Title: Starcrossed- The First Tango
Author: noelle
Summary: Sarah Mackenzie knew nothing but hurt, always strong and always determined
to be forever alone. Men couldn't be trusted, and no one, especially not a young jet jock
in the making by the name of Harmon Rabb Jr. was going to change that.
Feedback: Not necessary but always welcome and very much appreciated. Actually,
feedback is VERY, VERY * much * appreciated!:o)
Disclaimer: JAG and its characters belong to Paramount and CBS. No copyright
infringement intended, I'm simply borrowing these wonderful characters for the
amusement of fellow shippers everywhere.
A/N: I thought I should warn you ahead of time of the violence in this chapter …
specifically the child abuse that is present. It's something I'm familiar with and had a
hard time writing, but I thought it necessary for the development of the plot. I hope, I
sincerely do, that I haven't offended or hurt anyone in this attempt at fanfic. If so, please
do tell me and I'll immediately remove the story. I've always felt that entertainment of
any kind should amuse EVERYONE, not just a select few and definitely not at the
expense of an individual(s). So honest to goodness, if this is upsetting, don't hesitate at
all to tell me, I won't take it personally. Having said that, I do hope you enjoy the story,
it's a … weird one, but hey, what can you expect when I'm its creator! LOL Good
reading chums! Cheerio!
********************************************
1600HRS EST
Friday, October 14th, 1978
Yuma, Arizona
{Left, right, dribble, turn. Fade away and … shoot!}
"Oh no you don't" She heard as a hand popped up to deflect her shot. But it wasn't
meant to be, the hand had missed the ball entirely and hit her arm instead. Though she
recoiled from the contact the ball still went in.
Turning her back to the net and heading for the other end of the court the brunette threw
over her shoulder, "Guess that means I win … again."
"Mmhmm." Was all the response she got.
Fearing that perhaps she'd gloated too much she began to apologize. "Oh come on Dan.
I'm sorry, didn't mean to rub your nose in it. I was only kidding, you knew that …
right?"
"Ya, course. Don't worry Mac."
Daniel Ian Schnook's mind had been elsewhere the entire game, but his friends' reaction
to his attempt at fowling her shot and the slight quiver that was apparent in her voice
focused his wandering mind. Something was wrong with Sarah Mackenzie and he was
going to find out just what it was.
Having reached the bench that held their gear Mac began packing up. Though she'd
expected more of an answer from him she was satisfied, not one for too many words she
understood it when others were of the same mind.
Slipping her wristbands off and shoving them in to her knapsack she reached for her
jacket.
Watching her out of the corner of his eye he cleaned up too, and just as he was getting
ready to heave his backpack over his shoulders he saw it.
"Hey what's this?" Dan exclaimed while taking a hold of her hands, being careful to be
gentle yet keeping his grip firm.
At her refusal to answer he tugged a little. Still nothing.
"Mac please." He pleaded. Tears clouding his eyes at the angry red marks around her
wrists and the bruises he could see creeping at the edge of her jersey.
He could see her shoulders slump but just as quickly they stiffened.
"Jenny!!" She shouted. He raised his head in the direction in which her attention
seemed to be. He recognized the blonde. She was Diane's friend. The girl turned, giving
an inquisitive look at the site of Mac's hands in his grasp.
Mac tugged a little indicating she too had noticed the scrutiny. He let go.
Gabbing her pack she ran towards the eleventh grader, with Daniel hot on her heels.
Ignoring him she inquired, "Where's Diane?"
Jenny's confusion was quite apparent to the sixth graders. "I thought she was with you,
she said she had to get home to take care of you, that you weren't feeling well. Your dad
was even here to pick her up."
Dan saw the fear flitter across Mac's face only to be instantly replaced by a look of false
guilt.
"I wasn't feeling well, but I remembered that I had an assignment to hand in so I came in
anywaz, thought I'd be back home before either of them would be. Guess I was wrong."
Shifting her pack on her back, she grabbed for her jacket, which Dan had picked up, and
started peddling backwards.
"I should be getting home, before either of them start to worry. Thanks Jen for the heads
up, didn't mean to worry you. I'll tell Diane that I saw you. Bye"'
With that Mac turned and ran. Dan spewed a few words expressing his gratitude on
Mac's behalf and then continued to chase after her, while wondering what assignment
Mac was talking about.
"Hey Mackenzie slow down will ya!" He shouted having finally caught up to her.
"You'd think you're house was on fire."
"Maybe it is." She mumbled under her breath. Knowing Mac was unaware of him having
heard her last words, he chose to ignore them, for the time being.
"You want to tell me what that was about back there?" At her raised eyebrow he
continued, "You came in because you had an assignment due? And what's this about you
not feeling well?"
"Drop it Daniel, it's nothing. No big conspiracy, we just got our wires crossed, that's
all."
"Ya whatever. You still haven't told me about those bruises Marine." Ever since they
could remember, both Daniel and Mac had wanted to follow in the footsteps of the man
they admired most in their respective lives. For Daniel it was his dad, Commander
Jonathan Schnoke and for Mac it was her uncle, Major Matthew O'Hara. Having already
decided what they wanted to be they came in to the habit of calling each other by their
future military branch.
Mac wasn't one to lie; she wasn't very good at it, as proven by the bruises that encased
her wrists. She wouldn't be exaggerating if she said she couldn't fib to save her life. So
instead of attempting to answer her buddy she sped up, so much so that Daniel had to
start jogging in order to keep up.
"You know Mac, it isn't nice to hide things from your best friend. I might start thinking
the wrong things?" He wheedled.
"The wrong things, huh, well what could be worse than what you're already thinking?"
At his silence, she continued. "I thought so."
"Maaac …" He whined. Not at all liking the defensive position his friend had taken and
at a loss as to how to get past it.
She ignored him. Neither spoke as they approached her house. When he continued to
follow her up her front pathway she stopped and whirled around.
"What do you think you're doing?" She questioned crossly.
Startled at her harshness, he faltered in his steps. "I, uhh … just wanted to make sure
you'd be all right." He rushed out.
A little of the tension that had been present since they'd parted the school seemed to
dissipate at that simple statement. Mac defrosted. Her anger was misdirected. It was her
fear for her sister's safety, and the growing hatred for the man that they called 'father'
that fed her anger at her friend, which was only misplaced frustration.
Approaching Daniel, Mac did something that she rarely did in her short life-she hugged
him. Taken aback by his best friends rare show of emotion, he took too long in returning
the embrace, she was gone before he'd even realized it.
Letting out a sigh, he retraced his steps back to the sidewalk and paused to stare at the
silhouette of Mac's house before continuing the short trek to his own, right next door.
Running up to his front door, he quickly pushed it open and ran upstairs to his bedroom,
barely acknowledging his mother's "Hello". Dropping his pack on his bed he strode
over to his bedroom window and continued to shove his head out of it. Hoping beyond
hope to catch a glimpse of Mac.
When all he heard was some stifled noise, he did something that was out of character for
him – he prayed.
Meanwhile Mac had rushed in to her home to find it encased in darkness. The curtains
were closed and no lights were on. She had to wait awhile in order to let her eyes adjust,
and when they did her heart filled with dread at the sight before her.
There stood the man who'd contributed his genes in order to create her sister and her, arm
raised, ready to strike, a cowering Diane Mackenzie.
Dread turned into an all consuming hate, dropping her bag where she stood she rushed at
her dad like a linebacker. Her slight body did nothing but alert him to the presence of
another punching bag. Which was, in truth, Mac's intent. She needed to get * him *
away from her big sister, she had to protect her.
Joe Mackenzie whirled around and without the slightest pause swung his arm, connecting
with Mac's right cheek causing her head to snap back. It was an amazing feat that she
didn't go flying several feet, let alone manage to stay on them. This angered him more.
Her stubbornness, fearless nature, and strength of spirit often angered him more than the
passivity of his first-born.
Grabbing her by the throat he began to lift her off the ground and only discarded her like
a rag doll-throwing her against the far wall-at the slight tingeing of blue around her lips.
A wall that was a good ten feet away from where they stood. The loud noise of bones
breaking resonated through the dark house.
Mac whimpered. Her oxygen deprived lungs making it harder for her to lift herself up
and to overcome her broken body's state.
Her movements alerted him to her still conscious state, he saw it as defiance. Seeing red
Joe stormed over to Mac grabbed her by the hair and growled out his first words to her
since her entrance. "When I beat you down, STAY down!" With that he slammed her
head, hard, against the wall she still lay in front of.
The words barely registered in Mac's pain filled mind before she saw black-she'd finally
lost consciousness.
Seeing her head slump, he stepped back. "NOOO!!!" Diane wailed. Her body began to
rack with sobs. She was ashamed of herself, she was the elder sister, it was her duty to
protect Mac but Mac was always taking the beatings that were due her, she was always
playing the role of protector. And now … now she may be dead. For that was what it
looked liked. She'd watched through half closed lids as he'd thrown her across the room
and then continued to take her to unconsciousness.
Diane tucked her head back in to her arms, seeing that her father was now headed in her
direction. Stiffening her body she awaited the beatings. None came. The doorbell rang
instead.
She heard his footsteps receding, could hear him fumble with the door and swing it open,
just a crack. She couldn't hear anything but quiet muddled voices.
Crawling, very quietly, she made her way over to the bay window and peeked through
the side of the curtain. "Dan …" She mouthed.
{Oh no, oh no!} Dad hated it when people interrupted his playtime, he hated it almost as
much as he seemed to hate children. This did not bode well for young Daniel.
"Run Daniel, run." She whispered urgently. Hoping beyond hope that he would
somehow hear her.
"I just need to see Mac sir, please." Filtered back to her ears. She couldn't see Dan's
form anymore so he must have stepped up and pushed the door open a little wider. {Bad
move.}
Glancing back at her little sister she wondered if Mac's courage was contagious. {No,
couldn't be, shouldn't I be overflowing with it then?}
Her self-recrimination was brought to a stop by the slamming of the door. Whipping her
head around she saw that her sis' friend was now sprawled on their walkway.
Knowing that whatever her dad had planned for her earlier was now to come two fold,
she hurried back to her fetal position and prayed that Mac was all right. She refused to
believe otherwise. Life without her little sis was no life at all.
So lost in her morbid thoughts was she that she wasn't prepared for the first whip from
her father's belt. Her back arched from the initial sting as she attempted to muffle her cry
of pain to no avail.
It was this, the sound of the whip slapping against flesh-for it had torn through the shirt
on Diane's back- and her older sister's cries of pain that brought Mac back.
She could hear the pauses in between lashes, and from what she could gather the short
reprieve was only due to 'Joe' pausing to gulp down some more booze.
With every whimper that escaped Diane's lips Mac's anger grew and fueled her
determination to get her broken body up and moving in order to aid her sister.
Excruciatingly slowly she managed to push herself up using the wall behind her and
hesitantly took a step forward. This time she was very careful not to alert her 'old-man'
to her presence. Knowing that she could do no more to distract him, Mac made a
decision.
Willing herself not to shake her head, the pain already being too great, she rubbed at her
eyes in an attempt to clear them. Finally able to somewhat see where she was going, she
managed to make her way to the hallway closet and using super-human strength pulled
out the stool there and continued to haul herself up on to it. Standing on tiptoes, very
unsteady tiptoes, she reached in to the shelf and felt for the shoebox that she knew was
hidden there. Her fingers came in contact with an edge and she studiously tries to pull it
towards her. Squealing a happy, "Yes!" when after several attempts, she finally meets
with success, Mac noted that her sister's whimpers seemed more quiet and strained and
hurried with getting on with what she was doing-retrieving Diane's and her salvation.
Slightly hopping/limping off the stool she shuffled as best she could back into the living
room. Her temper flaring to epic proportions when she saw the sight her sister was in.
The back of Diane's T-shirt was non-existent now, torn to shreds by the continuous force
of the belt. If her T-shirt was in this state, imagine the poor girls flesh. Long, angry,
gashes were apparent, how many Mac could not tell from the blood-covered mess that
was her sister's back.
An all-encompassing fury filled her and the hate she felt provided her with the strength
her body was lacking.
Raising her arm, Mac screamed a loud "STOP!!!!" The force of which echoed in the
hollow house and shook the frail body from which the bellow came.
Joe Mackenzie stilled. The shout that had escaped his youngest both startling him by her
presence and surprising him in its strength. Turning, he was greeted with Sarah
Mackenzie, broken and battered, holding herself up by the aid of the wall he'd thrown her
up against, aiming a Beretta, * his * 92 Beretta at him.
Quickly the ever-present rage replaced the rare moment of surprise and with menace in
his heart he lifted his arm up and brought it back down with as much force as his 180Lb
body could muster. The belt sending a resounding "whap" on contact with the back of
the barely conscious child at his feet.
Mac reacted. Taking aim, right above Joe's shoulder, she pulled the trigger. Dry wall
went flying.
"WHAT THE HELL!!!" He shouted as a small chunk struck him in the back of the head
causing him to step back from Diane reflexively.
"Leave." Mac orders Beretta still aimed at her 'father'.
"What?" Joe incredulously asks.
"Leave. Leave us. Leave here. Go away and never return." Mac clarifies with an
authority beyond her years.
Snidely he shoots back, "Or what?" Thinking she wouldn't dare shoot at him, shoot at the
wall maybe, but him, no way. {The shit didn't have it in her!}
So they stand. Facing each other, staring the other down. Neither knowing what to say or
do. Joe still frazzled-despite his self-reassurance- at the pot shot Mac had already taken
and Mac … Mac was simply exhausted and trying to hold on to the strength that had held
her up thus far. Sadly her 'strength' was waning, her hand wavered. Joe saw it and
pounced. Not physically but emotionally, knowing from past experience that this was the
quickest route to causing the most damage as far as his youngest was concerned.
"What were you thinking girl. Thought the Beretta would give you what …strength,
courage? You're trash; God's throw-a-ways, you and your sister. He wouldn't waste such
things on you. All you're good for is whoring." Joe grabs Diane by the hair and lifts her
head up to face Mac, "This is all you're worth. This is all you'll ever be, some guys past
time hobby. You won't, can't amount to much else."
Mac faced with her beaten sister falters; {she looks so … dead.}, at that moment Diane's
eye flutter open and the pleading look she gives her, {she wants to die … she wants me to
let * him * finish her off!}, fortifies her resolve. The steel is back in her dark orbs.
Mac shoots again, an inch in front of where Joe's left foot was positioned. It's time for
the shoe to be on the other foot, this time Joe falters, unsure. Still, underestimating his
daughter's grit and marksmanship, he makes a threatening move towards her.
"Wrong move Joe." Mac mutters, then 'pop!' the noise of another shot wrings, this time
his right leg was the target.
"F**K!!!" The pain sears through his leg and is immense, but still his initial instinct,
urge, is to jump her. But Joe is all too aware, even in his inebriated state, that Mac
wouldn't hesitate to end his life right then and there. Her gumption and marksmanship
were no longer in question.
Screwing his face in hate, he spat. "I don't need you. I never did, never wanted you to
begin with! Let's see how far you make it without dear old dad to pay for your measly
existences! You can both rot in hell as far as I care!"
Grabbing his keys he fumbles out of the house muttering, "Undeserving, ungrateful
wenches, waste of …"
Mac still holding up the Beretta had warily watched as Joe bypassed her to get to the
front door. She watched as he got in to his beaten up truck and drove off, quite
erratically.
"Stupid man. Drunk and injured is no way to be on the road." Mac whispered, while at
the same time sending a prayer heavenward, something she'd long ago stopped doing,
that no harm would come to anyone else due to his driving.
Feeling wariness take over, Mac manages to shuffle herself back to the lounge where
Diane still lay, before her energy went caput. Crumpling to the ground beside her sister,
Mac, with her remaining strength, curls up behind her, throwing her arms over
her and whispers. "It's all right Diane. He's gone. He'll never hurt us again. No one will
ever hurt you again. I promise."
And then she wept, wept for the mother who abandoned them, the father who beat them,
and the innocence that was stolen from them.
Exhaustion finally claimed Sarah Mackenzie, and in her sleep she was free … free of the
burdens her life had imposed on her.
But with no mother and no father what did the future hold for these two young souls?
Tbc…???
A/N2: Inhale. Exhale. This was VERY different for me, also VERY hard to write, and
VERY personal. In RL I don't curse, I'm19 and there hasn't been a day where such
words as I've written here have passed my lips. My equivalent being flip, heck, or 'cripes
sake' for REALLY tense situations. But I couldn't see a man of Joe's nature being
careful of the profanity that passed his lips and I couldn't imagine myself being honest to
the hurt experienced by these two children without including the vulgarity that such an
individual would spew. As hurtful and damaging as physical abuse can be, cuts, scrapes
and bruises DO heal. But words, words have the power to manifest themselves into
something so much more … tangible … eternal. A kind word of gratitude or a few
uttered in friendship can sometimes be someone's saving grace, but a carelessly uttered
hurt could bring about another's demise. Beatings scar the physical, verbal garbage scar
the spiritual. One's a lot harder to heal than the other. So please, a message to all- be
careful of what you say in anger, for words uttered in such a state CAN NOT be taken
back. Thank you for reading chums, hope I haven't turned you off all my fic w/ this jump
in to another dimension of fic that I'll rarely touch. I don't know if the writing was any
good, but the content is close to my heart. Do share your thoughts, I've actually provided
my email this time around. :o)
P.S. The First Dance or The First Tango, sound better to you? I've decided to combine
this fic w/ the unnamed one I mentioned on my list of stories. Which will result in me
breaking this story in to three parts: "Starcrossed-The First Tango (Dance)",
"Starcrossed-Until We Meet Again" and "Starcrossed-The Last Dance". Have I scared
you off yet?! * BG * Always open for input, later chums!
Author: noelle
Summary: Sarah Mackenzie knew nothing but hurt, always strong and always determined
to be forever alone. Men couldn't be trusted, and no one, especially not a young jet jock
in the making by the name of Harmon Rabb Jr. was going to change that.
Feedback: Not necessary but always welcome and very much appreciated. Actually,
feedback is VERY, VERY * much * appreciated!:o)
Disclaimer: JAG and its characters belong to Paramount and CBS. No copyright
infringement intended, I'm simply borrowing these wonderful characters for the
amusement of fellow shippers everywhere.
A/N: I thought I should warn you ahead of time of the violence in this chapter …
specifically the child abuse that is present. It's something I'm familiar with and had a
hard time writing, but I thought it necessary for the development of the plot. I hope, I
sincerely do, that I haven't offended or hurt anyone in this attempt at fanfic. If so, please
do tell me and I'll immediately remove the story. I've always felt that entertainment of
any kind should amuse EVERYONE, not just a select few and definitely not at the
expense of an individual(s). So honest to goodness, if this is upsetting, don't hesitate at
all to tell me, I won't take it personally. Having said that, I do hope you enjoy the story,
it's a … weird one, but hey, what can you expect when I'm its creator! LOL Good
reading chums! Cheerio!
********************************************
1600HRS EST
Friday, October 14th, 1978
Yuma, Arizona
{Left, right, dribble, turn. Fade away and … shoot!}
"Oh no you don't" She heard as a hand popped up to deflect her shot. But it wasn't
meant to be, the hand had missed the ball entirely and hit her arm instead. Though she
recoiled from the contact the ball still went in.
Turning her back to the net and heading for the other end of the court the brunette threw
over her shoulder, "Guess that means I win … again."
"Mmhmm." Was all the response she got.
Fearing that perhaps she'd gloated too much she began to apologize. "Oh come on Dan.
I'm sorry, didn't mean to rub your nose in it. I was only kidding, you knew that …
right?"
"Ya, course. Don't worry Mac."
Daniel Ian Schnook's mind had been elsewhere the entire game, but his friends' reaction
to his attempt at fowling her shot and the slight quiver that was apparent in her voice
focused his wandering mind. Something was wrong with Sarah Mackenzie and he was
going to find out just what it was.
Having reached the bench that held their gear Mac began packing up. Though she'd
expected more of an answer from him she was satisfied, not one for too many words she
understood it when others were of the same mind.
Slipping her wristbands off and shoving them in to her knapsack she reached for her
jacket.
Watching her out of the corner of his eye he cleaned up too, and just as he was getting
ready to heave his backpack over his shoulders he saw it.
"Hey what's this?" Dan exclaimed while taking a hold of her hands, being careful to be
gentle yet keeping his grip firm.
At her refusal to answer he tugged a little. Still nothing.
"Mac please." He pleaded. Tears clouding his eyes at the angry red marks around her
wrists and the bruises he could see creeping at the edge of her jersey.
He could see her shoulders slump but just as quickly they stiffened.
"Jenny!!" She shouted. He raised his head in the direction in which her attention
seemed to be. He recognized the blonde. She was Diane's friend. The girl turned, giving
an inquisitive look at the site of Mac's hands in his grasp.
Mac tugged a little indicating she too had noticed the scrutiny. He let go.
Gabbing her pack she ran towards the eleventh grader, with Daniel hot on her heels.
Ignoring him she inquired, "Where's Diane?"
Jenny's confusion was quite apparent to the sixth graders. "I thought she was with you,
she said she had to get home to take care of you, that you weren't feeling well. Your dad
was even here to pick her up."
Dan saw the fear flitter across Mac's face only to be instantly replaced by a look of false
guilt.
"I wasn't feeling well, but I remembered that I had an assignment to hand in so I came in
anywaz, thought I'd be back home before either of them would be. Guess I was wrong."
Shifting her pack on her back, she grabbed for her jacket, which Dan had picked up, and
started peddling backwards.
"I should be getting home, before either of them start to worry. Thanks Jen for the heads
up, didn't mean to worry you. I'll tell Diane that I saw you. Bye"'
With that Mac turned and ran. Dan spewed a few words expressing his gratitude on
Mac's behalf and then continued to chase after her, while wondering what assignment
Mac was talking about.
"Hey Mackenzie slow down will ya!" He shouted having finally caught up to her.
"You'd think you're house was on fire."
"Maybe it is." She mumbled under her breath. Knowing Mac was unaware of him having
heard her last words, he chose to ignore them, for the time being.
"You want to tell me what that was about back there?" At her raised eyebrow he
continued, "You came in because you had an assignment due? And what's this about you
not feeling well?"
"Drop it Daniel, it's nothing. No big conspiracy, we just got our wires crossed, that's
all."
"Ya whatever. You still haven't told me about those bruises Marine." Ever since they
could remember, both Daniel and Mac had wanted to follow in the footsteps of the man
they admired most in their respective lives. For Daniel it was his dad, Commander
Jonathan Schnoke and for Mac it was her uncle, Major Matthew O'Hara. Having already
decided what they wanted to be they came in to the habit of calling each other by their
future military branch.
Mac wasn't one to lie; she wasn't very good at it, as proven by the bruises that encased
her wrists. She wouldn't be exaggerating if she said she couldn't fib to save her life. So
instead of attempting to answer her buddy she sped up, so much so that Daniel had to
start jogging in order to keep up.
"You know Mac, it isn't nice to hide things from your best friend. I might start thinking
the wrong things?" He wheedled.
"The wrong things, huh, well what could be worse than what you're already thinking?"
At his silence, she continued. "I thought so."
"Maaac …" He whined. Not at all liking the defensive position his friend had taken and
at a loss as to how to get past it.
She ignored him. Neither spoke as they approached her house. When he continued to
follow her up her front pathway she stopped and whirled around.
"What do you think you're doing?" She questioned crossly.
Startled at her harshness, he faltered in his steps. "I, uhh … just wanted to make sure
you'd be all right." He rushed out.
A little of the tension that had been present since they'd parted the school seemed to
dissipate at that simple statement. Mac defrosted. Her anger was misdirected. It was her
fear for her sister's safety, and the growing hatred for the man that they called 'father'
that fed her anger at her friend, which was only misplaced frustration.
Approaching Daniel, Mac did something that she rarely did in her short life-she hugged
him. Taken aback by his best friends rare show of emotion, he took too long in returning
the embrace, she was gone before he'd even realized it.
Letting out a sigh, he retraced his steps back to the sidewalk and paused to stare at the
silhouette of Mac's house before continuing the short trek to his own, right next door.
Running up to his front door, he quickly pushed it open and ran upstairs to his bedroom,
barely acknowledging his mother's "Hello". Dropping his pack on his bed he strode
over to his bedroom window and continued to shove his head out of it. Hoping beyond
hope to catch a glimpse of Mac.
When all he heard was some stifled noise, he did something that was out of character for
him – he prayed.
Meanwhile Mac had rushed in to her home to find it encased in darkness. The curtains
were closed and no lights were on. She had to wait awhile in order to let her eyes adjust,
and when they did her heart filled with dread at the sight before her.
There stood the man who'd contributed his genes in order to create her sister and her, arm
raised, ready to strike, a cowering Diane Mackenzie.
Dread turned into an all consuming hate, dropping her bag where she stood she rushed at
her dad like a linebacker. Her slight body did nothing but alert him to the presence of
another punching bag. Which was, in truth, Mac's intent. She needed to get * him *
away from her big sister, she had to protect her.
Joe Mackenzie whirled around and without the slightest pause swung his arm, connecting
with Mac's right cheek causing her head to snap back. It was an amazing feat that she
didn't go flying several feet, let alone manage to stay on them. This angered him more.
Her stubbornness, fearless nature, and strength of spirit often angered him more than the
passivity of his first-born.
Grabbing her by the throat he began to lift her off the ground and only discarded her like
a rag doll-throwing her against the far wall-at the slight tingeing of blue around her lips.
A wall that was a good ten feet away from where they stood. The loud noise of bones
breaking resonated through the dark house.
Mac whimpered. Her oxygen deprived lungs making it harder for her to lift herself up
and to overcome her broken body's state.
Her movements alerted him to her still conscious state, he saw it as defiance. Seeing red
Joe stormed over to Mac grabbed her by the hair and growled out his first words to her
since her entrance. "When I beat you down, STAY down!" With that he slammed her
head, hard, against the wall she still lay in front of.
The words barely registered in Mac's pain filled mind before she saw black-she'd finally
lost consciousness.
Seeing her head slump, he stepped back. "NOOO!!!" Diane wailed. Her body began to
rack with sobs. She was ashamed of herself, she was the elder sister, it was her duty to
protect Mac but Mac was always taking the beatings that were due her, she was always
playing the role of protector. And now … now she may be dead. For that was what it
looked liked. She'd watched through half closed lids as he'd thrown her across the room
and then continued to take her to unconsciousness.
Diane tucked her head back in to her arms, seeing that her father was now headed in her
direction. Stiffening her body she awaited the beatings. None came. The doorbell rang
instead.
She heard his footsteps receding, could hear him fumble with the door and swing it open,
just a crack. She couldn't hear anything but quiet muddled voices.
Crawling, very quietly, she made her way over to the bay window and peeked through
the side of the curtain. "Dan …" She mouthed.
{Oh no, oh no!} Dad hated it when people interrupted his playtime, he hated it almost as
much as he seemed to hate children. This did not bode well for young Daniel.
"Run Daniel, run." She whispered urgently. Hoping beyond hope that he would
somehow hear her.
"I just need to see Mac sir, please." Filtered back to her ears. She couldn't see Dan's
form anymore so he must have stepped up and pushed the door open a little wider. {Bad
move.}
Glancing back at her little sister she wondered if Mac's courage was contagious. {No,
couldn't be, shouldn't I be overflowing with it then?}
Her self-recrimination was brought to a stop by the slamming of the door. Whipping her
head around she saw that her sis' friend was now sprawled on their walkway.
Knowing that whatever her dad had planned for her earlier was now to come two fold,
she hurried back to her fetal position and prayed that Mac was all right. She refused to
believe otherwise. Life without her little sis was no life at all.
So lost in her morbid thoughts was she that she wasn't prepared for the first whip from
her father's belt. Her back arched from the initial sting as she attempted to muffle her cry
of pain to no avail.
It was this, the sound of the whip slapping against flesh-for it had torn through the shirt
on Diane's back- and her older sister's cries of pain that brought Mac back.
She could hear the pauses in between lashes, and from what she could gather the short
reprieve was only due to 'Joe' pausing to gulp down some more booze.
With every whimper that escaped Diane's lips Mac's anger grew and fueled her
determination to get her broken body up and moving in order to aid her sister.
Excruciatingly slowly she managed to push herself up using the wall behind her and
hesitantly took a step forward. This time she was very careful not to alert her 'old-man'
to her presence. Knowing that she could do no more to distract him, Mac made a
decision.
Willing herself not to shake her head, the pain already being too great, she rubbed at her
eyes in an attempt to clear them. Finally able to somewhat see where she was going, she
managed to make her way to the hallway closet and using super-human strength pulled
out the stool there and continued to haul herself up on to it. Standing on tiptoes, very
unsteady tiptoes, she reached in to the shelf and felt for the shoebox that she knew was
hidden there. Her fingers came in contact with an edge and she studiously tries to pull it
towards her. Squealing a happy, "Yes!" when after several attempts, she finally meets
with success, Mac noted that her sister's whimpers seemed more quiet and strained and
hurried with getting on with what she was doing-retrieving Diane's and her salvation.
Slightly hopping/limping off the stool she shuffled as best she could back into the living
room. Her temper flaring to epic proportions when she saw the sight her sister was in.
The back of Diane's T-shirt was non-existent now, torn to shreds by the continuous force
of the belt. If her T-shirt was in this state, imagine the poor girls flesh. Long, angry,
gashes were apparent, how many Mac could not tell from the blood-covered mess that
was her sister's back.
An all-encompassing fury filled her and the hate she felt provided her with the strength
her body was lacking.
Raising her arm, Mac screamed a loud "STOP!!!!" The force of which echoed in the
hollow house and shook the frail body from which the bellow came.
Joe Mackenzie stilled. The shout that had escaped his youngest both startling him by her
presence and surprising him in its strength. Turning, he was greeted with Sarah
Mackenzie, broken and battered, holding herself up by the aid of the wall he'd thrown her
up against, aiming a Beretta, * his * 92 Beretta at him.
Quickly the ever-present rage replaced the rare moment of surprise and with menace in
his heart he lifted his arm up and brought it back down with as much force as his 180Lb
body could muster. The belt sending a resounding "whap" on contact with the back of
the barely conscious child at his feet.
Mac reacted. Taking aim, right above Joe's shoulder, she pulled the trigger. Dry wall
went flying.
"WHAT THE HELL!!!" He shouted as a small chunk struck him in the back of the head
causing him to step back from Diane reflexively.
"Leave." Mac orders Beretta still aimed at her 'father'.
"What?" Joe incredulously asks.
"Leave. Leave us. Leave here. Go away and never return." Mac clarifies with an
authority beyond her years.
Snidely he shoots back, "Or what?" Thinking she wouldn't dare shoot at him, shoot at the
wall maybe, but him, no way. {The shit didn't have it in her!}
So they stand. Facing each other, staring the other down. Neither knowing what to say or
do. Joe still frazzled-despite his self-reassurance- at the pot shot Mac had already taken
and Mac … Mac was simply exhausted and trying to hold on to the strength that had held
her up thus far. Sadly her 'strength' was waning, her hand wavered. Joe saw it and
pounced. Not physically but emotionally, knowing from past experience that this was the
quickest route to causing the most damage as far as his youngest was concerned.
"What were you thinking girl. Thought the Beretta would give you what …strength,
courage? You're trash; God's throw-a-ways, you and your sister. He wouldn't waste such
things on you. All you're good for is whoring." Joe grabs Diane by the hair and lifts her
head up to face Mac, "This is all you're worth. This is all you'll ever be, some guys past
time hobby. You won't, can't amount to much else."
Mac faced with her beaten sister falters; {she looks so … dead.}, at that moment Diane's
eye flutter open and the pleading look she gives her, {she wants to die … she wants me to
let * him * finish her off!}, fortifies her resolve. The steel is back in her dark orbs.
Mac shoots again, an inch in front of where Joe's left foot was positioned. It's time for
the shoe to be on the other foot, this time Joe falters, unsure. Still, underestimating his
daughter's grit and marksmanship, he makes a threatening move towards her.
"Wrong move Joe." Mac mutters, then 'pop!' the noise of another shot wrings, this time
his right leg was the target.
"F**K!!!" The pain sears through his leg and is immense, but still his initial instinct,
urge, is to jump her. But Joe is all too aware, even in his inebriated state, that Mac
wouldn't hesitate to end his life right then and there. Her gumption and marksmanship
were no longer in question.
Screwing his face in hate, he spat. "I don't need you. I never did, never wanted you to
begin with! Let's see how far you make it without dear old dad to pay for your measly
existences! You can both rot in hell as far as I care!"
Grabbing his keys he fumbles out of the house muttering, "Undeserving, ungrateful
wenches, waste of …"
Mac still holding up the Beretta had warily watched as Joe bypassed her to get to the
front door. She watched as he got in to his beaten up truck and drove off, quite
erratically.
"Stupid man. Drunk and injured is no way to be on the road." Mac whispered, while at
the same time sending a prayer heavenward, something she'd long ago stopped doing,
that no harm would come to anyone else due to his driving.
Feeling wariness take over, Mac manages to shuffle herself back to the lounge where
Diane still lay, before her energy went caput. Crumpling to the ground beside her sister,
Mac, with her remaining strength, curls up behind her, throwing her arms over
her and whispers. "It's all right Diane. He's gone. He'll never hurt us again. No one will
ever hurt you again. I promise."
And then she wept, wept for the mother who abandoned them, the father who beat them,
and the innocence that was stolen from them.
Exhaustion finally claimed Sarah Mackenzie, and in her sleep she was free … free of the
burdens her life had imposed on her.
But with no mother and no father what did the future hold for these two young souls?
Tbc…???
A/N2: Inhale. Exhale. This was VERY different for me, also VERY hard to write, and
VERY personal. In RL I don't curse, I'm19 and there hasn't been a day where such
words as I've written here have passed my lips. My equivalent being flip, heck, or 'cripes
sake' for REALLY tense situations. But I couldn't see a man of Joe's nature being
careful of the profanity that passed his lips and I couldn't imagine myself being honest to
the hurt experienced by these two children without including the vulgarity that such an
individual would spew. As hurtful and damaging as physical abuse can be, cuts, scrapes
and bruises DO heal. But words, words have the power to manifest themselves into
something so much more … tangible … eternal. A kind word of gratitude or a few
uttered in friendship can sometimes be someone's saving grace, but a carelessly uttered
hurt could bring about another's demise. Beatings scar the physical, verbal garbage scar
the spiritual. One's a lot harder to heal than the other. So please, a message to all- be
careful of what you say in anger, for words uttered in such a state CAN NOT be taken
back. Thank you for reading chums, hope I haven't turned you off all my fic w/ this jump
in to another dimension of fic that I'll rarely touch. I don't know if the writing was any
good, but the content is close to my heart. Do share your thoughts, I've actually provided
my email this time around. :o)
P.S. The First Dance or The First Tango, sound better to you? I've decided to combine
this fic w/ the unnamed one I mentioned on my list of stories. Which will result in me
breaking this story in to three parts: "Starcrossed-The First Tango (Dance)",
"Starcrossed-Until We Meet Again" and "Starcrossed-The Last Dance". Have I scared
you off yet?! * BG * Always open for input, later chums!