Cheering up Mac
Part 1
Thirst week of November
JAG office
A knock on his office door jolted Harm out of his concentration. He looked up to see Mac on the doorstep.
"Can you give me a ride home this afternoon? My car is at the garage."
Harm nodded "Of course. What time do you want to leave?
"Around 17.30 would be fine."
"Ok."
Mac gave him a little smile that didn't reach her eyes and went back to her own office, leaving Harm looking at her disappearing back. He didn't like what he saw. Or better, he liked looking at his co-worker slash best friend but he definitely didn't like the way she looked: tired, her shoulders slumping and with dark spots under her eyes that she had tried in vain to mask with make-up. She clearly had lost a few pounds and worse, the sparkle in her beautiful brown eyes had gone. She hadn't said anything though, not how she felt, not what had been bothering her, nothing. He had thought it being best to give her time, to wait until she came to him but that didn't seem to happen. He had hinted but she hadn't responded. Now, he decided, he had enough and the ride home would be the perfect opportunity to find out what was wrong.
They drove home in silence, Harm more worried than he was ready to admit. He didn't know whether it was by her appearance, her quick surrender or her lack of feistiness. When they reached Mac's apartment and went in, he was shocked once more. The normally so pristine place was cluttered, all kinds of items, books, tissues and clothes shattered throughout the room, and clearly the floor and furniture hadn't experienced a dust cloth or vacuum cleaner for some days, if not weeks.
Mac flopped down on the couch and looked at him defensively. "Well!?"
For a moment Harm was at loss for words. He recognized his partner's tactical move and realized he had to choose his words with utmost care. With a disarming smile he crouched in front of her. "Mac …" he started but that single word and even more the tone of his voice were Mac's undoing. She hid her face in her hands and started to cry. Harm, following his instinct, was at her side immediately and lifted her onto his lap, his arms firmly holding her. She didn't fight him, instead slumped against him, which only served to increase his worry.
They sat for over ten minutes when finally Mac's sobs subdued and she sat straight again, looking around for a tissue. Harm handed her his handkerchief and patiently waited for her to start talking. After a few deep breaths she looked at him and whispered "Sorry."
Harm took her hands in his. "Tell me," he pleaded.
"I don't know where to begin. It's just, for weeks I have been feeling like crap. I'm down, depressed, not able to do something. I have to kick myself out of bed each morning, I hardly manage to drag myself though the day, each time praying the admiral won't hand me a high profile case. Eating, let alone cooking is too much …" She let out a sob. "I'm such a mess."
Harm felt his own eyes sting and didn't know any better than pull her flush again. He was happy she didn't resist him.
"Why didn't you say something; why didn't you come to me?"
Mac shrugged. "We haven't been the best of friends lately. I know …" She stopped him from interrupting. "We agreed on going back to the beginning, being friends again, but we still have to work on that. And I thought I could handle it. I didn't want to put the burden on you …"
Harm kept silent, except for caressing her hands. He knew it was true; they were still working on regaining their friendship.
"I'm sorry," Mac sighed again.
They were silent for some minutes.
"Did you think of counselling?" Harm finally asked.
Mac nodded reluctantly. "Yes, but I decided against it. This isn't the first time I had an episode like this. I thought I could manage this one, too. And I was afraid a shrink would prescribe medication. With my alcoholism, I didn't want the risk another addiction. And third, I thought about the impact on my career, you know …" she didn't have to finish that sentence, Harm already nodded. Not only could it influence her chances on promotion, when word went out she could count on an opponent in court using it against her or a client using it as an excuse for bad defence. But that didn't change the fact something had to be done.
"Will you let me help you?"
Mac nodded, but doubted "What can you do?"
Harm knew she was right, she had to fight the depression herself, but had his answer ready. "First I'm going to help you with this …" he fought to find a non-offensive word for the state of Mac's house. "Pigsty," Mac filled in with a snort.
Harm shrugged. "A home should be a place to relax, to gather new strength and at this moment, I don't think that is happening. I think you should concentrate on getting better, not on juggling a career and a house and whatever you try to juggle now."
"Not much," Mac interrupted.
"Next to that, I'm going to make sure you eat well. No …" he prevented her from talking "I'm not going to force-feed you, just make sure you have regular meals and that you have food in the fridge that doesn't take much effort to prepare."
Mac managed a smile. "That means you allow me fruit rolls?"
Harm smiled back. "As long as you promise to eat them."
While driving home Harm thought about ways to help Mac. She had been right, she had to fight the depression herself but he was determined to support her all the way. He only had to figure out how.
For starters he would clean her house that weekend and make sure she had enough ready to heat food in her fridge and freezer. Soup and casseroles would do fine. That brought him to another thought, he needed groceries. Turning towards the nearest supermarket he made a list of what he, and Mac, needed.
Wheeling his trolley through the aisles he passed by the candy section. That sparked an idea. Not a fan of sweets himself he nevertheless grabbed a few things, then turned to the paper ware section to select some cards.
After loading the groceries in the trunk he went back into the mall and made a few quick other visits.
The next day he set his plan in motion. When Mac arrived she found a small teddy bear sitting on her desk, holding a heart in its little arms. Despite herself Mac managed a smile, knowing for sure who had put it there. Quickly she put it in the drawer of her desk, not wanting to have to answer questions. Luckily Harriet hadn't seen it yet.
Over the following days and weeks Harm made sure Mac had a little surprise every day: a card, a candy item, a knickknack or a funny little movie in her mail. He made them small, not to embarrass her but he wanted to have her smile even though it was only once every day.
Next to that he made it his task to have lunch together, taking her for a short walk if the weather permitted, or bringing her a sandwich or a plate of heated leftovers. And he didn't leave until she had finished the meal.
He also had confided to Bud and Harriet. Not unveiling everything Mac had said but told them just enough to ensure their help. Which they were eager to give. So at the days investigations kept Harm out of the office Bud or Harriet stepped in, making sure Mac took a break and had a more or less decent lunch.
By now the Admiral was aware of the problem, as usual not revealing how he knew, but he decided not to intervene, giving Mac the time to sort things out. He kept a watchful eye on her performance though; no client should experience any disadvantage.
Week of Thanksgiving
Tuesday, around 9am
In the car on their way to question a witness
They drove in a comfortable silence, Harm behind the steering wheel and Mac in charge of the radio and enjoying the view.
"Too bad little AJ got measles and that it turned out Bud didn't have them before so they had to cancel Thanksgiving dinner. But the thought of Bud covered in red spots …," she chuckled.
Harm joined her, delighted he actually heard her laugh again. Then he asked her "How do you feel about cancelling?"
Mac pondered for some moments and Harm patiently waited for her to answer.
"Mixed feelings, I guess," she finally offered. "I'll miss being together; I'll miss spending time with our godson but … I don't know whether I would have been up to the stress of 'acting normal and cheery' or telling everyone what I am grateful of." She turned to Harm. "Don't misunderstand me, I have a lot to be grateful of, starting with your friendship, but right now," she sighed "sometimes it's hard to remember."
Harm reached out with his hand and squeezed hers comfortingly. "I know, and I don't want you to do things you're not up to, yet," he said. "But it will get better, I promise."
Mac looked at him. "How can you be so sure?"
Harm smiled. "For one, you laughed at the thought of a spotted Bud. It's some time ago I heard you laugh spontaneously," he explained. "And then, when we were at the gas station you loaded your bag with snacks. I can't say I admire your choice of food," he winked teasingly "but it's good to see your appetite is coming back."
'She still has a fantastic figure but clearly she lost a couple of pounds over the last months,' Harm mused and he had to come up with a plan to fatten her up a bit again.
Mac nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. I guess I have to look at the small steps more, rather than to expect it to be alright in one go."
When they reached the home of their witness they discovered he was not there. His wife told them he had a doctor's appointment and that she expected him to be back at twelve. It left Harm and Mac with two hours of time to fill. They decide to find a café to have a drink and go over the case once more but when they drove off Mac spotted a sign reading "Fair" in lopsided letters.
"Let's go and have a look," she said impulsively.
Obediently Harm parked the car and they walked towards a large house. Once inside they discovered it was a group home for disabled kids. Several small stalls were situated against the walls. They were packed with second hand books, pottery, different kinds of food and lots of homemade decorations like turkeys and pilgrims but also candles, stars, snowmen and Santas.
Behind the stalls stood the proud makers, kids with Down syndrome, in wheelchairs or with crutches, all eager to sell to the 30 or so visitors.
Mac and Harm wandered through the rooms, picking up items and buying a cup of hot chocolate with a Danish pastry. One of the boys seemed to develop a particular interest in Harm, abandoning his stall and following him around. Mac nudged Harm to draw his attention to the kid.
"Hi kiddo," Harm greeted the boy, crouching down in front of him so he could look him in the eyes. The boy was about 8 years old and walked with crutches. "I'm Harm. What's your name?"
"Peter and you are a navy aviator," he beamed. Harm nodded.
"I like planes," the boy continued. "When I'm grown up I want to fly them."
"That is good," Harm answered, not wanting to destroy the boy's dream. "I have a plane of my own, a Stearman. Maybe you can come and look at it someday."
The boy beamed. "That would be cool! You must tell Mr. Simply."
Harm looked in the direction the boy pointed and saw a sturdy, grey-haired man looking at him. Catching Harm's eyes he walked over and introduced himself as Jonathan Simply, director of the home.
"This is Harm," Peter yipped excitedly "And he is going to show us around on a Navy airbase."
This statement was met with raised eyebrows. Then Jonathan patted the little boy on the shoulder "That would be exciting, wouldn't it?" and sent him back to his stall.
Harm laughed and introduced himself "I'm Commander Harmon Rabb and I'm a JAG-lawyer/ navy-aviator and this is my colleague Colonel MacKenzie." They shook hands.
"So you are inviting us to an airbase?"
Harm chuckled "It was not exactly what I said, but yes, I think it can be arranged."
"The kids would love it. There is not much budget for outings, or any extras. In fact, this fair …" he waved his hand around "is to raise money for Christmas decorations. We had a severe leakage in the attic earlier this year and much was destroyed. And since the central heating desperately needs fixing …" he didn't finish the sentence.
Harm dug up a card and handed it to him. "I'll see what I can do," he promised.
Next to him Mac coughed to catch his attention. "Harm, we have to go. We have a witness to interview."
Harm nodded, bid Mr. Simply farewell and followed her to the car.
When they drove back to Washington, Mac was very silent. After a while Harm asked tentatively "Want to share?"
Mac shrugged. "I feel ashamed, I guess, seeing those kids. They have such challenges and are living in a home which is clearly not fitted for their needs and still they are so happy. And I … I am healthy, have a nice apartment, a career, wonderful friends … and I'm feeling lousy." She wiped her eyes. "What right do I have to feel like that?"
Harm knew he had to stop the flow of her thoughts. It only would make her more depressed. "Stop it, Mac," he stated firmly. "You should not think like that. You have gone through a lot, too. You did not choose to get into a depression."
Reluctantly Mac nodded. She knew he was right.
"Besides, you have a lot in common. They are fighters, Mac, and so are you. This is not going to beat you."
"No?" She sounded so small and vulnerable, all but begging for reassurance, that it almost broke his heart.
"No, it isn't."
Mac heaved a deep sigh. "Thanks, Harm, I think I needed to hear that."
Harm gave her a warm smile and turned his eyes back to the traffic. "You will see, Marine, you will see."
When they were back in Washington, the statements of the witness in their briefcases, it was late afternoon. Looking at his watch Harm pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. "Hi Sven. It's Harm." He listened to the answer. "Yes, I'm in, but that's not what I was calling for. Listen, you still do that charity-tree-thing? I have a candidate for you."