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Chapter 3.

Same time/same place.

Swallowing nervously, Mac disentangled her hands from Harm's arm and crossed to the mini-fridge for a bottle of water, tossing one to Harm. Drinking deeply, she fidgeted with the edge of the curtains, staring into the darkness outside, focusing first on the twinkling lights in the garden below, then on the stars high above.

"Mac?" Harm's voice was soft behind her. Instinctively, he knew that this would be the hardest part. He was dying to know how Sarah MacKenzie had become MacKenzie O'Hara, but he wondered if she was wrung dry for the night. This couldn't be easy for her. "Do you want to take a break? Get some sleep? Or hear about life at Fort Bliss?"

"No." Her voice was tired, and slightly hoarse but she looked steadily at him. "I want to tell you the rest. More than that, I need to tell you. Especially now, now that we're …you know."

"Can I hold you?" Harm just wasn't sure whether she needed space or him. Returning to the couch, Mac motioned and he stretched out, then helped her sit with the back of her head against his chest, his arms gently circling her waist. "Go ahead," he urged.

Rubbing each of his arms lightly, Mac began. "The whole year had been a horror, from when we were in Afghanistan. We just went from one bad thing to another. Then we were so busy taking care of Bud and Harriet we forgot to take care of ourselves. Then Singer…then Paraguay …Harm, I came back from that hell in such a bad place, such a dark place ….." Her body shook slightly, but then he felt her shoulders, and her resolve, her nerve, stiffen as she continued.

"I've done five months intensive psychotherapy, four nights a week. If I wasn't going to Iraq, I'd be continuing for another year or more. I'm going to keep working with my therapist by phone to the maximum extent possible." Mac held her breath for a minute. This had been her fear all summer and fall – that her friends, her colleagues, her superiors – would think her a nut case. When Harm's only reaction was to run his fingers through her hair, smoothing it, she took a deep breath and continued.

"It was Gunny who made me see that I had to get help. He came to JAG about a week after I started back, and after the small talk it all came out. The Marines had jerked him out of Paraguay the day after we left; his cover with the CIA had been totally blown. He got 45 days con leave, then the usual proceed and leave and travel time – he got orders to an instructor billet at Camp Pendleton. He told me it's his last billet – he's retiring in three years, going back to school for a Master's in Criminal Justice Administration or to law school, or just going fishing. Anyway, he told me he went home, to New Mexico, but he couldn't sleep, couldn't stop screaming at his family, couldn't do anything, had nightmares day and night, was drinking …he said he went on line and found a group of therapists connected to the Baltimore-Washington Psychoanalytic Institute offering free or reduced fee help. So he came back to DC and started working with one."

Mac bit her lips, her fingers digging tightly into Harm's arms. She continued. "I – I had some of the same problems. I called …and …and …every dollar's been worth it. Maybe the best money I've ever spent. Anyway, by September I knew I could do years of therapy and probably understand some of the root causes of why I've let men choose me, why I've always had such low self-esteem in my personal life, why I've acted the way I have – to you – to us – to myself - but I wanted to short-cut it. I knew I didn't have years." She paused, trying to collect her wayward thoughts.

"What did you do?" Harm encouraged.

This was in some ways the hardest part. "For years and years, I'd hated being 'Sarah.' SHE was the frightened kid who hid under the covers or in the closet, or under the bed, whose father terrorized her, whose mother left her. She drank, she became a drunkard, she did other bad things, and she didn't keep her best friend from killing himself. She made stupid choices and she did it again and again and again …she let Dalton snow her with pretty words, she let Mic run all over her, try to railroad her. I hated who Sarah had been – who she was - and I didn't want to be her."

Mac paused briefly, staring blindly at the window, then continued. "I want to be Mac – she has the inner strength I want to have and she's a success at what she does – well, at least most of the time. I finally realized after session after session of therapy, that's who I am and that's who I'm going to be." Mac didn't care if she sounded defiant now. "So, I changed my name. I didn't care what the actual first name was as long as I could be Mac – I thought about "Makayla" but it didn't sound right. "O'Hara" – that was an obvious choice – in Leavenworth or not, my uncle's the finest man I know, next to you."

"Like I said, I could have probably worked through it with years of therapy, but I didn't want to. I want to get on with my life and I want to put being 'Sarah' behind me. Do- do you think I'm just stupid and silly about it?"

It was probably a good thing Harm and Mac were both facing forward. He was a proud man, and never wanted anyone to see him cry. Now he made no move to wipe his eyes – not that he could have moved his arms from under Mac's hands.

Harm leaned his face into her hair and his voice shook. "I could never, ever think you're 'stupid or silly.' I've always admired your strength, your resiliency, your ability to bounce back from adversity, and I've never been more proud of you than I am tonight. I only wish I had half your courage. You've always been Mac to me, and I always saw how you cringed when Brumby called you 'Sarah.' Even if I didn't really know why, I could see you didn't like it. Mac, I haven't had a night's sleep since before I went to Paraguay and now I'm thinking you'll think I'm the silly one when I tell you what I've done to keep sane the last few months."

Harm took a deep breath, calming himself. "Let's get some sleep, okay? We can get up early and work out here and I'll tell you about my life at Fort Bliss before we get some breakfast and go to class. And you're lucky; I didn't give homework the first day! How's that sound?"

"Sounds like a plan." Mac was physically and emotionally exhausted.

For the first time in many months, they both slept soundly through the night.

TBC.