Between a Rock and a Hard Place

AN: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. This piece was an emotional bugger to write. Just to let you know, this is a four part story.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG or any of the characters. I just take them out and play with them on occasion before replacing them safe and sound back on the shelf.

xxxxx

Part 2

"Mac?"

She hadn't realized the anguished cry had escaped her lips, until he'd begun to stir. "It's okay…go back to sleep," she whispered.

He braced himself on bended arms and squinted in the darkness, "Sweetheart, what's going on?" His voice sounded hoarse and muffled from sleep.

"Ah, nothing…I was just…ah, using the bathroom. Now, go back to sleep," she rose from the bed and headed toward the bathroom door.

He laid back down and rolled to his side, watching her in the dimly cast light. "Hurry back to bed…can't sleep without you," he yawned a reply, as his eyes drifted shut.

"Be right back," she tried to control the quiver in her voice, and sighed with relief when he fell back to sleep. She circled back across the room to finish her packing, cursing herself for the wasted minutes spent deep in thought. Two steps from the dresser the floorboard creaked and she paused with foot in mid air.

"Damn old English architecture," she muttered under her breath.

The bedside lamp clicked on casting a harsh glaring light and she covered her eyes. "Harm, turn the lamp off…you're blinding me with the light!" she ground back. 'Please, please, please,' her mind begged, '…don't make me look you in the eye.'

"Mac, what's going on?" his voice was now clear and steady. She froze still and silent like a mouse trapped in fright between the safety of sweet escape and a predator's growl.

"Mac?" she heard his voice but a pace behind.

"Sarah?" He lifted a handful of clothing from the leather satchel, "Care to explain this? I don't recall you mentioning a trip?"

She swallowed hard against the lump that rose in her throat, eyes glued toward the bedroom door, her best chance of escape. "I, um…"

"Mac, please turn around."

"No…"

"Were you gonna just leave without saying a word?" When she remained silent, he released a frustrated sigh, "I don't understand…you never mentioned being unhappy. Is this about the Marine Corp? Your job?"

"And hell, what was last night about?" He whirled on her, "One final score for the road!"

She jerked as each word hit its mark. Yes, better he hate her she reasoned…he could move on.

"Well, you know us MacKenzies…we can walk away anytime. It's bred into our genes. In fact, it's what we do best," she grabbed the clothing from his grasp and tossed it back in the open suitcase.

"Anytime," she flippantly clicked her fingers with a flick of the wrist, "…just cut our losses and run!"

He reached for the luggage and flung it across the room. "Sarah, I don't understand you! You've been withdrawn and quiet for weeks now, if you weren't happy you should've told me. We could've worked through the problem together…I can't help if…"

He stopped mid sentence and glared at her, intensity flaring in his eyes, "Is there someone else?"

"No!" she gaped, "…I would never…"

"Then you need to explain yourself!"

"I already told you," she turned away from his glare.

"You are NOT your mother!" He reached for her arm and jerked her back.

She shrieked in pain and dropped to her knees, cradling the injured limb. Rocking back and forth, she fought to control the tears that stung in her eyes.

"Sarah," he gasped kneeling at her side, "…I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?" He gently pushed the bulky sleeve up her arm, eyes widening in dismay. "Oh my…Wha…What, did I…" His mouth gaped open and closed as he searched for words; fingers hovering above the bruised and battered flesh afraid to touch. Finally with the lightest caress, he made contact trying to erase the pain.

"Please, please, tell me I didn't do this. Pleeease…" Tears dripped from his horrified eyes, "Sweetheart, I am so sorry…so, so sorry."

His pleading for absolution did her in. Burrowed against his chest she gave into the emotional torrent of the last few days, weeping uncontrollably for all she'd lost. Settling onto the floor, he took her into his arms and rocked her to and fro, trying to soothe with words and soft caresses his unrevealed fears still out of reach.

"I'm sorry, Mac. I never meant…I would never…" his voice shook with wounded emotion.

She finally lifted her head and cupped his downtrodden face within her hands. "Harm, you didn't…" He shook his head trying to duck from her grasp. Shame marred his handsome features and self-loathing darkened his haunted eyes.

She tightened her hold lifting his face to hers. Laying gentle kisses across his skin from forehead to cheek and round again, she tried to erase his pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered on a continuous refrain.

"Harm…sweetheart, it wasn't you." His stormy grey eyes fought to escape the offer of forgiveness found in her warm brown depths.

"Harm," she kissed his lips emphasizing each word against his mouth, "…you…did…not…do…this." He buried his face in her neck and wept.

"Did you hear me?" Her breath fluttered against the shell of his ear, "I know you would never intentionally hurt me. Please stop and listen…Pleeease Harm, I don't want you blaming yourself." Her tears soaked his hair through to the scalp, "Sweetheart, I love you…please!"

They sat huddled together on the floor for long moments of time. Each shaking from the emotional release, the cold…the prospects of eternal loss.

Finally, he looked up and met her gaze. Long fingers gently stroked her face wiping away tears, and brushing the hair from her eyes. In like kind, she dabbed at the wet tracks lining his cheeks with the fuzzy cuff of her robe.

"Promise me you won't leave," tears choked his words.

"Never," she whispered back hugging him close.

"Mac?"

"Ummm?"

"If I didn't cause the bruises, what did?" She burrowed deeper into his embrace.

"Sweetheart, I need to understand. Were you in an accident? Did you fall?" She couldn't stifle the humorless chuckle that escaped her lips at the irony of his words.

He pushed her away from his body, "Mac, it's not funny! I'm serious…I need to know what happened!"

"No, it's not funny," tears erupted once more.

"Sweetheart, you're scaring me! Are you in trouble? Ill?"

"I'm my mother's daughter!" She thrust forward her bruised and scratched appendages, as if that explained it all.

Anger flared in his eyes, "Are you saying someone did this to you?!"

"Sssssh," she placed a fingertip against his mouth, "…you'll wake Mattie."

"I don't care who I wake! If someone hurt you, I want them to pay!"

"You don't want to know," sorrow filled her eyes, "…trust me, you really don't."

"Mac!" he warned, "You don't need to protect…"

"Harm…"

"Stand up," he pushed up her from his lap.

"What…"

He knelt before her, "Now, take off your robe."

"What…why?" she clutched at the cinched tie trying to prevent its removal.

"Mac, I need to see…please? I really need…I just…I need to know you're okay…that you're safe." He gently pried away her fingers. "The rest of it…whatever it is. We'll deal with it…together."

He parted the chenille fabric and gently pushed the robe from her shoulders. His eyes grew in horror, "Geez…Mac…" His fingers trailed over the skin of her arms and her legs.

When he turned her around, gentle hands upon her thighs, his strangled gasps filled the air. Tears flooding back full force, he tenderly rested his palm on her right side, "Oh Sarah…" His lips soon replaced his hand as he tried to erase the angry black and blue discoloration that ran the full length of her chest from breast to hip. "How could anyone…" his warm breath vibrated against her sensitive skin and she shivered in the cool air.

Reaching for her robe, she stepped aside and quickly donned the garment, eyes reflecting uncertainty, pain and embarrassment.

"Sarah, you have to tell me," his plea was soft and wounded. She looked away.

His eyes darkened with remembered regret, "Last night…you let me. But why? How?" He fought for words of comfort, understanding, "The pain, I can't even imagine…fathom. How could you let me? Sweetheart, I'm so sorry…why didn't you stop me?"

"I wanted…needed…one more time," wistful emotion clouded her eyes, "…it was worth the ache to share the love." The sorrow and stress of the last weeks finally took their toll. Her legs trembled and threatened to give out.

He watched her entire being collapse from within and quickly lunged forward to prevent her fall. "Mac, are you all right?"

She hesitantly nodded in reply and pointed toward the bed, "Sit down?"

He reached for her hand, afraid to hug too tight, and led her to their bed. Leaning back amongst the mound of pillows covering the headboard, he guided her into his lap.

When she tried to look away, he gently turned her face back to him. "Turn around, please," he beseeched. At her question gaze, he smiled, "I wanna hold you."

He carefully lifted her leg to straddle his lap and pulled her close, chest to his. When he attempted to push her robe from her shoulders, she clutched it tightly in her fists. "Harm?"

"Please, I need to feel you…hold you…touch you. Skin-to-skin. I need to know you're still here with me. Real. That you're not going to run away."

She released her hold. He cast the garment aside and carefully tucked the blankets around them both, cocooning them away from the cold. His large hands gingerly rubbed soft circle over the skin of her back. He felt the tension in her muscles lift as she relaxed against his chest. Her fingers traced the skin along his side. She softly sighed in fleeting contentment, a wish to keep the rest of the world at bay. If only they could stay like this forever…

"Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"When you're ready…I'm here," he kissed her cheek, "…take your time." He inhaled deeply to quell his fury, "But before the night's over, sweetheart…I need to understand."

She lay quietly against the warm wall of his chest trying to gather her courage. He wasn't going to like her answers, or the guilt that would ensue. Five, ten…twenty minutes later she was still silent, lulled into a restful peace by the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath, his scent, his very being. Just when he feared she'd fallen asleep, she began to recant her haunting tale. The two years time came pouring out…the good and the bad…the highs and the lows. He sat quietly listening afraid to speak or interrupt her train of thought.

An hour later, she sighed in exhaustion after recalling the final few days. It had shaken him to his core to realize he'd missed all the signs and traumas that had occurred under the roof of his very own house. Was he really that blind or had he willing overlooked the details both subtle and overt.

"This wasn't all your fault, Harm," she answered his unspoken ponderings.

"But Mac, I don't understand…how could I have missed it? I still find it hard to imagine Mattie capable of such actions…I mean, she's wheel-chair bound and dependent on us for all her care."

She started to pull away, but he tightened his hold, "Sweetheart, I'm not deny your accusations…I just need to understand."

She pulled back enough to stare in his eyes, "Harm, I don't think most it was intentional. Initially, it was just the incidental bruises and bumps of impact left from her tremors and jerks. Even now, I can't always discern when she means it or not, but I can tell you… Harm, if you could look into her eyes, see all the way to her soul. The anger and hatred that's reflected there. And the funny thing is, I can't entirely blame her. She lost everything…EVERYTHING! Anyone or anything that was important in her short life is gone…her mother, her father, a business, a home. HER FUTURE! Her independence, plans, hopes and dreams. Then…" she ducked away from his searching eyes.

He placed a finger beneath her chin to gently lift her head, "And then?"

"We…we took her away…"

"What do you mean?"

"Harm, we took her away from everything that was familiar…everything that offered some small form of comfort. Her home, school, family and friends. When was the last time she saw Jennifer? Her dad? I know she claims to hate him, but Harm, buried deep down inside…"

He nodded in reply, "Okay, I can understand all those disappointments, but she still had us."

"Maybe…"

"Maybe? What does that mean?" She looked away, unwilling to hurt him further.

"Mac?"

"In her mind…she was left with only me…"

"I was here!"

"Yes, in a way…but you've been so preoccupied with your command. Harm, she really misses you, but she'll never bring it up, because…because, she's afraid you'll abandon her too."

"I would never!"

"I know, sweetheart," she traced a fingertip over his brow trying to soothe away the emotional slap.

"Harm, 'I' know you would never walk away. But Mattie's scared, fragile and just emotionally messed up. She's afraid of losing her one perceived thread of support…that single relationship that separates her from hell." She shook her head in defeat, "I'm afraid she's found me a lousy substitute…"

"How can you say that?! Mac, you've been there for her, providing love, support and physical care for the last two years!" He was becoming agitated again.

"I realize that, Harm…but I'm not the one she wants. The one she's grown to love and trust. In her eyes, you're her savior, not me. And as such, she's used you as her unwitting ally against the rest of us…me, her therapist, the doctors."

"If this is about the assisted-living facility…" he sighed in frustration.

"Harm, she needs it!"

"I can't, Mac," he looked away. "She'll think I'm abandoning her…that I don't want her. I promised her, Mac…to always be there, to never walk away."

She took his face in her hands, directing his eyes back to hers. "SHE NEEDS IT, HARM! Right now, she's avoiding her therapies, refusing to participate in counseling sessions, and rejecting her meds. She's angry and so lost in the grasp of denial, that she's not gonna survive long enough to come out of this atrocity, much less intact on the other side. We have to help her, Harm. That's our job as parents…to make the hard choices and enforce the difficult rules. We have to give her skills and guidance…support her in her hopes and dreams! She can't stay like this for the rest of her life! I want her to realize she can be so much more!"

Tears welled in his stormy grey eyes and freely ran down his cheeks. She lovingly wiped each drop away. "Harm?" she whispered her plea.

Releasing a shuddering breath pulled deep from the depths of a broken heart, he nodded, "Tell me what we have to do."

They spent the next hour discussing all the options, the medical needs, the doctors and therapists' recommendations. Together, they forged ahead, picking through the hard decisions and difficult plans. In the end, they agreed to present a unified front of support and love, but Harm insisted that he assume the responsibility of talking with Mattie and implementing the plan. Mac, he reasoned, had been primary caregiver and savior long enough. He'd be the 'strict one' to insist on compliance and assure follow-through. Finally, in the predawn hours of Thanksgiving Day, they both sighed with exhaustion and hungered for sleep.

"Mac?" Harm jostled her back to wakefulness with a kiss to the head.

"Mmmm?"

"Why didn't you tell me about all this before?" She remained quiet and still.

"Maaac?"

She kept her face buried in his neck, hidden from his inquiring stare. "You were so busy with your new command. And at first, I didn't think it was serious. I thought I could handle everything without bothering you."

"Okaaay…but the thing is," he shook his head. "Mac, I don't want you to ever think you're bothering me, about anything," his words were warm and soothing, "…Do you understand?"

"'kay..."

"Why didn't you say anything after the 'accidents' started occurring? I could've helped more with Mattie's care, insisted on counseling…taken more of an active role." She lay eerily still; he could barely detect her breathing.

"Mac?" He felt the dampness spread across his skin before detecting the soft cry.

"Sarah?" he gently lifted her from his chest. She refused to meet his gaze.

"Sweetheart," he lifted her chin.

"I tried, you wouldn't hear," was her muffled response.

"Damn," he sighed, "…is that why you felt you had to leave? That I didn't care?" She shrugged and looked away. "Sarah, I'm sorry…I guess I got distracted by all the changes in our lives. First, there was Mattie's accident, the hospital, Tom walking away, custody and all that entailed. Then our transfers, the move to London…a new command. I know it's no excuse, but I guess I got so busying with the minutia and stress of life that I forgot to pay attention…" his voice trailed off.

"It's okay, Harm. I understand what Mattie means to you. She's…"

"I know what you're gonna say," he cut her off, "…I've been down this road before, but she's hardly an obsession."

"Sure she is," she stroked his cheek, "…but that's one of the things I love about you. No one will ever accuse you of not caring enough…or of ignoring the plight of the people and things you love. The admiral was right way back when…you are ruled by your emotions, but that's a good thing. Mattie would've been lost long ago if you hadn't come along."

"But that doesn't change the fact…"

"Harm, it really is okay…I understand. Mattie's very important to you. I can't imagine you loving her more if she were your own flesh and blood. And when you care about someone or something you tend to become target fixated…obsessed," she shrugged, "…like your family and friends, your career, flying…me." The last word was spoken softly and with little conviction.

"Mac," he cupped chin caressing her lower lip with his thumb, "…I think you have all those priorities in the wrong order." She attempted to struggle from his grasp; he tightened his hold.

"Surely you know…" he stared into her shiny eyes, watching the tears of doubt slide down her cheeks.

"Oh Sarah, is that what you think?" He gathered her close, and cursed the fates and himself for the events, which allowed her to doubt his love.

"Sweetheart, you are now and will always be my number one obsession. I love you, first and foremost…anyone or anything else that comes along just adds to our joy. I can survive without the rest, but not without you," he stated with conviction. "Trust me, I've tried…it just doesn't work."

"I love you, too," she cried. "I'm sorry I almost quit, but I knew if I stayed…Harm, something inside me was dying a little more each day. I even lost my clock," she giggled through the tears.

"Your what?" he grinned in return thankful for the respite.

"MY CLOCK! I don't know what time it is anymore," she threw up her hands and laughed.

"You internal Swiss timepiece," he smiled. She nodded through her laughter; life had been too heavy of late. "I love that sound," he spoke with awe.

"What sound?"

"You're laughter…I've missed it," his smile grew wider.

She frowned thoughtfully, "Me too!"

She traced his lips with her finger. "And I've missed this smile," leaning forward, she captured his mouth in a sweet kiss. He pulled her closer, firmer the touch and exploring her taste. When she shifted and yelped, he pulled back.

"I'm sorry…I forget about the ribs! Are you sure they're just bruised?"

"Ah-huh, x-ray showed no fractures. I'm just supposed to take it easy…guess our earlier activities tonight weren't exactly following medical advice," she quirked a brow.

"Nooo, I'd say not. Speaking of which…Mac, I know we've put things off because of Mattie and the financial constraints, but maybe it's time we started working on our baby. I know our best chance is in vitro, what do you say…" he stopped speaking when her expression morphed to one of sorrow. "Mac, what's wrong?"

Her eyes glazed over with tears, which she roughly swiped them away. "Damn! I have to stop crying! When did I become such a sniveling wimp?"

"You've been through a lot in the last couple years…we both have." He paused to study her, "I'm kind of afraid to ask, but could you tell me what these tears are about?"

She looked up to the ceiling trying to prevent the swell, "Ah, that would be the other reason I was gonna leave. I, um…I need to ah…have surgery."

"Surgery? For what?!"

"The, ah…endometriosis has gotten worse…I've had more pain…and some internal bleeding…"

He wrapped his hands around her upper arms and stifled the impulse to shake her. "Mac, why didn't you tell me?"

"Same answer as before," she released a sobbing laugh trying to control the cries. "Anyways, the doctor says I need to have a hysterectomy…at this point, the risks for a severe bleeding complication…far out weighs the chances of ever…conceiving."

"We waited too long?" his eyes filled with pain.

She nodded her head before collapsing in tears. He enfolded her in his arms. "I'm sorry," his voice trembled, "…I know how much you…we wanted…" Kissing her hair, he repeated over and over again, "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

By 5 a.m., she'd finally fallen asleep on his chest worn out from all the tears, the confessions and the talking. He suspected she'd slept very little of late. Although exhausted, he knew sleep wouldn't come for him today. Regrets swirled around his mind. How had he missed so much in his family's life? And how would he ever make amends? The necessary solutions would pose more upheavals, but perhaps a better division of tasks.

He watched her sleep; lines of worry remained etched in her brow. His fingers trailed through her hair and over her forehead trying to ease the stress. He'd almost lost her tonight. His breath caught and hitched in his chest at the prospect of just how close he'd come. He vowed to be more watchful, take better care. She was the important one now. Her life depended on him…and his on her. He'd been honest; life held little merit without the sunshine of her smile.

The minutes turned to hours, and by 7:30 a.m., he gently lifted her onto the bed. Pillows were fluffed and blankets pulled up, a kiss placed on her head. He tiptoed from the room pulling the door shut. His new duties began this Thanksgiving Day. There was Mattie to rouse, a turkey to stuff then frank discussions were going to be had. He expected more tears, then anger and yelling, but this time he wouldn't be swayed. He'd promised changes, and the changes were to begin today…

To Be Continued…