Disclaimer: They don't belong to me.
Written for February Challenge on HBX
Dedicated to my beautiful state of Victoria, devastated by the horror of yesterday; the many, many souls lost and the tragic destruction.
Mac: Harm?
(Harm reaches out and tentatively touches her arm.)
Mac: What are you doing?
Harm: (shaken) Making sure it's you.
Retreat Hell
It had been a harrowing day that Harmon Rabb would never want to go through ever again as long as he lived, and although the ending was a sweet relief, he doubted it was the best way for him to get what he wanted; Sarah MacKenzie.
Flashback
Mac had been working long hours, dawn to dusk at JAG, interviewing, questioning, researching and revising. Then she'd pack it all up when the General told her she should go home; and work there from dusk to dawn. She knew that somewhere amongst the reams of paper and stacks of files there was the answer she was searching for – the serial rapist who was lurking the streets of DC and Maryland, abducting and raping female marines.
There was little to go on, all five victims reported the Caucasian man to be about six foot tall and to weigh somewhere between 170 and 190 pounds. Three reported a tattoo on his left bicep but couldn't identify the design, two said he wore a ring on his right hand, though one said it was silver, the other gold. With his head covered by a balaclava, no one could identify his hair colour but all reported grey blue eyes and a low, husky voice.
Within the papers, Mac was sure there was a link between all five women. That somewhere along the way, they had all come across this man and she was damned if she was going to sleep while he was at large and getting ready for his next victim.
Screwing up the top page of her note pad, Mac tossed it over her shoulder, it landed neatly amongst the seven other paper balls. Grabbing a larger sheet of paper, Mac decided to start from scratch and outline the whole case once more.
Before she could put pen to paper, there was a knock on her door. Looking through the peephole she wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that Harm was there.
"Hey Mac," he greeted, holding up a plastic bag of Chinese and paper bag of groceries. "I thought you might need some nourishment."
"You didn't have to," she replied, stepping aside to let him enter. "I would have gotten something."
"Sure," he nodded. "I haven't seen you stop to eat lunch for at least two weeks now, and I doubt you've eaten much here," he said, scanning the apartment only to find abandoned coffee mugs and energy bar wrappers.
"Yeah, I've been a bit preoccupied," she sighed, "Thanks for thinking of me."
Sitting on the sofa, Harm started to empty the dinner provisions onto the coffee table.
"I'll grab some drinks," she said, heading to the kitchen.
"You might want to put this in the freezer for later," he called, grabbing a tub of ice cream from the paper bag.
"Mmm," Mac groaned, taking the tub. "Triple choc fudge, my favourite!"
"I know," Harm smiled, unwrapping the chopsticks.
Dinner was a very quiet affair, Mac eating quickly, wanting to get back to her case but Harm had other ideas. "Slow down, Mac. I promise I won't steal any of it."
"Sorry," she apologised. "I just want to get back to it." She nodded over to her dining room table which was completely covered in her work.
"Well, what's say, you slow down a bit, so you don't give yourself indigestion, and then I help you out tonight. Where are you up to?" he asked.
"Nowhere," she sighed. "I know the answer is in their somewhere but I'll be damned if I can make the link."
"Maybe a fresh set of eyes will help," he replied, smiling softly at her.
"Yeah, maybe," she yawned, allowing herself to show her exhaustion, something she had been struggling to hide.
"When's the last time you slept, Mac?" he asked, brushing her hair away from her face.
"Last night," she replied quickly.
"When's the last time you slept properly," he amended, his thumb gently running across the dark circle under her left eye. She smiled wearily; she couldn't answer as she just couldn't remember.
When Mac had finished eating, Harm cleared away the containers as she went straight back to her files.
"You know, NCIS has this case covered," he said as he watched her studying the latest victim's report.
"Yeah, I know," she nodded.
"And you know Cresswell's not impressed with you spending all this time investigating, when it's their job?" he continued, softly nudging her with his shoulder.
"Yeah, I know that too," she sighed, allowing herself to lean into him.
"So, why are you doing this?" he asked, looking down as her eyes fluttered shut.
"Can't explain it," she whispered. "Just something I need to do."
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Harm planted a tender kiss on her forehead. "So, where are we up to?"
It had taken hours but eventually Mac and Harm had drawn up a chart with all the key details. They had started with the names, Sally Matthews, Arianna Andrews, Rachel Cousins, Amy Kelso and Helen Emmett and then charted the date of attack, age, rank, station, previous stations, address, as well as hairdressers, drycleaners, grocery store, gym and every other possible connection they could think of. The chart was cumbersome but as Harm completed the last of victim number five's details, he was impressed with the comprehensiveness of Mac's research.
"Wow, that's quite a lot of detail we have here," he said, taking a drink from his bottle of water.
"Yeah, it tells us everything except who the bastard actually is!" she growled, throwing her pen onto the table.
Glancing at the clock, Harm realised it had long past 0300 and Mac looked as exhausted as he felt. Turning back to face her, he watched as a surprised expression crossed her face as she studied the chart. Suddenly, she recoiled in horror as the realisation of the situation struck her.
Instantly, Harm's arm was around her waist, his free hand up at her face, trying to encourage her to look at him.
"Mac, Mac," he called, trying to regain her attention. "What is it? What's wrong?" There was no response as her eyes stayed glued to the chart. "Mac!" He moved to block her view and slowly she raised her eyes to his. The normally warm chocolate eyes he'd often dreamed about were dark and fearful and his blood ran cold. "What?"
"I …I…" she stuttered, not quite sure how to start.
"Do you know who it is?" he asked, holding her securely as she shuddered in his arms.
"No, no, I don't," she ground out, trying to keep her breathing even. "But I think I know his next victim," she continued breathlessly.
"Who?" he whispered, afraid for the fear she was experiencing.
"Me!" she mouthed.
Quickly, Harm spun around and looked back at the chart, trying to figure out what Mac had seen to draw such a conclusion. For the life of him, nothing stood out.
"How do you figure that?" he finally asked, taking her hand.
"It's all there," she said, gesturing to the chart. "I can't believe I didn't see it earlier."
"See what, Mac?" he asked, pulling her closer. "Tell me."
At first she pointed rapidly at what Harm thought was random information, grabbing her hand he held it to his chest.
"Slow down, help me understand," he said, locking eyes with her. "Okay?"
"Look at the victims names … the initials…" she started, running her finger across the names.
"SM, AA, RC, AK and HE," Harm announced slowly. "What about them?"
"Split them up – first names then last," she whispered.
"S-A-R-A-H M-A-C-K-E…" he spelt out. "Sarah MacKe…"
"That's me!" she exclaimed. "The victims are spelling out my name."
"Not necessarily," he tried to reassure her. "There are countless Sarah's whose last name starts that way."
"And what about the rest of it…" she said, a pleading in her eyes for him to understand.
"What rest of it?" he asked gently.
Taking a breath, she picked up the chart and placed it before them.
"My birth date," she said, pointing to Arianna. "My rank," she continued pointing to Helen. As she continued talking, her finger jumped around the page as she identified the similarities between the victims and herself. "My first duty station … my second duty station … my last neighbourhood … my gym … my … my everything…" she concluded slumping into a chair, her body too heavy to stand on its own.
"This could all be coincidence, Mac," he soothed, not really believing his own words.
"Sure … right down to Rachel Cousins coincidently having the same rose tattoo on her butt…" she sighed, too tired to realise she'd given away one of her secrets.
Ignoring her disclosure, for now, Harm retrieved his cell promptly, intent on calling the General, to inform him of developments. Mac moved quickly to close his cell.
"It's 0347," she replied to his quizzical look. "Don't think Cresswell will take kindly to the early wake up … leave it an hour or so, he'll be up by then."
"Yeah, okay, he conceded, knowing nothing was going to change in a couple of hours, especially as he didn't plan on letting Mac out of his sight. "Then I'll just call Gibbs and inform him."
"Don't think he'll be overly impressed either – it's not as if we know who the guy is," she said wearily.
"Okay, I won't call him either …" he yawned. "On the one condition, that you go lie down until then, you're exhausted."
"So are you," she replied, trying to stifle a yawn.
"Well, I'll take the sofa," he smiled, gesturing towards it.
"It's too short for you," she answered. "You'll be cramped."
"I'll take my chances," he replied. "I'm not leaving you here alone."
"Why don't you come with me," she said, tugging his hand.
The two hours they spent in Mac's bed didn't provide for restful sleep. Mac drifted in and out of fitful slumber as Harm lay flat on his back, next to her, fighting every desire he had to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. While it was true their relationship was far friendlier and closer over recent months than ever before, and while Harm was desperate to move it on to a much higher level, and to see that tattoo for himself, now was definitely not the time.
As soon as the clock ticked over to 0545, Harm picked up his cell again and called Cresswell, giving him every detail he could remember from Mac's revelation. In turn, Cresswell informed Harm he would contact NCIS and that Mac was to remain with Harm until they both presented in his office no earlier than 1100.
"Why so late, sir?" Harm asked.
"I'm guessing you two have been working on this all night, am I correct?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," he acknowledged quietly.
"And I'm guessing Mac is finally getting some much needed sleep," he continued.
"Yes, sir," he repeated. "How did you know, sir?"
"Well, one, you're making this call and not Mac, and, two, you are speaking quietly," he sighed. "And I'm also thinking that you will need to go home to change before you come in."
"That's right, sir," he agreed.
"So, I'll see you both at 1100 and I'll have Gibbs here too," he summarised.
"Aye, aye, sir," Harm said.
"And Rabb," Cresswell added. "Don't let Mac out of your sight. I know she's a marine but if she's right and she is the target of this, being a marine isn't going to stop him…"
Closing his cell, Harm thought about the General's last words. Marines by their very nature weren't defenceless or in need of protection, but whoever this guy was, he was good. Already with five marine victims to his list, Harm was adamant Mac wasn't going to be number six.
Rolling onto his side, Harm smiled when Mac rolled towards him, a breathy sigh and a few readjustments, and she slipped right into his arms. Taking the opportunity presented to him, Harm wrapped his arms around her and gently kissed her head. There was no way in hell anyone was going to hurt her.
With the General and NCIS team fully briefed on the night's developments, Special Agent Gibbs ordered Special Agent Tim McGee to stay with Mac at all times. Harm couldn't help but laugh.
"You're kidding, right?" he snorted as the orders were given.
"I don't kid, Rabb, you should know that," Gibbs retorted. "Colonel MacKenzie needs protection and she'll have it."
"Oh, I agree," Harm nodded. "But I'm sure I'm more suitable than a special agent," he said, pointing at McGee who didn't exactly exude the fitness and experience of either a naval officer or marine.
"You, Commander Rabb," the general interrupted. "Are due in court at 1430 hours."
"I'll get a continuance, sir," he replied.
"You still need to be in court for that," he retorted. "You have responsibility for your client, Commander, I'm sure between the rest of us, we can take care of Colonel MacKenzie."
"Colonel MacKenzie is quite capable of taking care of herself," Mac interjected getting to her feet. "I don't need a babysitter."
"I'm not saying you do, Colonel," Gibbs answered. "But until we know who this guy is, we have to take precautions."
Mac sighed as she took in the faces of the men in the room; there was no way around this.
Tim McGee did his job well, too well for Mac's liking; he sat outside her office while she worked away, he followed her to the break room, the library and the bathroom, waiting dutifully outside. At lunch, he drove her to her meeting at a local Italian restaurant and sat at a nearby table. Every time she turned around he was there, like her permanent shadow. The only two things keeping her from killing him was the fact he reminded her of Bud and that she couldn't fault him for his meticulous attention to duty.
This was all well and good, but on the third day, a simple slip as McGee took a call while Mac moved to the next aisle in the grocery store, had disastrous results. Less than a minute later, he rounded the corner only to find Mac's abandoned shopping basket and purse strewn on the floor. With his heart racing, he grabbed his cell as he ran to the nearest exit – the large swing doors leading into the storage area at the back of the store.
By the time he got through, he was too late to do anything except see the tailgate of a white van as it sped from the loading dock. Panting heavily, he waited for an answer at the other end of the line; he wasn't sure who he'd rather deal with, Gibbs or Cresswell. Then he decided he didn't care which one it was, so long as it wasn't Rabb.
In the interminable time it took for the rest of his team to get there, McGee had already viewed the CCTV tape three times, trying to catch any sign of the perpetrator who had grabbed Mac. On his fourth viewing, he spied a tall, blonde man lurking near the dairy cabinet at the rear of the store, right next to the door he had run through.
Grabbing the tape, he called Abby, they'd need the NCIS resources to enhance the quality on the tape enough to get anything additional.
"Better have a damn good reason she was out of your sight," Gibbs growled coming into the security office. "What the hell happened?"
"Sorry, boss…" he began.
"Don't apologise, McGee," he growled again.
"Yes, boss. I was answering my cell and Colonel MacKenzie continued around the corner. It was less than a minute but it was already too late," he said despondently.
There were a few moments of silence before Harm barrelled into the room.
"How the hell did this happen?" he yelled, his eyes darting between Gibbs and McGee. "You were supposed to keep her safe."
"I'm sorry, Commander," McGee started but Harm cut him off.
"Fat lot of good that does," he shouted. "Do we at least know who this bastard is?"
Standing in Abby's lab an hour later as McGee manipulated the images on the screen, Harm paced furiously as Cresswell silently fumed.
"This is as good as we can get!" McGee announced as the image appeared on the plasma. "That's the guy."
Pushing through the small group, Harm's eyes fixed onto the face on the screen.
"I know him," he gritted out. It took a few moments for Harm to work through his history with Mac to get to the name. "That bastard is…"
"Thomas Solomon, aged 45, former marine corps gunnery sergeant …" Abby filled in, reading from the adjoining screen. "Dishonourably Discharged after sexually assaulting a colleague in 1995, Colonel MacKenzie was prosecuting."
Turning around to Abby, Harm stared at her screen. "How'd you find out?"
"Timmy… ah, Special Agent McGee got a partial plate as the van took off, I ran the details and presto. Even got an address…" she smiled, hoping to reassure a distressed Commander.
Under very specific instruction, Harm was allowed to accompany the NCIS team to the address Abby had unearthed.
"You get in my way though, Rabb," Gibbs warned. "I'll shoot you myself."
"You do your job properly and I won't have to get in your way," he growled in response. "But I'll tell you now," he added, fixing McGee with a steely glare. "If he's hurt her in any way, I'll be the one doing the shooting."
Forty seven long painful minutes later, they approached the house at the Billings St address. With agents out the back, McGee, Gibbs and Harm drew their guns and tentatively crept towards the brown front door.
"We haven't got the warrant yet," McGee whispered as they moved into place.
"We're going in regardless," Harm snarled as he cocked his gun.
'No heroics," Gibbs warned. "Moving in," he said into the radio.
With a crashing of wood and blasting of guns, the trio entered the house, as two officers entered from the rear. Solomon knelt in the middle of the living room, his just-fired gun dropping from his hand as McGee's bullet pierced his arm.
"Mac?!!!" Harm yelled, desperate to hear her voice, to see her. "Mac!" Running from room to room, he became increasingly frantic as he failed to find her, or any evidence she'd been there. "Where the hell is she?" he growled at Gibbs who was just behind him.
"We'll find her," he promised.
"In here!" McGee yelled from the stairs to the basement. Racing past him, Harm flicked the light on as he scanned the room.
Lying bound and gagged on a mattress in the corner, Mac struggled to sit up as she heard his desperate voice. Dropping to his knees in front of her, Harm quickly removed her gag before undoing her restraints. Grateful and truly relieved, Mac threw herself into his arms.
"I'm okay, I'm okay," she whispered hoarsely, her throat too dry to produce a voice.
"Are you sure?" he asked, pulling back slightly.
"Positive, he didn't rape me, didn't try," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears at the pain she saw in his eyes. "He wanted me to suffer for awhile first… said it's what I'd done to him – made him suffer in Leavenworth before he was eventually raped."
Pulling her closer, Harm stood up, bringing Mac with him. "We're still gonna get you checked out, okay?"
"Harm, it's not…" she began, but looking at him, she didn't want to put him through anything more. "Okay, okay."
It was 0249 before Harm unlocked Mac's apartment door, having been to Bethesda for a check up and Headquarters for a debriefing.
Making her tea as she showered, Harm leant heavily on the counter, the adrenalin rush long over he was totally exhausted.
Suddenly, he felt a soft hand caress his cheek. "You look worse than me," she said quietly.
"Thanks," he grinned wearily. "You doing okay?"
"Yeah, I think so," she replied. "You?"
"Million times better now I've got you back," he said, resting his hands on her shoulders.
"Yeah, you've definitely got me," she said, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest.
Abandoning the tea, Mac took Harm's hand and led him to her bed once more.
"This time, can you hold me from the start?" she asked as she pulled back the covers.
"Sure can," he smiled, as she slid into bed.
As soon as he was settled, she moved into his arms, not wanting to leave them again.
Looking at him, she couldn't name the expression on his face as he gazed at her, his fingers gently pinching her arm.
"Harm?" she said, "What are you doing?"
"Making sure it's you, Mac," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
"It's definitely me," she smiled.
"And are you sure you're okay?" he checked once more.
"I think I'm doing better than you," she smiled gently.
"I just couldn't bear to lose you, in any way," he admitted softly.
"You're not going to," she soothed, rubbing his chest. "Let's talk about this tomorrow. Right now, I just want to sleep with you, is that alright?"
"More than," he sighed in sweet relief, kissing her head. "More than alright."