A/N: Here's the Sunday update! I really should be working on clinic charts, but, well, it's not like they are any more interesting than they were while I was actually in clinic…so I did this instead. Hope the story is not moving too slow for anyone…but I guess it is what it is! Thanks for the reviews!

A/N2: Poor Mac…I know it seems like she can't get it together, but like I've said before (I think), I would assume she would have been a LOT more messed up from Paraguay than they showed on TV. This story is mainly how Mac makes it through. I am thinking of exploring this story from Harm's point of view as well. Not sure how that will all work out…I'm not a dude, so…

Delicate

Chapter 25: Skies Grew Darker

1847 Local

Harm's Apartment

North of Union Station

"I'm not going back."

Harm was at the stove, tossing vegetables for the stir fry he was making for dinner. A pot of rice occupied another burner and soft jazz played in the background. Mac had come over straight from her fourth session with Dr. McCool. She had let herself in, immediately dropping her briefcase and small duffle bag on the floor with a loud thud.

"What?"

Mac slipped out of her coat and started unbuttoning the jacket of her uniform. Her fingers were shaky and clumsy, and it took her a couple of tries before she managed to open the top button. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She was angry, frustrated, and above all worried what Harm was going to think. "I'm not going back."

"Back where, honey?" Harm looked bewildered.

"Therapy. Dr. McCool. I'm not going back," she said for the third time.

"Why not?" Harm checked the rice, gave the vegetables another toss, and walked over to Mac, hands reaching up to grip her shoulders.

"Because…because, she's—it's not—I don't think she's working for me."

"So find someone else."

"It's not that easy."

"Come on, Mac, there's gotta be others at Bethesda."

"No."

"Really? Dr. McCool's the only one?"

Mac huffed impatiently. "No, I'm sure there's more. But I'm done. I don't think counseling is for me."

"Maaaaac. You've only had a few sessions. Stick it out for a few more."

Mac shrugged out of his grip. "I said no, Harm."

"But—"

"Goddammit, Harm! No!"

Harm's eyes opened wide at her outburst and he stepped back a few paces. "Okay, okay, Mac. I'm sorry. I was just hoping—"

"I'm going to go change clothes," she interrupted him. She grabbed her duffle bag from where she had left it and stepped toward his bedroom. "Okay?" She looked at Harm over her shoulder.

"Yeah, go ahead. Dinner's almost ready. We can talk about this later."

Not if I can help it, Mac thought to herself.

Mac removed the rest of her uniform and put on the jeans and sweater she had packed to change into tonight. To say therapy had not gone well today was an understatement. Mac had been struggling all day. The night before, she had had a horrible nightmare, one that topped any of the previous ones. So much death, so much blood. She had been up since 2352 and since then, just the thought of the dream nearly sent her into panic attacks. She had brought it up first thing with Dr. McCool, wanting to ask her what she could do to calm down, get back to sleep, not let it intrude on her day.

Dr. McCool, however, first wanted to review an exercise she assigned Mac the week before and then they could discuss it. Mac thought that was fine, or it would have been if Mac had actually done the assignment. She was supposed to write letters to her parents and tell them what she would tell them if they were face to face again. Mac thought it was a rather silly assignment but had honestly planned to complete it. Unfortunately, she was sent to Norfolk for the rest of that week and had just returned two days ago on Saturday. Between her case and the horror of her most recent nightmare, she completely forgot.

Dr. McCool, who truthfully did not seem all that irritated about it, told her she could just do it next week. Mac, however, burst into tears. After the fact, Mac knew it was because she was exhausted, frustrated that her therapy wasn't as successful as Harm's had been, and angry with herself that she actually felt guilty about a task that she thought was stupid anyway. For now, however, she just felt that she was defective.

Dr. McCool just sat there and watched Mac as she tried to regain control. This also angered her, and she had actually snapped at Dr. McCool, asking her why she was just sitting there, and could she please stop staring? McCool simply pushed a box of Kleenex toward her, seemingly unperturbed. Once Mac did manage to calm down, Dr. McCool simply went on with the visit as if the breakdown had never occurred. Mac's participation in the session, however, was nearly zero. She only gave one or two-word answers and she figured it was a relief for both of them when their fifty minutes were up. They never did discuss her nightmares, although, to be fair, Dr. McCool did try to bring them up.

Mac, dejected, drove herself to Harm's apartment. Dr. McCool had given her some good pointers, had made some shrewd observations during their four sessions, but Mac still felt no better. She couldn't stop feeling that as someone providing therapy, Dr. McCool should have been more sympathetic, comforted her in some way. Not necessarily with a touch or an embrace, but at least with words. Mac wanted to feel like she was being heard, wanted to feel like she was making progress, but she, of course, did not feel those things. Initially she blamed Dr. McCool for this, but, as was typical of her, Mac started to blame herself more and more until she finally believed that it was entirely her problem that she couldn't make this work. It didn't occur to her that perhaps she and Dr. McCool just weren't a good fit.

Mac stepped down from Harm's bedroom, finding Harm setting the table. She watched him for several seconds, noting that he didn't seem to want to look at her.

Mac took a deep breath. "You're mad at me."

Harm's movements stilled. "No, I'm not mad."

"Then what—"

"I'm disappointed."

Well, that was even worse. "Oh."

Harm resumed his task, still not looking her way.

"Do you want me to go?"

Harm didn't say anything for several seconds, and Mac took that as her answer.

She started gathering up her things, going up to Harm's room where she had laid out her uniform, trying desperately not to cry.

As she came down the stairs, Mac found Harm waiting for her. "What are you doing, Sarah?"

"You wanted me to go."

Harm gently took her uniform from her hands and moved past her to once again lay it on the bed. Mac didn't know what she was supposed to do, so she just stood there, waiting for him to come back. Once he returned, he took her into his arms. "I don't want you to go."

Mac's arms wrapped tightly around his waist. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For being such a bitch earlier. For being a disappointment to you."

"Oh, Sarah. You aren't a disappointment. I meant I was disappointed that it didn't work for you."

Mac attempted a joke. "But you do think I was a bitch, right?"

He chuckled. "Maybe a little." He kissed her hair. "But I love you anyway. And Mac, I'm sorry I made you feel like I didn't want you to stay."

"Thanks. I love you too."

"Mac, don't get upset again, but please think about trying someone else—I know you haven't called lately, but judging by how tired you've been, I know you aren't sleeping much and I would be willing to bet it's because of your nightmares."

Mac lifted her head to look into his eyes. "I'll think about it. But Harm, I really don't think therapy is for me."

Harm sighed. "Okay, Mac. Just don't count it out completely, alright?" She nodded. "Sarah, I just want you to be okay." She nodded again. She wanted that too, even if she had no idea how that was going to be accomplished.

"Now, let's go eat. Although, I warn you, the rice is probably one giant glob by now and the vegetables are probably all limp."

"It'll be fine, Harm." Truthfully, she wasn't very hungry and didn't really care what she put in her mouth.

Once they had finished dinner (which was actually quite good), and the dishes were put away, Harm led her to his couch and sat down, pulling her into his lap. "Do you want to tell me what happened with Dr. McCool today?"

Mac thought about it for a minute. "Not now, Harm. I'm sor-

"That's okay. And I think that's enough of the sorries for tonight, honey."

"Agreed."

Mac relaxed against Harm for several minutes. He was gently stroking and rubbing circles on her back while she traced little patterns on his chest. "Harm? I should probably go. We've got an early morning and I'm about to fall asleep right here."

"So stay."

"Harm—"

"Mac, no way am I letting you drive when you're this tired. How much sleep did you get last night?"

"Enough."

"Try again."

"Fine. About two hours."

"About? Just an estimate? From you, Mac?"

She sighed with exasperation. "One hour and fifty-two minutes."

"Oh, Sarah…" Harm stood up, still holding onto Mac. He carried her up the stairs to his bedroom and set her gently on the bed. He grabbed her uniform from where it lay beside her, found a hanger and hung it beside his.

"Sweetie, there's an extra toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. I'll grab you a t-shirt to sleep in and if you give me your car keys, I'll get your seabag from your trunk so you can have it for the morning, okay?"

Mac acquiesced, knowing Harm was right. There was no way she would be able to drive home tonight. She wasn't even sure she could use the bathroom without falling asleep on the toilet.

Harm left to get her bag from her car and Mac quickly changed herself into Harm's shirt. She had every intention of getting up and brushing her teeth but then the next thing she knew, gentle hands and Harm's voice were guiding her under the covers. She felt a soft kiss upon her forehead, and then didn't know anything more…for exactly two hours and thirty-two minutes, fifteen seconds.

Mac sat up, ram-rod straight, gasping for air and clutching at herself. She could swear Sadik was in the room with her, whispering those hated names in her ear. Whore. Slut. She also felt in her bones that Harm, Clay, the Roberts, Chloe…everyone she loved, were all dead, murdered by Sadik. She could see the rivers of their blood surrounding her, threatening to drown her. She still fought to take in a breath but then there he was, his cold eyes staring knowingly into hers, the irises inexplicably blue. He called her name…

"Mac!" Mac jolted awake. Harm sat on the bed beside her, his hands gripping her wrists. He was very much alive, thank god, but then the images of what Sadik had done to him in her dream flooded into her mind. Bile started to rise in her throat, and before she could embarrass herself, she broke away from Harm and stumbled out of the bed, running straight into the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet before she vomited, tears running unchecked down her cheeks.

0729 Local

Harm's Apartment

North of Union Station

Mac woke to the heavenly smell of bacon…and was that…pancakes? She heard someone come into her room and she rolled over to the sight of Harm carrying a cup of tea over to her. His hair looked a bit damp, his face was freshly shaven, and he was already in uniform.

She was still sleepy as she sat up and ran her hand through her tousled hair and down her face. "What time is it?"

"0730."

"0730?" she mumbled, still not completely awake. Suddenly her internal clock kicked in. "0730! Harm! Why didn't you get me up sooner?!" She flipped back the covers and started to rise.

Harm set the tea on her nightstand and pressed her shoulders back down on the pillow. "Power down, marine. You have the day off. I already talked to the admiral."

"What?! And what did you tell him?"

He shrugged. "I told him you had cramps."

Her eyes widened in shock before her face flushed with anger. "You sure as hell better not have," she said as she sat back up and swung her legs off the bed.

Harm's look of innocence changed to one of amusement. "No, jarhead. I mean, we wouldn't want the admiral thinking you weren't all kick-ass marine. Wouldn't want him to suspect you were a lady, too."

Mac snorted and rolled her eyes. Then she gave him a look that said he better tell her right quick what he told the admiral, or he would see just how much of the kick-ass jarhead she was.

Harm sat down beside her and made to reach for her hand. She subtly moved it away before he could make contact. He sighed. "I told him you had a rough night," he said simply, bracing himself for her ire.

"Dammit, Harm! You had no right to talk to him!" The last thing she wanted the admiral to know was how weak she was.

"Maaac. You need time to rest! You barely slept last night after—well, after. You tossed and turned. You cried…That's two nights in a row that you haven't had any meaningful sleep. You are exhausted. You cannot work like this."

At that she did rise off the bed. "Goddammit, Harm! I'm going to work." She stalked to where her seabag lay on the floor by the bathroom. She pulled out her fresh uniform and tossed it on the bed. She turned toward the bathroom again, but Harm blocked her path. She tried to push past him, but he caught her arm, turning her shoulders so she was facing him. She glared up at him defiantly. "So, basically you told the admiral that I spent the night here because I was too tired and too scared to go home. That I have nightmares nearly every night and I threw up in your bathroom. Thanks. I'm sure now the admiral has lost the last bit of respect he ever had for me."

"What's that supposed to mean? The admiral thinks the world of you. Where is this coming from? And for the record, I just told him you were here and picked up a stomach bug, so I made you stay."

Mac barely heard the last part. Harm was way off on the admiral's assessment of her. "He thinks the world of me? That's a load of crap, Harm."

"Why would you say that? Seriously, what is going on with you two?"

"Don't, Harm."

"No, I can't let this go. Not this time. Something to do with the admiral is eating you up inside. Tell me!"

"Harm, I'm warning you…"

"Sarah, please..." His grip on her arms tightened as she tried to wrench away from him.

"Stop." She was shaking again but still fought him when he tried to pull her close. He managed to get his arms around her and she found her face buried in his chest. Her resistance lessened just the tiniest bit. "Harm, please stop. I can't…"

"Sarah, you can tell me. Why do you say the admiral doesn't think you are anything less than amazing?"

Mac snorted at that. Fine. He wanted to know? Well then, she'd tell him. "Because."

"Because why?" He asked her like he was talking to an obstinate five-year-old.

Mac lost her nerve to say anything further. Harm moved back slightly from her and used his fingers to tip up her chin so he could look into her eyes. "Because why, Mac?" he whispered.

Tears started to fall down her cheeks. She was so damn sick of crying.

"Sarah…"

Finally, she couldn't keep it in anymore. "Because. Because he was happy enough to just let me die down there. He wouldn't let you come find me. I wasn't worth it to him. He didn't care if I came back in a body bag or not at all. He left me to die, Harm!"

"Oh, Sarah…" He pulled her tight against him once again and this time she didn't resist. She sobbed into his chest, vaguely thinking that he was going to have to change uniforms and send this one to the cleaners. Harm didn't say anything; he just let her cry.

"Don't tell him," Mac demanded when she calmed enough to pull away from him.

"I won't."

"Promise me, Harm."

"I promise. But I do need to call him and tell him I'll be a little late. I'll be discreet, Mac."

She noticed he didn't say anything to refute her claims against the admiral. She listened as he picked up the cordless phone by the bed and dialed the admiral's number. The conversation was brief.

Mac heard Harm chuckle a bit. "I'll tell her, sir. I'll see you soon. Thanks, Admiral." Harm hung up the phone. "That was the admiral."

No shit, Harm.

"He told me to tell you to get well soon. He said he needs you around there to keep me in check."

Right, Harm.

All she said out loud was, "Okay. Tell him I'm sorry."

"Will do. Now, I'm going to go change my uniform—don't say you're sorry again, Mac. It's fine. And Mac, please rest. Don't go into work. You'll only make yourself truly sick. And please eat something…your uniforms are getting looser again, and I feel like I could lift you with just one hand. I don't want anything—" His voice choked up and Mac was surprised to see a suspicious moisture in his eyes. "I don't want anything to happen to you. I would never get over it. Please," he begged.

Finally, she gave in. She couldn't bear to see the worry in his eyes and she knew he wouldn't be able to relax at work if he knew she was struggling in the office across from him. Defeatedly she sat back down on the bed. "Fine, I'll stay," she mumbled, though somewhat mutinously, looking at her toes before raising her head again. "But only for today." Her gaze challenged him to fight her on it. Harm merely gave her a soft smile and leaned over to kiss her forehead.

"Fair enough, marine. Thank you. Now, there's bacon—real pig, of course—" He gave his obligatory shudder. "And pancakes warming in the oven. Eat 'em before they all dry out. I'd better change and get going. I'll call you later this morning to check on you." Mac started to protest but he interrupted her. "I will check on you. And don't leave here until you feel rested enough to drive. I'll come over tonight."

Mac nodded. Harm turned toward the door, stopping when she spoke in a small voice. "Harm?"

"Yeah, Sarah?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." He turned to leave again.

"Um, Harm?"

"Yeah?"

"Could I…could I just stay…here? Be here when you get back? I won't feel so alone if I'm here…" She couldn't quite explain it, but if she couldn't be near him at work, she at least wanted to be surrounded by his things and his scent.

Harm's face softened into an expression of extreme tenderness. "Of course, baby. You never have to leave here if you don't want to."

She gave him a watery smile. "Thanks."

Harm grabbed his cover off his dresser and came back over to her. "Mac, honey? It's all going to be okay. I love you." He raised her chin and this time gave her a soft kiss on the lips.

"I love you, too."

"See you tonight."

"Yeah."

"Now, when I leave here…go eat, take a shower, and take a nap. For me."

"I will."

Harm left her then. She sat on the bed for a few minutes, images from her dream flooding into her consciousness. She forced herself to go over all the details of her dream, looking for a clue to…something. She was afraid that the increase in frequency and intensity of her nightmares meant that Sadik was close. Fighting down the terror and nausea, she looked desperately within herself for any sign or vision indicating that a confrontation with Sadik was imminent. Nothing jumped out at her as she went over and over her dreams, but, concerned she was missing something, she knew she had to make a call. Mac retrieved her cellphone and dialed the familiar number.

"Hello…Clay?"

End Chapter 25