Chapter 21
Mac jabbed toward Harm's midriff, catching him just beneath the solar plexus. She followed with a second, faster and harder, and was rewarded by a small grunt of pain.
"You're not playing nice today," Harm observed as he danced out of her reach. They were sparring in the ship's gym. With gloves and headgear, there was little chance for either of them to get hurt, and it made for a nice break from running. Usually.
A crowd generally gathered to watch whenever they did, and today was no exception. Mac really wished they would all go away. The cheering and jokes from the sidelines only served to irritate her.
Mac blocked her husband's return swing, feeling the jolt all the way up into her shoulders. Ouch. Not that she hadn't asked for it. She was feeling… violent. This had seemed like the best way to work out the roiling unease that had plagued her since lunchtime. Talking to Carmen had strung her nerves taut and the sensation simply would not go away.
Frustrated, Mac launched herself at Harm, the assault intended for her own untenable emotions rather than him. She went after him with a flurry of punches that forced him to cover up. As he fell back a step, her swings got harder, wilder. A little voice in the back of her head told her she was getting out of control… over-committing, but she didn't care.
Not until Harm's glove came out of nowhere and smacked her in the temple, that is. Mac landed flat on her back, the breath knocked out of her. Flickering lights danced in front of her eyes. She blinked furiously, trying to clear them.
"Mac? You o.k.?" Harm loomed over her, looking worried. "Geez, you walked right into that."
Instinctively, Mac raised a hand to her head, which was starting to throb. But between the glove and the foam helmet, she couldn't really tell how tender the spot was.
"I'm o.k." she told him, angry at herself for dropping her guard.
Harm reached out a hand to help her up. She swatted it away.
"I'm o.k." She climbed to her feet and assumed a ready position.
Harm stepped back, his expression guarded. "Mac, what's going on?"
"Nothing. Now shut up and fight." She threw a sharp jab in his direction. He raised his gloves to block the blow and stepped back again.
"Not until you tell me what's going on."
Mac glared at him. She could see the brick wall going up in his eyes-- that infuriating self-controlled calm that nothing could crack. How could she explain to that how she was feeling, especially when she didn't understand it herself? Why would she want to try?
A humorless smile twisted her lips. "Make me."
The blue eyes narrowed, but he made no move to continue. He stood quietly, arms at his sides, watching her. Mac ground her teeth. All she wanted was a good fight. Where was the harm in that? The safety gear would make certain they walked away with nothing but bruises. She'd gotten far worse in the past.
Mac didn't acknowledge the voice in the back of her mind that said, But not from Harm.
"Come on!" She stalked toward him, fists raised.
Harm raised his gloves in the signal to end the match. "No." Ignoring her approach, he stripped off his gloves and dropped them on the ground. "I have no idea what's gotten into you, Mac, but I don't want to have anything to do with this." He pulled off his helmet, sweat-soaked hair sticking out wildly in all directions. "I'm out."
"Well, you never were very good at hand to hand." The blatant insult startled Mac at least as much as it did Harm, and blunted the edge of her sourceless rage. Harm was actually pretty good at hand to hand, having been trained first in Laos by a Marine Recon colonel, and then later by several different SEAL and Recon teams for various missions he'd gotten involved in. It wasn't something people knew about him since most of the fights he got into were of the bar-brawl variety, where lethal techniques were, by unanimous accord, always left at the door.
Mac saw her husband's eyes go cold. He threw his helmet to the ground with unnecessary force. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." He turned and walked away, his long strides swift and angry.
"Where are you going?" Mac demanded, her anger quickly turning to fear. What in the world was wrong with her?
Harm spared her a sharp glance over his shoulder. "I'm getting out of your hair until you turn back into a reasonable person. Go cool off, Mac." And with that he was gone, leaving Mac alone in the center of a small, silent crowd.
#
Mac spent a solid hour at the punching bag, until her arms felt like lead and her kicks were about as dangerous as an assault with a feather duster. What had possessed her to deliberately alienate Harm like that?
Exhausted and thoroughly disgusted with herself, she gave the bag one final swipe, then headed for the locker room. She passed several women as she threaded her way through the rows of lockers, all of who seemed to be getting ready for an exercise class. Probably the step aerobics. A brief smile crossed Mac's face. Harm had teased her about doing the class, until she'd said that she would only if he did. She hadn't heard another word on the topic since.
Sighing, Mac dropped onto the bench in front of her locker and rested her elbows on her knees as she worked her gloves off.
"I heard a rumor your old man used to beat you up."
Mac looked up sharply to find Carmen standing a few feet away. She leaned against the row of lockers, arms crossed over her breasts. Her dark eyes, usually hard and uncaring, were filled with a nameless need.
Mac stared at the other woman as all the unease she felt congealed in a bitter pool in her stomach.
"Mostly my mom, but… yeah," Mac answered, her voice strained. "My first husband, too." She couldn't have said why she answered the question honestly. Carmen was hardly a friend. Yet something in the other woman's gaze compelled her.
"Is that why you took up boxing? So he couldn't hurt you any more?"
Mac dropped her gloves on the floor between her feet. "He was already gone by then. I just wanted to make sure it never happened again."
"Did it work?"
Mac kept a neutral expression on her face as a number of tiny details clicked together in her mind. Slowly, she nodded.
"Does Boothe hit you, Carmen?" Mac asked in return, her voice tightly controlled.
Carmen's expression closed over. She stared at Mac in silence for several long moments. Mac held her breath, afraid to say anything else for fear of breaking the tenuous link she had with this woman.
Finally, Carmen shrugged. "Sometimes." She looked away, biting her lower lip. "It's my own fault."
"No!" Mac rose to her feet like an uncoiling spring. "Don't say that. It is not your fault!"
Carmen's dead stare didn't change. "What about Harm?"
"What about him?" The question came out more sharply than she intended.
A faint smile touched Carmen's lips. "Does the boxing make sure he won't hurt you?"
Mac was utterly appalled by the idea, but buried her reaction. "Harm's more likely to commit suicide than he is to hit a woman in anger," she answered matter-of-factly. It had taken a long time just to get him to agree to spar with her. She flashed Carmen a tight, rueful smile. "But, the truth is no, kickboxing probably wouldn't be enough if he ever really tried to hurt me." Nine inches and eighty pounds made sure of that. If he didn't have any training at all, maybe... She shook her head softly. "He won't, though."
Carmen's disbelieving snort spoke volumes. "That boy scout routine's really got you fooled, honey." She looked at Mac with what could only be described as pity before turning and walking away.
Mac stared after her, her thoughts turning. She didn't stir until long after the other woman had gone. Then she quietly gathered her things and headed for the showers.
#
George Laughton leaned back in his ergonomically correct chair, stretching hard enough to nearly knock himself over backwards. He straightened after a moment, working his jaw until it popped, then took another sip of the warm diet Coke sitting beside his keyboard. Another day done. The day's transmission of tape segments had just gone out, which meant he also had a fresh download sitting on his computer.
George didn't like being disconnected from the world. So, when he'd learned this cruise would be incommunicado except for the daily satellite transmission to the production studio, he'd made provisions for his own newsfeed to come back with the studio's acknowledgement. Since he'd designed the system on the studio's end, it was easy enough.
George took a final look around the AV room to make sure he was alone. Everyone else was off in the conference room, playing HALO. Geeks that they were, the technical staff had brought a total of four X-Boxes with them, which they had networked together. The HALO sessions often went long into the night. There was fierce competition between the staff and the singles, but only a couple of the marrieds had yet been enticed into playing with them. George smirked. Well, he supposed they probably had better things to do with their time.
George went through the process to uncompress his download, then sat back with a satisfied sigh to read. He wanted to see how the White Sox had played today.
When he came across the articles describing the undercover investigation taking place onboard the Radiant Heart, George sat bolt upright in his chair, nearly choking on a mouthful of soda. A Navy Commander and a Marine Corps Lieutenant Colonel? Really? And a fighter pilot, no less. He let out a low whistle of amazement. No wonder they were so odd sometimes.
George quickly scanned the rest of the news for anything else of import, then deleted the files as permanently as he knew how. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, contemplating the new information in light of his own job on board the Radiant Heart.
#
Harm looked up when the door to the cabin opened. He sat in one of the room's plush chairs, reading a book Frank had given him for Christmas several years earlier. It had been languishing in his "I'll read it someday" pile since then. He'd brought several such books with him on the cruise in the hopes of making some progress on the pile. Harm slowly closed the volume in his lap.
Mac stood in the doorway, fingers laced together in front of her and her gym bag slung over one shoulder. She shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.
"Hi," she offered in a timid voice, not quite meeting his gaze.
Harm set the book aside, but didn't move to rise. "Hi."
She licked her lips. "Can I come in?"
"You live here, Mac."
She nodded, a flush rising in her cheeks. After a moment, she walked into the room. Bypassing him, she entered the bedroom. He heard the thump of her bag hitting the ground. Not knowing what to say, or if he should say anything at all, he stayed where he was.
Eventually she emerged, dressed for bed though it was barely dinnertime. Her long satin nightgown was the color of summer peaches and, though pretty, it was probably the most conservative one she had. Harm watched her with concern and a simmering frustration. Something was very obviously bothering her-- hurting her-- and so far she had excluded him to the point that he didn't have even the faintest clue what was going on.
She walked up to his chair, bare feet silent on the carpet. Harm looked up into her face. "Are you ready to tell me what's going on?" he asked with as much aplomb as he could muster.
Mac's hands closed into fists at her sides. She shook them open, then crossed her arms over her chest, closing her fingers around her biceps. She stared at the floor. "I had a talk with Carmen today." Her voice held a dull note that alarmed him. "Boothe hits her."
Harm pursed his lips. He wasn't terribly surprised by the revelation. He'd met others of the type before and Boothe certainly fit the profile. He could understand why Mac was upset. Why take it out on me, though? He answered his own question a moment later. He was the closest target, both physically and emotionally.
Harm stood, intending to take her in his arms for what looked like a much-needed hug. But as he moved toward her, Mac flinched, taking a half step back.
Harm froze. Ignore it, he instructed himself firmly, fighting the surge of hurt and anger her reaction generated. Abuse doesn't just go away.
"Mac… Sarah, look at me." He kept his voice soft, non-threatening.
Mac raised her head obediently. Her eyes were wide and full of the shadows of old terrors.
"Are you afraid of me?" Harm asked. He thought he already knew the answer, but the question needed to be asked. He steeled himself as tears welled up in her eyes and began to trail down her cheeks. Nothing in the world felt worse than making Mac cry.
She bit her lip, her expression helpless. "I… shouldn't be."
Harm had to look away. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his dreams as they came crashing down on him. Is that really what kind of man you think I am, Mac? How are we ever going to make this work?
Mac's fingers touched his chest, just over his heart. "Harm, please don't be mad." Her voice broke. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Please--"
Harm's eyes snapped open. Capturing her wrist, he dragged her into his arms, wrapping her in a tight hug. "Stop it!" She stiffened with a gasp and Harm forced himself to speak more gently. "You did mean it, and that's…" He buried his face against her neck, needing the comfort. "That's o.k., Mac."
She was silent for a long time. Harm felt her relax by degrees against him, though her shaky breath didn't change.
"I thought I was past all this," she finally said, her voice muffled against his shirt.
Harm stroked her hair, uncertain how to respond.
Mac turned her head and laid her cheek against his arm. "I thought… since I finally made a good choice in men--" Harm smiled at her admission. "--that it wouldn't be an issue anymore."
Harm squeezed her tightly. "I wish it was that simple, too."
They stood together for a while in silence. Harm closed his eyes again and tried to lose himself in the feel of Mac's hair between his fingers and the coffee-and-cinnamon smell that was so much a part of her. He didn't want to think but his mind refused to obey, turning what he'd learned about their relationship over and over again, looking at it from every angle he could conceive of. It was an attribute that made him an excellent investigator, but it also contributed to his obsessive tendencies.
Eventually, he settled on one question that summed up all of his uncertainties. "What will it take for you not to be afraid of me, Mac? On any level?"
She stiffened, then slowly withdrew from his arms. She never raised her eyes to look at him.
"Mac?" he asked in concern as she turned away, folding her arms across her chest once again. Her shoulders began to shake.
"Mac." Harm hesitated to touch her, but then reached over to lay a hand on her shoulder. He could feel the rigid tension running through her body, testament to the vicious emotional battle taking place inside.
"I am so tired of being damaged." Mac's voice was a ragged, angry whisper. "When is enough, enough? When do I get a chance to really be happy without all this garbage haunting me?" She threw her arms wide in a gesture of frustration as she turned to face him. "Haven't I worked hard enough? I cleaned up my act, got sober, put myself through law school, and made myself a life. A life I'm proud of. And now, I have even managed through some miracle to end up married to a man I not only love with all my heart, but admire and respect, too! So I ask you, when will it be enough?"
Harm stared into her dark, flashing eyes, both pleased and a little taken aback.
Mac bit her lip, her expression falling. "When do I get to leave the past behind?" The desperate plea in her voice tore at Harm's heart.
Wishing he had a better answer to offer, he gave her a rueful smile. "You're asking me? The man who nearly got you killed… twice, no less… in Russia trying to resolve my own issues with the past?"
Mac cracked a smile. It was small, but genuine. "Only twice?"
Harm grinned, relieved by her reaction. "O.k. Maybe three times." He sobered. "But that still doesn't answer my question."
Mac sighed, brushing away a stray tear. "I don't know. It's not really you that scares me. I hope you realize that."
Harm nodded. He did-- intellectually, at least.
She went on, "It's the… the possibility, I guess… that, despite everything I know to be true about you and about our relationship, that somehow I'm still going to end up being hurt again. And I'm not going to be able to do anything about it. Again. I don't know how to make that go away."
"Trying to clobber me in the sparring ring isn't going to help."
She flashed him a sheepish look. "Sorry."
Harm closed the distance between them. He caught Mac beneath the elbows, drawing her close without-- hopefully-- making her feel trapped. He stared into her chocolate eyes. "Listen to me, Mac. I will never deliberately hurt you."
She sighed and laid her hands on his chest, palms flat. "I know. I trust you with my life."
Dismay hit him like a blow. "It's your heart I want."
Mac's breath caught, her eyes filling with tears. "It's yours." She leaned into him, pressing her forehead against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. "As much as I know how to give it, it's yours."
"What if that's not enough?" Harm didn't know whether to be angry, hurt, or just afraid. "You're my wife, Mac. That's supposed to mean we love each other with all our hearts, forever."
For a moment, Mac didn't answer. He could feel her gathering herself.
She took a step back and looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "You know, there's a bridge in Australia where they once wrote 'Eternity' in lights."
Harm stared at her in horror.
Mac took a deep breath, her fingers closing and unclosing at her sides. "When you told me that, I thought it was an evasion… maybe even a taunt." She shook her head. "I didn't realize until just recently that you were making me a promise--" A smile flickered across her face. "--in your own oblique way. That it would be Eternity for us, eventually, even though you were saying no right then."
She straightened her shoulders, another swift smile crossing her face. "So now I have to ask you to accept the same promise, though hopefully with a little less misunderstanding." She reached for him, the motion hesitant. "The answer is yes, I will love you with all my heart, forever… even if right now I'm not quite sure how to get there."
It took Harm a moment to absorb what she'd said. Then he hugged her. Hard.
Mac hugged him back. "I really do love you."
He kissed her forehead, lips, throat. "I know."
Mac's fingers knotted in his hair as she pulled his face toward hers. Her kiss was passionate and sweet and filled with promises.
Harm answered her in kind, his mind's eye filled with an image that had touched him deeply from the moment he saw it: A far-spanning arch, bridging between two distant places, and the word 'Eternity' inscribed in lights across it.
