Thank you for all of the reviews!
Starting to fill in some of the blanks and I've just been enjoying writing Harm and Mac talking.

Chapter 25 - Window

Harm stood by the bedroom door fighting every instinct he had in him to hover. He wouldn't although finding Mac sprawled on the Livingroom floor was cause for him to do so.

Instead he watched Dr. Robinson ask her a series of questions most of which were drowned out by the sound of his heart hammering so hard Harm was sure he'd be the next patient.

She seemed fine. She was fine - her words. Just plain fine and Harm felt like the World was closing in on him.

"Did you feel faint?" The doctor asked.

"Not really just a bad headache, a little dizzy I guess. I'm fine now."

"Nausea? Vomiting?" She shook her head. "What was the last thing you ate?"

"Breakfast and it didn't make me sick. Really, doc I'm fine. Just a bit of stress I suppose." Mac had boatloads of reasons for that. The sudden influx of repressed memories left her feeling like she'd been hit by multiple trains. And as much as she wanted to purge every last thought from her mind, this process would take some time.

She knew Harm was suffering as well, in silence because that Superman side of him felt the need to hold the World on his shoulders. "Please tell my husband that I am fine. He's the worrying kind."

The doctor chuckled. "I realized that when he offered to charter a helicopter for me. I think you gave him a scare."

Mac grinned and winked at Harm. "He frightens easily."

"Well, when you come home to find your wife lying on the ground having a fit, you worry. Really, doc how is she? And don't take 'fine' for an answer - she's a Marine and a real stubborn one at that. Takes that Semper Fi crap a bit too seriously."

Her glare could have killed in fact, Harm was sure he lost a life that very second. "You'll pay for that Navy."

At least their infamous banter hadn't been affected and if he didn't know better, Mac seemed perfectly fine. Doctor Robinson simply shook his head, the couple had been a source of amusement since he arrived although his patient had seemed a little worse for wear.

Harm drove the SUV onto the property forgetting how eternally long the drive from town could take. It was twice as fast to the take boat and cut through rather than go around the lake to where the river began.

He'd picked up some groceries and spotted a flower shop where he purchased two dozen red roses along with a few vases to display them. He was fluffing the flowers when he stepped into the cabin and found Mac sprawled on the ground.

She was shaking, speaking things he couldn't discern and the flowers he once held came crashing to the ground. "Mac!" Harm knelt next to her trying every possible trick to get her to wake. "Mac, please!"

Whatever dream Mac was having held on firmly and so he raised her in his arms and hurried to the bedroom easing her into the mattress. "Mac. Wake up...Wake up!"

They plunged something into her vein which stripped all the fight from her. It was the only way to have her calmly board the cargo ship and sail off to parts unknown. Mac wasn't alone in her venture, five or six other women made the trip as well, each of them supplied with a daily dose of God knows what in order to keep them sedated.

Human Trafficking.

She knew the signs well: young women taking out of their native lands to be slaves, or worse, for the savage whims of others. They were all at least fifteen to ten years younger and Mac wondered where she fit in the mix or what Sadik could want with her.

An intelligent man would know that the United States would never barter with a terrorist. What Sadik could use her for was anyone's guess and while the other women lay passed out in the stateroom, Mac continued to move.

She would run in place, drop and bang out push ups, burpees even use an overhead truss for pullups, anything that would staunch the drug flowing through her veins. It kept her aware of her surroundings and the conversations of the men who guarded their door.

Mac quickly deduced they were to dock in Egypt and that a fake boat flag and name kept law enforcement off their tail until the trip came to an end. The men took little care of them with meager rations of food and water, sparse trips to the head.

It stank inside of the room and the clothes she'd been given to wear, a sundress that was two sizes too big smelled just as bad. At least she wasn't seasick, not like one of the girls who had thrown up so much she had to be dragged out. She never returned again.

Cairo was hot. Oppressively hot and her skin felt instantly dry the second they were marched out of the ship and taken to a beat up van that waited at the dock. She pretended to be inebriated, walking in a catatonic-lke shuffle until she was roughly grabbed by the arms and taken to a limousine. "No! Stop...Where are you taking them?"

Marine instincts sent her fists flying, cracking at least one nose while one foot slammed into the groin of another. It wasn't her prettiest of techniques but effective enough to mount an escape. She disarmed one man and held his AK-47 against any other that would try to stop her from hopping in the van with the girls.

"You help. I won't kill you." Mac said, speaking to a teenaged boy that made up part of the group of men. He was always kind to her and the others, tried to make the women comfortable even as he was yelled at and beaten for his efforts. "Understand?"

Ali, as he was called nodded, his eyes widening as Mac pointed the rifle at his head. "I help."

"Good."

From the ship she heard men yelling and of course, of course, the blasted van wouldn't turn over. She pumped the gas pedal, fought the ignition, put it in and out of gear. "C'mon you piece of shit! Turn over!"

The vehicle sputtered once, twice and finally the roar of the engine answered Mac's prayers. She didn't know which way to drive and she didn't care - away, just get away.

"Cairo. Which way?" She asked Ali once they made it out of the shipyard and sped through the city. There was an Embassy there and though she didn't have any sort of credentials, Mac would throw herself at their mercy.

One shot shattered the rear window. Another that seemingly came out of nowhere hit one of the girls in the arm. Mac pushed the accelerator harder, thankful that, in the middle of the night the streets were empty allowing her to speed through and take blind corners in an effort to get away. "Get off, all of you. Ali, get them to Cairo. US Embassy, yes?"

She stopped at an alley between two large apartment buildings and had everyone hop off. Mac wouldn't put the girls in danger and would instead have the men give chase in hopes the girls had a chance to survive. Ali nodded, took the AK-47 she handed him and huddled the girls in a darken corner as Mac sped away.

She would never see the girls again. Nor would she make it to the embassy although the building rose up before her like a beacon. There was a feeling like that of being on an out of control rollercoaster when the van hit an uneven patch of road sending it on its side.

Over and over it rolled, a mass of metal that only came to a stop because some concrete edifice had stopped it. There was blood and there was glass, shards of it rained over her and Mac tried to cover her face amidst fighting for consciousness.

Escape now seemed inevitable as her leg became wedged under the front panel and every effort to move it zapped whatever strength she had left. She could see a small fire had begun beneath the hood and Mac direly tried again to free herself. "No!"

Gasoline. She smelled it, was covered in the noxious liquid, the scent made an ominous perfume mixed with blood and God knew what other fluids the car was spewing. Her arm hurt where it was pressed against the metal of the car door, excruciating pain shot over skin she swore was sizzling.

There may have been an explosion, of that she wasn't sure because the edges of a concussion had already begun to claim her. The last thing Mac remembered was the sound of men arguing in Farsi with other men, voices she wasn't familiar with. Her body was taken, raised out of the vehicle and then the darkness claimed her.

"They're beautiful." Mac stood at the door to their bedroom watching her husband stuff a vase with the roses he'd bought. He fiddled with the flowers taking one and another, moving them around until he was content. The sight made her heart race a little, he could be so thoughtful and sweet which balanced out the arrogance.

Harm straightened and his eyes sharply glared her way. "You're supposed to be in bed."

Mac rolled her eyes. "Okay mom and Dr. Robinson said I was free to move around if I wasn't dizzy or nauseous. I am neither. I'm fine."

There was a sharp intake of breath which sounded like the weight of the world had fallen on his shoulders. He didn't want to yell but Mac's cavalier attitude hit a raw nerve. "You are not 'fine!'" She had joked with the doctor, making it seem like Harm worried for nothing when in fact he had all the reason to. "You're not fine! So stop pretending you are!"

"Don't yell at me!" Mac screamed back, her voice taking that drill instructor edge he'd been on the opposite side of many times. It made him wince especially when she began to pace and yell. "You don't know what this is like! And I wasn't about to tell that man that I have the dreams and memories of another woman!...I'm not sick. I'm not bipolar either. Nor do I have a multiple personality disorder. I don't want any of those labels!"

"I told him about the amnesia and that you were on a classified assignment. He seems to think you might need a brain scan and I agree."

She dropped down onto the sofa with a huff. "No."

"Mac, please be reasonable. You don't remember things, just a few days ago you were someone else."

"No is no. I am not a goddamned guinea pig." There was another sharp intake of air, an offense he kept trying to mount which died when she looked up at him. "I know what caused me to lose my memory."

When she closed her eyes, Mac could still smell the gasoline. She still felt the heat of the fire and the excruciating pain of her skin searing. Absentmindedly she touched the burn scars and swallowed down the rising bile when she thought about how many times the van had rolled. An endless feeling of being in a washing machine until it mercifully stopped against the concrete. She could still hear the crunch of metal, the hard jolt and it was a miracle she hadn't passed out sooner. "It was a crash. A bad one. The van I was in caught fire. That's how I burned my arm...I can't remember anything after that other than waking up at a hospital in Tehran and I wasn't me anymore. The dreams I had with you stopped then."

Harm watched her for a moment and tried to gauge the shadows that fell across her face. He came down next to her letting an arm drape over her shoulders because he needed to touch her. He was grateful that Mac didn't push him away simply curled into his embrace. "You tried to escape?"

She nodded and told him about the ship, the sedatives, the other girls. The more she spoke, the more details she remembered and it filled in more of the gaps. "I don't know what they wanted from me. I wasn't young like the others. I wasn't pretty like them."

Her words made him hold her tighter. "I wish I could do something. It's killing me that I can't." Other than sit like a stump and hear her purge repressed memory after repressed memory.

"You're doing it." Her lips found his in the gentlest of kisses. She felt Harm's body tense at the touch and realized how much her memories affected him as well. "We need to head home at some point. As much as I hate to admit it, maybe a visit with the agency headshrinker may help me. There's something I can't remember, something important."

"What about staying here?"

"You can't hide me away forever."

As much as Harm hated to admit it, she was right. They had to return at some point even if it meant he would resign his commission and follow her to the ends of the Earth. "I saw a psychiatrist. Well two. One worked for the agency and I swear they were more interested in a debrief than my mental health. Apparently there were stinger missiles and control chips I knew nothing about."

The second shrink was under the direct order of Admiral Chegwidden once Harm began to fall apart at work. He was too brash, too methodical with outbursts in court out of the normally cool and calm officer. He was sour with everyone, snippy to the staff and absolutely unpleasant. Everyone mostly understood why - the Commander's partner and best friend was gone.

They didn't know about the rest and how he attempted to save his wife only to come up short. They didn't know he'd spent months drowning his sorrows in a bottle despite how much Mac abhorred drunks. He was never quite an alcoholic although it came close; so close. A third trip to a shrink, Chegwidden's final attempt to get Harm back on track only served to anger him more. She was out there, he knew. She was waiting for him to find her and he had nothing to go on. Leads ran cold. Sightings of her did as well. He gave himself an ultimatum because Mac would have wanted him to move on although Harm knew he would never let her go.

"Did it help?"

Harm shook his head. "It didn't do shit. Only made me angrier. I couldn't tell them about us and why it hurt so bad that you were gone. Hell, even if we weren't married, I would have acted the same way this just amplified it." The psychiatrist tried to put him on medication for panic attacks but it only made things worse.

"I blamed myself. If I wouldn't have acted like a jerk. If I hadn't taken Singer's bait. If I would have stopped you." The dreams of her wouldn't let him grieve, a fact Harm kept tucked away deep inside. He knew she was alive. Even as each agonizing year slowly ticked by, Harm knew he could save her. He'd never be whole again if he didn't.

"We weren't gonna blame each other, remember?" She reminded him.

"I made you run. I wouldn't have wanted to stay with me either." His head came down in an expression of shame he rarely bore.

Mac raised his head and pressed her lips to his. She felt him let out a deep breath and his body slumped against hers so that they held each other. Sometime later, she reluctantly let him go when she saw his future project leaning against the wall.

"You brought the window." She'd never been so excited at the prospect of new glass and wood. It would help keep the cold out and stop Harm from waking in the middle of the night to feed the wood burner. She slipped out of his arms and stood. "C'mon. Let's fix it."

"Mac, you just had a...a...a thing...an episode."

She snorted, he could be rather melodramatic at times. "And I'm fine. No headache. No body ache. Plus, I need to do something. I feel like an invalid and I'm anything but."

Mac helped pull off the nails that held the plywood in place and instantly the room was bathed in natural light. The sun would set in a few hours and the most beautiful orange hues graced the skies. She stared at the broken wood and glass, flashes of another woman, one that was scared and unsure came to mind. "I cut my hand here."

The angry mark itched but didn't bleed any longer and she found the exact shard that had torn her skin. It was a bold attempt of a desperate woman. Foolish and reckless, in her opinion given that Harm hadn't presented himself as a threat to Nazanin. She also knew that Nazanin was falling hard for him but was torn over the feelings of duty for another man. "Where do we start?"

Harm handed her a utility knife. "Start scoring down here." He pointed at the casing and then to the opposite side. "Do the same there. I'll go outside to pry the siding."

She did as much as she felt confident in doing and the Mac was happy to hand Harm the tools he requested as he expertly removed the old window and put up a new one. She helped drive in shims to keep it level, measured here and there, held it in place while he made sure it was straight.

Harm explained that some of his carpentry skills came from a summer job Frank assigned him as punishment for his trip to Laos. In the morning he would assist a house building team and in the evenings work at a diner in La Jolla. He would come home exhausted but the penance was warranted, it was then when he finally came to like Frank.

An hour later Harm stood in front of the bed, hands on his hips as he happily stared at the new window. He was satisfied, his male ego stroked that he could put it all together so quickly. It was fun having Mac helping or watching or simply having her hand him his tools.

He would turn to find her looking at him with such admiration that it made butterflies take flight in his stomach. "We did good."

"You did good. And I know this sounds kinda girlie but, I like that your a man's man."

"A man's man? Compared to a girlie man?" He teased and she laughed. God Harm loved the sound of her laughter so much. It was sweet and melodic and he recalled the first time he heard it after months of trying to break that tough veneer of hers. It made him take pause and notice the differences between her and Diane - he stopped thinking about the deceased crypto officer then and there.

"You're handy. It's not bullshit. You can do things with your hands. You're a fighter pilot, a lawyer and you come wrapped in a package that is sorta easy on the eyes." She put a hand on his forearm to stop Harm from playing the comparison game. He was blushing, a look that made him even sexier. "I thank God you're in my life."

"Even on days when I pushed your buttons?"

She grinned. "No, those days I wanted to run you over with my car." Mac sighed and let her hand slowly fall from his arm. She looked into his eyes finding a sadness she knew existed but chalked it up to their combined situation. Now she knew it was something else. "I can't keep leaning on you. It isn't fair. I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner... Part of me expects you to fix everything and that's just not possible."

"Mac…"

"We need to go back home, Harm. I have to talk to Chegwidden. Webb." As much as she didn't want a damned thing to do with the CIA officer, they'd have to touch base. She knew the dangers of heading to Paraguay but Webb's ineptitude, his lack of being able to anticipate hidden perils had nearly killed them. "I need to get my life back together."

"What about staying here?"

"You know we can't. Not now."

He moved away from her. "I don't like it."

"You need help too." Her voice was soft and Mac hoped he wouldn't argue. His mental health had begun to worry her from the moment she found Harm sobbing in the kitchen in hopes Mac wouldn't find him. "You deserve to heal... It's time."

Harm hadn't noticed she'd slowly crossed the room until Mac stood in front of him. Her hands moved up his arms, uncrossing them so that they would wrap around her. There was something about the way she touched him, the feel of her skin against his sucked all of the argument out of him. Especially when her hands slid up his chest and held onto his shoulders. "I'm scared, Mac. I don't wanna go back and have us fall apart again."

"We won't. I swear, we won't. I won't let us." His arms tightened around her and she could feel his warm breath against the side of her neck.