A/N: Chapter 10—I know, I know…I need to finish that other stuff. I'm trying…

Trust

Chapter 10: Picking Up the Pieces

Her cries hurt, each of her tears like the shards of glass around her piercing his heart. He scanned the bathroom one more time, then knelt down in the doorway to be more at her level. "Mac. Mac!" He tried to get her attention. "Mac, sweetheart. Don't move. Just stay there. I need to get some shoes on, and I'll come get you. DON'T move!"

He was relieved when she nodded slightly, but the sobs didn't abate. He rushed out and found his shoes, slipping then on even as he turned and headed back down the hall. She hadn't moved, thank goodness, and he gingerly stepped inside the bathroom, the glass crunching under his feet. He was amazed that the glass had been flung this far; she must have thrown the bottle with incredible force.

"Hey, Mac…I'm sorry…but I'm going to help you up and carry you out of here. I don't want your feet to be cut up too, okay?" He caught the slight move of her head in acknowledgement as he stepped fully into the bathroom. Her cries had slowed into shuddering breaths, but the tears still fell down her cheeks leaving him feeling gutted. "Okay, easy now. It's going to be okay," he said as he knelt down and then eased her into a standing position. "I'm going to pick you up, alright? This time he didn't wait for a response; he simply slid one arm under hers, the other behind her knees and then easily scooped her up. She felt light to him and he knew she was thinner than she had been, but now it was obvious she'd lost more weight than he'd thought.

Harm gently set her on the bed and handed her a towel he'd grabbed on his way out of the bathroom with her. "Here, wrap your hands around this. She did as he asked, while he stepped into the bathroom to retrieve her first aid kit and get a wet washcloth. Once that was accomplished, he came back into the bedroom and toed off his shoes. He hoped he hadn't tracked much for glass when he'd carried her to the bed; he already planned to sweep and vacuum up everything anyway. He'd certainly scrub down the bathroom too to rid it of the stink of alcohol.

Harm set his supplies down on the bed next to Mac and knelt in front of her before lightly stroking her left hand with his finger. "I gotta look, okay? I want to make sure you don't need stitches." She gingerly opened her hand to him and he gently cradled it in his.

"Oh, Mac…" he breathed. Jagged lacerations criss-crossed on Mac's palm, each of them looking angry as they oozed blood. He gently dabbed at them, carefully assessing them for embedded glass, cringing each time he saw her wince. It reminded him of the time when they were on the run from the poachers and stopped so he could check her gunshot wound. Her skin had burned with fever, and as he pressed the cold, wet cloth to her flushed face, she'd looked at him so trustingly. He'd promised to get her through their current dire situation, and he so wanted to tell her that once again.

Rather than do that, he focused on his task again. None of the lacerations on that hand looked very deep, so he simply applied antibiotic ointment to them and wrapped her hand in gauze. He repeated the same process on her other hand, periodically glancing up at her huge doe eyes, still wet with tears. They were always focused on his ministrations and the intensity of her stare seemed to make his fingers clumsy and slow.

"There you go, Mac," as he wrapped the gauze around her hand one last time. "I think they'll be okay." He stared down at his handiwork for several beats, swallowing hard before he spoke again. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly, never looking up. He still held her hand in his and couldn't help idly brushing his thumb over her wrist. The silence in the room grew heavy; all he could hear was the sound of their collective breaths, and though his knees and back screamed at him, he didn't move. He couldn't move. She was letting him touch her….

"Harm," she whispered. She pulled at her hand and he let go immediately with a sigh. He groaned as he stood up, then gingerly sat down next to her on the bed, leaving several inches between them.

"I'm sorry, Mac. I keep forgetting I'm not supposed to touch you."

Mac shrugged.

"I don't mean to, Mac. Please believe me—please don't think I'm deliberately ignoring your request…I'm just used to…touching you. We touch all the— "

"No, we don't."

"—time…" Harm's words faded as he heard her speak.

"We haven't for a long time."

"I— "

"Don't worry about it, Harm."

"But…okay, Mac." He didn't want to upset her, but still couldn't stop the next question that fell from his lips. "Does it hurt…to be touched?" He wasn't sure if he meant strictly physical pain or the emotional pain or if he was referring specifically to his own touch.

"Yes."

Her answer didn't clear anything up for him, and she wouldn't look him the eye. He finally just asked if she needed anything for pain because if nothing else, between the cuts, the fatigue, and the miscarriage itself, she had to be fairly uncomfortable.

"No."

Harm sighed, something he was doing a lot of lately. "Okay, Mac. Well…I'm going to get the bathroom cleaned up then." He pushed himself off the bed, stretching and rolling his shoulders to loosen his muscles a bit.

He'd only taken a couple of steps when she called out to him. "Oh, Harm…I'll take care of that. It's my mess."

Suddenly Harm was angry…frustrated. Why couldn't she just let him do things for her? Take care of her? Do these simple things for her even if she wouldn't let him in and confide in him?

"Goddammit, Mac! I'm not going to let you go back in there and clean all of that now in your state! For fuck's sake!"

Mac jumped at his exclamation. She didn't cower, but neither did she give him that defiant 'I'm a marine' look he'd come to know…and that bothered him. It bothered him that she just sat there, her wide eyes wet with tears that didn't fall, her face pale, her shoulder slumped, with no fight left in her. Oh, Mac…what did we do to you?

Harm stood in the middle of the room for a moment, then carefully made his way back to her, sitting beside her once again. He leaned forward, elbow on his knee, chin resting on his palm. "I'm sorry, Mac." She nodded slightly as she looked down at her hands.

"I'm just embarrassed," she admitted softly.

"Why?"

"Why not, Harm?" She waved her hand around the room. "I let him in here. I let him do…I let him keep a goddamn bottle of booze in my bathroom! I let…I let him do this to to me!"

"Mac…"

Mac was getting angrier. Her breaths had become more ragged and her fist had started to pound into her leg. Harm could see the red of her blood seeping through her bandages and he knew he needed to stop her from hurting herself, her aversion to his touch be damned. He covered her hand with his, gripping it gently but firmly enough to stop its movements.

She was instantly incensed. "Goddammit, Harm! Don't touch me!" She ripped her hand out from under his and shot off the bed. She only took two steps, however, before it was clear she wasn't ready to move that fast. Harm saw her start to go down and lurched forward, just managing to catch her. He stumbled back and landed hard on the bed, sweeping her up onto his lap as it was the easiest way to keep her from falling. She fought him for only brief seconds before collapsing meekly into his chest. He held her tight as he didn't want to her to accidentally slip off his lap, and when he felt her body relax more, he gently shifted her to a more comfortable position for them both. Her body shook against him as he felt her tears soak into his shirt. He rocked her gently until she was all cried out, surprised when he felt her hand fisted in his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Harm," she shakily whispered.

"Oh, Mac," he answered just as quietly. "Don't be sorry."

"I'm sorry about so much. The baby…I hated him, Harm. I just know it was a him. I hated him and he knew it and he died, Harm." She began to cry again, and Harm was grateful that she was still letting him hold her. His own eyes were wet as he stroked his hand up and down her back, but he did his best to not let them fall. He wanted to be strong for his Sarah.

She's not your Sarah, Harm, he tried to tell himself, but he mentally told that nagging inner voice to shut up. She would be his—maybe not as his love, but at least as his friend—if he could convince her to trust him again.

"Honey…you didn't do anything to cause this. This wasn't your fault."

"But I didn't want him…until I did but then it was too late. How could I hate my own baby, Harm? How?"

"Mac, I don't think—"

"But I did, Harm. I didn't want to be pregnant with his baby. It wasn't meant to happen, but it did. And he was gone before I realized…before I realized he was mine and I would have loved him, Harm. I would have…but I never gave him a chance. He left…and no matter what you say otherwise, it was my fault."

She turned her face into his shoulder, her own shaking with the return of her cries. Harm knew it would take more than just words to convince her that she had nothing to do with the miscarriage, but he still tried. He only hoped she could hear his soft words over her sobs.

Mac had dozed off, still clinging to him. He'd been holding her nearly an hour now, idly rocking her back and forth, wondering how long she'd stay asleep. His legs were starting to get that tingling feeling in them, but he would be damned if he would let her go until he absolutely had to. He was under no illusion that she would want to stay this close to him for long, no matter what she'd just confided to him. "Oh, Mac," he whispered into her hair. "I'm so sorry. So, so sorry."

"Look, Mac, you really should eat something more than toast. You need to drink more too. Let me clean up the bathroom and then I'll fix you something for supper. After that, maybe I could help you…that is, I would stand by…out here…while you shower."

Mac was back in bed, obviously not feeling well after her emotional outburst and her near-fainting episode. Her color was decent, but the circles under her eyes were depressingly prominent, and Harm hoped she'd just stay in bed. She could be up and around tomorrow.

"Harm, I'm not really…okay…something light," she said after he gave her a look. "But I think I'd rather skip the shower—it's not you, Harm. I'm just not up to it."

"Fair enough, Mac." He got up from the bed with the intent to grab the needed cleaning supplies, but her soft voice stopped him.

"Harm? I'm going to get some counseling…I can't deal with this alone."

Harm felt a flash of hurt that she apparently thought she was alone, but he'd matured enough over the last year to know it was misplaced hurt. She did need counseling. She'd been through hell. He turned and smiled encouragingly at her. "I think that's a good idea, Mac."

"Webb…the whole thing…it was all wrong."

"I know, Mac."

"He hid the alcohol everywhere."

"He did?"

"I'd find it under the sink in the kitchen. The bathroom. In the cupboards. The closets. I thought I'd gotten it all." Harm watched her pick at a thread on her quilt. "But I didn't…I saw that bottle…and I got so mad. Furious. So, I threw it at the wall."

"Yeah?"

"The glass shattering was so loud."

"I heard it."

"I was afraid you'd heard it," she went on, not acknowledging him. "I wanted to pick it up before you saw it…but I cut myself."

"I know."

"It hurt."

"I know that too."

"Everything hurts, Harm."

"I know, but Mac…it's going to be okay. Maybe not for a while, but it will be. I prom—"

She finally looked up at him. "Harm, stop. Stop making promises when you can't possibly expect to keep them."

"Mac, you know I'll try." He flashed her a grin. "You know I'm obsessive."

"Am I an obsession, Harm? Is that all?" Mac looked lost, unsure. He came back and knelt by the bed.

"You are, Mac. Because you're my best friend."

Mac turned her face away from him, and he saw her swallow hard a few times.

"I don't want to be your obsession."

"Mac…I didn't mean it that way…unless, are you saying…"

"Oh, Harm, don't any pay attention to me. Yes, yes, we're friends."

"Good…well, Mac, you look like you need a nap, and I'd better get to work. I'll wake you when supper's ready, all right?" Harm felt the need to get away for a moment. There was something wrong with this conversation, or perhaps it was the emotions he could feel swirling around him, the ones radiating from her. Once again, it boiled down to her obvious lack of trust in him, and that certainly wasn't her fault. "Anything else you need me to bring back with me?"

Mac gave him the smallest of smiles. "No, nothing…and thank you, Harm."

"You're welcome, Mac. I'll try to be quiet in the bathroom."

"Don't worry about it, Harm." She shifted downward to relax into her pillows. "See you."

"Yeah, see you…and Mac?" Harm said as he turned to go. "I know you need to see a therapist, but please don't ever think you're alone."

With that, Harm finally left the bedroom, praying she would start to believe in him. In them.

Please, God, help her through this. Help me help her through this.

Please…

End Chapter Ten