PART 10 – Eyes Of A Stranger
People always turn away
From the eyes of a stranger
Afraid to know what lies behind the stare
"Eyes Of A Stranger" By: Queensryche
Thursday
July 29, 2004
0400 Local
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown
It's not that she didn't want to believe him. It's not that she hadn't wished for a different fate for the agent, but Mac simply couldn't fathom that Clayton Webb was alive and well and that she wasn't the first one he came to. "I am having trouble believing you, Harm." Then there was the story about some arcade machine screwing with people's minds. The whole thing sounded orchestrated though she couldn't fathom why Harm would invent something as stupid as that. It was something that not even Bud, on his biggest sci-fi kick, would dream of.
Harm sat patiently on the couch, watching her pace back and forth. "Why would I lie about this?"
"I didn't say you were lying." With a sigh, she sat next to him and tried searching his eyes for an answer that they weren't giving. "Look, Maybe something is going on with the CIA. . . But, doesn't mean Clay is alive."
"Mac, how the hell else would I get these files?" He raised the folder up and watched as she took them and placed them on the coffee table. She was giving him a sympathetic look, the type you give to people who weren't too stable with their mental health. "I am not going crazy! I saw Clayton Webb. . . I touched the man."
Mac moved the hair out of her face and tucked the strands behind her ears. She was trying to mask the anger that she was feeling at the whole situation. It wasn't anger towards Harm, just angry in general. He was a good man that didn't deserve to go through whatever it was he was going through. And it's not that she didn't want to believe him, but the story was just too wild to be true. Things about chemicals and body's that went missing. . . Facts turned to fiction. 'Maybe if he rested things would be better?' She thought, realizing that neither of them had slept much that night. And, by the looks of Harm, he was more sleep deprived than she. "Harm, it's late. . . Let's get some rest and tomorrow we'll go over those, I promise." Her eyes went between the folder on the table to Harm's eyes. He looked so sad and tired that all she wanted to do was crawl up in bed with him and kiss away his problems. Sigh, if only things were that simple. "Let's get some rest."
But Harm shook his head. "How could you invite me into your bed, into your home after what I nearly did to you?" His eyes traced her neck to where a small mark of where his hands had squeezed. He felt so disgusted with himself that the thought nearly made him puke.
"That wasn't you. . . You'd never hurt me." Mac was sure of that, sure that he wouldn't hurt her that way. Some would have thought of her as crazy for wanting to care for him so much after he nearly killed her. But, she loved him, and that alone was reason to try and help him, no matter how crazy his story got. She would help him or die trying. "C'mon flyboy." Extending her hand, she was pleased when he grabbed on and allowed for her to lead him through the apartment and into the bedroom. He shivered at the closeness they shared. A closeness that went far beyond intimate contact. It was love. He was in love with her and she was in love with him. As they lay together, he let her try to fix him.
Mac held him close, cooing gently words to wash away his tension and they both drifted to sleep. But, the peace didn't last long for nearly an hour after she thought he was asleep, Harm sprang into life. He slid out of her arms, and she watched him stand, thinking he was going to the head. Instead, he started dressing. "Harm? What are you doing?" Harm didn't respond, just methodically slipped his clothing on. It was like watching a zombie.
Finally, Mac moved out of bed and placed a hand on his arm. When he stopped and looked at her, even through the darkness of the room, she could see a cold stare in his eyes. Even his face had hardened. Harm took on the look of a killer, a man angry with life, with the world. She took a step back, recalling that same look when he'd tried to strangle her. "Harm?" She asked softly, but he didn't respond, instead he just shoved her out of the way and stalked out of her apartment. That night, he never returned. . .
0850 Local
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
Mac was on the phone when she saw Harm walk out of the Admiral's office and pass her own. He didn't stop by as was the norm, nor did he even bother casting a glance her way. She wondered when he had arrived and how he'd snuck by her. "It's Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie, JAG Headquarters. . . I need to meet with the director." She held her breath for a moment and rolled her eyes, Kershaw's secretary was driving her nuts. "No, not Mackinly. . .MACKENZIE! Capital M, lower case-A-C, Capital K, lower case-E-N-Z-I-E. . ." She let out a deep breath and resisted the urge to bang the receiver against the side of her desk. "YES he knows who I am. . . Yes, I'll hold."
Frowning, she waited while the secretary did whatever she was doing. 'Probably getting clearance.' She thought, shaking her head at nothing in particular and bringing up her hand to her head. Mac felt awful, lack of sleep not making anything easier for her. Harm had left in the middle of the night, with no goodbye, no words. He just literally pushed her out of his way and stalked out. She tried calling both his cell phone and home phone, neither answered. She tried driving to his apartment, but he wasn't there. One of the things that she promised herself was not to give up on them and wherever they were going. But, it was difficult when some pig headed sailor was trying to shut her out. "Thank you." Finally the woman had given her a time that she could expect to meet with Kershaw.
Standing, she headed out of her office, through the bullpen and down the corridor to Harm's office. The door was closed, which was rather odd, seeing as Harm usually kept his door open. Mac knocked once, twice, three times before the door opened almost magically. She took that as an invitation and stepped in to find Harm standing by the window looking out. All of the feelings she had to bitch him out came to screeching halt when she saw his shoulders slumped. "Hey Sailor."
"Colonel." Almost immediately, he regained his composure, standing ramrod straight but still looking out the window. "What can I do for you this fine morning?" His voice was icy, almost dismissive.
Mac noticed the files on his desk. They were the same ones that he claimed Webb had give him. "What is going on?"
"Nothing is going on." His words came out in a monotone, almost as if someone were telling him what to do or say. But, it was when he turned around and faced her that Mac saw that look in his eyes again. Mac stood her ground though ever fiber in her being was telling her to run. "I am just trying to do my work without you people bothering me all the fucking time."
Mac shook her head, it wasn't like him to talk to her that way. It was the same thing that had happened that day before court. She was waiting for him to raise his hands up to his head, for them to have to rush him to the hospital. But, it didn't happen, instead he turned back to the window and then looked at his watch. "What the hell is going on with you?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but she saw him jump as if he were startled. "Damnit, Harm, talk to me!"
"Stay away, MacKenzie." His voice was low, menacing, angry.
Mac glanced down at the files on his desk again. Was the CIA really involved? Did they do something to him? Was Webb really alive? Was Webb the one that turned Harm into whatever he'd become? She had so many questions and few ways to find answers. "What's happening to you?"
Harm shrugged and turned around to look at her. Casually, he slid behind his chair and smiled. It wasn't his dazzling smile, in truth, the smile gave her chills and not the good type of chills either. "Nothing. . . I am fine."
It was probably a stupid idea, considering that the man across from her looked more unstable than anything, but still, she walked around his desk and leaned against the top. If his eyes could be menacing, she would do the same thing. "At four in the morning you wanted me to believe you. . . that Clay was alive and that some video game had screwed with your mind, now you are fine?"
"It's bullshit Mac. . . all of it." But his voice was less than believable. "I was just messing with your mind."
Mac took a good look at him. He looked awful, bags under his eyes, his uniform, if she took a good look, seemed slept in. He wasn't even properly shaved. "You need help, Harm." She tried pleading with him and the moment that she reached over to run a hand over his face, Harm stood quickly and moved away from her, almost afraid of her touch.
"Don't touch me." He commanded, eyes glaring into her own. With that, he moved forward, practically marching towards Mac which had it's desired effect: she backed off. "Get out of my office, MacKenzie and I'll advise you to keep this crazy story to yourself."
Mac nodded. "Whatever you say, but it isn't ending here. . . I will not see your life go down the drain! Of that you can count on, Commander." She slammed the door and headed back towards her office. She had a meeting to get to that would hopefully answer her questions.