A/N: Well here is 33! So, if you haven't noticed, I initially forgot a letter in my last chapter. It has one now. I also forgot one for this one, so here it is.

Letters to Harm

Chapter 33: Shattered

My Dear Harm,

I hate May.

I'm sure you can guess why...

My "anniversary" is tomorrow, and I wonder what Mic will do to celebrate it. He always has such wonderful gifts for me...last year he beat me until I...after he...oh, Harm, you don't need to know about any of that.

I've said this before, but I really thought I'd have escaped here by now. Actually no...I've never really believed I would be able to. From the moment he showed his face at my apartment on May 19th, I've been weak, useless. For so many weeks I couldn't do anything without horrible dizziness, and then I found I was pregnant. I know, I know, Harm-I should have tried harder to escape, but I couldn't...I had no idea how I would be able to hurt him enough so I could leave. I didn't want him to hurt our baby, and honestly, Harm...I was so physically weak after all of that that little AJ could have bested me in a fight. It hurts to admit that. I'm still weak, but I've been working on a plan. Harm...I don't know if it will be successful, but I'm going to try. I have to. I don't know when, and I'm terrified I'll miss my chance and he'll kill me before I can do anything...but I'll try. I promise.

Harm, pray I survive tomorrow's anniversary. I know he will hurt me...rape me-funny how he does it all the time and yet I still find it hard to say the word.

Pray too that I'm not still here on my third anniversary. If I am, I think I will die. Oh, Harm...I won't deliberately do anything-I have Tricia to care for, and I promise you I will do everything in my power to keep her safe. I promise.

Harm...one last thing. I'm afraid...I'm afraid that I'm delaying my trial of escape because I'm scared, not because I truly believe the right time hasn't come...I tell myself I will know the right moment...but maybe I truly am just a coward. If that is the case...I'm sorry, Harm.

I miss you.

I love you.

Mac


May 26th, 2004

1240 Local

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, VA

Harm hung up the phone, smiling as he remembered his conversation with Mac. He'd been worried when he'd left her this morning, being as it was her "anniversary" with Brumby, but court wouldn't wait. He made a vow that he'd do whatever he had to to be with her on May 26th from now on. Harm was approaching a different anniversary of sorts; it was on May 29th that he'd returned from his TAD to find that Mac was gone. He'd never forget the crushing grief that settled on him as he'd read her note, and from then on, the 29th of every month brought it all back.

But not anymore…

Harm grinned again. No, the grief no longer had a hold on him, and he woke each morning with a joy he'd never known in all the years leading to this. Harm reached for the phone again, wanting to tell her once more that he loved her, but a glance at the clock in his office told him he'd better get his six to court. You need to skedaddle, he thought to himself with a little chuckle. Harm stood up and grabbed his briefcase, intent on doing just that, when something stopped him. It was almost like he'd heard Mac's voice in his head, and he had the nagging sense that he was forgetting something.

Oh, right…He was to pick up some groceries on the way home. Unfortunately, he'd left his list on the little table by the front door, and the only thing he could remember was…well, nothing, actually. Harm chuckled and shook his head. He was going to have to call Mac, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd had to do that.

Oh, well, he said with a mental shrug.

He'd call her after closing arguments.


1243 Local

Rabb Residence

Falls Church, VA

Hello, luv…

Mac looked up at the looming figure of her ex-fiancé and abductor, cold terror settling around her heart. He had a prominent scar across his neck and his right eyelid drooped, obviously obscuring his vision. Mac knew that underneath his dirty flannel shirt he would have another set of scars, and her mind flashed back to the day she had escaped the cabin.


Flashback…

Mac took a deep breath. It hurt a bit, but it could have been worse; she didn't think he had broken any ribs this time and for that she was grateful. Each time he'd done that it had been a few weeks of agony, every breath causing a stabbing pain that would cause her to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

Last night, he'd wanted to 'celebrate' their coming child, and by celebrate, he'd meant he wanted to violate her. Once Tricia was asleep, he'd shown up in the doorway with a familiar look and gesture.

Already shutting her mind off, she'd undressed for him, soon finding herself beneath him. Despite her condition, he wasn't in the least gentle, but she'd ignored the pain as she had done countless times before.

But then came a moment she couldn't ignore. With an angry grunt, he'd lifted himself off of her and flipped her over. He'd glared down at her, and she knew then that he hadn't been able to finish. His big hands went around her rib cage and squeezed until she couldn't breathe, and she was certain she was going to hear and feel the crunch of breaking ribs. She'd started to blackout eventually, but then he'd abruptly let go. He'd leered down at her as her breath came in rapid, painful pants, grabbing hold of her breast, his fingers digging in until the pain rivaled that of her ribs. He'd finally let go after several seconds and rolled away from her, his snoring filling the air scant moments later.

Mac had lain there another minute or so, knowing she would need to get up and turn off the meager lights in the cabin before he woke again. He'd accuse her of wasting electricity, though it had been him who'd neglected to turn them off.

Struggling a bit, she'd eventually pulled herself from the bed, cut the lights, and then returned to the bedroom with sure steps, despite being plunged into total darkness. She took her place by Mic's side once again, then willed herself to sleep, knowing somehow that she would need all the strength she possessed in the coming days.

This morning as usual, she'd awakened before Mic so she could have breakfast ready for him when he rose for the day. She knew he'd be irritated that it would have to be scrambled eggs again, but it was his fault; he was the one responsible for procuring groceries. She could only do so much with her garden and she saved her canned items for their suppers. Today, however, she'd need to break open something for lunch too, if she wanted Tricia to have something substantial to eat.

There was actually a decent supply of canned goods at the moment given she'd completed the harvesting of her garden, but winters could be long…

But then again, she didn't intend to be here this winter. She'd either be gone…or be dead.

Mac heard Mic's grunt as he hefted himself out of bed, her signal to start the actual cooking of the eggs. She dropped a pat of butter in the cast iron frying pan, less than usual since they were low on butter too. That would anger Mic as well; he loved his butter, loved his eggs done a certain way…if she made something that wasn't up to his "standards," she usually found herself on the other side of his fist. Mac mentally shrugged. She'd been hit before; she'd no doubt be hit again.

It suddenly hit Mac how resigned she sounded in her mind…where was the marine she used to be? She blinked back a few tears, knowing that the marine she used to be was still lying on the floor in her old apartment, broken beneath her crazed and infuriated ex-fiancé. He'd surprised her that day; she'd never expected that he would do that to her, and her injuries and need to protect little AJ had made it impossible to fight back.

Once the butter had melted, Mac poured the egg mixture into the pan, listening to the sounds emanating from the bedroom with her good ear while she fluffed and stirred their breakfast. Correction: Mic and Tricia's breakfast; there really wasn't enough for her. She'd make do, always did, and there was at least enough bread for toasting for the three of them. Mac knew, however, that if she wanted to make it through this pregnancy with a healthy baby, she'd have to start eating better. As if in response to the thought of her, the baby that lay beneath the swell of her abdomen kicked and rolled, and she lowered her free hand to rub across her rounded belly.

"Eggs again?" came Mic's rough voice, startling her. She jumped and Mic chuckled; the man enjoyed sneaking up on her, knowing she wouldn't be able to hear him all that well since he'd damaged her ear. Mac took a deep breath to slow her rapid heartbeat and only nodded in response to his question. "Not the most creative, are you, luv?" he asked snidely.

"We need groceries, Mic," she answered, and he only grunted before roughly grabbing her by the neck so he could turn her face to his. He lowered his lips to hers for a punishing kiss and then released her with a little shove toward the stove. She barely caught herself from falling into the pan of eggs and burning herself.

She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat after Mic's kiss and went about her business, while Mic stepped into the bathroom to use the facilities. He stepped out a moment later, gave her a glare, and then stomped outside. Mac breathed a sigh of relief; it was always better when Mic wasn't there.

Mac gave the eggs another fluff with her spatula, thinking again about what she needed to do when the time came for her to make their escape. She knew she'd only have one chance at it; if she didn't make her first move count, she and Tricia would likely both be dead shortly thereafter. Mic's wrath wouldn't be satisfied with a simple punch or kick after something like that. Mac also knew that his first target would be Harm's daughter.

Harm's daughter…oh, how she wanted to share Tricia with him, wanted him to know their sweet little girl. To make that possible, Mac knew her actions would have to be quick, decisive, and deadly. For most of the last two and a half years, Mac had been thinking about the moment when she'd finally act. She knew she'd have to incapacitate Mic from a distance; she'd never be able to overpower him if he were given a chance to get a hold of her. She'd been planning and training as best she could; Mic only ever allowed her the smallest of paring knives, and she knew that wouldn't be enough. Uncle Matt had taught her survival skills during their trips to Red Rock Mesa; she could start fires without matches, prepare a shelter with minimal supplies, and she could create her own knives out of rocks. Those knives, while perfectly functional as a survival-in-the-wild sort of tool, weren't appropriate for what she had in mind for Mic. Slowly, ever so slowly, she'd been using her knowledge of the basics to create knives meant to kill. Each blade had been honed to the sharpest of points and could slice through nearly anything with frightening efficiency. Mac had made three of the weapons; a fourth was nearly finished but she suspected she wouldn't have the time to complete it before she had to move. She'd initially stored the weapons with her journal in her secret hideout in the closet, but over time she'd observed Mic's habits and actions and she'd learned where she could hide the knives so that she could reach them quickly when the time came.

Knives, of course, were not traditionally distance weapons. What Mic had never known about her, what even Harm had never known, was her skill at throwing knives. She honestly hadn't practiced that skill overmuch in the years since becoming an officer in the corps, but as soon as she was strong enough, she'd started working her technique with similarly shaped objects, eventually working with her finished products. Each knife was decidedly blade-heavy, which was somewhat unlike most of the knives she'd ever practiced with, but eventually, she was a near expert-level thrower once again.

But she wanted to be an expert…

Mac had been disappointed in herself that it had taken this long to get to this point. There was of course the time it took to create her knives, and there was so much time in between when she was relatively incapacitated, but Mac still felt she should have been better prepared by now. The time to flee had come, but it wasn't of her choice; she could only hope that when the exact moment came, she would rise to the occasion.

Mac vaguely noted Mic's return to the cabin as she dished the eggs onto two ancient plates. She realized with chagrin that she had forgotten to make the toast, so she scraped the eggs back into the frying pan and moved them back over the still hot burner to keep them warm. Mac grabbed two pieces of bread that were somewhat dry and set them warily into their toaster. Every time she plugged the thing in and lowered the bread, she expected the thing to short out and electrocute her. She smiled a little to herself when she survived the act once again. She looked around her nervously, wondering where Mic had gone. She hadn't heard him go outside again, so there was really only one place he could be…the bedroom.

It was then that Mac heard Tricia's first cries. The little girl must have woken from a bad dream, because she fairly quickly started to wail. Mic's angry voice reached her ear, and suddenly Mac knew…

This was it…

The moment that had been two and a half years in coming…


1245 Local

Rabb Residence

Falls Church, VA

From somewhere deep inside, Mac found the strength to lift herself from the floor. She was surprised when Mic didn't immediately make a grab for her.

"You look good, Sarah," he said, rather warmly this time, and it made her skin crawl. She didn't respond; she merely blinked at him while she ignored the sharp pain in her tailbone. It hit her then that Mic spoke with a slight slur, and she took a closer look at Mic's drooping right eyelid.

"I don't look so good, though, do I, Sarah?" he sneered, all trace of warmth gone from his voice now. He took a step forward and Mac took a step back.

"Do you know what happened to me?"

Mac shook her head, though she assumed her attack on him had something to do with it. She forced herself not to look behind her, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that there were others in the house. She prayed that Rene had heard what had happened and had already called 9-1-1.

But then she had a horrible thought…

Was Rene in on this too?

Mic advanced on her further. "Sarah, I asked, do you know what happened to me?"

Mac started to shake her head again, but the sudden fury in Mic's face told her she needed to actually say something.

"N-no, Mic, I-I don't."

Mic snorted in derision. "Right…well, okay, luv, I'll tell you…

"You see, I was stabbed…"


Flashback…

Tricia's cries filled the tiny shack as Mac rushed around to her hiding spots. She grabbed her completed knives, testing the weight of two of them in her palms as she made her way toward the bedroom. The third knife she slipped into the pocket of the overlarge sweatshirt she wore. It was at that moment that Tricia suddenly stopped crying, and the silence was the most frightening thing she'd ever heard.

My god, had he already…

Mac was in the doorway of the bedroom in an instant, relieved to see Tricia was still unharmed. Her little arms were raised to her "father," and it was then that Mic turned his head toward Mac.

The look on his face…

Mic turned away from her and reached toward her daughter. Mac didn't think in that moment, she just reacted.

The first knife struck Mic in the center of his back, and he roared in pain and anger. Mac's aim was true, and she instantly threw the next knife. It hit Mic above the first, in the neck, and the blade buried itself in his flesh. Mac immediately rushed forward and soon felt her third knife slicing through her tormentor's throat. Mic spasmed and blood sprayed across the walls and onto Tricia. Mic fell to the ground, and as Mac watched, the light disappeared from his eyes…


1245 Local

Rabb Residence

Falls Church, VA

"And then my throat was slit.

"Do you know who did that to me, Sarah?" His voice was low and he spoke to her like they were co-conspirators in a dark game.

Mac nodded. There was no point in denying it.

"You killed me."

Mac nodded again.

"But you didn't, did you?"

Mac shook her head. "I-I thought I did."

"BUT YOU DIDN'T!" Mic roared, and Mac jumped. She decided then that she needed to at least get his back toward the kitchen doorway. She bolted around the island until she was behind Mic, and he whipped around to face her once again.

"You didn't, Sarah, and now here I am…and this time you won't get away from me…"


1301 Local

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, VA

Harm sat next to his co-counsel, a young lieutenant that had started at JAG three months ago. He was green, but Harm saw the makings of a good lawyer in him. He wasn't as cocky as the young Lieutenant Vukovic, who Harm was rather satisfied to know he did not, in fact, graduate cum laude, and he certainly wasn't as smarmy. Lt. Johnston had done well in his first 'big' case, and Harm knew they had this sewn up. As he glanced over at the lieutenant, the younger man gave his superior a small, triumphant smile. All that was left were the closing arguments, but really, they would just be a formality. Harm stood up…

And suddenly felt a lancinating pain in his back. Years of dealing with back pain going all the way back to his ramp strike allowed him to only hesitate a moment, but Lt. Johnstone picked up on it.

"Sir?" the young officer whispered. Harm shook his head. The pain was already receding, but it left him unsettled.


Rabb Residence, same time…

"No, luv. You're mine, and you always will be…

"But let me tell you a bit about where I've been for the last eight months..."

Mac nodded, praying that Tricia would stay where she was, and that Rene was on her side.

"You see, Sarah…I had a friend…he knew about you…I told him that if ever I didn't show for work, he should come to the cabin…oh, don't worry about him, luv. He's as dead now as you thought I was…he told me to just let you go, but I couldn't do that, now, could I, Sarah? You're mine…"

Mac's pulse was pounding in her ear, and it pounded harder when Tricia appeared in the hall beyond the kitchen door. Her big eyes widened, her little mouth opening, and Mac mentally screamed at her daughter to run. She desperately tried to keep her eyes on Mic; hoping against hope that he wouldn't turn and see her baby. Just at that moment, there was a sudden flash of blonde hair and red silk, and Tricia was scooped up into the arms of Rene. The two disappeared from the hall, and Mac sighed in relief.

"You're mine, Sarah," Mic continued, and Mac could only stare at him, willing herself to calm down and find a solution to this horror of a situation.

"You're looking at my eye, aren't you? See, that is what happens when you lose all that blood and your blood pressure takes a dive. There was a stroke…and it left me with this!" Mic's hand lurched up to point at his sagging eye. "It took me a while to recover, Sarah, but I knew where you'd go…to him…"

Mic moved toward her. "We're leaving, Sarah…and this time you won't come back." He took another step, but then suddenly stopped and looked at her thoughtfully.

"You're not pregnant anymore, Sarah."

Mac bit back a retort. Of course, she wasn't pregnant. Emily was almost five months old.

"Where's my son?"

Your son?

Mac shook her head. Mic was on her in an instant, his hands going around her shoulders in an iron grip. "Where is my son, you bitch!" He turned her and slammed her into the refrigerator. It hurt terribly, but Mac was done letting him do this to her.

"You don't have a son, Mic," she whispered, coldly.

And then the battle was on…


1410 Local

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, VA

Harm shook his co-counsel's hand before the younger man filed out of the courtroom with the rest of the crowd. Harm began to gather his things, loading them into his briefcase, knowing the jury would reach the correct decision. After his odd back spasm, his closing arguments were just as brilliant as ever, and the case was all but won. Harm smiled to himself in satisfaction. He supposed he'd better call Mac now to find out what they needed at the store, and then he'd be home to love her and their daughters.

Life was good.

Harm heard the courtroom doors open and close and he looked up and saw the admiral and Gunny standing there, waiting for him. Somehow, they'd managed to keep Admiral Chegwidden on until the end of the month, the planned ceremony of his retirement being postponed until next week. AJ had told Harm that if they didn't let him go this time, he'd take his chances and go UA. Of course, the man would never actually do that, but Harm supposed it was tempting.

Harm flashed his CO a grin. "Hey, Admiral, I think—" It was then that he saw the look on AJ's face. He felt something cold wrap around his heart as he glanced at Gunny, and suddenly he knew…

"Mac?" he whispered, the blood draining from his face. He stumbled backwards, and Gunny and AJ were at his side in an instant. They lowered him into a chair, and Harm looked up into his mentor's eyes. What he saw nearly killed him.

"Oh, son…" AJ spoke, and Harm's world shattered.


End Chapter 33