered at
his comment and then took another deep breath, calming herself now that she had
him on the phone, consoling her. Harm
could hear her breathing beginning to return to normal—she was no longer
sobbing or gasping for air as she was when he answered the phone. For this he was grateful.
Moving back to his
bed, he lay down again, cradling the phone against his ear. He silently wished he were there with her so
he could hold her and comfort her like he did in the hallway at Maddie’s. She felt so good in his arms—almost as if she
belonged there. So much wasted time had
passed—time that he regretted. But now
wasn’t the time for regrets. The
opportunity had come to make things right with their lives through the
counseling. And for as stressful as it had become, he could see a light at the
end of the tunnel.
Neither one knowing
what to say or do next, they allowed a comfortable silence to fall between
them. It had been a long time since one
went running to the other for a safe haven in a storm.
Mac . . . where are you going?
I don't know.
Come to me.
Why?
So we can talk.
We already talked.
Don't argue with me.
I need a better reason.
You know the reason . . . Mac?
I'm here.
I'm waiting.
Mac recalled that
night with sadness. Her life had fallen
apart and it seemed like it was the beginning of the end. Things had turned out
differently back then—for both of them. So much had happened since then
too—more so recently. But she had to
admit that despite the recent anguish, getting counseling for their problems was
appropriate. There were issues to
contend with, but it was a necessary evil to fix that umbrella of trust and
faith they had frequently sought refuge under.
Realizing there was
dead air over the phone, Mac quietly said, “Harm?”
“I’m still
here.” The calmness of her voice was
music to his ears. “You okay?”
“Uh huh,” she
replied, leaning back into the pillows on her bed.
“Do you want to
talk about it—about the dream?” he asked gently.
“Not really.” Well, I do, but I don’t want to, she thought.
“Okay.” Harm didn’t
want to push her. If she wanted to tell
him, she would. And he’d be there when she did.
Again, silence.
“What are you
thinking about?” Harm queried.
“Just wondering.”
“Wondering what?”
“Why we let it get
this far.”
Harm knew exactly
what she was talking about. It was that
question that had consumed his thoughts lately—why did they let the rift
between them grow into a chasm, nearly destroying their friendship? He wished he could turn back the clock and
take back every derisive word he had spoken in the court-room that day. He wanted their friendship back, yet he
wanted something more. He didn’t want to
have to imagine his life without her in it—not for one second.
“I don’t know,
Mac. I wish I had the answer to that,”
he replied, wanting to say so much more, but holding back—for now.
“Me too,” she said,
her voice almost inaudible.
Minutes had gone by
since Mac’s “me too”. Neither of them
had wanted to break the tranquility of their silence nor break their
connection. Content, they sat there,
joined together by a phone line, each taking comfort in hearing the other
breathing. Words were hardly enough to
convey what their hearts and souls felt at that moment.
Harm was the first
to fall asleep, the phone still gripped in his hand and against his head. His even breathing wafted into Mac’s ear—a
gentle lullaby crooning her into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.