Title: After Effects 2/?
Author: AutumnRain email: autumrain4@yahoo.com
Rating: At the very least an R (will keep a toned down version posted on the "shipper" group)
Summary: Harm has some lasting after effects of his crash and has to find a way to deal with them.
Warnings: Product of an extremely boring Food Science and Nutrition class this morning…This does not follow exactly events of the show. I took a few liberties here and there with events.
Disclaimer: All characters are property of DPB and company. I am just borrowing them for a little fun and absolutely no profit.
Feedback: Feedback is good. I enjoy it and it lets me know people are reading it and either loving it or want me to stop LOL.
Archive: you can find this story and others I have written or am working on at:
http://Stories.Com/authors/autumnrain
Oh yeah, I haven't forgotten about my other story Pajamas and Letting Go- more will be out soon (
Sitting here, now at 0505, eight months later I have a revelation. I have been the strong one for the past 37 years in all my relationships, even the relationship with my mother from the age of six. Forgive me if I need to lean on someone every now and then. Scary as that thought is to me, it is less scary than the feelings of helplessness and terror that have been washing over me for the past month while I am in the middle of cross examining a witness, having lunch with Lts. Roberts and Sims, driving to work, working on my Stearman, being chewed out by the Admiral, just about every routine daily activity I engage in, it happens. Without warning and it leaves me either sweating profusely, gasping for air, and or shaking like a leave. It doesn't last long. The worst one lasted about fifteen minutes, but it has to stop.
Harm's Apt.
North of Union Station
0510
So far I have been able to keep my 'spells' to myself. Sturgis has given me a couple of glances when I have called time out during one of our basketball games so that I can calm my nerves and control my shaking. I shrug off his concerns with the excuse my knee is still a bit weak. I don't know how much longer he is going to buy it.
The Admiral doesn't say to much, although I have noticed a slight change of tone in his voice when he chews me out. A tone that leaves no room for my not understanding I am ass-deep in trouble, but at the same time conveys the attitude he is grateful I am still here to cause him that said trouble. I think he suspects there is something bothering me, but is letting me handle it the only way I know how- going on the assumption that if I can't, I will go to him. It isn't that the thought hasn't crossed my mind, but two things stop me. Number one, he is my CO and I really don't want to be ordered to see a shrink. Number two how do I tell a highly decorated ex SeAL- who probably saw and did things in Vietnam that I don't even want to begin to imagine, who wasn't turning into an emotional wreck two or three times a day for no apparent reason, that a mere three hour dip in the Atlantic has me going off the deep end nine months after it had happened?
Then there is Mac. She was the easiest to fool at first. She had her own troubles right after my splash down and then was gone for three months. Mic had left her about a little over a week after my release from Bethesda. He had been pushing her to reschedule the wedding and I guess he had come to terms with the fact she wasn't walking down the aisle unless I was there, but felt I was whole and now able to attend a wedding, they could go tie the knot posthaste.
One night, shortly after Renee had left in high form, due to the fact her insistent mauling of my body didn't yield the results she wanted, just a few groans of pain on my part while making general silent apologies in my mind to any woman I may have manhandled like that, there was a knock on my door.
"Go away Renee, I am not in the mood" I yell at the door not wanting to go another round with the insipid blond-headed octopus.
"It's not Renee"
"Mac," my eyes fly open, "It is unlocked, come on in." Regardless of the depression I had been surrendering myself to, I found my mood lifting at the sound of Mac's voice.
I look up from the couch and see Mac standing just inside my door with the countenance of someone completely and desperately lost. Despite the scream of protest from my hip, I launched myself off the couch, the effect of my movement somewhat shadowed as my traitorous knee refused to take my weight and I half stagger, half fell in front of her. Only her quick move of wrapping her right arm around my waist and her left hand locking onto my shoulder saved me from sprawling flat onto my face at her feet. In spite of acute embarrassment, the feeling of being in her arms as it were, was incredible and the memory of that touch quickly became one that I try to recall when my panic rises in an attempt to quell it.
"Easy Navy" Mac said, the look of pain and desolation in her eyes changing instantly to concern, her grip on me not loosening as I managed to right myself, my hands on her almost mirror-like to hers on me.
"I'm okay, but you're not. What's wrong?"
Her eyes left mine to stare at the floor. One of the very few rules I have managed to remember in how to deal with Mac, that just like me, forcing an issue does not tender desirable results, so I let her regroup and decide how to begin. My own thoughts racing about a mile a minute, coming to a million possibilities that would produce the trouble visible in Mac's eyes, all of them revolving around an annoying Aussie, all resulting in the decision I would beat the shit out of him, even if I had to do it with the cane I had to use to walk, for causing the pain and doubt I saw in her appearance as she stood in my foyer.
"He moved out." Her eyes still not leaving the floor, "He said I only agreed to marry him because I didn't want to be alone"
I was speechless. I had imagined Mac finding different reasons to leave Mic, but I never thought that Mic would walk away from her. Who in their right mind would walk away from Mac? You would, you idiot, you would and you did. I knew I would be pushing it, but I had to ask:
"Was he right? Is it the reason you agreed to marry a man you don't love."
She tensed and I thought she was going to back away, so I steeled my good leg to carry my weight that she was supporting. She looked up at me, and I saw tears running down her face.
"I did love him Harm. Maybe not the kind of love that would make the kind of marriage that would see us 40 years down the road still laughing, holding hands and…. Not that kind of love, but I did care deeply for him. It wouldn't have been an unhappy marriage Harm"
"You trying to convince me or yourself Mac?" Jeez, there I go again, I always seem to put my foot in my mouth when I try to really talk with Mac. I gripped her a bit tighter so she couldn't step back although I know if she wasn't amenable to our embrace, injured leg or not, I might end up with two injured legs. "I didn't mean to say it like that Mac….You deserve the kind of marriage that you just said you wouldn't have with Mic. I don't want to see you 'settle'" No, I certainly don't. I don't want to see you settle until we can find our way back to each other, then we can…. I cleared my head of those thoughts. She needs to know I care, but she doesn't need, she's not ready for me to go any further than the best friend I hope I still am to her. I reach out and wipe the tears from her face with my thumb, resisting the urge to lean down to kiss them away.
"Harm…." She lets the thought go unfinished and I can almost hear the walls go up around her emotions, complete with chains and the sound of keys in locks, her defenses going on full tilt. End of discussion Rabb. Now just be her friend. I give her a supportive smile and realize with a start that she is soaking wet. I hear the storm outside now, my apartment now being in the eye of the storm that seems to always follow Mac and I around.
"You need some dry clothes and a warm shower Marine. You are soaked and freezing. Go, bottom drawer in my bedroom, should be some sweats you can swim in, and then shower. I will hobble into the kitchen and see if I am capable of making some coffee, no, I think hot chocolate is in order." I say, releasing her and turning her in the direction of the bedroom area of my loft. I don't completely take my hands from her, reluctant to no longer be touching her. "You just have to guide me over to the counter, okay?" I ask her, managing a slight grin at her. She does as I ask, in complete silence and it worries me, but I push those thoughts away and decide the only thing I can do to at the moment is to focus on making the hot chocolate.
TBC
Author: AutumnRain email: autumrain4@yahoo.com
Rating: At the very least an R (will keep a toned down version posted on the "shipper" group)
Summary: Harm has some lasting after effects of his crash and has to find a way to deal with them.
Warnings: Product of an extremely boring Food Science and Nutrition class this morning…This does not follow exactly events of the show. I took a few liberties here and there with events.
Disclaimer: All characters are property of DPB and company. I am just borrowing them for a little fun and absolutely no profit.
Feedback: Feedback is good. I enjoy it and it lets me know people are reading it and either loving it or want me to stop LOL.
Archive: you can find this story and others I have written or am working on at:
http://Stories.Com/authors/autumnrain
Oh yeah, I haven't forgotten about my other story Pajamas and Letting Go- more will be out soon (
Sitting here, now at 0505, eight months later I have a revelation. I have been the strong one for the past 37 years in all my relationships, even the relationship with my mother from the age of six. Forgive me if I need to lean on someone every now and then. Scary as that thought is to me, it is less scary than the feelings of helplessness and terror that have been washing over me for the past month while I am in the middle of cross examining a witness, having lunch with Lts. Roberts and Sims, driving to work, working on my Stearman, being chewed out by the Admiral, just about every routine daily activity I engage in, it happens. Without warning and it leaves me either sweating profusely, gasping for air, and or shaking like a leave. It doesn't last long. The worst one lasted about fifteen minutes, but it has to stop.
Harm's Apt.
North of Union Station
0510
So far I have been able to keep my 'spells' to myself. Sturgis has given me a couple of glances when I have called time out during one of our basketball games so that I can calm my nerves and control my shaking. I shrug off his concerns with the excuse my knee is still a bit weak. I don't know how much longer he is going to buy it.
The Admiral doesn't say to much, although I have noticed a slight change of tone in his voice when he chews me out. A tone that leaves no room for my not understanding I am ass-deep in trouble, but at the same time conveys the attitude he is grateful I am still here to cause him that said trouble. I think he suspects there is something bothering me, but is letting me handle it the only way I know how- going on the assumption that if I can't, I will go to him. It isn't that the thought hasn't crossed my mind, but two things stop me. Number one, he is my CO and I really don't want to be ordered to see a shrink. Number two how do I tell a highly decorated ex SeAL- who probably saw and did things in Vietnam that I don't even want to begin to imagine, who wasn't turning into an emotional wreck two or three times a day for no apparent reason, that a mere three hour dip in the Atlantic has me going off the deep end nine months after it had happened?
Then there is Mac. She was the easiest to fool at first. She had her own troubles right after my splash down and then was gone for three months. Mic had left her about a little over a week after my release from Bethesda. He had been pushing her to reschedule the wedding and I guess he had come to terms with the fact she wasn't walking down the aisle unless I was there, but felt I was whole and now able to attend a wedding, they could go tie the knot posthaste.
One night, shortly after Renee had left in high form, due to the fact her insistent mauling of my body didn't yield the results she wanted, just a few groans of pain on my part while making general silent apologies in my mind to any woman I may have manhandled like that, there was a knock on my door.
"Go away Renee, I am not in the mood" I yell at the door not wanting to go another round with the insipid blond-headed octopus.
"It's not Renee"
"Mac," my eyes fly open, "It is unlocked, come on in." Regardless of the depression I had been surrendering myself to, I found my mood lifting at the sound of Mac's voice.
I look up from the couch and see Mac standing just inside my door with the countenance of someone completely and desperately lost. Despite the scream of protest from my hip, I launched myself off the couch, the effect of my movement somewhat shadowed as my traitorous knee refused to take my weight and I half stagger, half fell in front of her. Only her quick move of wrapping her right arm around my waist and her left hand locking onto my shoulder saved me from sprawling flat onto my face at her feet. In spite of acute embarrassment, the feeling of being in her arms as it were, was incredible and the memory of that touch quickly became one that I try to recall when my panic rises in an attempt to quell it.
"Easy Navy" Mac said, the look of pain and desolation in her eyes changing instantly to concern, her grip on me not loosening as I managed to right myself, my hands on her almost mirror-like to hers on me.
"I'm okay, but you're not. What's wrong?"
Her eyes left mine to stare at the floor. One of the very few rules I have managed to remember in how to deal with Mac, that just like me, forcing an issue does not tender desirable results, so I let her regroup and decide how to begin. My own thoughts racing about a mile a minute, coming to a million possibilities that would produce the trouble visible in Mac's eyes, all of them revolving around an annoying Aussie, all resulting in the decision I would beat the shit out of him, even if I had to do it with the cane I had to use to walk, for causing the pain and doubt I saw in her appearance as she stood in my foyer.
"He moved out." Her eyes still not leaving the floor, "He said I only agreed to marry him because I didn't want to be alone"
I was speechless. I had imagined Mac finding different reasons to leave Mic, but I never thought that Mic would walk away from her. Who in their right mind would walk away from Mac? You would, you idiot, you would and you did. I knew I would be pushing it, but I had to ask:
"Was he right? Is it the reason you agreed to marry a man you don't love."
She tensed and I thought she was going to back away, so I steeled my good leg to carry my weight that she was supporting. She looked up at me, and I saw tears running down her face.
"I did love him Harm. Maybe not the kind of love that would make the kind of marriage that would see us 40 years down the road still laughing, holding hands and…. Not that kind of love, but I did care deeply for him. It wouldn't have been an unhappy marriage Harm"
"You trying to convince me or yourself Mac?" Jeez, there I go again, I always seem to put my foot in my mouth when I try to really talk with Mac. I gripped her a bit tighter so she couldn't step back although I know if she wasn't amenable to our embrace, injured leg or not, I might end up with two injured legs. "I didn't mean to say it like that Mac….You deserve the kind of marriage that you just said you wouldn't have with Mic. I don't want to see you 'settle'" No, I certainly don't. I don't want to see you settle until we can find our way back to each other, then we can…. I cleared my head of those thoughts. She needs to know I care, but she doesn't need, she's not ready for me to go any further than the best friend I hope I still am to her. I reach out and wipe the tears from her face with my thumb, resisting the urge to lean down to kiss them away.
"Harm…." She lets the thought go unfinished and I can almost hear the walls go up around her emotions, complete with chains and the sound of keys in locks, her defenses going on full tilt. End of discussion Rabb. Now just be her friend. I give her a supportive smile and realize with a start that she is soaking wet. I hear the storm outside now, my apartment now being in the eye of the storm that seems to always follow Mac and I around.
"You need some dry clothes and a warm shower Marine. You are soaked and freezing. Go, bottom drawer in my bedroom, should be some sweats you can swim in, and then shower. I will hobble into the kitchen and see if I am capable of making some coffee, no, I think hot chocolate is in order." I say, releasing her and turning her in the direction of the bedroom area of my loft. I don't completely take my hands from her, reluctant to no longer be touching her. "You just have to guide me over to the counter, okay?" I ask her, managing a slight grin at her. She does as I ask, in complete silence and it worries me, but I push those thoughts away and decide the only thing I can do to at the moment is to focus on making the hot chocolate.
TBC