A/N: Another update! Egad, Mic really has lost his mind! I didn't know this chapter would take this direction, not completely, but the muse writes what it writes.

Miracles

Chapter 14: Quatorze

Harm's POV

There's something wrong with Mac.

In the last two weeks, Mac hasn't been progressing in her rehab. If anything, she's actually regressed, at least in the speech department, and I must admit I'm rather terrified. After witnessing the miracle of her survival and all the improvements she's made since then, I thought we were out of any danger. She would keep getting better, and in a couple of months, we'd be able to walk out of here. Even if she was never able to return to active duty, she would still be able to do so many other things. Now, it looks as though I was wrong.

Her doctors and therapists are worried too. They've done CT scans, an MRI…but there's nothing obviously wrong. I suppose I should be relieved at that, but maybe if they did find something, we could do something to fix it, or at the very least give me something tangible to fight. We all know I don't deal well with unknowns.

Mac's psychologist thinks she's depressed; I snapped at her when she told me that, asking her who wouldn't be depressed in this situation, and then proceeded to go on a little rant. I'm not really sure what all I said, but afterwards, Dr. Linn gently coaxed me into her office and sat me down. I was surprised when she pressed a Kleenex into my hand; I hadn't realized I was in tears, and god, I was embarrassed. I'd lost control, yelled at people who were only trying to help my Mac, and then there I sat crying, wondering how I was going to be strong enough for my love.

Dr. Linn helped a lot that day, but I'm still embarrassed, and I still shed a few tears when I'm alone in my apartment. It's even worse now…

Though he doesn't want to, Admiral Chegwidden has no choice but to send me out to a carrier for an investigation. I leave in a few hours, and I'm dreading telling Mac. She already cries herself to sleep every night, and it kills me to leave her once she finally loses her fight with exhaustion. They're very strict on visiting hours around here, and I'm already pushing it with how long I'm staying now. I of course don't stay late every night; I have to prepare for cases and the like, but I do try to review the files here when I can.

When I get to Mac's room, she's sitting at her table by the window. She looks exhausted, and she barely turns her head when I call to her. She's pale, with dark circles under her eyes, and it's clear she wakes up a lot at night. She refuses to take any sleeping pills for the most part, and though I know she's concerned about addiction, I wish she'd relent more, and I wish she didn't look so wilted in her chair. Her right hand rests limply in her lap, while her left keeps picking at invisible lint on her pants.

"Hi, honey," I say as I sit down beside her. I take her left hand in mine and let my thumb caress her knuckles. I notice there's some scabbing across them, and I raise my eyebrows at her. "What happened here?"

Mac merely shrugs, and I want to scream in frustration. I'm not mad at her; I just want to hear her voice again. I want to hear the daily improvements she used to make. Instead, all I hear are halting, one-word answers, and that's if I'm lucky.

"Oh, baby…" I say sadly as I stroke her hair back from her face. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" She looks away from me, her shoulders slumping even more, and the pain radiating from her is killing me…especially now when I have to tell her I'm leaving for several days.

For a few moments I just rub her back, knowing I'm stalling but also just wanting to touch and comfort her. Finally, knowing I can't delay any longer, I open my mouth to speak.

"Ha-arm…" The sound of my name, the one word that's always fallen fluently from her lips, said with such hesitation sends a spear of agony though my heart.

"Yes, my love?" She at least cracks a smile at my endearment. I can then see her opening and closing her mouth; I know she's trying hard to say something and I wish I could just read her mind, but of course that's impossible. She scowls and pulls her hand from mine, balling it into a fist before pounding it on her leg in frustration. I reach over and lay my hand over hers, stilling it, as I use my other hand to pull her toward me so I can press my lips against her hair. "We're gonna get through this sweetheart. I promise." And we will, though the outcome may not be what either of us wants. At least I know my Mac is still in there; there's no evidence of any new cognitive dysfunction. But now, I really do need to tell her I'm leaving.

"Mac, baby…I need to leave. I'm flying out to a carrier in a couple of hours for an investigation. I'll be gone for a few days…" I look up into her eyes and see they're wide with dismay. I can only look at them for a second before I have to drop my gaze. Talking to my lap, where her hand rests in mind, I continue. "Admiral Chegwidden didn't want to send me, but there's really no one else…he said he'd come by more often while I'm gone, and Bud or Harriet will— "

Her small intake of air causes me to raise my eyes, and what I see guts me. Tears are falling from her eyes, drop after drop traveling down her cheeks, but she's absolutely silent. There are no shuddering breaths, no shaking of her shoulders, and I feel my own eyes sting with tears. "Honey…"

I cup her cheek and swipe at her tears with my thumb, they they come so fast I can't keep up. Finally, I stand and pluck her off her seat before carrying her to the bed. I awkwardly climb onto it with her still in my arms and just hold her, while those silent tears soak my neck and I wonder how I'm ever going to make myself walk out of here.

Mac's POV

Harm is gone.

Harm is gone.

Harm is gone.

No matter how many times I say it in my head, I still can't wrap my mind around it. I'm used to having Harm around, he makes me feel safe, and I love him with every bit of dysfunctional body. I wish I could have told him that before he left…I wish I could have told him so many things…but I couldn't.

My voice has failed me. They don't know why, but I do, and I know no MRI or CT scan will ever show the reason.

It's because of him. He comes at all hours, stays no more than ten minutes at a time, and I have no idea how he knows when I'm not down at therapy and no one else is here with me. I have no idea how he bypasses the nurses and the security personnel, but he does and I'm terrified. It's not because he physically hurts me. It's because he's become…unhinged. He comes in and pulls open the drawer in my nightstand, rummages around until he finds the ring, then slides it on my unwilling finger. He talks about our wedding, moving to Australia, our children…but never about my fall or his part in it. He doesn't even acknowledge the fact that I can't respond to him. He talks and talks until I think my ears will bleed. He grips my hand until I think my bones will snap. I can't pull it away and no matter how much I want to, no matter how much I try…I can't tell him to go away. The few words I could say to him before get lost between my brain and my mouth; my fear bubbles up and chokes me until the tears slip from my eyes and pool in my ears. He brushes then aside but he's not gentle like Harm. His rough thumbs scrape across my cheeks until they burn but it's the one time I can see a break in his cheerful recitation of our married life. A darkness floods his eyes and his thumbs press in as they rasp across my skin. There's a part of him that knows this is a fantasy, I'm sure of it, but as soon as he takes his hand from my face, the darkness is gone and he's back to telling me about the brilliant future ahead of us.

When his blessedly brief visits come to an end, he pulls the ring from my finger and buries it in the drawer again. He kicks the call light he took away from me to a spot that makes it look like it has just fallen from its perch on the bed, and then…

He kisses me. I always try to turn my face, but he holds my head in place when he bends down to touch his lips to mine. He forces his tongue inside to assault my mouth and I hate it, but I've found it doesn't last as long if I just give in. It's all I can do not to gag or vomit and just when I think I can't endure any more, he pulls away, tossing out a simpering, "Bye, Beautiful," before he disappears out the door.

His visits are destroying all the progress I've made since I woke up. I can't focus on anything, not in physical therapy, occupational therapy, nor in speech therapy, where the most difficulty lies. I think of him, and I stumble. Thoughts of his kisses make my hands clumsy and the beads I'm trying to slide onto that infernal leather cord spill across the table. The idea that he thinks we're still engaged, that he plans to whisk me off to Australia as soon as I can get out of here, cause my brain to cease any connection to my mouth and I can't say anything…not a hello, not my name, not even Harm's name, and especially not about my unwanted visitor who touches and kisses me against my will and who thinks he has a claim on me. I would like to think that my progress has halted so that I'm never ready to get out of here and thus he can't carry me away, but I know it's because his visits scramble my brain, the brain that has just a feeble connection to the rest of my body.

So, I can only cry in the night, waiting for him to appear again, while Harm looks at me with such pain and worry, only able to hold me as I cry, while the admiral can only hold my hand and awkwardly tell my how much everyone misses me at JAG, and the staff here talk about sending me somewhere more "appropriate" since I'm not participating in my rehab as I once did.

Harm's POV

The admiral called me today, wanting an update on my progress here, but also to tell me how he worried he is about Mac and how they are talking about sending her to what amounts to a nursing home. Her speech continues to worsen—now she's mostly silent, and AJ can see her frustration and sadness as she struggles. He tells me something he never thought he'd utter—he thinks she's finally broken, and he has no idea why and no idea how to help her. I know he's not feeling like her CO now. He feels like a father who has to watch his child slip away from him.

Mac's POV

Get out get out get out get out get out! I shout this in my mind as Mic reaches for my hand. He twines his fingers through mine and his grip tightens. He tells me that I'm his and his only. He tells me what he felt when he first saw me and anyone else would find his words sweet and loving. He strokes my hair and my face and every touch leaves a trail of pain behind.

Today he is restless. He's now been here longer than the ten minutes he usually stays. I'd hope he was just being reckless and someone would discover him, but I know it isn't that. He knows he can stay longer. How is this happening. Is someone helping him? Does he never go home?

Please, Harm. Come back. Come back come back come back come back…

Harm's POV

I wake with a start. There's a brief moment where I wonder what nightmare tore me from sleep, but then I realize it was Mac, calling to me. Begging me to come home.

Oh, Mac…I promise…as soon as I can. I'm sorry I'm not there. So sorry…

Mac's POV

Something's different. Mic is agitated. He's pacing back and forth, and his words come in short, clipped tones. Every so often, he stops and stares at me, and I want to look away, but I don't want to be surprised if he comes at me.

He's making another pass when he stops abruptly. "I have to go," he says, and he moves toward me. His face comes at me, and then his lips are on me. His tongue forces its way in and it's rougher than it usually is. He's brutal and I can't just let him continue. I move back as much as I can, which amounts to the give in my pillow, and then I am gagging because his tongue is pushing so far back. It reminds me of times in our relationship and I'm furious with myself for not kicking him to the curb the first time he did something that made me uncomfortable.

He finally draws away and he swipes a hand over his mouth. "Baby…" he growls. "You miss it, don't you, luv. How I touched you…how I made love to you…tell me you miss me. Tell me you want me."

I can't tell him any of that. I wouldn't tell him any of that. He knows it, and a veil of anger descends over his face. He steps forward...he's going to hurt me this time…I know it…but then just like that, he stops. His shoulders slumps and he turns around. The door to my room falls shut behind him and I'm alone again…but for how long?

Harm's POV

Finally. I'm finally heading home. This investigation lasted longer than any of us thought it would, nearly ten days, and I'm frantic. Something is wrong with Mac. Something more than just her regression, and as I lift off from the carrier, I pray I'll make it back in time. I just wish I knew for what.

Mac's POV

I startle when Mic pushes his way in. It's sometime in the middle of the night; my time sense has disappeared along with my voice. I'm furious and I try to communicate that with my eyes, but subtly was never Mic's strong suit—not in practice, nor in the interpretation of it. He immediately goes for the ring, but he holds it in from of his face, studying it, and he scowls.

"You need to tell Harm. You need to tell him we're together."

I can only muster a small shake of my head.

"You need to put this ring on and keep it on. No more hiding." With that, he grabs my left hand and wrenches the ring on. I cry out, my voice sounding rough and obviously unused. My finger throbs and I picture it swelling up, making it impossible to remove that heavy rock without a blowtorch.

"No more hiding," he continues, and he snakes his arm around to the back of my neck, lifting me roughly from my pillow. He doesn't take the call button away this time, but it falls anyway, and he kicks it under the bed. I feebly try to push at him, but he holds me fast. His lips crash down and he grinds his mouth against mine. I taste blood, and I don't understand why he's suddenly become so desperate. Soon I'm gagging on his tongue again, and he pushes me away. I hope that maybe I've disgusted him, that he'll leave, but then his fingers go for the buttons on my pajamas.

No. No no no no no no no…

"Luv, I miss you. I know you aren't at your best, but let me…I'll help you, I promise. I need you!"

Mic already has half my buttons undone and he doesn't wait to slide his hand in to cover my bare breast. I think I might vomit, and why hasn't anyone come in to stop this?!

Now my top is completely open, the air cold on my exposed breasts. Both his hands are on me now, and one is slipping under the waistband of my bottoms.

Mic gropes me for long minutes, his fingers getting perilously close to my center. I'm really trying to get away but I'm so tired from lack of sleep that even if I were more mobile, I'd still be worthless, and I don't think Mic even notices. I try to scream but I can't get my mind and mouth to cooperate.

I honestly didn't think he'd do this, and seeing the look on his face, I grow more frightened, because I don't even think he knows that this amounts to assault.

Oh, Harm…

Harm's POV

I'm still on a plane. I know I'm having a nightmare but I can't wake myself up; all I see is black but I can hear her. She's calling out my name over and over but I can't answer her. I'm afraid I won't even remember this dream when I finally open my eyes again.

Mac's POV

Mic is touching me intimately now, just the barest bit, and he keeps telling me over and over how much he loves me. He's still in his own little world and he doesn't even taste the salt of my tears as he kisses my face.

This isn't fair. I can't fight back, and I don't understand why this has to happen to me. Haven't I suffered enough? Does it have to be this hard?

I wish it weren't so hard, Sarah. I told you it would be…and I wish I could have prevented this from even happening…

There's suddenly a voice in my head that is familiar. It isn't Harm's nor the admiral's, but I know it. I close my eyes, trying to wish myself away. An ocean appears before me, calm and blue, and a beautiful blue-green jet flies over head. I'm standing on a wooden pier, the grit of sand under my feet…and I remember. I remember myself as a little girl, running up and down the long dock, the sound of gulls overhead, and a man…a nice man who soothed me whenever that beautiful jet flew away, a man who would hold me when an angry red jet buzzed overhead.

Padre? The name enters my mind as a question, but the same voice answers.

"Yes, Sarah?"

Help me, please help me. Help me, Padre.

"I will, I am…just hang on for me, Sarah."

I'll try. I really will, but I'm not sure how long I can hold out as Mic's hand plunges between my legs.

End Chapter 14