A/N: Another Trust chapter.

Trust

Chapter 12: Gorgeous, Pretty, Beautiful

Though she wanted to, Mac didn't linger in the shower. The warm water felt good on her muscles sore from disuse, but it also made her feel a little weak, so she dutifully did the basics and then shut the off the water. She stood there a moment, hands against the tiles of her bath, forehead resting on the cool porcelain while her heart beat rapidly. It slowed with a few deep breaths, and then she was able to grab one of her plusher towels to wrap around herself.

After she stepped out of the shower, she gazed at herself with a critical eye in the bathroom mirror. She was thin, too thin really, and in the last couple of months she hadn't been working out with her usual vigor. She wished she could blame it all on the pregnancy, but Webb had had a lot to do with that too.

Though no one was around to see her or hear her thoughts, she hung her head in shame. How could she have lost herself so much in the last year? She'd given up so many things to be with Webb. He'd taken so many things from her, and he'd done it so subtly. Well, maybe it wasn't so subtle…she'd just ignored it so much she'd eventually stopped paying attention to it.

Mac shook herself. No need to fall into that trap of self-recrimination and guilt, though she wasn't naïve enough to think she'd completely avoid it. Maybe today, though, she could do something for herself.

But what?

She found that the answer was staring her in the face. She could get herself a haircut. Maybe a color too. Getting her hair done was such a small thing really, something she'd once taken for granted, but now the idea gave her a surge of joy and a sense of purpose she hadn't felt in a long while. Of course, there was no guarantee she'd be able to get into her usual salon. They had been very accommodating to her over the years, but sometimes they just couldn't.

All you can do is try, MacKenzie, she told herself, and she picked up the phone.

Luck had been with her. She called her regular stylist Ethan, who'd just happened to be in early. He told her in no uncertain terms that she needed to get her pretty self down there.

Once she'd arrived via taxi; she still wasn't supposed to drive, Ethan had taken one look at her and pulled her into his arms. She didn't mind his touch nor the fact that he called her 'honey' and 'sweetie'—that was just Ethan—he'd always been joyful and effusive with her, and it didn't take long for him to have her laughing at the stories he told about being a stylist in New York working the fashion shows early on in his career.

There was one awkward moment; after he'd colored her hair and put in some subtle highlights, they sat discussing how she wanted her haircut. She'd told him she wanted it short like it used to be…

"Sweetie?" he asked, a look of consternation on his handsome face. He stared into the mirror at her.

"What's wrong, Ethan?" She could feel her insides clench. Would he tell her she should leave it long? Would he be another man that didn't listen to what she wanted? "Ethan?" she asked again, hearing the warning tone seeping into her voice.

Ethan shook himself out of his apparent stupor. "Oh, sweetie, there's nothing wrong. It's just that you've…well, you've wanted it to be…long."

"Well, I don't anymore," she snapped, and was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry, Ethan…I just…I don't want…I just want it the way…" She shrugged and looked down at her hands. A moment later, she felt her chair spin gently around.

"You want it the way it was?" Mac nodded. Ethan used his finger to raise her chin and she found herself gazing into sympathetic blue eyes. "Sarah, dear, you never wanted it long, did you?"

Mac shook her head slowly. She could feel the blush creeping up her face, though she knew the color of it would be subtle given the recent happenings. "He…he wanted…" She gasped then, shocked that she was actually admitting this to her stylist of all people.

"I thought so," he nodded. "Are you okay, sweetie?" He hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Have you been…ill?"

Mac shrugged. "A bit…but I'm better now." She swallowed down the surge of guilt that rose up within her. Save it for your therapist, she ordered herself.

"He's out of the picture then?"

"What?" she asked, shocked at Ethan's question.

"Well…you laughed today. You haven't done that in a while. You haven't since…" It was Ethan's turn to blush, but his was a far more vivid than hers. "I'm sorry…I shouldn't be asking or saying anything about this. It's none of my business…but the one time that suit picked you up here…well…Sarah…I could tell…" Ethan stood straighter, resolve written on his face. "I didn't like him. Not for you. I've been worried."

Mac didn't know if she should be angry, embarrassed, furious…but as she looked up into Ethan's face, she suddenly knew he'd been through a few of his own unfortunate relationships. "You don't have to worry anymore, Ethan. He's gone. Neither of us has to worry anymore."

"Okay, then," Ethan said after a long moment of studying her face. He turned her back to the mirror. "Let's bring Sarah out again."

Mac yawned. She was exhausted, she couldn't deny that, but she also felt the faint tendrils of happiness too as she pulled open the door to her building. She knew she still had a hard road ahead, but today had been good for her. For the first time in a long while, she felt like Mac. Her hair was her own again and she'd finally stepped into the little boutique next door to Ethan's salon that always had such lovely dresses on display. They were the kind one could dress up or dress down, but between work and the types of places Webb took her to, there'd really been no point in going in.

As she'd stepped in the shop, her eyes immediately landed on a simple red A-line. She stepped toward it, having the fleeting thought that Harm would like that one on her. In that moment, her good mood flagged. God, was she actually going to choose something for him? Would she ever be able just to do something for herself?

Mac almost turned around and left the store, but then she found herself staring at another red dress. Suddenly she didn't give a damn if Harm, Bud, Chegwidden, or the neighbor's dog liked it. She loved it. At that moment the saleswoman appeared at her side.

"That one's gorgeous, isn't it?" she asked with a knowing smile. Mac could only nod. "Why don't we get you a fitting room, then?"

An hour later, Mac stepped out of the boutique with four new dresses. She was actually wearing one out—a burnt orange, slightly more casual one than the rest, and she felt pretty…and tired…to the point the nice saleswoman had asked if she was okay. Marcy was her name, and the kind woman returned a few moments later with a bottle of water. Mac gratefully drank down and made her purchases. Shortly thereafter, she was in a cab heading back to Georgetown.

With plans to just crawl into her bed for a nap, Mac stepped into her apartment. In that moment the last bits of her good mood left her…for there was Harm standing in the middle of her living room, frantic…and furious…

"Where the fucking hell have you been?!"

Harm looked over at the woman riding next to him. She was turned as far away from him as she could, staring out the window, studiously ignoring him. She hadn't spoken a word to him since they'd gotten into the car to go to her follow up appointment. Now they were on the way back to her apartment and Harm had grown weary of the silence…not that he blamed Mac for it.

He'd been frantic when he'd knocked on the door earlier and she didn't answer. He'd let himself in, terrified he'd find her dead or bleeding on the floor, only to find she wasn't there at all. He'd called her cell, startled when it rang right next to him. When she'd finally stepped into her apartment, he didn't notice her hair or dress. All he could think of was how scared he'd been—and how furious…

"Where the fucking hell have you been?!"

The bag in Mac's hand dropped to the floor and she just stared wide-eyed at until a defiant mask settled over her features. "Out," she answered shortly, and he advanced on her.

"Out?! And you didn't think to tell me? What the hell were you thinking?!" he shouted.

"I was thinking it was none of your business and I wanted to go out!" She pushed past him, heading toward her bedroom, but her quick movements obviously caused a return of her dizziness and she stumbled.

Harm quickly leapt forward to steady her, and she batted his hands away. "Don't!" she cried. She tried to turn away from him, but, risking bodily harm, he wrapped his hands around her upper arms and stopped her.

"Dammit, Mac! I was worried!" He shook her a bit as he continued to yell. "You weren't here. You didn't take your phone! You didn't tell me you were going out! What if something happened? What if you got—got sick? And you have your appointment to recheck things. I can't believe you were so irresponsible!"

"Irresponsible?! I just forgot, Harm. And it's not like— "

"Oh my god, Mac. Did you drive? You know you aren't allowed to do that yet! What were you thinking?!" he asked again.

"Goddammit, Harm! I didn't drive. I took a cab! I forgot I had an appointment, and I forgot my damn phone! I'm sorry! I just wanted to get out and get my hair done and just get some air! I've been stuck here for days! I just wanted OUT!"

With that, Mac burst into tears. He let her go then and she stumbled to her sofa, sitting down with her hands over her face as she sobbed, leaving him feeling like he'd pulled the wings off a butterfly.

"Mac," he said, sitting down beside her. "I'm sorry. I was— "

Mac abruptly stood, her sobs quieted. "Let's just go. We don't want to be late." With that, she walked out her door, leaving Harm to rush after her after locking her door behind him.

Harm reached his hand out to Mac but stopped himself before he actually touched her. "Mac…I'm sorry…I'm sorry I yelled but…Mac, I was really, um scared."

Mac slowly turned toward him. "Why?"

Because I love you.

"Because I…I care for you…and I don't want anything to happen to you. You could have died, Mac."

"Because I got a haircut? Because I did a little shopping? Because I wanted to feel normal?"

"I didn't mean that Mac. I meant…before."

"Well, I didn't, and I won't, Harm. You don't have to worry anymore."

Harm suddenly pulled over, almost before he knew he was going to. He unbuckled his seatbelt so he could more fully face her. "Mac, when I saw…all that—that blood…I…I— "

"Harm…"

"I don't think I've ever been so scared." Harm could feel his eyes tearing up. "Mac, I— "

"Harm, please…please stop…I don't…I can't talk about this now. Please," she begged, and tears dripped down her cheeks. Harm saw that she had gone white, and he felt like a heel.

"Okay, Mac…okay," he soothed. "I'll stop…but it's going to take a while for me to stop worrying about you."

To that statement, Mac merely shrugged, once again looking at anything but him.

"Well, here you are, Mac," Harm said as he unlocked her door; and she stepped inside without acknowledging him. He silently followed her into her living room watching as she set her purse down and dropped herself down onto her couch.

"Go home, Harm," she said, her voice weary. "I'm tired."

"Let me help, then. I can make you something to eat, or do some laundry or— "

"Harm, stop…stop. I'm not hungry. You did my laundry the other day…I don't need anything. Just go home."

Harm sighed. "Look, Mac…I really am sorry about today. My reaction was…uncalled for."

Mac's shoulders dropped. "I know. Thank you. Now— "

"Yeah…I'll go. But, please, Mac…call if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered, and Harm turned to leave. Just as he was about to pull open the door, he turned back around.

"Mac…your hair…that dress…you look…you look so…you're so pretty, Mac. Beautiful."

He left before she could answer.

Mac sat staring at the door for long minutes after Harm left, trying to quell the surge of anger that rose up in her. How dare he say that now. What the hell did he want from her? She wasn't foolish enough to believe he'd merely meant to compliment her. She stewed a moment, her ire eventually bubbling through, and then she rose from her couch. She stalked to her bedroom and yanked off the dress she'd taken such pleasure in today. She threw it toward the back of her closet only to be suddenly hit by a memory…a similar anger, a similar action…only that time the players were different, and it was so much more painful…

End Chapter 12