A/N: Here's the next chapter. This has little to do with the story here, but it's interesting and kind of fun to think back at the technology in the early 2000's. Cellphones that flipped shut. Actual answering machines…ahhh, those were the days.

Trust

Chapter Five: Helpless

Four times…just let it ring four times and hang up, Mac said to herself as she dialed Harm's number. This was the eighth time she'd called him, and she knew by now Harm's phone always rang six times before the answering machine picked up.

One ring…two rings…three …four…Mac pulled the phone from her ear. Her thumb hovered over the end call button, but she couldn't make herself push it. She wanted to hear his voice, the cheerful voice you could hear on the machine, not the sullen one she'd endured on the plane back from Paraguay, nor the one when they'd met at JAG just prior to the admiral's tirade at him. And she definitely did not want to hear the disdainful voice he'd used on her when they'd met the day Webb welcomed him into the CIA. She hadn't seen him since and that was three months ago. Three long months where at least twice a week she cried herself to sleep. Three excruciating months at JAG, where Bud and Harriet were cold, Sturgis was a sanctimonious ass, and the office next to hers was empty…because of her. Because she'd went on that goddamned mission to Paraguay. Because she'd said 'never.'

Well, her saying never wasn't why Harm's office was empty, but it was her fault.

Though Mac was anticipating it, Harm's recorded voice made her jump. She was always jumpy these days, so jumpy the admiral had actually asked if she was okay after he'd startled her in the break room. Her back had been to the door when he'd walked in, and so focused was she on thoughts of Harm that she hadn't heard him. Her answer had been a mumbled a 'yes, sir' as she quickly filled her coffee cup and left the room, praying he wouldn't call after her. However, when he didn't, she'd inexplicably felt like crying. Couldn't he see she was a mess? That she hadn't been eating or sleeping much? That she still heard Clay screaming in her head anytime it was quiet?

Well of course he couldn't. She'd never admit to it, especially not to a man who'd essentially left her to die. Yes, yes, it was a CIA operation, but he'd approved it and other than a half-hearted 'you don't have to do this', he appeared to be all on board with it. Even if the CIA left them to rot, surely the navy wouldn't…

But they did. Harm gave up everything for her and what did he get? A fucked-up woman who struck out at the nearest person besides Webb, and she couldn't take out her anger and fear on him. After all, Webb had nearly died for her, so even though he'd dragged her on this mission to hell, even though his poor planning and paranoia had gotten them into that situation, she could never give in to her urge to beat him senseless for it all. He'd endured torture for her, which surely trumped everything Harm had done for her and anyway, Harm had never seemed happy to see her still alive. He'd needled her incessantly about her "husband," and then basically threw her at Webb like she was some cheap whore. Oh, sure, she gave as good as she got, but given what she'd just been through, it seemed Harm could have cut her a little slack.

Then again, she was the one who put the final nail in the coffin for them. She'd told Harm 'never' and now he wouldn't speak to her or return her calls. It seemed that she wasn't worth his friendship if she wouldn't be his…whatever. She'd apologized to him for losing the navy, for everything Chegwidden had shouted at him, thanked him for coming after her, but it was all for naught. Harm hated her.

Unfortunately, she still missed him so much, still felt so guilty about everything, so she continued to herself every other week by calling him and leaving embarrassing messages that he never acknowledged. Just like now…

"Hey, Harm, it's me again. I'd really like it if you'd call me back—I miss you and I'd—" There was a sudden click—was Harm actually picking up?! "Harm— "

"Sarah, Mother was wondering where you'd gotten off to. She'd like to introduce you to—oh, you're on the phone—Harm? Again? I, uh, I won't interrupt then."

Mac jumped when she heard Clayton Webb's voice in her ear. He'd come up close beside her, too close really, but he'd been a nervous wreck since Paraguay and being close to her seemed to calm him. She didn't want him to suffer anymore because of her. He needed her; she knew that, so she spent most of her extra time with him.

"I'll just be a second, Clay— "

Before she could say anything else, Mac heard the telltale sound of a phone slamming down in her ear. Harm apparently had picked up, but he must have heard Webb or heard her say Webb's name. She supposed it was stupid of her to call Harm while she was actually at the Webb manor.

So, so stupid.

Then again, she was rarely anywhere else. She put her phone away, and then, ignoring his little smirk, allowed Clay to lead her back into the "small" gathering of old money and jealousy that served as friendly company to the Webb family.

It was hard, but Mac managed to make it back to her apartment without crying at the house or in the car that took her back to Georgetown. She even made it all the way to her bed before throwing herself on it to once again sob herself to sleep.

Even as she cried, she berated herself for being so weak, for letting Harm's attitude affect her like this. This wasn't her. She'd fought her way out of alcoholism, up the ranks in the corps, lost friends, and lost her uncle to prison without reacting like this. She'd even been through a couple of traumatic experiences in Bosnia without feeling like this. She should hate Harm for doing this to her…she did hate him a bit for doing this to her…but as she lay there weeping, she knew she'd be calling him again…and again…until he picked up the phone and actually talked to her or until some other miserable mission killed her.

How nice, she thought to herself, and then she cried harder.

He'd been trying not to hover so much, so rather than sit at Mac's side, Harm had stretched out on the hard, too-small sofa across from her bed. It was almost more uncomfortable than the chair he'd dozed in the night before, but if it made Mac more comfortable for him to be over here, he was perfectly willing to endure it.

She'd been asleep when he'd returned to her room, but he could hear a little catch in her breath that told him she'd likely cried herself to sleep. He chanced a light brush of his hand over her hair, then sat down to begin his vigil over her once again. She'd awakened once, long enough to glare at him and roll over, after which he'd forced himself to retire to the sofa. He'd actually dozed off after a few minutes and for a long while, silence settled over the room…until someone's gut wrenching sob filled the air.

"Mac. Mac! What happened? Are you in pain? Mac!"

Harm didn't remember launching himself from the sofa and racing to Mac's side. She was curled up near the head of the bed, sobbing into her hands. Harm reached for her then withdrew, then did it all again, unsure if he should touch her; he didn't want to make her more upset, but he also didn't think she should be huddled up there like that.

Still unsure, he finally let his hand touch her shoulder. For a moment, it seemed she would allow it, so he gently ran his hand down her back. It was as mistake.

"Don't! Don't touch me," she sobbed, and he immediately removed his hand. He stood there helplessly for long, painful moments, listening to her cry, crying a little himself. Finally, he couldn't take it. He'd do anything to stop her heartbreaking sobs, anything to get her back into bed.

Harm's hands still hovered near her but of course, he didn't touch her. Mac's sobs filled the room; in fact, they had grown in intensity, and Harm was growing desperate. "Mac! Oh, Mac, what can I do?"

"I don't know!" was her anguished cry, and Harm's heart shattered.

Eventually, she calmed, but it was a long hour of despair and pain for both of them. At one point, Harm reached out for her call button, telling Mac he going to get her nurse for her, but she'd violently slapped it from his hand. She'd then sobbed out apology after apology and no matter how many times he told her it was okay, the 'I'm sorry's' still tumbled from her to the point he wasn't sure they were even meant for him anymore.

When her cries finally slowed to mere hiccups, he asked if he could at least help her back into bed. She acquiesced with a nod, and gently he guided her under the covers and tucked them around her. He sat down once again at her side, just watching over her for the rest of the night.

"No. I want to go home."

"Maaac…"

"No, Harm. I've been here long enough. You've been here long enough. Please, Doctor. I'm fine now. Really!"

"Sarah—"

"Mac," she corrected the doctor sullenly, though she'd allowed him to call her Sarah yesterday along with everyone else.

"I apologize," the doctor said without any trace of offense. "Mac. You've still been spiking fevers. You haven't done all that well when you've been up, and you're still vomiting up most of your food despite the medication. I also know you haven't been too keen on talking to our social worker, but I really wish you would. Cara knows something of what you're going through—"

"I doubt it," she snapped.

"I'm sorry, Mac. I don't mean to be presumptuous—"

"Then don't be."

Harm was a bit taken aback at Mac's responses. She was rarely rude, even in the most irritating of circumstances. Honestly,he could only think of one time outside of Paraguay-the time she'd come back to JAG inebriated. She'd thrown several insults his way and toward their client. The guy may have been a slimeball, but her behavior had certainly been rude and inappropriate then.

"Mac…"

"It's okay, Harm," the doctor was quick to jump in. He seemed to be utterly unflappable. "It can still help to talk to someone who's had a previous mis—"

"Well, did she hate her own baby? I'd guess not, so no thanks."

Harm stared at Mac in shock. She'd hated her own baby? Oh, Mac…

"Stop staring at me!" she spat at Harm, and then with an 'I'm sorry,' she burst into tears.

After a nurse dropped by some information on resources available for dealing with miscarriages—Harm suspected they knew Mac wouldn't accept the social worker doing it—Harm sat at Mac's bedside, trying to work up the courage to ask her about her recent confession of hatred toward her child. She hadn't said a word since the doctor left; she'd just sat there periodically brushing back tears. How he ached to brush them away for her.

"Mac…" he started.

"Harm…no. I can't," she said tiredly, and Harm nodded.

"Okay, Mac. But please…when you're ready…"

"Sure, Harm."

"I'm here for you, Mac. Please believe that."

"Yeah," she answered not looking at him, and Harm sighed.

"I am, Mac. No matter what."

She didn't acknowledge his pledge and Harm grew ever more worried about her as she lay with her head turned away from him, her fist curled around the top of her covers in a white-knuckled grip.

"What are you doing, Mac?" Harm had been watching some inane infomercial advertising a country music collection on the TV when he noticed Mac shifting herself to the edge of the bed.

"I need to use the bathroom."

Harm quickly stood up from the sofa. "Let me help." She'd been unsteady on her feet the last couple of times he'd seen her up.

Mac gave a long-suffering sigh. "I'm fine, Harm. I can make it to the bathroom. I even took a shower this morning."

"With the nurse right there in the bathroom with you."

"Well, I'm certainly not going to let you in the bathroom with me."

"I wasn't planning on it, Mac. I was just going to get you to the door."

Mac swung her legs over the side of the bed and slowly pushed herself up. "I don't need…I'm much better than I was."

Though that was a true statement, she still wasn't up to par, and he would be damned if he'd let her fall. "I know, Mac. But humor me. I don't want to see you hurt." More than she already was, he amended to himself.

Several long seconds slipped by before she answered him. "Fine. But then, for god's sake, Harm, go home. Give me some space. I appreciate you staying here; I really do, but I need some alone time. Some sleep, some—"

"Okay, okay, Mac. I'll go. I need a nap and a shower, and then I'll be back—"

"Tomorrow."

"Maaac…"

"No! Harm, you've hardly had any sleep since I've been here and I-I…I need space! Please, Harm!" Her tone was pleading, and Harm found he couldn't deny her this. Besides, he really was tired and a long sleep in his own bed was overdue.

"Okay, Mac. Let's get you to the bathroom and settled again, and then I'll go."

"Thank you."

"No problem. Now, hold on to me." With that, he guided her up, and just like he said he would, he got her to the bathroom and back. She was fairly pale as he tucked her back in, but she did seem more stable on her feet.

"Now, Mac, keep trying to eat. If you do well, I know they'll let you go home tomorrow with oral antibiotics. Take the nausea meds—remember, they told you it would work better if you took them every four hours rather than when you actually feel sick, okay?" He didn't miss the subtle roll of her eyes, but at least she nodded without protest.

Harm grabbed his jacket and slipped it on. He refrained from patting her on the shoulder as he said goodbye, then turned toward the door, only to turn back again almost immediately.

"Mac, sweetie…" There you go again, idiot, Harm thought to himself as she once again rolled her eyes, this time due to his casually spoken endearment.

"Sorry, Mac…but, hey, I don't have a problem stopping at your apartment for anything you might want here—your toothbrush, your pillow…and then I can drop it by quick before I go home."

Even as he spoke, Mac was shaking her head. "No…don't go there."

"It's really no prob—"

'Goddammit, Harm! I said I didn't want you to go there!" She glared at him, and he wondered vaguely if there was now a gaping, steaming hole in his chest.

"Okay, okay, Mac. I won't. I won't go there. Goodbye—remember, call if you need anything."

"Yeah."

"Promise?"

"Yes, Harm. I will call you if I need anything."

Satisfied, Harm finally left the room.

As Harm slipped into his Lexus, he wondered why Mac was so adamant that he not go to her apartment. Was Webb still there? Was it just a mess? Or…had she been drinking?

Oh, Mac…please don't let it be that…

Suddenly, Harm found himself turning toward her apartment. Despite the gross invasion of her privacy, he knew he couldn't go home until he knew what was wrong over there. Guilt filled him, but it wasn't enough to make him stop, and within minutes, he was sliding his emergency key into the lock of her door.

End Chapter Five