Chapter 14 - You and I

And if you and I

Can make it through the night

And if you and I

Can keep our love alive, we'll fight - Pvris

It really wasn't out of my own volition that I called Bethesda and made an appointment to see a headshrinker. The flyboy decided it was best to get the Admiral involved when he found me tearing through his cabinets searching for the bottle of bourbon I knew he had stashed somewhere. It wasn't my drink of choice, too smokey for my tastes but I needed something to get the edge off because while he slept soundly next to me, the nightmares had kept me up.

It was the same one, Sadik's men taunting me, the promise of being raped before they tortured my life away. It ended the same with Harm coming for me and being shot immediately, his limp body falling to the ground as cold, dark eyes stared accusingly. I woke up in a cold sweat, the sheets that were wrapped around me felt constricting, claustrophobic and at first, I tried to run.

His door was locked, using several deadbolts that I didn't have keys for and couldn't find without waking him. I desperately clawed at the door, the cool metal adding to my anxiety. The escape by the kitchen was my next point of egress, it likely didn't have that many locks or security measures and so I raced in that direction, running across the apartment only to stop when I passed the kitchen island. It was pouring again, the rain falling in sheets. Barefoot and barely clothed, I wouldn't make it too far, I wouldn't make it anywhere at all.

On the edge of the sink sat a glass, one I knew well because it was the style used for spirits. He always had a bottle of high priced bourbon in his apartment. In the early years when I would drop by unannounced, just because, I'd catch him a time or two nursing the amber liquid. He would always toss it out, put the bottle away and brush his teeth in effort to remove the smell. I was grateful for that although I hated the pity in his eyes, the flash of recognition that I couldn't get home and have a drink to unwind like a normal person.

I was quiet, at least I thought I was until his hands wrapped over mine and covered the top of the glass before it reached my lips. "Don't."

"You're not my keeper." Two drops made it past my lips, not enough to intoxicate but just the right amount to remind me how much I hated bourbon. He was angry, evident on how he pulled the glass away and tossed it into the sink. It made a spectacular crashing sound as the glass broke and splintered and the amber liquid sloshed out the drain.

I sat on his sofa pouting, like a kid that was being reprimanded by her parents. It was humiliating and I was mortified when at three in the morning the booming voice of Admiral Chegwidden not so nicely put into perspective what would happen to my career if I didn't comply.

The defiant part of me wanted to fight back and tell him just where he could shove my commission but then I saw a framed picture of Harm and me, the one taken in Afghanistan. We were in uniform, ACUs, looking every bit the proper military man and woman who had survived a wild ordeal. The Marine Corps saved me a lifetime ago and I knew it would save me now along with the Navy family that took me in as their own.

"I need you to drive me to my place." I say, hours later once I hung up the phone and the appointment was secure for later that day.

Harm shook his head, his arms folded across his chest and I realized this would be yet another battle of wills. "You can't."

"What do you mean, I can't? My uniform is there. My things are there. You can't expect me to live here forever."

That hurt him for some reason but I can't believe he thought any of this was healthy for either of us. "Tell me what you need, I'll get it for you."

My own arms folded across my chest, if he could be defensive, so could I. "I'm not about to have you searching through my things."

"Well, take it or leave it. You can't go in there."

I feel the anger bubble up in me and another round of hurtful words that I manage to swallow back. Instead, I move up close to him ignoring the fact that I'm dwarfed by his height, his size and overall presence. He's never scared me, not once even when his scowl deepens and he tries to act menacing. I know him too well. "I'm not your prisoner...I'll call a taxi...I'll call the cops if I have to."

He winces at that and this body relaxes slightly, I've won this battle and with a woosh he lets a breath out. "It's not ready."

"What isn't?"

Harm bites his lower lip and the arms that were once folded across his chest lightly wrap around my middle. I want to fight his touch, to pull away but it affects me in the most pleasant ways that I have to stop myself from melting into him. "Gibbs owed me, he owed me big time after I spent a month in the brig... I collected."

I stand in the center of my apartment, the smell of fresh paint, new furnishings and flooring that was recently laid welcomes me. It's the same place but it feels different, lighter like the effects of the last few weeks hadn't permanently stained the energy that was once so pleasant. Webb's men had left behind too much, like the pink stain in my carpet that wouldn't fully come out and the lingering smells of cleaning fluids that were so noxious, they were making me sick.

This space is still very much mine but it's also new. A cool breeze from an early cold front wafts past the open French doors of my balcony as the sun shines through casting an ethereal glow on the newly painted walls. I study the living room and the new flooring, a wood parquet I had my eyes on years ago but decided against when the expense was far above my budget.

The seating area is also new, a big comfy looking sofa and two big equally comfy looking chairs invited me to sit and relax. There was a new coffee table made of real wood with various heavy books from amature palentology to scenic views of Red Rock Mesa.

He did this, I know. It wasn't NCIS or any favor that was owed for locking up an innocent man. Harm did all of this and I feel my heart plummet to the pit of my stomach when I realize how nasty I've been to him of late.

"They're still working on your bedroom…" He says with a low voice, soft and cautious. Harm looks away when I glare at him and hurry into the other room. There was a coat of fresh paint on the walls as well and the bed frame devoid of its box spring and mattress. "They need to finish the trim and I ordered a new mattress...He umm...well, you needed one."

"I don't want to know why."

"No you don't but, if the bastard wasn't dead, I would kill him myself." He stepped up to the wall and pressed a finger against it as if checking it were still wet. The heavy scent of fresh paint still hung in the air, the open window breathed new life into my bedroom. "I saw what he left. The diamonds."

"And the pictures...of us." I can still see them strewn over the bed, across the wall, tacked here and there with anger and malevolence. It's a miracle that Harm is alive. "You saw them before."

"I glanced but I never really looked. He was following us...He knew about us." The thought made him shiver and me as well, such an invasion of privacy that had gone on for months on end. It reminded me of Coster but a version that was far more twisted and evil. "It's over now. All that's left is for you to heal if you want to. And if you don't…"

He wants to say that he'll back off and let me breathe but I know him too well, that tunnel vision he gets is solely set on me. "Don't tell me you'll back away because I know you won't." I cross the room, my soul drawn to him like a magnet being pulled together. He's strength and light, the beacon to drag me out of this darkness.

I don't know how to thank him because, at the moment, I can't say the words. I hope it's enough when I pull his arms open and step into his embrace. I hope it's enough when my head falls to his chest and I whisper that I love him. I hope it's enough.