A Child Of The Wind

by Mel J1701

From neglected child to alcoholic teenager, how did Mac manage to become the woman she is today? This story spans from Mac's birth to before she joined the Marines.

Title: A Child of the Wind
Author: Mel (e-mail me at cosmic_quest@yahoo.com)
Disclaimer: The characters of JAG are the property of Donald Bellasario, CBS and Paramount and no profit has been made by my utilizing them in my story. Everyone else belongs to me.
Rating: PG-13 for angst, violence and language
Spoilers: None really.
Summery: From neglected child to alcoholic teenager, how did Mac manage to become the woman she is today? This story spans from Mac's birth to before she joined the Marines.
Archiving: As long as you ask first and keep my name on it then it should be okay.
Author's Notes: Remember that I've tried to keep the language and tone relative to what Mac's would have been like at the various ages I've depicted her at. Also, I've tried to keep the facts as accurate as possible but there are some aspects of Mac's life- such as where she lived- which had not been mentioned on the show so I've had to improvise. Here in Britain, the third season and from half way through the fifth season onwards has never been aired so I may have missed some details that might have been mentioned.
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Child of the wind
I feel your warning
Child of the sea
I see your tears
Child of the rain
I hear your thunder
Child of the sky
I hear your cry

-- Quoted from the song "Child Of The Wind", sung by Gorky Park

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*SARAH- THE BEGINNING*

Fallon General Hospital
Fallon, Nevada
June 21st, 1966
As a typical Marine and a man who had been taught from the age of four that 'real men don't cry', Joe MacKenzie was surprised but not ashamed to admit his eyes were misting up and tears were threatening to spill down his cheeks. The old lessons from childhood and military school flew out the window when the wave of emotions washed over him. After all, what 'real man' did not cry at the first sight of their newborn child?

Stepping into his wife's hospital room after four hours of nervously waiting outside the labour suite, Joe was at a complete loss for words as he set eyes upon his new daughter cradled ever-so-gently in Deena's arms. He was glad he was not the one holding the child; she looked so tiny and fragile that he felt so clumsy next to this small form.

"Don't just stand there," Deena said, her beautiful smile lighting up the room. "Come on in and meet your new daughter."

Fidgeting with the stuffed toy dog he had brought for his new baby, Joe walked gingerly over to the bed to regard the tableau of mother and infant for a moment. He recalled almost every minute that lead to the events of this wonderful day with a poignant nostalgia...

Joe had only turned twenty-three and fresh out of academy when he had been stationed in Everett. Two weeks later, on a boys' night out, he met Deena. It was a further two years later and after much persuasion from his younger brother David that he finally worked up the nerve to propose. He had been lucky to be posted in a teaching post here in Fallon wherein he escaped the Vietnam draft, unlike Davey and their step-brother Matt.

Not long after they settled in, Deena announced she was pregnant and so here they were, nine months later complete with their new arrival...

"She...she's great," Joe murmured, his eyes riveted to his daughter.

He was surprised by the wave of fierce protectiveness and devotion he felt towards this little individual who had only entered his life four hours ago. Being the elder brother, he had always looked out for David and even Matt, though they were not related by blood, but this was so very different. It felt as if he would actually throw himself in front of a train if it meant keeping this little one safe, he could kill anyone who looked at her wrong...Was that what it meant to be a father? He supposed he would soon find out.

Like most men, he had initially hoped for a son to carry on the family name and even follow his footsteps into the Marines. A female child certainly could not grow up to join the Marines, and Joe had to admit he would never wish to see his any little girl of his in such a role. However, those previous anticipation were wiped clean the minute he saw his daughter, his beautiful baby girl.

The child's skin had a light bronzed complexion and she was graced with tufts of soft dark hair making her very much her mother's daughter. Nonetheless, her tiny fists fluttered in the air as if fighting to be free and see the world.

Joe smiled as he remembered David doing the same when he had visited his baby brother in the hours after his birth. His mother had said it meant that David would grow up to be determined and strong-hearted and how damned right she had been! The minute he had graduated from high school and behind their parents' back, David had enlisted into the Marines filled with youthful eagerness in the hopes of being shipped to 'Nam where he could fight for his country.

He hoped his little daughter would never pull such a stunt but Joe knew at that very moment that his child would have the same determination and strength that he saw in David.

"Do you want to hold her?" Deena asked, beaming.

"H-hold her?" he repeated uncertainly, hating that he sounded less like a Marine lieutenant and more like a wet-behind-the-ears cadet.

"Yes, Joe, she *is* half yours."

Leaning forward awkwardly, he allowed his wife to settle their daughter in his arms. Briefly, he found himself stunned that he was actually holding the baby he helped create, but a broad smile worked across his lips as he relaxed and just enjoyed moment.

"I can't believe she's ours," Joe murmured, his eyes fixed on his child. He glanced up to Deena. "Have you given any thought to what we should we name our little angel?"

Deena smiled at her sleeping daughter. "I was thinking of either Sarah or Josephine; I can't decide which I like best."

Joe was touched that Deena was considering 'Josephine' as a female equivalent to his own name of 'Joseph', given that he had been so eager on naming the baby after him had she been a boy. Nonetheless, he wasn't too keen on the name 'Josephine' and from the tone of her voice, he could tell his wife felt the same.

Nodding his head, Joe shifted the baby into a more comfortable position. "Well, I think Sarah MacKenzie is a fine name for our fine little lady..."

***********************************
*SARAH- AGED SIX*

On Route from Marlington Elementary School
Fallon, Nevada
September 4th, 1972
"So, are you going back tomorrow?"

Alison Reed scornfully rolled her eyes quite effectively given she was only six years old. "Don't be such a dork, Scott," she said. "You gotta go back even if you don't want to. I heard they throw you in jail if you don't go."

"They do?" gasped Scott Hanlon, his blue eyes widening. The boy turned to his other, more honest best friend. "Do they, Sarah?"

"I guess so," Sarah MacKenzie said. "But even if they don't, I'm still going back tomorrow. I thought school was quite neat and I really liked Mrs Matheson."

The three best friends, all aged six and all walking home after their first day at school, were discussing the merits of returning back to first grade. On their last day of kindergarten, the trio had made a pact that if they didn't enjoy school then they would all run away to Florida and catch the next shuttle to the moon. No-one could catch them if they were on the moon.

However, as they skipped home, Sarah carefully clutched her painting to her chest as she eagerly anticipated presenting it to her father. Although Alison and Scott were still a little uncertain, she had relished every moment of school. Her teacher, Mrs Matheson, told the most wonderful stories and she never shouted even when Daryl Maxwell dropped his paints on the floor. Sarah wanted to be just like her when she grew up.

As she reached the driveway of her house, Sarah waved her friends off and stood there until they had turned the corner into the next street. Her confidence of before was now deflating as she slowly inched towards the front door. Daddy had promised he wouldn't go to out today and that in the evening, he would take her and Mommy to a restaurant to celebrate her first day at school. Sarah was so excited that she had already planned her whole starter, main course and desert. That was easy; she wanted soup, proper pasta that's not from a tin and a chocolate sundae.

But, although she was only six years old, Sarah had long ago learned that not all promises were kept. Even the promises of the most trusted adults.

Quietly opening the front door and creeping inside, Sarah listened for a moment. "Daddy?" she called. "Daddy, are you here?"

For a moment, the child just stood there, uncertain of what to do. The house seemed empty and desolate, and it would not be the first time she had been left to fend for herself. One night, when she was around three, Daddy had drank too much beer and hit her mom so hard that blood gushed from her nose. Sarah remembered wondering if the bleeding was ever going to stop. Mommy had shouted that she couldn't take it anymore and ran away to Auntie Elaine's house two blocks away then Daddy took off in his car. Sarah had to get dressed and make her own breakfast the next morning like a big girl. Mommy returned home that afternoon but from that point on, Sarah knew that sometimes she just had to take care of herself.

It was as she hushed her breathing slightly that the girl became aware of soft sobbing coming from the kitchen. She swallowed, gathered up her courage, and then inched towards the source of the sound. Peeking around the door to the kitchen, Sarah choked down her gasp when she saw her mother wedged into a corner, hugging herself. Even in the poor light, she could see the beginnings of a black eye bruising Mommy's left eye.

"M-mommy?" Sarah whispered, slowly moving forward.

Mommy looked up, and smiled weakly. She held her arms out, and her daughter dropped to the floor to fly into them. "Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry, baby."

"It's okay, Mommy," the child said, patting her mother's back soothingly like one would do to comfort an infant. "It's gonna be all better soon."

A hint of disappointment tinged deep within Sarah; she guessed the restaurant was out now. Mommy never went out when she was hurt...Sometimes, Sarah wished she would so that people, like perhaps Sheriff Norton, would see what happened when Daddy was angry.

Rage bubbled inside the girl, for she knew that it was bad for the strong to pick on the weak. Why didn't Daddy see that too? She loved her daddy, however she couldn't comprehend why he could be so mean.

Instead of allowing her own anger to consume her, she did as Mrs Matheson taught them to do when they felt mad. When she had caught two boys fighting, the teacher had said to take a deep breath as you count to ten, imagine all your anger floating away. Sarah had been fascinated when it actually worked. Maybe she should tell Daddy about that new method then he wouldn't get so mad.

Mommy pulled away from Sarah, stroking her hair back. "You're such a good girl, you know that?" She set the girl on her feet and stood up. "How about I make you something nice?"

Sarah wished more than anything that they could go to that neat restaurant that Alison told her about but she knew that was out of the question. She just had to accept that.

"Can I get fries and Spagetti-O's?" It wasn't proper pasta and a chocolate sundae, but it was the next best thing.

"I can do that, baby."

While Sarah made them coffee, Mommy started heating the Spaghetti-O's and peeling the potatoes. As always, they pretended that nothing had happened and they discussed everything apart from Daddy hurting Mommy. Sarah tried to bring it up once but Mommy just said it didn't matter. Not wanting to upset her, the girl changed the subject to telling her mother about her first day of school and her teacher.

"Scott and Alison don't know if they like it but I thought it was great!"

"That's because you're so clever," Mommy smiled, setting down a plate of piping hot fries and Spagetti-O's.

"Yeah, well, I think-" Sarah was cut off by the bang of the front door.

She knew what was coming.

"Deena! Where the hell is my supper?" Daddy demanded, storming into the kitchen.

Sarah swallowed and backed away from the table. She could smell the beer from her father, and just from his narrowed eyes the girl could tell Daddy was not happy.

"Go upstairs, Sarah," Mommy said, her voice quivering, "go now."

"But, Mommy-"

She wanted to stay here, to protect her mother. Some childish part of her actually thought that if she stayed in the room then Daddy wouldn't lose his temper. It was silly really; there was countless times when Daddy hadn't cared if Sarah was there or not, he just continued to hit Mommy regardless.

Daddy acted as if Sarah had not spoken. "I've told you over and over that I want my supper ready when I come home. I'm out working all the day sweating my guts to support you, you selfish bitch, and I come home to a stinking house and no food. What do I have to do to get some respect in this place?! You're a useless slut, Deena. If it wasn't for me then you'd still be stuck in that hole of a house with your mother!"

Mommy turned sharply to Sarah. "Go now!"

The six-year-old backed into the wall as she watched her father remove his belt and harshly snapped it straight. He didn't even spare one glance at his petrified daughter, his gaze completely focused on his ashen-faced wife. Trembling, Sarah knew what was going to happen; the same thing that occurred so many times before.

Loathing the cowardly emotions of fear and shock, Sarah bolted from the kitchen, flinching as she heard the distinctive crack of the belt hitting skin and the subsequent muffled cry of her mother. Tears now welled over in the deep chocolate brown eyes of the little girl, rolling down her cheeks in a never-ending flow. She choked back her own sobs though, gasping them out only when she reached the sanctuary of her bedroom closet.

Slamming the closet door shut, the child instinctively groped for her torch, switching it on to create a shadowy cast in the tiny crawl space. Sarah huddled into the corner, grasping both her ragged Cody Dog and her torch against her for comfort. She wasn't scared of the dark, or of closet monsters and ghosties...No, what frightened her was the monster of the human heart, the vivid beast of rage that she witnessed every single time her father was drunk.

"I wish it would stop...I wish it would stop..." she whispered repetitively, as if she held the power to make everything better.

But, clasping her hands tightly against her ears, all Sarah could do was pretend she was somewhere else...pretend she didn't exist, for maybe if she disappeared then Daddy wouldn't get so mad.

***********************************
*SARAH- AGED EIGHT*

Fallon Naval Air Station
Fallon, Nevada
July 1st, 1974
Sarah hated the summer vacation. It was too long and allowed her too much time to spend in the house, the last place where she wanted to be. On many a weekend, the girl wished that school would last seven days a week, or a better idea was if her parents would send her to a boarding school and she didn't have to come home until she was finished her senior year of high school, but she knew that was too much to ask. Good things like that only happened in story books or to the cutesy movie heroines.

"I thought you were never gonna get here," Scott said, leaning against the perimeter fence of the Naval Base.

They often met up together in the morning to watch the sailors marching in preparation for the Fourth of July parade. They would sneak through the storm pipe that intersected under the perimeter fence of the base, the few times they were caught, the jovial officers just let them be since they were both local children of the town. At the moment, Alison was vacationing with her family down in Bermuda so that just left Sarah and Scott.

Sarah shrugged. "I didn't think I would be able to, but I gotta go shopping so I had to come out." She frowned at her friend. The boy was sporting a freshly black eye and a heavily bandaged wrist. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, Todd got mad 'cause Mom burned his steak."

Out of every person Sarah had met, Scott was the only one who really understood her as he too had to brave what she did, possibly even worse. Seven years ago, Scott's father had ran away with their teenage neighbour and his mother married a Navy lieutenant named Todd Whitehall. Since then, Todd would regularly beat Scott, his mother and his three older brothers for the slightest thing. Occasionally, when Alison (who had the perfect family) was not around, the remainder of the trio would discuss their turbulent lives.

What once used to both irritate and puzzle Sarah was the fact Scott would often come to school with cuts and bruises and no-one, not the teachers or the kids, would say anything or asked what happened. Todd had made out that Scott and his brothers were always fighting, and naturally, because he was the adult, he was the one to be believed. Now, this situation was something Sarah accepted. She had come to the conclusion that no-one was interested in helping kids like Scott and herself; they were nothing and people were too wrapped up in their own lives to care.

"So, what happened to you? How come you got to go shopping?"

"Mom couldn't go," was all the reply Scott needed as they both knew what that statement meant.

The previous morning Dad had returned home from one of his all-night bar crawls and he was in a foul mood, as per usual. Mom had not made his eggs in time so he had bashed her arm with the frying pan. Sarah had been in the safety of her bedroom hugging her beloved Cody Dog, however she was neither deaf nor stupid, and was more than aware of what had happened.

Today, Mom was resting in bed, nursing her badly bruised arm, while Dad had disappeared again during the night. Sarah knew that she had better make the supper tonight or Mom would pay for her 'laziness', but when the girl went to the fridge earlier that morning, all she found was a lettuce and half a carton of sour milk.

Pinching ten dollars from Dad's desk, Sarah planned to buy some things from the shop, already dreading what her father would do when he noticed that ten dollars missing...and he would find out. Maybe all she would get away with would be a quick slap but if Dad was really angry then Mom might be spending a few more days indoors.

He always blamed Mom...

Sarah knew it was cowardly, but sometimes she was glad that Dad took his terrible temper out on her mother. This made her feel selfish and evil. What kid was happy because their mom was being beaten up? Late at nights, when listening to the shouting and screaming a few doors away, she thought about going in to challenge her father, force him to beat up on her for a change. But she always chickened out leaving her feeling even worse.

The two children watched the marching quietly, before Scott broke the silence. "The soldiers, they look so happy."

"Yeah," Sarah agreed.

She hated them already. How dare they be happy when Dad never was? Or was everything a facade and they were just as miserable as her father? No, she had believe they were truly happy so that she could hope one day her family could have a taste of that carefree life as well.

"Then how come Todd and your dad aren't happy too?" It was a question Sarah couldn't answer but then Scott didn't expect an answer. Both just accepted the route in which their lives took knowing they were too young to change anything. Scott frowned thoughtfully. "Todd was talking to us the other day and he said we were going to join the Navy when we were eighteen."

Sarah raised an eyebrow in interest since she knew Scott wanted to runaway the minute he was eighteen and become a policeman. No-one ever beat up on cops and he said he would stop all kids from being hurt. Sarah just wanted to join the circus as clowns always made her laugh and if she was with them all the time then she would never be sad.

"What did you say?" she asked in interest.

The boy smiled grimly. "I said yes, of course. So did the others, we all know Todd would get mad if we didn't. Only sissies and girls don't want to fight for their country, he says. If Todd told us to jump off the roof, I think we would do it. It's better than what he would do to us if we didn't."

"Okay...but do you *really* wanna be in the Navy?"

"No," he stated firmly, "I don't wanna ever be in the Navy, I don't want nothin' to do with them. I don't want to be Todd."

Standing up, Sarah smiled at him. "Well, I don't think you'll ever end up like Todd, you're too nice."

Feeling embarrassed for admitting such a thing to a friend, especially a friend who was a *boy*, she dashed off leaving Scott to ponder over her compliment alone.

***********************************
Walker's Corner Store
Fallon, Nevada
July 1st
Sarah felt odd shopping on her own without an adult with her. It was like everyone knew the real reason why an eight-year-old was buying the groceries and that thought made her cheeks burn in humiliation. She didn't want anyone to know about her mom and dad. It was a secret and, in order to hold her head high and be like a normal kid, she had to let people think her family was just a perfect.

Chucking in the basic essentials like bread, eggs and milk into her basket, she hurried to the checkout, desperately nothing more than to escape back home as quickly as possible. In front of her, she watched Madelaine Myers- one of the most popular girls in her class- chatting to her father, who was also the local doctor, in an ease which Sarah envied.

"Ooh, blueberry bubble gum!" squeaked Madelaine, scrutinizing the array of candy stacked by the checkout register. "Daddy, can I have some? Please?"

Doctor Myers smiled. "Okay, princess, and better get some for your brother as well. And mind to grab a bag of marshmallows, we're having a barbecue tonight."

Sarah just snorted inwardly. With her long blond hair, confident attitude and well-to-do background, every girl in the third grade wanted to be like Madelaine so why then did she deserve to have a happy dad too? She instantly despised herself for such a thought. Sarah loved her dad very much, despite what he did, and it was bad to wish for another father. Dad always told her that he would die for her and for some reason, she felt she had violated that vow and his love by wishing him away.

Still, she found herself eyeing the candy selection wistfully. She liked blueberry too but as much as she yearned for the gum, she was also aware that she had to keep as much change as possible. Sighing, she moved to place her basket on the checkout platform when she felt the basket being gently tugged away from her. Gasping in surprise and ready to shout for help as the lessons of 'Stranger Danger' flashed through her mind, Sarah turned to find her former first grade teacher, Mrs Matheson, smiling down at her.

"Next please," called the checkout woman, glaring at the distracted child.

Sarah startled and tried to pull her basket back from Mrs Matheson, wondering what the teacher was up to. "It's my turn," Sarah said.

Mrs Matheson just put both Sarah's and her own baskets down. "We're together," she explained to the checkout woman.

"Who's paying?"

Before Sarah could respond, the teacher replied, "I am." She then reached for a packet of blueberry bubble gum. "I'll take this as well."

Astonished by this turn of events, Sarah remained silent as Mrs Matheson packed her things separately, not forgetting to include the gum, and paid for everything. She did not come to her sense until they were both outside the shop when Sarah's sense of pride returned.

"I had money, y'know," Sarah said sullenly. "I don't need no charity."

As much as she was relieved that she could return her father's ten dollars intact, the girl still didn't like the idea of accepting charity. Dad, in his lighter moments, continually told her stories of her long-dead grandfather and his struggle against poverty during his youth. No matter what, her grandfather never asked for loans from the bank or his neighbours. When Sarah had asked why, Dad had explained that 'Real MacKenzies' never took charity, they might be poor but as long as they had their self-respect then they would be fine'.

Mrs Matheson regarded her, as if she knew those weren't Sarah's own words. "No, you don't need charity," she conceded, "but friends often pay for each other."

Sarah blinked. "You're not my friend, you're a teacher."

"Yes," smiled the woman, "but since I'm not your teacher anymore then there's no reason why we can't be friends."

The eight-year-old mulled over this then nodded cautiously. "Okay, I guess...Well, how will I pay you back?"

"How about you come and help me bake some cookies for the Fourth of July party?"

What a strange way of repaying her money but Sarah liked this idea. Trying not to appear to eager, she just shrugged but inwardly she was bubbling with excitement. It had been years since she and Mom had done any baking together and the chance of reclaiming those memories, albeit not with her mother, was fantastic.

***********************************
Mrs Matheson's Residence
Fallon, Nevada
July 1st
It didn't take too long to mix the cookie dough and put the cookies to bake in the oven but Sarah relished every moment. It made a change being in a totally relaxed environment where she wasn't put on edge by Mom's own skittishness or wondering what mood Dad would be in when he came home; the only times the child had experienced such peace was at school or at Alison's place.

Now, curiosity lead Sarah looking at the various books, photographs, trinkets and ornaments adorning Mrs Matheson's living room. The girl had always assumed, like most children, that as a teacher, Mrs Matheson had no real life outside school so it was eye-opening to find these myths dismissed. She was especially interested in the many fossils her host had collected over the years and when Mrs Matheson explained that was because she was fascinated by palaeontology, the eight-year-old soon found herself acquiring a new hobby despite previously thinking that dinosaurs were boring.

Picking up one book, Sarah frowned when she saw it was written in strange squiggles instead of words. "What's wrong with this book?" she asked, grateful that her former teacher was happy to feed her inquisitive nature and would always try to give her an answer.

"It's in Russian," Mrs Matheson replied.

"Why?"

"Well, I'm Russian, Sarah."

"Really?!" exclaimed the wide-eyed youngster. "You don't have a Russian name."

"I did, I was born Anastasia Sokurov and when I married my surname changed to Matheson. But I was born in Russia, in a city called Leningrad. My family moved to America when I was a little girl not much younger than you."

Little pieces of history flitted through Sarah's mind. "Russia is the Soviet, isn't it? Dad said that the Soviets are all commies." She didn't know what a 'commie' was but it couldn't be something nice from the way her father had spat the word out.

"That's true for some, Sarah, but I've been living in this country for many years, far longer than I had in Russia. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, my mom's mom is from Persia, wherever that is, and Mom's grandmother- on her Dad's side- was a Cherokee and I'm not like them at all 'cause I don't know much about all that stuff. Can you speak Russian then?"

"Yes, my mother and grandmother never learned English so I had to speak Russian to her all the time. I never forgot my language of childhood." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe, if you like, I could teach you some as well."

Learn a new language? Her mother had already been teaching her Farsi, the language of her maternal grandmother, since Sarah was five but this was so much cooler. Russian would be a secret language that only she and Mrs Matheson could speak. What a neat plan! Once, when she was a little kid of six, her Uncle Matt had come to visit and he could speak some Vietnamese. It would be so impressive if she could show him that she too could speak another language.

"That would be real neat!" piped Sarah. Then a picture of a younger Mrs Matheson standing with a handsome young man caught her eye. "Is that your husband?"

"Yes," the teacher said, smiling faintly at the photo, "his name was Steven."

"Where is he now? And where's your kids?"

"Oh, he died a long time ago, Sarah, before we could have any children."

That saddened Sarah, she thought Mrs Matheson would have made a great mom. "Do you get sad?"

"Yes, sometimes when I think of him, I do. But that was a long time ago, and if we kept looking back on the past then we would never have any time for the future, would we now?"

Suddenly, Sarah felt the need to start heading home. She had discovered recently that she had a knack for estimating the time, a talent she was beginning to hone, and her special internal clock was now telling her that Dad would be home soon.

"I should be going now, Mrs Matheson. Thanks for letting me bake the cookies," said the girl, gathering up her shopping bag.

"That's okay, honey. Mind to stop round during the vacation and we'll start on those Russian lessons."

"Okay."

"Oh, and Sarah?"

Sarah turned at hearing the strange quality in the teacher's voice. "Yes?"

"Things will get better for you. When I was young, my family was very poor and sometimes, that forced my father to do things that he shouldn't have...to drink more than was right and get angry at the people he loved."

Pursing her lips, Sarah dropped her head to her chest, preferring to study her shoes than to meet Mrs Matheson's eyes. "I don't know what you mean," she lied.

"What I mean is, I had to work very hard to get where I am today. Not everyone has a life like Madelaine Myers and it's not easy getting over bad things from the past...What I'm trying to say, Sarah," the teacher said, eyeing the girl before her, "is that things will get better for you one day, like they did for me. You have to believe that."

The child allowed her defences to drop briefly. "I'll try to...But it can so hard."

***********************************
*SARAH- AGED TEN*

St Luke's Cemetery
Fallon, Nevada
October 27th, 1976
Sarah had never been to a funeral before; in her ten short years, death had never really touched the people in her life. Now, she stood with her Dad's hand resting on her shoulder at the funeral of Max Hanlon, the fifteen-year-old brother of her best friend Scott.

For a change, the past week had been surprisingly enjoyable and Sarah had actually looked forward to going home from school. Mom was in Everett spending a fortnight at Grandmother's and since Sarah neither wanted to miss school nor see her miserly grandmother (who would inevitably scold the girl for falling behind in her tedious Farsi lessons), she had hesitantly opted to stay with Dad at home.

Perhaps in response to his daughter's misgivings towards him or maybe because Mom was absent, Dad didn't go down to the pub once instead choosing to pass the time in Sarah's company. In the evenings, after helping Sarah with her homework, Dad had started teaching her kick boxing. He had said not only was she learning from the Balwinton High School champion but such a sport would protect her from the roving eyes of the sailors of the nearby base, who would no doubt turn their attention to beauty Sarah was, a fact that was becoming increasingly evident as the girl reach her teens.

This was the way that Sarah had always envisioned the perfect father to be like and life had been great. But as the girl had come to expect, nothing ever went smoothly.

Two nights ago when Scott had come fleeing to the MacKenzie house at eleven o'clock at night, his clothes drenched in blood. Dad had managed to calm the hysterical boy down enough to learn that Todd had come home drunk as usual and snapped when Scott and his eleven-year-old brother Jeff had accidentally broke a window playing baseball. While Max was protecting his younger brothers from their step-father's rage, Todd had smashed the teenager's head with the glass coffee table. Max had died instantly.

In many ways, Sarah still could not fully comprehend what had happened. She remembered with a striking clarity the sticky crimson blood that had soaked into Scott's pyjamas and her best friend's hiccupping cries as he explained what had occurred; those were images that would remain with her for life. But, how could Max be dead?

Despite being constantly aware of the violence Todd could inflict Sarah had never once thought he would be capable of killing Scott or one of his brothers. Although, Max seemed 'old' in the lofty heights of tenth grade, he was still a kid much like her and Scott. He was like her and Alison's big brother as much as Scott's- teaching the trio baseball, helping them pitch a tent, providing protection from the school bullies.

It seemed eerie that a kid she knew so well was dead. It made her realize that if God could take a kid to heaven then He could do the same with anyone else, even people Sarah knew.

But what was worried her was the question of her own part in Max's death. Was this in some way her fault? Should she have spoken out right from the start when she had asked, back in nursery, why Scott was always covered bruised? Maybe Max would still be alive if she had. If so, did that make her a murderer like Todd?

Tears welled up and streaked down Sarah's cheeks as Paul, Scott's fourteen-year-old brother and now the eldest of the Hanlon boys, come forward to speak about his brother. Paul's words were distorted to Sarah's anguished mind but it was Mrs Hanlon's sharp and pitiful wails that struck a cord in the ten-year-old. On one hand, Sarah was mad at her for not doing anything about Todd but on the other, she felt bad for thinking such a thing about a woman who was no more able than her own mother.

Instead of scolding her for acting like a wimp and not being a proper 'tough MacKenzie', her father squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. Sarah glanced around at the large congregation. Many of the local community were present, including Max's teachers and classmates. She wanted to shout at them for not doing something sooner, for knowing about Todd but looking the other way, but what point would there be? It sure wouldn't bring Max back and at least, Todd was locked up in jail never to hurt Scott or his remaining brothers again.

Finally, the priest murmured a prayer for the dead boy and the assemblage began to disperse from Max's white casket. Sarah wanted to speak to Scott but he and his brothers were quickly whisked away by their temporary foster parents despite their mother's protests. Alison's parents also escorted their daughter towards their car without giving Sarah a chance to talk to her friend.

"Come on, let's take a walk," Dad said softly.

Sarah allowed him to lead further into the desolate cemetery. They walked in silence for a while as Sarah pondered over the events of the funeral. It somehow seemed wrong that the sky was blue and the sun blazed down warming the day considerable more than expected for October. Didn't God know that Max was dead? Wouldn't it be more fitting had it been cloudy and dark?

Despite her preoccupation, the girl remembered to steer her father away from the left side of the cemetery; that was where all the smaller children and babies were buried and it scared her more than mad stepfathers and shadows in the dark.

"Daddy?" she said, after a time.

Her father frowned slightly in surprise to the fact she had called him 'Daddy'; she hadn't done so since she was seven and he had accidentally bashed her head with a pot that had been aimed at her mother. Sarah had earned a black eye for that and Dad had wallowed in guilt for a week, his conscience making him buy his daughter candy and toys in a bid to seek forgiveness. She had forgiven her father for the incident but never again did she refer to him as 'Daddy' for that entailed an unyielding trust and faith that a child held for their father, something that Sarah could no longer associate with Joe MacKenzie no matter how much she loved him.

"Yes, honey?"

"Why did Todd beat on Max? He didn't do nothing and he was only a kid and Todd is so big."

Dad sighed and Sarah would have given anything to know what was going through his mind at that moment. "I don't know, Sarah...You see, sometimes people do things...bad things for reasons they don't know."

"That's wrong."

"Yes, Sarah, it is."

"What would you do if I grow up and marry somebody like Todd?" Sarah asked curiously since in many ways, her own father was like Todd.

"I would kill him if he laid a hand on you," Dad replied, vehemently.

"Why?" She asked this tentatively since what she was really asking was 'If you would harm any man who would lay his hand against me, then why do you hurt my mother?'

"Because you're my daughter, I don't want to see you hurt ever. I want you to marry someone who'll love you and lay their life down for you..." Dad cupped her cheek gently. "You're still such a little girl, Sarah, you're just a baby. One day, when you grow up and have your own kids, then you'll understand that a parent would do anything for their child, no matter what their own sins are."

Had this been any other day or had this been anyone else, then Sarah would have immediately balked at being called a baby. She was ten years old, dammit, and in her eyes that constituted a near adult. But all she could think of was what her father had said.

There was a word for that: a hypocrite. As young as she was, Sarah knew that when you married someone then you took a vow to protect them as well as love them. How could Dad say he didn't want any guy to hurt her when *he* went around beating on Mom?

But since Max Hanlon's death, she had also began wondering why both Mrs Hanlon and her mother endured such circumstances. Why didn't they do something for themselves- speak up, run away, anything? This was something that had never occurred to Sarah before, she had always assumed that maybe there was hoped for Mom and Dad, but maybe she was just deluding herself.

For the first time in her life, Sarah realized her mother was weak. She would never do anything to protect herself from Dad, she would just allow him to hurt her. Why didn't she do anything? She could have forced her dad to stop drinking, could have taken Sarah away until he did. Why did Mrs Hanlon do nothing as her lunitic husband beat on her kids? Mothers were meant to protect their kids, weren't they?

The girl was instantly ashamed of the woman she called Mom, hated her weakness and what she saw as cowardice. It was wrong for a daughter to feel shame on her mom's behalf, Sarah knew this despite her youth, but nevertheless, she did. For although the beatings were not her mother's fault, she did nothing to defend herself, not once. And for the life of her, Sarah just couldn't understand why.

And straightening inwardly, the ten-year-old vowed she would never let a man hurt her like Dad hurt Mom. Sarah wouldn't need Dad to protect her from any abusive husband or boyfriend or anyone, she herself would kill anyone who tried to harm her. Most of all, she would never allow herself to become her mother...

***********************************
*SARAH- AGED ELEVEN-AND-A-HALF*

The MacKenzie Residence
Fallon, Nevada
June 18th, 1978
"How's it going there, Sarah girl?"

"I think the end is in sight, Dad."

Her father chuckled. "Thank God, I thought we'd be stuck in here until your twenty-first."

Sarah beamed, thoroughly enjoying her father's good mood and everything in general. In three days time, she would turn twelve and this birthday was destined to be unforgettable. Not only had her parents decided to splash out and organized a huge barbecue party for the neighbourhood then a sleep-over for Alison (Dad banned Scott from the sleep-over because he was a boy, but the girls planned for him to sneak over in the night) but her Uncle Matt was coming after being granted leave from the war.

Although he rarely visited, Sarah adored her uncle and they had been exchanging letters since she was first able to write. Uncle Matt was so easy-going and relaxed, always had a funny joke or a story about her father when he was a boy. When they were little and things were bad, she and Scott would often fantasize of running off and having Uncle Matt adopt them.

As it was, her parents were making a go of their marriage and her father hadn't been to the pub for almost three months. Dad's foul moods were fading into a distant memory and once or twice Mom had even asked how she would feel about a little brother or sister.

For now, she and Dad were concentrating on cleaning out the attic as they searched for the spare blankets and sleeping bags. Usually, the girl would have seen it as a chore but her father's teasing had lightened it into a game. As she trudged through various boxes, Sarah stalled when she came across one filled not with junk but photos and a Marine uniform.

Biting her lip in puzzlement, she reached for a photograph of a tall young man standing proudly in full military uniform. The man looked vaguely like her father though he was too tall and his hair a lighter brown for it to be him, and he certainly did not look like Uncle Matt. Since her mother had no brothers or male cousins, that left only one person the young man could be...

"I haven't seen that photo in years," Dad murmured as he took the picture from her.

"Who is he?" Her voice was hushed in deference on her father's moods. Sarah had a distinct feeling who the man was but she knew better than to go into that uncertain emotional territory where she never knew how her father would react.

Her suspicions were confirmed when her father drew her closer to him, his eyes still remaining on the photo in his hands. "This, Sarah, is your uncle...my kid brother David. He's...was a great guy, you would have loved him, kiddo."

Sarah had been barely three years old when David had been killed in Vietnam, too young to remember much of David or to understand death itself, yet his murder had forever left a mark on her and her family. That was the day her father changed, where he stopped being the Daddy she worshipped and instead became a figure of fear and wariness to her mother.

Digging into the box, her father's movements stilled once more when he pulled out a tiny, tattered black-and-white photograph of three young boys. The eldest boy, dark-haired and solemn, was around ten or twelve and the youngest sandy blond child couldn't have been more than four. Sarah craned her head so she could better see the picture and bit her lip in reflection. The middle boy beamed happily back but the smiles of the eldest and youngest children seemed forced to Sarah's trained eyes and their melancholy eyes reminded her so much of Scott's in a way.

"Is that you?" the youngster asked, pointing to the older boy.

"Yeah, with David and Matt. I must have been about your age when this was taken, Matt would have been a little younger and David was just a baby, about four, I think."

"D...d'you still miss him a lot?"

"Yes, he was my baby brother, Sarah. You know, when we were little I used to protect him from bullies and from our father when he was being too hard on us kids. Matt could always take care of himself and Dad never used to bother him much because he wasn't his real son. But it was so much different for me and Davey. It could be quite bad some days."

"I wish I had someone to protect me," Sarah blurted out. Dad jerked his gaze to her, frowning at her words. She quickly glanced to her feet, wide-eyed at having uttered her inner thoughts. They *never* discussed the beatings, *never* talked about Dad's moods. And she didn't want to ruin what was a pretty happy day. "I-I mean, someone to protect me from bullies," she swiftly said, hoping to brush her former statement away.

Her father laid a finger under her chin and gently raised her head so she was facing him. "You're a good kid, Sarah, you know I love very much. You're the best..." His voice broke at that and for a moment the girl was terrified he was going to cry. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't know what I'd do without you. I want things to be different for you...different from what it was for me and David. Do you understand?"

Sarah nodded, unable to speak. Did he mean things were going to change? That maybe she could have the family she always dreamt of, a family like Alison's? She did realize that something within her dad had changed when he saw that photo of him with his brothers.

Scrutinizing her carefully, he said in a light, suggestive tone, "You know, kiddo, I can't get you a big brother or sister but what would you say about having a little one to be the protector to?"

Eyes widening at the implication, she could barely contain a childish squeal of excitement. "Mom's gonna have a baby?!" she exclaimed, breathlessly.

Dad laughed. "She's not pregnant yet but we've been thinking about it. Would you like a little brother or sister?"

"Yeah, yeah, that would be so neat to have a new baby!"

Hoisting the girl up onto his back, Dad turned to her. "Hey, I thought you enjoyed being my baby."

"Da-ad," Sarah moaned, rolling her eyes. "I'm gonna be twelve soon, you can't be carrying me around forever."

The father and daughter argued in good nature as Sarah described all the pros of having a new child in the family. It would be a brother, she could just imagine it. A little guy she would teach baseball and kickboxing, and maybe even a little of her secret language Russian. She would take care of him and protect him just like Dad had once looked out for her Uncle David. And for all this little brother would look up to his big sister and adore her, she would always love him more...for giving their family a new beginning.

***********************************
*SARAH- AGED FIFTEEN*

On Route From Lincoln High School
Fallon, Nevada
September 18th, 1981
Here she was, just two years into her teens, and Sarah had discovered something most adults didn't find out until their thirties; life was shit. Life at home had become increasingly unbearable over the past eighteen months or so, her parents spent the nights screaming at each other and in the mornings both Mom and Dad went their separate ways, ignoring each other and ignoring her. Why she even bothered coming home from school, she did not know.

Unlike other fifteen-year-olds', Sarah adored school. Although she would never admit it to her peers, she loved to learn and soak in new information, she loved the foods served in the cafeteria (so much better than the burnt offerings she could make and it been months since her mother had cooked for her) but most of all, she loved the freedom to be with her friends, especially Scott and Alison. The trio's simple childhood friendship had changed over the years to a bond more akin to close siblings.

As it was, the three best friends were walking home from school much like they had everyday for nine years. When they reached the driveway of Sarah's house, they stopped as Sarah contemplated her home, sighing like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"You can come to my house for a while if you want," Scott offered.

Ironically, as her home situation worsened, Scott's had improved ten fold. Although Todd remained locked up in prison, Mrs Hanlon had not learned her lesson and still had lousy taste in men. However, Scott's eldest brother Paul had rented a small apartment while he finished college and so, with the weary consent of his mother, both Scott and Jeff had moved in also. Conditions were cramped but to the boys, it was heaven no longer living in fear; they were free.

"No," Sarah replied, reluctantly, "I should go home. I have to eventually."

"Well, on Saturday Dad said I can have a camp-out in the back yard," Alison said, trying to brighten the moment. "You guys will be coming, won't you?"

Sarah smiled in gratitude at her friend. She knew that Alison was very much the five-star-and-fully-furnished girl and loathed camping yet she was willing to sleep out with the bugs and bats as a way of giving Sarah a night's freedom from her home life. As they grew up, and especially since Max Hanlon's death, Alison was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that not everyone had a happy family like she did and, though of out deference to her friends' pride she would never speak up, she did do little things to help. Sarah was eternally grateful for that.

"That's be good, Al." The teenager sighed. "Well, I'd better go. See ya."

Gathering her strength, she walked up the driveway to the house then hesitantly opened the front door. It was the simplest of acts but had become one of the most difficult chores in the girl's life for many years now. Sometimes, she wished she could just hurry and grow up, leave all these hassles far behind her. She'd picture herself buying a nice little house in the middle of the Canadian Rockies, where no-one could come by easily, and living in peace with a pack of dogs.

"You were late home today, girl," her father's gruff voice called from the living room the minute she stepped into the house. "Out looking at the sailors? You know they only want one thing and that's to get into your panties."

Sarah bristled at his crude talk but did her best to school her expression into a blank impassive disinterest. There was little point in talking to her father when he was like this. For a few years following Max Hanlon's death five years ago, things had improved with her parents making an effort to be real parents to their only daughter. They often accompanied her on long walks with the puppy Uncle Matt had bought her whom she named Ruggles, they had family days out and attended the Fourth of July picnic. Hell, her parents had even talked about having another child- a thought Sarah had been so excited about.

Of course, this was not to last...Did it ever?

"Ruggles?" the girl shouted to her furry companion. "Here, boy!"

She was surprised the dog didn't come running when he heard her coming home from school. For six years now, he was the only one she was guaranteed would acknowledge her presence. It was highly unusual for Ruggles not to jump onto her, eager for his afternoon feed.

"Ruggles? Come on, boy, I've got your munchies..."

"The mutt's not here," Dad said.

Sarah marched into the living room, glaring at her father. He was slouched in the armchair surrounded by beer cans and crisp bags, wearing an old ragged sweat suit. The teenager watched in disgust as his head lolled to face her, his expression slightly inebriated to no surprise given that Joe MacKenzie was no stranger to an afternoon six-pack.

"What do you mean? Where's Ruggles?" There was accusation in her voice.

"I didn't hurt him, kid, your momma saw fit to steal him when she took off on us is all."

Sarah swallowed as a chill swept up her back. "Wh...what? Where's Mom? Where *is* she?"

"She's gone, Sarah, I don't think we'll be seein' her again." For a brief moment, Dad's expression softened. "Don't worry, girl. We don't need that useless slut anyway."

Not wanting to here any more, Sarah spun away and sprinted up the stairs to her parents' bedroom. Gasping for breath as tears streamed down her cheeks, she pulled open her mother's wardrobe...only to find it empty save a couple of old shirts. The suitcase usually situated at the bottom of the wardrobe was gone.

Sarah shook her head as she faced reality...Her mother really *was* gone and this time Sarah didn't think she was coming back.

Her mother had dumped her.

The teenager backed away to retreat to her own bedroom. Only when she was in the relative familiarity of her closet did she allow the sobs to choke through her. Raking around a box which held all her old childhood trinkets, Sarah found her beloved Cody Dog- an old friend from the days when she had been at her most vulnerable. Now, aged fifteen and a sophomore at high school, that same vulnerability of her six-year-old self returned the moment she realized her own mom had abandoned her like old rubbish, even taking her dog with her.

Feeling all of six years old again, Sarah pulled her Cody Dog closer to her. The stuffed toy her father had supposedly given to her when she was born was now ragged and bear from years of cuddling by a perpetually petrified little girl.

"Mom?" she whispered, her voice sounding young and frail to her own ears. "Why d'you leave me?"

***********************************
*SARAH- AGED SEVENTEEN*

Braddock Hill
Fallon, Nevada
May 29th, 1984
"Eh, guys, I think I'll be heading home. My mom and dad will be looking for me."

Sarah and Scott gazed at their sober friend through alcohol hazed eyes. Alison was standing up, fidgeting from one foot to the other as she regarded her two best friends in a mixture of nervousness and distaste. Accompanied by another boy, Corey McCullen, the three inebriated teens were surrounded by empty beer cans and vodka bottles, much of the offending substances soaking their clothing.

The four teenagers, with Alison agreeing only grudgingly, had persuaded a mature looking senior to buy them some beer and vodka as they planned to celebrate Scott's eighteenth birthday in 'style'. Sarah had been aware Alison had not been too keen a party in their plans but only desisted in concern, determined to keep a firm eye on things.

"Please, guys, let's just go," Alison pleaded. "It's getting late and I think you've drank enough today."

"Why?" Corey smirked. "Scotty here ain't done celebrating, have ya?"

"Yeah, lighten up, Al." Scott tossed her a beer. "Here, have a drink."

Sarah sighed. "Leave her alone, guys." She turned to Alison. "Look, Alison, get going. Your parents won't be pleased if you stay out too late."

For moment, this seemed to please the other girl until she realized the others made no move leave with her. "Aren't you coming?"

"Nah, I think I'll stay here a little longer. I'll be along soon. Go, Al, it's okay."

Hesitantly, Alison nodded then began walking away. Sarah watched her, a tinge of envy tainting her mind. It was better this way though. As they were growing up, leaving the innocence of childhood behind, the trio of long-term friends were finding their paths diverging. Alison was destined for college then a good career in law or something equally prestigious and finally settling down with a good man; a stark comparison to Sarah and Scott, whose only destiny lay in selling Beltway burgers to spotty brats.

Upon this revelation, Sarah realized she could hide her depression with the help of alcohol. Drink made her problems disappear. Problems like her good-for-nothing mother, perpetually-absent father...like Mrs Matheson's death four months ago. The woman who had become a second mother to a neglected little girl had been struck down by a heart attack. Sarah's only consolation was that her death was sudden, she did not suffer.

But once again, she was alone.

"What'sh up, Sh'arah?" Scott asked, his words slightly slurred.

"Just thinking."

Scott's life wasn't much better. His mother had traded on one abusive boyfriend for another, and while this time he never lay a hand on Scott himself, he did succeed in wearing down the boy's confidence and self-esteem. His elders brothers had now long since left home and gone in different directions, leaving Scott alone back at his mother's place and doing what little he could to protect her from her scum boyfriend.

"'Bout what?" Her friend was nothing if not determined.

Sarah graced him with a reassuring smile. "Nothing, Scott, just thoughts." She shivered as the icy wind cut across the hills.

"Cold?" Scott asked. At her nod, he swiftly shrugged off his jacket and proceeded to wrap his best friend in it.

"Anyone ever tell you that you're the perfect gentleman," Sarah grinned.

Despite his non-too-sober state, Scott managed to share in a rueful smile. "Hey, just don' let it get aroun'."

The moment was broken by when the oblivious Corey piped up, "Hey, you guys wanna have some fun?"

Sarah exchanged a bemused glance with Scott before risking to ask, "What kind of fun? If it's something perverted, you know I'll kick your ass."

Corey stood up, frowning in mock insult. "Perverted? Moi? Nah, not this time but it *is* fun."

Exchanging a puzzled look with Scott, Sarah replied carefully, "What d'you have in mind?"

Jiggling a set of keys, Corey grinned. "Ever ridden in a Cadillac before?"

***********************************
"No, I don't know about this."

"Relax, Sarah," Corey assured, with cocky certainty of a teenage boy, "it'll be fine. And I've done this before, don't worry."

"Nothing's gonna happen, we'll be back before you know it." Although Scott's voice was slurred slightly, he had sobered enough to be mesmerised by the car classic.

What seemed like a game at first was turning into something Sarah was all too aware was a crime and there could be serious consequences for them if they were caught. She didn't know what possessed her to allow herself to be caught up in the boyish excitement of her two counterparts as they dragged their drunken selves down to Corey's house and into his father's prized Cadillac. Okay, so the car was not exactly stolen nor were Corey's parents at home to realize the vehicle was missing but still the teenager hesitated to carry on with this foolhardy stunt. Neither of them had a driver's license and they were hardly in a fit state to drive regardless.

But they were only going for a short spin, weren't they? And it wasn't as if her father would bother what she was up to?

"Oh, okay, but just for a little bit then we come back."

"Will do, missy."

The boys giggled in drunken exuberance as Sarah clambered in the back seat, choking back her fears and determined to enjoy herself. When else would *she* have the chance to ride in such a cool car? She'd be lucky if she could ever even afford a push-bike, let alone a car. She pushed away her self-pity, today was Scott's birthday and it was time to celebrate. Plenty of time to be miserable tomorrow when she returned to her dull, crap life.

"Sarah, got any more beer?" Corey asked, twisting in his seat.

"Should you be drinking?" the girl quizzed their appointed driver.

Corey just grinned brashly. "Hell, why not? I'm already way above the limit, what's one more?"

"Okay, okay, just keep your eyes on the road," Sarah warned, fishing out a beer from the booze bag she had with her in the back. She twisted the top off then graudgingly handed it to Corey.

"Yee-hah!" Corey screeched, pressing his foot harder on the accelerator.

Sarah exchanged a worried glance with Scott, who bit his lip and turned uncertainly to the other boy. "Maybe we should head back now. One of the neighbours might have noticed."

"Yeah, yeah, don't be a Nazi 'bout it." Corey took a swill of his beer than suddenly cursed when the bottle was jolted out of his hand when the car bumped hard a hole in the road. He reached down, taking his eyes from the road for just one second.

And that was all it took.

A small truck suddenly appeared out of no-where, too quick for Corey to react. Sarah screamed, instinctively putting her hands to her face. She felt herself airborne for a split second and there was a deafening crunch as metal collided and smashed into metal. She was thrown back into the seat violently, pain washing through her ribs and back. Then there was nothing but the darkness she gave into...

***********************************
The pain was the first sensation Sarah MacKenzie become aware of. An odd throbbing in her head much akin to an easing hang-over and sharp pangs across her face. Her whole body was achy and stiff, and her tongue was furry and coated. Forcing herself to wrench open her brown eyes with Herculian strength, she found herself surrounded by white.

Heaven...?

No, Heaven was not equipped with medical monitors and railed beds. Mac slowly sat up, feeling more than a little confused to find herself lying in a white-sheeted bed. If she didn't know any better she would have assumed this was a hospital...but how could that be? The last thing she remembered was cruising the streets with Scott and Corey. How did she end up here?

"Oh, you're awake," came a cheerful voice.

Startled, Sarah swivled in the bed to come face-to-face with a young woman dressed in a nurse's uniform. The nurse smiled at her and without asking, quickly felt for Sarah 's pulse and took her temperature. Sarah watched incredulously as the woman comtinued to poke and prod her.

"Where am I?" Sarah quizzed, realising she was not going to get any anwers without asking. "How did I get here?"

The nurse beamed again. "You're in Fallon General Hospital, you were in a bad car accident."

"What?!"

At seeing her stunned expression, the nurse began to retreat hastily. "Maybe you need to rest first then we will continue this discussion. You don't want to be sedated, do you?"

Sarah glanced at the woman's badge which identified her to be Nurse Judy Turner then she looked pleadingly at her. "Please...I don't want to rest. Just tell me how I got here? There were two boys in the car with me. What happened to them?" For some strange reason, Sarah felt panicked. Something was not right here, she just could not put her finger on it.

Judy inched back and eased Sarah down, covering her up with the blankets. "Just relax...You were in a terrible car accident, lets concentrate on you first. You have a concussion, facial bruising and some bruised ribs, you were very lucky considering. We've been trying to trace a relative but so far..."

Yeah, big shock there. But Sarah didn't really care if her leg had fallen off, all she was interested in was Scott and, to a lesser degree, Corey.

"Please, what happened to the guys?" she begged. "Please tell me."

The nurse sighed, her cheer vanishing into sadness and pity for the girl. "I'm so sorry...One of the boys, Scott Hanlon, died instantly," Sarah crumpled at this, tears instantly prickling in her eyes and she only vaguely heard the woman continue, "and the other boy, Corey McCullen is in a serious condition. He's in surgery now but he's very badly hurt."

"No..." whimpered the teenager.

"The police will probably want to talk to you later but only when you're up to it." At her stricken look, the nurse incorrectly assumed she was worried about the possible legal consequences. "I wouldn't worry too much, you're a juvenile and the backseat passenger. That was probably what saved your life too."

Sighing and slumping further against the bed, Sarah blocked out the other woman until she had finished carrying out her examination and left the girl alone with her physical and emotional pain. She pulled her knees up to her chin, choking back the sobs tightening in her throat. This couldn't be happening...

It was a lie.

Scott was dead and Corey dying? Scott couldn't die, he was her best friend, her kindred spirit. They were meant to be friends forever. He wasn't allowed to leave her, not now and not like this. Not Scott, the kid who promised to marry her when they were three years old and first met in the sandbox.

No...

Had this been her fault? The police obviosuly thought so if they wanted to talk to her. And did she only survive because she was in the back? Why didn't she do more to make Scott ride backseat with her? Why did she even allow the boys to talk her into the stupid car in the first place? Her dad had always warned her boys were stupid and she had to know better.

Sarah felt herself give over to her swirling grief and emptiness as she realised she was still wearing Scott's tattered and worn jacket, the one he had been so quick to give to her. He was gone, she would never see him smile again or tell her they were two of a kind. And in a hospital filled with hundreds of people, Sarah had never felt so alone in her entire seventeen years. Her best friend was gone and with him, her own innocence and carelessness of youth had abruptly died with him, years before that of her peers.

Hugging herself, pulling Scott's jacket tighter, and tears rolled down her cheeks. "Happy birthday, Scott."

She flinched slightly as she felt a strong hand wrapped around her. So wrapped in her grief she hadn't notice anybody enter her small cubicle. Suddenly, the floodgates opened and all the pain and loss poured out, Sarah cried for all she was worth.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo, I'm so sorry."

"Why did he have to die, Dad? Why couldn't it have been me?"

***********************************
*SARAH- AGED NINETEEN*

Marriott's Motel
Las Vegas, Nevada
November 10th, 1985
"And I know pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride..."

Sarah jerked slightly as she felt Chris's rough lips connect with hers, his breath reeking of cheap alcohol. She forced herself to relax. As a child, she had always imagined a beautiful white wedding for herself, flowing down the aisle in a gorgeous white dress to eternalise forever the love to the man of her dreams. Certainly she had never considered taking these sacred vows in some cheap, dirty motel with an Elvis impersonator in place of the reverend as she pledged her life and love to a man she had only met three months previously.

Nevertheless, she chose this; she needed Chris to be with her, never to leave her. And this was the only way someone like her could have any form of security. Like her mother before her, she was a slut, she understood and accepted that now. She didn't deserve to be with someone who would treat her otherwise, as something more, like any decent guy would look twice at her anyway And while it might not have been love between them, Sarah could make this work. She could learn to love Chris.

Hell, they were husband and wife now, she had to.

Braking off the kiss, Chris took her hand and lead her away. "Come on, girl," he leered, "let's go make this formal."

Forcing back tears, Sarah followed him back to the motel room, her mind already on what her next drink would be. Her dad had been right all along, alcohol was the best therapy.

***********************************
*SARAH- AGED TWENTY*

The Ragle Residence
Fallon, Nevada
December 2nd, 1986
Sarah brought the almost empty bottle of scotch to her lips, savouring the bitter taste as it burned down her throat, finishing the last few gulps without difficulty. Stumbling from her bed, she managed to throw the empty bottle into the bin before heading into the kitchen to see if Chris had left any more booze for her. She smiled victoriously when she located an unopened bottle of vodka hidden behind some cereal boxes in a cupboard. That would tide her over until the afternoon when she would force herself out for some shopping.

And damn that husband of hers for trying to hide the vodka from her. He should have known better.

Chris never could keep anything from her, not the drink he tried to hoard for himself and not the cheap whores he slept around with during his little disappearing stunts. This time six days had already passed since Sarah had last seen him. Oh, she wasn't worried, he always came home full of apologies and armloads of presents. Then for a couple of weeks he'd appease her, they'd share a few drinks together, before the arguments would once again start and he'd walk out in a drunken rage. The only thing which brought Sarah comfort as the whole cycle would start yet again was her booze. It blotted out the pain and, for a precious few hours, let her forget this was her life.

Unscrewing the top to her treasure and throwing herself down into a chair at the small kitchen table, she cursed in exasperation when there was a timid knock on the front door. Sarah considered ignoring it when the knocking become more insistent. Sighing hard, she pushed up off the table and moved over to the door. Swinging open the door and prepared to beat off whatever irritant who had the nerve to disturb her, Sarah felt her jaw drop as her drunken haze receded slightly and she found herself staring back to the beautiful blonde young woman standing anxiously in front of her.

"Alison?"

The blonde smiled, her blue eyes softening in warmth. "Hi, Sarah, aren't you going to invite your old friend in?"

"Erm...yeah, yeah, come on in."

Sarah managed to walk without stumbling back to the kitchen table where she offered her oldest friend a seat. To say she was speechless was an understatement. The last time she had seen Alison Reed was their high school graduation just a month after Scott's death. The other girl then spent that summer vacationing with her family in Hawaii before leaving for university. Alison had wrote numerous times but, since never once gaining a response, the letters had eventually tapered off. Sarah knew the Reeds' didn't approve of their daughter's friendship to the neighbourhood delinquent and she agreed, Alison deserved to make better friends, people more like her. She would only bring Ali down

Alison, for her part, seemed unsure of what to do. "I've come down for the Christmas hols so I thought I'd look you up. It's been a while."

"Yep, well, I'm the same old, Ali. Traded one hole for another."

Okay, so she had descended to a new low of being cruel to an old friend. Sarah was just not in the mood for keeping up appearances any longer. Alison was not a little girl, it was time she realized not everything on this planet was rainbows and buttercups. For some people, like Sarah, life was shit and they had to learn how to give as good as they got if they were to survive.

There was an awkward silence. "So, erm, where is Christopher?"

Sarah laughed harshly. "Heard, huh? Bet all the gossips loved that one- slutty little Sarah Mackenzie, Fallon's biggest lost cause, marrying the kid who had his own room reserved in Juvie."

The other girl bristled at her tone. "Don't talk like that, Sarah."

"Why not? It's the truth." Sarah picked up her vodka bottle was and was about to take a gulp when she remembered she had company. "Want some?"

"Eh, Sarah, it's only ten o'clock in the morning, don't you think it's a bit early for that."

"A vodi for the body, it's good for the system."

Alison watched in mute horror as Sarah downed the drink with ease. "You're drunk," she stated simply.

"Getting there. Anyway, it's a family trait."

"The Sarah I know would never do this, not after Scott."

Sarah bowed her head at the mention of their late friend's name. She hadn't thought about Scott for some time, she had enough on her shoulders as it was without thinking about the boy whose death she had helped bring about.

"I'm not the Sarah you knew, not any more," she muttered, laying her head on the table wearily. Before Alison could question or form any sort of response, a rapid series of knocks on the front door jolted them. "Gee, I'm popular today."

Apparently taking the hint that Sarah was not going to answer, she heard Alison sigh and move from the table to the door in a few quick strides.

"Excuse me, does Sarah MacKenzie live here?" asked the oddly familiar male voice on the other side of the door when Alison opened it.

"Who wants to know?" Alison asked suspiciously.

Through her alcohol induced confusion, Sarah quelled a small smile at this. After all she's seen and still Alison was trying to protect her. It was reassuring to know her friend's caring and loyal qualities had not diminished despite the years.

"The name is Matt O'Hara, I'm Sarah's uncle. I heard she still lived in the area and I tracked her down to this address."

All Sarah heard was the name 'Matt O'Hara', everything else her uncle said was faded into the background, blocked by the thudding her heart and a sudden faintness that had little to do with the drink and far more to do with shame and humiliation. She didn't want her uncle to see her like this, not the man she admired more than she ever would her own father. She knew she would never make him proud but Sarah herself was so proud of him, the Marine Colonel, and she didn't want him to see what a pathetic useless lump his neice was.

For the first time in her life, Sarah felt as if she had let a loved one down. Matt had always expected great things from her, the only child from her father's side of the family. Ha, that was a laugh.

She was pulled from her self-pity when Alison turned to her in askance, "Sarah, you know him?"

"Sarah, are you there?"

Matt ducked around the young woman into the apartment and uncle and niece stared at each other in mirrored astonishment. She at seeing her beloved uncle once more in the flesh after close to five years, the last time being just before her mother left, and he evidently because of the atrocious state she was in. While her Uncle Matt looked well, his hair slightly greying yet still he stood strong and tall exactly how she remembered him, Sarah on the other hand was a mess with her lank hair, dowdy clothes and her underweight frame.

Her uncle broke the spell as he uttered in a concerned tone, "Hello, Sarah, it's your favourite ol' Uncle Matt." He opened his arms out ready to embrace her in a hug. The girl thought she saw tears glisten in the older man's eyes but she must have imagined it. As if anyone would cry for her, he certainly wouldn't when he started to know her properly.

There was a pause, no doubt as Uncle Matt waited for her to play the old game and tease him about being her only uncle, but Sarah no longer had time nor use for such innocence. Instead, she just stepped back and her uncle was forced to lower his arms as he realised that there was not going to be any hugs or kisses.

It must have been hard for him to connect this disillusioned, jaded young adult to the sweet, adoring little girl he knew and loved. Sarah couldn't help but bitterly thinking that maybe if he'd actually been around more instead of prancing around the world with his precious job then he would be more aware of the person she had become, perhaps even have helped to be someone better. Except as much as she had wished as a child, this was her *uncle* and not her father, Matt had no responsibility to see to her father and his family's problems. He probably wouldn't even stick around for long after this visit.

"Why are you here?" muttered Sarah, in a petulant tone, ignoring Alison's sigh of a exasperation.

Matt seemed shocked by her lukewarm welcome but ploughed ahead. "I've been posted back in the States permenantly and I wanted to see you, how you were doing. It's been a long time. Your dad said you might be living here."

"Dad?"

She hadn't seen him since she married, wasn't even sure if he knew about Chris. After Scott's accident, her father tried to make amends but it was far too late, Sarah was too old to believe in the inevitable broken promises and the father and daughter had drifted apart until even the odd phone calls had tapered off between them. As far as she knew, he was back where he belonged with his six packs in front of the TV.

"You saw him?"

Matt smiled at her interest. "Yes, he misses you and he's worried about you."

Sarah's eyes narrowed at his words. "Worried? Bit late for that now. I can take care of myself and I don't need him or you checking up on me. I'm not a kid no more, not that he was 'worried' back then either." Her voice rose as she spoke until she was practically screaming.

"Sarah? Sarah, please," Matt pleaded in concern she didn't appreciate.

"Get out, get out now!"

Matt tried to approach her, like one would a wounded animal, but she violently pulled a chair between them. "Go, get outta here."

Alison winced, worry creasing her brow. "Maybe you should go, Sarah isn't feeling well."

Crestfallen, her uncle sighed and nodded, backing away slowly. Sarah watched him like a hawk until he was nearly out the door. He stopped a moment and handed a business card to Alison.

"Maybe you could get her to give me a call, come see me. She doesn't seem to be doing too good."

Then he was gone. Sarah sighed, throwing herself back down in the chair and holding her heavy head in her hands. Now maybe she could convince Alison to leave her in peace.

"Well, that was good, chasing your uncle away just because he wanted to help."

No such luck.

"Wasn't he your favourite uncle as a kid?" Her friend sounded less like a twenty-year-old girl and more like an exhausted nagging wife. "You and Scott were going to run off to have him adopt you two. Nice way to treat the guy if he's so great."

"I'm not a kid any more, Sarah, and in case you haven't noticed Scott isn't here."

A flash of pain flickered across Alison's features but she was damned if she was going to give in. "I know that...all I'm saying is maybe he could help you, he sure wanted to. You're a mess and he's the only one of your good-for-nothing family who gives a damn. Let him be the dad your own couldn't be."

"He can't help, none of you can."

"Please, Sarah," Alison pleaded, "just let us in. You don't have to be like this. I understand what you're feeling right now but if you let us help you then things can be better."

"You don't understand!" Sarah spat out.

"I wasn't blind, Sarah, I knew what Todd did to Scott and his brothers when we was young...and your father did to you and your mom."

"My father never touched me."

"There are other ways to abuse a child, Sarah, without laying a finger on them."

"What would you know?" Sarah sneered. "You have a perfect little family and a perfect little life, Alison, probably just hung around Scott and me so you could look down on the cheap white trash kiddies."

She had so much anger within her, so much bottled emotions she didn't quite understand. It felt good ranting at someone, even if that person was her best friend and even if she was hurting the only person that seemed to care. But Sarah just couldn't help it, once she started she found it impossible to stop her poisonous words from tumbling out.

"You think that I enjoy this. Well, I don't but this is what people like me do, people like Scott. We're never going to be the same, me and Scott were never going to go to some nice college. So why don't you quit bringing him into your conversation like you understand us and go back to your fucking perfect life?!"

Alison paled, sparkling azure eyes dulling with hurt. "Anyone ever tell you that you're not the nicest person in the world drunk?" She stood up, moving towards the door. She stopped in the doorway. "You know, Scott was my friend too and I loved him just as much as you did. And he loved us back. I keep bringing him up because you need to forget about all the ill-placed blame you feel about the crash and remember the happier times with him, like he would have wanted you to. And you need to ask yourself, do you think this is what Scott would have wanted?"

Sarah shook her head. "I'm not my mother."

"No, you're not...You're your father and that's ten times worse." With that, Alison sighed and sadly walked away.

Sarah crumpled into gut-wrenching sobs, desperate to call for her friend to come back, not to leave her. Alison's words continued to ring through her mind long after her departure. She had vowed she would never end up as pathetic as her mother, she would always stand strong against whatever life threw at her. But Alison was right; there were worse things than becoming like her mother...

The next day, Sarah phoned her Uncle Matt and finally asked for the help she desperately needed to prevent her from walking her father's destructive path.

***********************************
*MAC- THE BEGINNING*

Matt O'Hara's Residence
Red Rock Mesa
February 26th, 1987
It hadn't been easy for niece nor uncle. For more than a month, Sarah had suffered shakes, nausea, and depression as she battled to rid her addicted body of the alcohol she had been dependent on for nearly three years. There were days she would literally go down on her hands and knees and beg her uncle for even a sip of her favourite vodka. He never once relented and she was forever grateful for his resolve. He wasn't even her real blood relative and he had given her back life and a future to go with it. Far more than her own parents had ever done for their only daughter.

There were still days when she felt the urge for drink fight for control of her self-resistance, desperation for anything alcoholic to wet her throat. But she was strong, she knew that now. She was stronger than her mother and most certainly her father. All her life she had seen the drink affect so many people's lives, it had even been responsible for taking the life of her best friend. It didn't have to be like that for her. Her Uncle Matt was teaching her she deserved so much better; it was a hard lesson for a girl who felt so worthless to learn but she was catching on. Matt had seen to that.

Here in the desolate peace of the desert, Sarah was free to think about her life and her future without the distractions of Chris, who didn't seem in the least bother or caring about their seperation, or the drink to detract her. Uncle Matt had taken a few months sabbatical to guide his wayward niece, spending time discussing her prospects with her and helping the girl to realize people still cared for her. He'd done to much for her...and the lingering dubiousness within her demanded to know why.

As the pair enjoyed a glass of homemade lemonade under the glittering sparkle of the stars above them, Sarah gazed into the night. "Uncle Matt?"

"Yes, Sarah?" her uncle responded, glancing up from his reports.

She loved how he would drop everything to attend to her. If this had been her father, she would have been lucky if she'd received so much as a grunt.

"Why are you doing this?" she blurted out, quickly, as if terrified of breaking a spell.

Matt frowned. "Doing what?"

"Helping me like this. Most people would have just battered Chris or something, or done nothing at all." She whispered the last part.

"Would you like me to have battered Chris?" grinned the older man. It didn't even elicit a smile from the girl so he sighed, pushing back from the outdoors table they were sitting at and strolling a few metres away from his niece. He sighed. "Because...because I should have done more a long time ago, if I had things would never have been so bad for you or your mother...I should have done more to make Joe seek help, stop him from drinking away his marriage and his child." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "You ever hear about your Uncle David?"

"Yeah, he died in 'Nam, Dad said."

"Yeah, yeah, he did. David worshipped your father and Joe would have done anything for the kid, doted on him. Sometimes you'd even think they were father and son rather than brothers. I guess it comes from all the times Joe would protect David from their own dad's temper. It killed your dad when David died. He always blamed himself for it."

Sarah's brow furrowed in bewilderment. "Why? He never killed the guy."

"No, but he felt as if he should have gotten David away. You see, the kid was only seventeen when he enlisted, your father felt as if he should have got David discharged given his age. David begged him not to, and Joe eventually gave in. It made things worse that Joe was stationed at home while David fought and died. I knew how much Joe loved his kid brother, how much it affected him. Grief can do bad things to the mind."

"So this is all about guilt?" Sarah stated, emotionlessly. They both knew she wasn't talking about her father.

Matt turned to her, meeting her chocolate brown eyes. "No, never. I'm doing this because I love you, Sarah, you're my niece. I may not have seen you much when you were growing up but I've always looked to you as the daughter I'll never have." He move forward, closing the distance between them. "You're my little girl as much as you're Joe's child, and you deserve so much more than that asshole Chris and drinking your life away. I love you, kid, don't ever forget that. And it's time to stop the poison that is polluting your family. Drink made your grandfather cruel, caused David to run off to war to escape, destroyed your father's life. It ends now, you deserve so much more, Sarah, and I'll make sure you get it."

For a moment, Sarah just regarded him, struck by the honest force of his words. Then she threw herself into her uncle's arms, tears rolling down her cheeks as Matt held her tightly.

"You're a good kid, Sarah," he whispered, "don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise."

Matt embraced her, finally releasing her when she began to feel self-conscious. It had been so long since anyone had held her properly, except Chris who had always expected something in return. It would take time to re-acquaint with the idea that there wasn't always a price for love and affection.

"So, have you got any plans with what you want to do now you're feeling a bit better?"

"You're letting me go out?" Sarah asked, in surprise.

Though she was not exactly a prisoner on the large property, Matt hadn't made it easy for her to leave. She had been allowed to invite the local kids up and she often spent the day walking Matt's dog into the dense desert but she abided by his wishes not to go too far yet. She wasn't ready and there were too many temptations in town.

"Well, yeah, I think you can handle yourself."

The girl frowned, uncertain, "I hadn't really thought about anything but drying out. I...I don't know."

"Maybe you can do come courses in the local college. Perhaps, take up some languages, you always had a flare for that. You never know, we might even make a Marine out of you yet."

Sarah snorted. "I don't think so, Uncle Matt. I think it's flipping burgers in Beltway's for me."

Uncle Matt just smiled faintly. "Oh, you never know, stranger things have happened."

***********************************
*LIEUTENANT COLONEL SARAH 'MAC' MACKENZIE- THE SURVIVER*

Arlington Cemetery
Arlington, Washington DC
July 8th 2000
The Marine stood alone in front of the plot where one Lieutenant Joseph MacKenzie was buried, her chocolate brown eyes not filled with the sadness a daughter should feel towards their father's gave but rather glazed pensively.

Mac didn't know what had brought her to her father's grave. In fact, she hadn't thought about her father in quite some time until her Uncle Matt had sent her a birthday card to mark her birthday the previous month. That in itself was not unusual, she had not received a card from her mother since she was fifteen and she had cut ties with her father after her twenty-first birthday, but Matt could always be counted on to remember.

No, it wasn't until Father's Day in mid-June, when a delighted Bud was looking forward to spending his first chance to celebrate with holiday with his new son, that she felt the need to shop in the Hallmark store. Only she had no intention of buying a card to place on her father's grave but instead deciding it would be nice to send one to the uncle who had done so much for her in her younger days. A father is primarily defined as a man who gives a child life, and in many ways that was what her Uncle Matt had provided for her. A life. A life without drink and a life with possibilities where she was free to be the best she could be.

If it wasn't for Matt O'Hara's love and faith in her, she would never be have left Fallon let alone be a high-flying Marine in JAG. Sometimes, when she was depressed, Mac would try to imagine what her life would have been like if Alison and Matt hadn't confronted her that day more than fifteen years ago. She would probably be dead and buried of liver disease before her thirtieth birthday, or perhaps, even worse in her mind, she would have condemned whatever children she might have had with Chris to a repeat of her own childhood.

As it was, she had not touched any form of alcohol since that day Matt collected her and moved her to his desert cabin. She did have a brief lapse when she fell off the wagon after Dalton's murder but it was Harm's words, so disappointed and a coincidental echo of Alison's, that put her back on track for good.

Now here she stood; an accomplished Marine proud of her career, loyal to her friends and generally happy with her life path.

Little Sarah was all grown up and become far more than her parents' had given her the chance to be. Only, she wasn't really Sarah, not that little girl who cried for her mother's pain and certainly not the drunken teen who married a man for the sake of it. No, Sarah was that small, vulnerable child who had lost her innocence to her father's fists before she was three years old. Mac was the tough, self-reliant Marine who would make damned sure she would never become her mother...or her father.

And just as Mac knew her uncle was proud of her, she also knew that Scott would have been more so. They were two kindred spirits and he would have been so pleased to see one of the children the adults had labelled 'no-hopers' had proved them all wrong.

She spoke to Alison occasionally. Of course, they were no longer kids and, as childhood friends do, they had drifted apart as the years and distance separated them. Alison, a successful businesswoman living in Los Angeles, had moved from Fallon shortly after her twenty-third birthday and she was now married with four children of her own. The eldest boy she had named Scott.

Mac smiled faintly. Would she one day be writing to Alison about a little Scott of her own? She didn't know, she hoped so, but she did know that whatever happened would happen when she was good and ready with a man she loved, not some guy who just appeased her addictions, and her children would *never* face the fears and worries she once did.

Studying the grave, Mac wasn't sure if she could forgive her father. He wasn't the best man in the world but he was far better than what Scott had and he had made sure she had a roof over her head for as long as she needed. She wasn't ready to forgive, she still carried the pain with her, but she could forget his crimes. What more could she give the man who only had a simple marble gravestone to show for his fifty-odd years? The woman was not going to spend any more time hating him, it was time to let him rest in peace.

Ten years ago she would not have been so quick to let go of her pent-up anger but she was not that confused, uncertain girl any more. She was a Marine and she was a far better person than her parents.

"Goodbye, Dad," Mac murmured, stepping back, aware she would not be returning.

She gently strolled back to her red Corvette where Harm was patiently waiting for her, leaning against the bonnet soaking in the sun. He smiled as he saw her approach and moved to open the driver's door for her. He could be such a gentleman sometimes, the type of guy she used to think only existed in story books and movies.

Mac could see he was wondering what she was thinking but she was glad he didn't question her. Harm knew her well and was willing to give her all the time she needed. One day, she would tell him everything, every dirty detail, and as always he would no doubt listen with understanding.

"So, what do you wanna do now?" he asked.

Mac mulled over the question. "I have a huge craving for Spagetti and blueberry pie." It was a throw-back to the missed opportunities in her childhood, although blueberry bubble gum had lost its appeal soon after puberty so pie was the next best thing.

Harm frowned though, to his credit, he did not ask further. Instead he grinned broadly, opening the car door in a grandiose manner with a small bow. "Whatever the lady wants."

Shaking her head in amusement, Mac couldn't help but shared in his infectious smile and for a brief moment, the innocence and delight of a little girl named Sarah shone through. A little girl, who thanks to the love of an uncle and the unconditional support of friends like Harm, had not been buried under years of misery and instead had become an integral part of a Marine named Mac.

THE END

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Okay, I decided to make Matt O'Hara the step-brother of Joe Mackenzie rather than Mac's maternal uncle since the guy seemed to have a good idea of what had happened during Mac's childhood, and what brother would honestly allow their sister (namely Deena MacKenzie) to live in those conditions? Also, Mac always made out she had a miserable childhood so I showed scenes mainly corroborating this though I have tried to include some happier moments so I hope it's not too bleak or angsty. And, please remember I'm not too big on geography and history so some things- especially details about American locations, Russia and Vietnam- might be wrong. But other than that, I hope you enjoyed this story. I might not always like the character of Mac but I hoped I made her sound reasonably okay in this.