A/N: I want to thank each of you for the wonderful reviews and the kind gesture of welcoming me back! This story is a bit of a departure for me, as it's my first attempt at dabbling in a new genre. Hopefully it winds up being more of a success than a blunder!
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Chapter 2
07:45
Harm & Mac's Room
Hotel Nuevo Simpatico
Ciudad Del Este
Paraguay
Harm awoke with a start from his first decent stretch of sleep in weeks. After they'd returned from their late night meeting with Captain Molina regarding Maria Elena's death, he'd been too exhausted to go another round with Mac. Instead, he'd dropped into bed, rolled over and drifted off to sleep. He didn't know if it was the culmination of weeks of sleepless nights brought on by his stint in the brig, the unending nightmares of Mac's disappearance, their tumultuous 20-rounds the day before, or just having her close by and safe, but something had finally done the trick. He sat up and stretched, while peering around the room in search of his wayward partner. In the light of a new day, and with a little more sleep under his belt, he figured the quicker they got this screwed-up mission of Webb's concluded, the quicker they could get back to their normal routine and set things straight. After all, he and Mac had been down this road before, and while things might be tense for a while, it always… Well, it just always. That's the way they were, and forever would be.
He tossed the blankets aside and strode toward the bathroom. Knocking on the closed door, he softly called out, "Mac? Hey, you in there?"
He waited a few seconds, before trying again, "Listen, I know you're probably still ticked at me for yesterday, but we promised to meet Webb and Gunny for breakfast at 08:30. I'd like to hit the shower before we head down."
He paused outside the door, still waiting for a response.
"Come on, Mac! Can't we put aside our differences until we get back home? I promise once we complete the mission…" he leaned more heavily on the closed door, and it immediately give way.
"Man on deck!" He announced, while slowly pushing the door aside. When the door had open sufficiently to stick his head inside, he peeked around the corner, "Mac?" Again finding no sign of her, he opened the door completely and walked into the room. He searched the tub, behind the door and shower curtain, then completely puzzled re-entered the hotel room proper.
"Mac?" He called out into the empty room. He hastily tossed open the closet door and looked out onto the veranda, again finding no sign of her. Figuring she'd gone down early for food or coffee, he sighed in frustration and quickly grabbed his clothes, heading for the shower.
Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the bath and glanced into the mirror over the bureau. He tore off the wads of tissue littering his face and tossed them into the trash. In his haste to finish, he had nicked himself several times while shaving. He pounded his palm into the bureau and inhaled deeply, trying to calm his tumultuous nerves.
"Damn her," he cursed the empty room, "…doesn't she know how dangerous it is for her to wander off around here without back-up. I'm going to chew her a new one when I get my hands on her."
He kicked the leg of the bureau for good measure, hoping to blow off some steam, before they had another unseemly encounter over breakfast. That was just what Webb needed to observe. He bet the spook would love seeing them go at it again. He walked over to the window and peered down at the crowds gathered outside by the hotel portico. Glancing at his watch, he noticed it was nearly time to meet Webb and turned to leave the room. It was then he noticed the envelope addressed to him. He lifted it from the table and dropped heavily onto the bed. He immediately recognized her handwriting, and his hand trembled as he released the back seal. Without reading a single word, he already knew she was gone. He could feel it in the cold chill engulfing his soul, much as his nightmare had predicted her capture just days before.
Dear Harm,
I can't say this is how I thought things would end, although I guess 'end' isn't quite the right word in this case. While my long held dreams for our future might have come to an abrupt closure, when faced with the blinding light of reality, that doesn't mean that our relationship long built on friendship has to come to the same end. You once told me, what you wanted most was never to lose me, and I promised you, even way back then, that would never happen. To this day, I remain true to my word. You are now and will always be my dearest friend.
My one problem at this moment is that I feel so much more for you than just friendship, and it seems as if I always have…forever and eternity. Funny how my interpretation of that word, 'eternity,' is so much different than yours. You see…that's how long I want to love you, not how long I want to wait.
After our discussion last night, I finally understood what you've been trying to tell me all this time in your indirect, bumbling way. With all your 'Not Yet's,' 'I think you know why's,' and 'Tabling of Discussions,' you were simply trying to tell me 'no,' but in a kinder, gentler way.
I can't say I'm not disappointed, even hurt and perhaps, a little embarrassed. But as the saying goes: 'You don't choose who you love.' And 'the people who you love don't always love you back.' It is within this context that I'm afraid I need a little space to gain some perspective. I will be contacting Webb regarding my further involvement on this mission. Once through, I will be returning to D.C. just long enough to accept and process a transfer. I was given new orders just before I left on this assignment, with my decision due upon my return. The transfer is long overdue and the position a good stepping-stone for my career. I wasn't sure of my decision before I left, but my eyes are wide-open now. I think this will afford me the distance I need to put our friendship back in perspective. A friendship, which I hope to treasure and maintain for the rest of my life.
Wish me well in these changes, my friend. And please keep me in your thoughts and prayers. I'll take all the good wishes and courage I can come by. This future course charted for me, one without you standing by my side…I have to be honest; it scares me to death! Somewhere along the way in these past 8 years, I learned to depend on you. I think I forgot how to just be 'me,' all by myself.
Scared? Me?
All right, I'll admit it, particularly after what I experienced on this mission. Right now, it feels like I'm scared of everything. I'm scared of what I saw, I'm scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I'm with you!
But I guess it's time I find my own two feet again. Sarah MacKenzie needs to find herself! No more Butch and Sundance. No more Caped Crusaders. No more Musketeers.
One more thing, I want to thank you for coming to Paraguay for me. I know what the Navy means to you. This sacrifice just demonstrates what a great friend you are...ever true to your word, you surely meant to never lose me. I promise to speak to the Admiral on your behalf. Seeing as he's about to lose yet another senior attorney, I can't imagine he won't take you back.
I wish you all the best my dear friend, and hope for nothing but happiness for you. We'll keep in touch, right? Of course, we will! Fair Winds and Following Seas, my dear sailor.
All My Love,
Sarah
Harm stared at the letter in stunned silence, shaken to his core by its message. She hadn't understood at all…not once, ever. All their conversations over the years, they might as well have been speaking in tongues.
The phone ringing in the background roused him from his thoughts, and he jumped to quiet the interfering annoyance.
"Hello," he barked, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other with pent up anxiety.
"Yeah, on my way…be right down," he hung up the receiver with more force than necessary.
He paused a moment to consider the letter again, then placed it back in the envelope. He opened the bureau drawer to store the personal correspondence for safekeeping, and noticed for the first time that all of Mac's things were missing. He slammed the drawer shut and rapidly moved from the closet to the bathroom, again not finding a single personal item belonging to her. It made perfect sense, he mused, but the finality of her absence only served to unnerve him even more. He glanced around the bathroom looking for any small item she might have left behind. He frantically searched the drawers of the vanity, the ledge of the tub, the wastebasket. He found it wadded in the corner, a simple tissue tossed aside. It was smudged with her pink lipstick. He smoothed the tissue flat with the gentlest of care, lest it shred on contact. He folded it, then folded it again and again, until it fit perfectly inside the envelope, protected beside her letter.
He slipped the envelope into the pocket of his shirt. And after a thorough sweep for any other discarded clues, he exited the room with a determined stride in search of her.
***
08:50
Restaurant Veranda
Hotel Nuevo Simpatico
Ciudad Del Este
Paraguay
Harm immediately spotted Webb sitting on the far side of the restaurant off by the back banister of the veranda. Clay and Gunny were huddled together deep in conversation over coffee and pastries. Apparently, they had decided to order breakfast long before he had arrived. He waved off the maitre de and began scanning the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mac. If he could intercept her, whisk her away from the interfering duo; maybe he'd stand a chance of righting this misunderstanding before it spiraled completely out of control.
He had just finished scrutinizing the restaurant patrons and was preparing to flee toward the lobby, when Gunny called out, "Sir! Commander, over here!"
He grumbled unpleasantly under his breath, as he made his way over to their table. "Morning Gunny," he nodded. "Webb," he tried to control his petulant sneer.
"Harm," Webb smiled in cool reply, "…I know you're out of the Navy now, but isn't 9:00 a.m. a little late in the morning for a working breakfast…even for you."
Harm pulled out one of the empty chairs situated directly across the table from his main irritant and dropped none to gracefully into it. He reached for the carafe of coffee, pouring a generous cup of the strong hot brew. He downed the entire cup, eyes darting everywhere but on his companions, before daring to answer the obnoxiously pompous spook.
"Webb," he snarled back, "…I'm only going to ask this once. Where is she?"
"Where's who?" The agent reached for another slice of multi-grained toast and aloofly buttered the bread.
"You know darn well who!" Harm barked in aggravation. It was all he could do not to reach over and drag the annoying man across the table by his expensive starched collar.
"Rabb, I have no idea who you're talking about," Clay pierced a large piece of pineapple from the fresh fruit salad on his plate and raised it to his lips. "The only personnel I'm aware of are you, me, Gunny and…" he glanced around the restaurant. "Rabb, where's Sarah?"
"Very funny," Harm chuckled humorlessly, "…that's what I was just asking you."
"Why would you be asking me about Sarah's whereabouts?" Clay's prior condescending tone was now noticeably reduced.
Harm leaned forward over the table, pointing an accusing finger directly at the man's face, "Because, she left me a note stating that she was contacting you about the mission."
"But I don't understand," Clay frowned in confusion, "…why would she leave you a note. Why didn't she just come with you this morning? I thought we agreed…" He stopped mid sentence when Harm's gaze drifted off in the opposite direction. "You two got in a fight again, didn't you, Rabb?!"
When Harm didn't answer, or even acknowledge his question, Webb continued on more insistently. "Rabb! RABB! Where's MacKenzie?!"
"I don't know! Okay? I don't know," he dropped his head. "She came back to the hotel room last night after we met with Captain Molina."
"Then you had a fight!" Clay tossed his napkin onto the table.
"No! Nooo, we didn't even say a word to each other. Sure we had some words earlier in the evening, but that was before we met with Molina. When we came back after that meeting, we just went to bed. We were both exhausted. I practically feel asleep before my head hit the pillow."
"So, where's Mac?" Clay's voice softened further, sensing the other man's distress.
Harm shrugged his shoulders, as he distractedly nibbled on a piece of dry cinnamon toast. "Don't know…I thought she was with yooou," the last word stuck in his throat as he tried unsuccessfully to swallow the cloying dry bread.
Clay rolled his eyes, "Rabb, you and Mac left me unconscious in a hotel room with Gunny last night. Why in the world…"
"'Cuz she was gone this morning when I woke up, and she left a note stating she was going to contact you!" Harm pushed away from the table with such force that his chair fell over backwards crashing onto the tile patio. "Obviously, you don't know a damn thing…like usual! I'm going back to the lobby to ask…"
"Rabb, sit down!" Clay said with barely controlled vehemence.
Harm glared at the agent with deadly force, "Look, don't you…"
Clay finally held his hands up chest high in a conciliatory fashion, "We'll figure it out together." The agent glanced around the restaurant, "Now, let's try not to make a scene. We don't know who's watching…"
"I don't give a damn…" Harm waved him off and turned to walk away.
"Sir," Gunny stood up to block Harm's escape, "…maybe you should listen for a minute. I'm sure there's a logical explanation here. I don't know what happened, but the Colonel probably just got a room in the hotel for the night."
"That's what I'm going to find out, Gunny." Harm placed a hand on the younger man's arm to brush him aside, "Now, if you'll just let me head to the lobby."
"And ask for whom, Harm?" Clay quirked an apologetic brow.
Harm sat down hard, "I don't know." He shook his head helplessly then dropped it into his hands. "I don't know…I don't even know who to ask for, or how to begin to find her. I…I…I have no idea…I just don't know where…"
"What exactly did she say, Harm?" Clay tried again, this time in a more understanding tone.
Harm sighed heavily, "The note said that she would contact you about further instructions, and when her part of the mission was complete that she planned to return to D.C."
"I'm not sure I understand," Clay shook his head in confusion, "…but I promise you she hasn't contacted me yet. Maybe she plans to meet us here for breakfast or back at the room later this morning."
"Maybe," Harm mumbled without any conviction, "…it's just that I have this feeling…"
"Sir?" A member of the hotel staff approached the table at that exact moment and waited patiently to be acknowledged.
"Yes," Clay responded impatiently, upset at the inopportune interruption, "…what is it?"
"Sir, I have this package for you," the bellhop offered a plain brown box.
Clay reached for the parcel, "Who sent it?"
"No senor," the bellhop shook his head, "…not for you, sir." He looked at Harm and nodded, "The package is for you, senor."
"Me?" Harm warily extended a hand, accepting the nondescript box and offered the bellhop a tip. "Do you know who sent it?"
"Yes sir, a man dropped it off very early this morning. He specifically told the hotel staff to give it to you at breakfast, and not before."
Harm's eyes darted back and forth from the box to the bellhop, "Do you know the name of this man?"
"No senor," the bellhop bowed his head, "…he did not leave a name, just instructions to give you this package this morning at breakfast."
"Can you describe him?"
"No sir, I wasn't on duty at the time. Perhaps, you could ask the staff working at the front desk tonight," the young man shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry, senor…I have no more information."
"Of course, thank you," Harm nodded in reply.
"You're welcome, senor," the bellhop bowed slightly, then quickly turned and walked away.
Harm set the box atop the table and just stared at it for several long moments. He ran a finger over the brown shipping paper neatly wrapping the package. Lifting it in his hands, he gently shook the box from side to side. The contents shifted softly, but there were no loud clanking noises suggestive of heavy contents, such as metal or glass.
"What do you think it is, sir?" Gunny asked the obvious.
"I have no idea," Harm tossed the box back on the table.
"Why would anyone leave a package for you?" Clay reached for the box, and turned it over, studying the tape securing the back. "How do we even know it is for you? There's no name or address, no return label or sender information."
"I don't know, Webb!" Harm's frustration grew by leaps and bounds, "Maybe it's from Hardy!"
"Why would Hardy send you a box through the hotel staff," Clay scoffed, "…and in the middle of the night no less?"
Harm grabbed the box from Webb's grasp, "Give it to me! Let's just open it and find out."
"Do you think that's wise?" Clay challenged incredulously with a raised brow, "I mean look where we're at, and who we're dealing with…for all we know it could be a bomb!"
Harm shook the box again, "I highly doubt that, Webb. Besides, do you have a better idea? It's not like we have CIA back-up here!"
Harm slid a fingernail under the tape securing the back flap. The brown shipping paper tore loose easily revealing a shirt-sized white gift box. He set the box on the table and gently raised the lid. Inside rested a plain white envelope atop crossed sheets of generic white tissue paper. Harm carefully lifted the envelope and removed the single sheet of heavyweight stationary. His eyes grew wide as he quickly read then discarded the single page. Ripping the tissue paper aside, he briefly stroked a finger over the embroidered lace then lifted the article from the box. Almost as if burned, he immediately dropped it to the ground and lurched for the railing of the back banister. He retched as wave after wave of nausea hit him, causing him to vomit the black coffee and dry toast ingested from his meager breakfast just moments before.
To be continued…