A/N: Hmmmm, I'm kinda meh about this chapter, but I guess it gets me to where I want to go next. At any rate, I'm still enjoying all the reviews and I thank you for reading!

Letters to Harm

Chapter 35: Nightmare

Dearest Harm,

I've been dreaming a lot about you lately. Okay, I've always dreamt about you, even before all of this happened, but it's been more recently. Sometimes you're happy, sometimes sad…and sometimes you're mad at me. I have this feeling that you are angry with me most of the time. How could you not be? The way I just disappeared, the letter I left…of course you are going to be angry.

I don't blame you.

The one thing I'm having trouble deciding is if I would rather you be angry at me or sad. The selfish part of me hopes that you miss me, but honestly…and I know I've told you this before…I think it would be better if you hated me. You would be able to move on more easily, I would think…

I have no doubt that I will die out here. Right now, I can't see a way out, not really, although I promise to try. At this moment, escape is out of the question; it's the dead of winter here and I am quite pregnant. Yeah, yeah, Harm…I can hear you telling me that a woman either is or isn't pregnant; there aren't different levels of it, but let me tell you, it was a lot easier to move in September than it is now.

Back to my dreams…last night I dreamt I was back at my apartment. I had two doors to choose from. One had him behind it and the other had you. I knew which one you were behind, but I was scared to open it because I didn't know if you would be happy to see me or if you would be angry. I was also terrified that if I opened the door to you, he would break out and kill us both. And so I just stood there between the two doors, unmoving, hoping you would just walk away before he could hurt us anymore. Because I know if he ever does see you again, you'll die.

I suppose you would like to know how the dream ultimately ended…I opened the door to him, because I knew that no matter what I did, no matter what you did…I'd never get away from him.

I'll never get away from him.

He'll never let me go.

I'm sorry.

I miss you.

I love you.

Mac


2317 Local

Rabb Residence

Falls Church, VA

"I know where Mac is…"

Harm's words hung in the air between the little group that had assembled in the living room. AJ saw that both FBI agents' eyes widened ever so slightly, presumably in surprise, but AJ knew better. Harm and Mac had always had a connection, and if Harm thought he knew where Mac was, then he likely did.

No one said anything for a moment; finally, AJ decided to break the silence.

"Where do you think she is, son?"

Harm looked back and forth between his commanding officer and the FBI agents.

"Her apartment."

"What?" This came from Harriet, who had come into the living room just ahead of her husband.

Harm swallowed hard. "I know, it sounds…farfetched, but that's where she is." He spoke with conviction, and Harriet and Bud both nodded. They too had always known about the connection between Harm and Mac.

Harm stood up from the couch. "We need to go get her," he said as he walked toward the front hall. He was halfway there when he realized that no one was following him. "Well, come on—we need to—"

"Harm," Tessa started.

"No, we're wasting time here. He could…she could be…" He swallowed hard again, on the brink of losing his composure, but then the steel was back in his spine. "We need to go. Now."

AJ was well aware of how impulsive Harm could be, but he too wondered why they weren't moving on this immediately. "I agree," he said. "We're wasting time here."

Agent Marshall held up his hand. "Now, wait a minute. We can't just barge in there—and let's not forget the fact that she doesn't have an apartment anymore."

The members of the JAG family all turned to stare at the agent who held up his hands in appeasement. "Look, we'll check it out, but there's a protocol. Just let my agents investigate. The rest of you should get some sleep. We'll keep you updated."

The admiral watched a storm pass over Harm's face. He was surprised when Harm started to nod.

"You're right, Carl. You're right. Okay. Do your job. Just—just keep me posted, alright?"

Carl visibly relaxed. "I will, Harm. We will."

"I'm going to go check on Tricia and Emily," Harm informed them. He made eye contact with AJ and the Roberts' and gave them a sad partial smile. "You guys…please, feel free to crash anywhere; there's plenty of beds and couches and I really appreciate you all being here for us—Bud, Harriet…when you're ready, you may as well stay in the master bedroom with the kids." With that, Harm turned on his heel and left the room. AJ heard him going up the stairs, thinking to himself that Harm gave up rather easily. He didn't trust that Harm was actually stepping back, and a glance at Bud and Harriet revealed that they felt the same. AJ briefly thought about going after Harm, but then decided to give the younger man a few minutes to himself. He would just remain watchful and do his best to keep Harm from doing anything foolish.

Not without him, anyway…


Harm crept silently down the stairs. He had looked in on the children and they'd all been sleeping deeply, much to his relief. He quickly changed his clothes into something dark, feeling somewhat ridiculous for dressing up like a cat burglar, but also wanting to be as stealth as possible.

He couldn't explain it, but ever since he'd declared he knew where Mac was, all he could see in his mind's eye was her lying in her old bedroom, tied to the bed. He'd worked extensively with her, showing her ways to get out of such restraints, how to undo the knots, but Brumby wouldn't just let her slip away. No, this time, he'd want to make sure she was his permanently.

He would kill her.

Harm knew this as sure as he knew his own name. There was no way he could wait for Carl, whom he actually thought very highly of, and the other agents to check out Mac's apartment. Harm needed to get to Mac now.

Ever so silently, Harm eased his keys off the hook he'd installed by the door. He looked around and, satisfied that everyone else was in the kitchen, he left the house.


When Mac came to again, she was relieved that Mic wasn't still standing over her. She listened as best she could with her one good ear and he didn't seem to be out in the living room either.

It was with no small amount of shock that she found herself in her old bedroom. Nothing appeared to have changed since she'd last lived there three years ago; even the décor on the walls was in place. She'd always wondered what, exactly, Mic had done with her apartment, and now she knew. He hadn't done anything with it. She did briefly wonder if perhaps he'd just taken a different apartment and turned it into a replica of hers, but a glance out the window in the room revealed the same neighboring building she remembered from before.

After taking just a brief moment to listen again for Mic, she turned her attention to the ropes around her wrists and ankles. They were tight, but Mac saw that the knots weren't quite as expertly tied as they had been when she'd last been here. She suspected that the stroke brought on by her assault on him had affected his fine motor skills as well, and she began to work on freeing herself. Yes, Mic had overpowered her at the house; he was still strong and had at least a hundred pounds on her, but Mac had every intention of exploiting any and all of Mic's weaknesses.

She would not let him hurt her without a fight.

She would not let him rape her without a fight.

And she most definitely would not let him kill her without a fight.

Mac continued to work at her restraints.


Harm drove the route to Mac's apartment that had once been so familiar to him. Early on in Mac's disappearance, he'd gone over there a few times, hoping against hope that some sign of Mac would still be there. He'd even gone so far as to try his emergency key to her place, but of course the locks had been changed. He remembered with some chagrin that he had actually tried the key again on two subsequent visits, but when Mac's suspicious old neighbor came out of her apartment to see him lurking there, he decided he should cease such behavior.

Harm brought himself back to the now and glanced over to the console between the driver and passenger seats. His service weapon sat there, along with his cellphone. He was surprised that he'd received no calls; he was honestly amazed he'd actually made it out of the house without detection. They must not have noticed his absence yet either. There was a little voice inside of him that told him he should have waited for backup, but as he couldn't be sure he'd get that, he'd gone on his own. He'd briefly considered asking the admiral, but it would have been difficult to get him alone and that would certainly have alerted the FBI agents to his plan.

And so, alone, he drove through the night.


It had grown dark by the time Mic returned to the apartment, but Mac hadn't managed to free herself. The ropes around her right hand and foot had loosened somewhat, but not enough for her to have any more mobility. She wanted to cry with frustration, but she pushed that feeling down. She would just find another way—Mic would have to let her go at some point to eat or use the bathroom.

Well, perhaps not. Mic had never been overly concerned about her comfort.

All too soon, Mic had made his way to the bedroom. He watched her from the door for a moment before he stepped in and knelt beside her. His hand reached out to stroke her hair and cheek, and she barely stopped herself from shuddering.

"Oh, Sarah…you're so beautiful…I missed you," he said, rather conversationally. His rough thumb brushed across her bottom lip, and she had to swallow down the bile that rose up at his touch. "I even missed that little Rabb bastard."

Mac's eyes widened at that and Mic chuckled.

"Don't look so surprised, Sarah…we were a family, the three of us…until you destroyed that." Mic stood up and then sat down on the bed beside her. "Now, where is my son, luv?"

Mac hadn't spoken since she'd arrived here, and her voice caught as she tried to answer her ex-fiancé. She cleared her throat and then spoke in a ragged whisper, "I told you Mic. You don't have a son."

"Don't lie to me!" Mac startled at the intensity of his voice. She'd never managed to get used to his sudden outbursts, despite having been the focus of his mercurial moods for years. His hand shot out and grabbed her face, his fingers digging painfully into her cheeks. She already had a myriad of bruises, aches, and pains from her fight with Mic earlier, and she knew that if she survived the next couple of hours, she was going to have several new finger-shaped bruises to add to her look.

A grim chuckle nearly escaped her when she remembered that even if she didn't live through the next couple of hours, the bruises would still eventually show up on her corpse.

"Don't lie to me," Mic said again, his voice low and dark. He let go of her face and she worked her jaw to ease some of the pain in it before she spoke.

"I'm not lying, Mic. You don't have a son," she answered firmly.

"What did you do, Sarah?" Mic's voice was dark and menacing.

"Nothing, Mic!" she cried urgently, and he looked at her with disgust.

"Another girl, Sarah?" Mic sounded less than impressed but Mac found herself nodding anyway, despite not wanting him to have any knowledge of her children.

"Yes…"

Mic's response was a derisive snort. "Of course," he sneered, then surprised her by reaching for the binds on her left wrist. He worked her hands free first, then started to work on her ankles. Mac gauged the situation, wondering if now was the time to strike, but a little voice that sounded suspiciously like Harm's told her to wait.

"Don't try anything, luv," Mic muttered unnecessarily, then pulled her up out of the bed. Mac stumbled a bit and Mic caught her against his chest. She immediately started to push away, but Mic had other ideas. His lips crashed down on hers and Mac immediately tasted blood in her mouth, while Mic's hand found its way to her breast and squeezed. Mac endured Mic's assault for the next few moments, then he abruptly pushed her away.

"Later, luv. We'll have time together later," he said softly…gently.

Mac wanted to vomit.


Harm parked the Lexus a couple of blocks from Mac's place and crept down the darker side of the street. The first thing he noticed when he reached her building was that the lights were on in her apartment and while a little voice told him it could be anyone there, he knew deep within himself that Mic Brumby was up there with his wife.

It was time to end this nightmare. End Brumby.

Harm crossed the street, that thought driving him forward.


Mac stood over her stove, finding herself in the surreal position of making scrambled eggs for her tormenter. He'd told her he was sorry he didn't get to eat the eggs she'd made him on her last day with him, so would she please make them again? She'd silently agreed, her whole body taut with anticipation for the moment she would put all of this to an end. She didn't know when that moment would come, and she prayed she would recognize it when it did. Mentally, she reached out to Harm once again, something she had been doing since she'd regained consciousness, but this time, she felt an answering tingle. Yes, Harm. I'm here. I'm here!

The answering tingle grew stronger and Mac barely stopped herself from sobbing and giggling all at once. Feeling a new glimmer of hope, Mac served her ex-fiancé his eggs.


Harm paused in a shadow to consider how he was going to enter the building. Neither the front door nor the fire escape were exactly subtle entrances, but he decided he would be less visible if he took the fire escape. Saying a quick prayer for them all, he made his way to the side of the building.

Hang on, Mac. I'm coming.


"Why aren't you eating, Sarah?" Mic asked, actually sounding concerned. Mac, feeling emboldened by her certainty that Harm was coming for her, rolled her eyes.

"I'm not hungry."

Mic merely shrugged. "Suit yourself." He shoveled in the food silently for a moment and Mac wondered to herself what would happen if she simply got up and walked out the door. As if he read her mind, Mic's eyes shot up. "Don't, Sarah."

She raised an eyebrow at him and his eyes narrowed at her, the right eye almost completely obscured now by his malfunctioning eyelid. "Don't what, Mic?" she asked innocently. She watched as Mic's fist tightened around his fork to the point that his knuckles whitened.

"You're not leaving me again, Sarah."

It was Mac's turn to shrug. One way or another she'd be leaving him, either with Harm or in a body bag, so let him think what he wanted.

"I mean it, Sarah."

"I know, Mic." Looking satisfied that she agreed with him, he went back to his 'dinner'.

Mac opened her mind, reaching out to Harm again, and this time it was more than a tingle that answered her.

Hang on, Mac. I'm coming.


Harm nimbly caught the bottom of the fire escape and pulled himself up. Once steady on the actual stairs, he carefully and silently started his climb.


"I gotta say, luv, I was surprised to see Rene there today. I would have figured she would have been out of the picture a long time ago. Looks like your lover boy still managed to keep your side of the bed warm, eh?"

"If you say so, Mic."

Mic chuckled. "I figured you'd be happy he'd moved on. You wouldn't have wanted him to pine after you all these years, would you?"

"No, of course not, Mic," Mac answered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Too bad he won't have her to comfort him after you're gone," he said smugly.

"You didn't have to kill her, Mic." Mac's heart clenched as she remembered Rene lying in the hall with blood spreading around her. Tricia and Emily weren't anywhere to be seen, and Mac knew then that Rene had managed to hide the girls away before Mic had disarmed and shot her. It happened so fast; Mac hadn't even had time to react before Rene lay dead or dying on the floor. She'd instinctively moved to go to the other woman, and then Mic hit her over the head with the gun, and she didn't know anything more until she'd awakened back in her old apartment. Speaking of…

"Why are we here, Mic?" She motioned around the room. "How did you manage to keep this place? Why do you have this place?" She asked her questions calmly, rather impressed with herself that she'd kept her cool despite how terrified she was. No, terrified wasn't the right word for it; truthfully, she felt numb, her mind going blank whenever memories of her captivity surfaced. She supposed that the moment this nightmare was over, she would collapse like a house of cards.

Of course, she'd have to survive this first…

No, don't think like that…Harm is coming. Harm is coming…

He's here…

Her mind focused on Harm, Mac didn't realize that instead of answering her question, Mic had gotten up and moved behind her. She yelped when grabbed hold of her and yanked her back. Her chair fell out from underneath her and she found herself on the ground, looking up into Mic's fevered gaze.

"You're thinking about him."

Well, yes…don't I always? Mac was worried for a moment that she'd said that out loud; her head had already been throbbing from Mic's earlier assault and she'd hit hard as the chair hit the floor. Her thoughts were hazy, but Mic didn't give her a chance to recover. His hands grasped her under her arms and he pulled her unceremoniously off the floor. He dragged her over to the couch and tossed her down on it, his hand crawling up under her top. His other hand reached to a holster at his side and pulled out a familiar object.

It was a knife.

Her knife.

The knife she'd used to slit his throat…the edge of which was now pressed against the tender flesh of her neck.

Mac felt the tip of her knife dig in the slightest amount, but it was enough for small beads of her blood to rise up and trickle down her skin. She had made sure the knives she fashioned had the sharpest of blades, and it would only take a small shift for Mic to slice completely through and end her. Mac's eyes rose to his, and she saw death…her death.

Her mind let out a final scream.

Harm!


End Chapter 35