Title: A TRIP TO AFGHANISTAN IV
STRUGGLES IN DARKNESS
Series: A Trip to Afghanistan
Author: Piper86
Email: improvkris@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13 for implied violence
Classification: Harm/Mac pairing, JAG story
Spoilers: Just a touch of Lifeline
CHAPTER IV STRUGGLES IN DARKNESS
BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL
72 HOURS AFTER
EVACUATION FROM THE PATRICK HENRY
An almost eerie calm settled over the critical care unit. Just a few hours before, the halls were frantic with activity. Trauma doctors had scrambled to assess and treat the torture victim transported here from the Patrick Henry. Listening to the patient history, taking readings, shouting orders to the trauma team, keeping her alive.
All the while a lone figure had stood in the hallway, his eyes staring through the trauma room windows at the victim. He spoke to no one. He did not, and would not, move aside. In his silence, there were screams. Medical staff passing in and out of the room could almost hear his pain. The patient had crashed twice, each time sending daggers of anguish through her silent watcher.
They had finally stabilized her and moved her to critical care. The ward returned to some sense of normalcy. Unhurried footsteps padded through the corridors. Machines beeped and hummed. The every day drone starting to ease away the memory of the desperate efforts of a few hours ago.
At the end of the hallway, one door remained open. A solitary figure lay surrounded by machines keeping sentry on her. She had been propped up on her left side, to better access the festering wounds on her back. Her mangled, splinted right hand lay on top of her, keeping any pressure off of it. Her left arm was extended, palm up, to receive IV medication.
She lay facing the window. Early morning sunlight grazed over her face, adding grotesque highlights to her scars and bruises. The skin behind her wounds deathly pale. Her eyes sunken and closed. Her lips cracked and dry from the tube inserted to maintain her breathing.
Alone in her room, Sarah MacKenzie struggled against the darkness.
She floated in blackness and pain. They had been Mac's constant companions for so long now. Her mind vacillated. Time swirled around her, plagued her, thrashed her mind as much as the beatings had thrashed her body. Her awareness of the world came in blinding flashes. Pieces that didn't fit together, didn't make sense to her.
Ugly dreams of relived horrors, her flesh being torn, her body broken. Screams died in her throat, unable to escape. Long periods of heavy stillness, her body unable to move.
It was in that stillness that the Shadow came. Crouching in her mind's eye, just enough out of view. Staring ... taunting ...
Waiting.
An almost angelic voice singing softly to her, relaxing her, making the effort of living seem so pointless. Offering her the chance for rest. Offering her body a peace that it ached for.
She had almost given in to the voice so many times. It would be so easy. So easy. No pain. Shadow hands reached out to caress her, cradle her. She had lain back against them, feeling their support. The shadow hands stretched out into a silvery path before her, calling her to come, and she longed to follow it. To just ... stop.
The voice sang to her of how light and free she would be without the burden of her body. She could feel herself lifting, floating. The shadow was waiting. All she had to do was reach out to it...
But there was another face, another voice calling to her. One full of anguish and longing, calling out to her, begging her to hang on. One face at the center of her awareness, an anchor for her in the sea of darkness.
Harm.
She could feel his presence. He was never far away, his voice sometimes reaching her through the blackness. She desperately wanted to reach out to him, feel his warmth around her. But she could not feel him. For now, it was enough for her to know he was near.
She felt him now, more powerfully than before. She could almost hear him crying out to her. Cold tendrils snaked their way through her mind. He was afraid. Frantic. Angry. She felt the shadow slip a little further away, shrinking from Harm. Calling her still, but not as strongly as before.
She held onto the memory of the last moment she touched him. He had cradled her bleeding and broken in his arms, and she had given her last bit of strength to reach up and caress his face. She focused her will on seeing that face again. And she had, waking up in sickbay with his beautiful face next to hers. His lips and fingers brushing over her. She had stared into his eyes for as long as she could. When exhaustion claimed her, the vision of him accompanied her into darkness.
But with the reality of Harm came the reality of her body. Her agony returned every time she drew near consciousness. She could feel something lodged in her throat, forcing her to breathe. Every rush of air a new source of torture in her chest. Her back was on fire, her limbs useless. Any movement sent shock waves through her ravaged body. She hung on. Hung on for him.
Another black dream came crashing down on her. Her face pressed into a rough wall. Her back torn open. Her mind reeled at the relived nightmare. Angry voices shouting all around her, demanding truth. A boot slamming into her ribs again and again.
Shock waves traveled the full length of her body. The machines monitoring her condition began to register rapidly fluctuating pulse and blood pressure. As her mind relived her horror, it once more traumatized her already weary body.
So ... ... so tired. Just ... ... stop.
But he was there again. His face flashed in her mind, hovering over her. She had come awake briefly during the evac from the Henry. She could feel herself being carried to the flight deck, loaded onto a helo. Takeoff. She had no sense of how long they had been airborne. But she knew they were headed home. She had to try. Had to see. She had directed her efforts to her opening her eyes. Slowly, her heavy lids had retreated. And she had seen him.
He had reacted instantly when he saw her awake. He was on his knees beside her, his thumb stroking her skin. He did not try to speak over the sound of the aircraft. She felt his lips pressed to her forehead. Then he had pulled back and mouthed words so she could see.
LOVE ... YOU ... SARAH
His hand had drifted down to cover her left one, careful not to use too much pressure. The other hand had continued to gently stroke her face. Before long, his fingers were wet.
Mac felt herself crying. The words he mouthed to her filling her heart, spilling from her eyes. She watched his face change as his fingers swept away her tears. She felt his warmth on her hand, and gathering what little strength she had left, squeezed.
She had seen him feel her hand briefly try and grip his fingers. He broke eye contact long enough to look at her left hand, hope and disbelief mixing his expression. She had felt him lift her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. Returning his gaze to meet hers, he gently kissed her hand.
She soon felt his tears on her hand, cool and wet. She struggled to stay with him, to squeeze his hand again. But she hadn't the strength. She blinked once, then felt the darkness take her. She had not wakened since then. She had not seen or heard Harm. And the shadow's voice had returned, even stronger than before. Teasing her, offering to take away all the pain.
Please, Harm.
She continued to resist. She clung weakly to the images of Harm in her mind, warding off the temptation to let go. But it was getting harder and harder to turn her back on the shadows.
Harm. Please, Harm.
He answered her cries, coming to her in a dream. Her thoughts drifted to the Taliban holding cell. She felt his mouth on hers, warm and exploring, full of tenderness. Her hands touching his face, his strong arms around her. Her spirit swelled at the memory. She grasped onto it, and again felt the shadow slip away, if only a little.
The surroundings began to change. She was back on the Admiral's porch, reaching to take her purse from Harm. Their fingers touched, sending a jolt of electricity through her. Her lips parted in a slight gasp, and she raised her eyes to meet his penetrating gaze. Losing herself in his kiss, feeling his warm hands sliding up her back, soothing her.
"What do you want most?"
"What I want ... is never to lose you ..."
She felt his warmth now. She felt it in her mind, imagining his gentle, cautious hands stroking her wounded back, soothing her. Caressing her face and body. Breathing new strength into her.
A trauma nurse stepped into Mac's room to check on her. She detected no change in her, no movement. Completely unaware of the desperate struggle raging inside. The nurse deftly changed one of the IV bags, made notes in the chart, and turned to leave.
She was met at the door by Harmon Rabb. He entered Mac's room tentatively, eyes downcast. His shoulders hunched, his step uncertain. The nurse saw a man on the verge of losing hope...losing everything. Feeling a pang of sympathy for the wreck of a man before her, the nurse reached out and gently rubbed his arm. She encouraged him into the room, pulling a chair towards the bed for him. He stared up at her, eyes moist, and nodded his thanks. She left the two of them alone.
Light came in from the window behind him, softly framing her beaten face. Sunlight danced about the room, the machines throwing odd shadows on the walls. His eyes glazed over, no longer really seeing. Her face a blur before him.
He had not let himself sleep since she had regained consciousness on the way back to the states. His body was starting to assail him now, punishing him for the lack of rest. But he could not risk missing her come awake again.
He did not want to face the dreams again.
His dreams were still being plagued by the Shadow. Every time Harm closed his eyes, the demon was there. Every time, Harm found himself back in the cave, roped in by flames, and Mac dying before him.
He violently shook his head, rubbing his eyes to come out of it. He focused on the noises of the respirator and heart monitor. Harm's back was to the window, and he was facing her. His eyes traveled up and down her still form. They came to rest on her left hand, which extended out towards him, as if reaching for him. Needles punctured her pale skin, bringing fluid and medication. Her hand was open, palm up, slender fingers extended.
Hesitantly, Harm reached out. His hand wavered over hers for a moment. Slowly, delicately, he let his fingers graze her forearm. They carefully traced her skin, brushing over her palm.
He touched her fingertips with his own. A familiar tingle ran through his body at the touch. He could feel the current coursing through him and entering her, connecting them in a way he had never felt with anyone before. He closed his eyes, forcing his heart to stop racing. Allowing himself to feel nothing but the contact between them.
Once more he found himself wishing away the past, beaten down by the reality of what lay before him. Taking a ragged breath, he leaned forward in his chair, burying his face in his hands.
"Sarah, I don't want to lose you ..."
When he finally found the strength to sit up again, he gasped at the sight before him.
Sarah MacKenzie had opened her eyes.
STRUGGLES IN DARKNESS
Series: A Trip to Afghanistan
Author: Piper86
Email: improvkris@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13 for implied violence
Classification: Harm/Mac pairing, JAG story
Spoilers: Just a touch of Lifeline
CHAPTER IV STRUGGLES IN DARKNESS
BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL
72 HOURS AFTER
EVACUATION FROM THE PATRICK HENRY
An almost eerie calm settled over the critical care unit. Just a few hours before, the halls were frantic with activity. Trauma doctors had scrambled to assess and treat the torture victim transported here from the Patrick Henry. Listening to the patient history, taking readings, shouting orders to the trauma team, keeping her alive.
All the while a lone figure had stood in the hallway, his eyes staring through the trauma room windows at the victim. He spoke to no one. He did not, and would not, move aside. In his silence, there were screams. Medical staff passing in and out of the room could almost hear his pain. The patient had crashed twice, each time sending daggers of anguish through her silent watcher.
They had finally stabilized her and moved her to critical care. The ward returned to some sense of normalcy. Unhurried footsteps padded through the corridors. Machines beeped and hummed. The every day drone starting to ease away the memory of the desperate efforts of a few hours ago.
At the end of the hallway, one door remained open. A solitary figure lay surrounded by machines keeping sentry on her. She had been propped up on her left side, to better access the festering wounds on her back. Her mangled, splinted right hand lay on top of her, keeping any pressure off of it. Her left arm was extended, palm up, to receive IV medication.
She lay facing the window. Early morning sunlight grazed over her face, adding grotesque highlights to her scars and bruises. The skin behind her wounds deathly pale. Her eyes sunken and closed. Her lips cracked and dry from the tube inserted to maintain her breathing.
Alone in her room, Sarah MacKenzie struggled against the darkness.
She floated in blackness and pain. They had been Mac's constant companions for so long now. Her mind vacillated. Time swirled around her, plagued her, thrashed her mind as much as the beatings had thrashed her body. Her awareness of the world came in blinding flashes. Pieces that didn't fit together, didn't make sense to her.
Ugly dreams of relived horrors, her flesh being torn, her body broken. Screams died in her throat, unable to escape. Long periods of heavy stillness, her body unable to move.
It was in that stillness that the Shadow came. Crouching in her mind's eye, just enough out of view. Staring ... taunting ...
Waiting.
An almost angelic voice singing softly to her, relaxing her, making the effort of living seem so pointless. Offering her the chance for rest. Offering her body a peace that it ached for.
She had almost given in to the voice so many times. It would be so easy. So easy. No pain. Shadow hands reached out to caress her, cradle her. She had lain back against them, feeling their support. The shadow hands stretched out into a silvery path before her, calling her to come, and she longed to follow it. To just ... stop.
The voice sang to her of how light and free she would be without the burden of her body. She could feel herself lifting, floating. The shadow was waiting. All she had to do was reach out to it...
But there was another face, another voice calling to her. One full of anguish and longing, calling out to her, begging her to hang on. One face at the center of her awareness, an anchor for her in the sea of darkness.
Harm.
She could feel his presence. He was never far away, his voice sometimes reaching her through the blackness. She desperately wanted to reach out to him, feel his warmth around her. But she could not feel him. For now, it was enough for her to know he was near.
She felt him now, more powerfully than before. She could almost hear him crying out to her. Cold tendrils snaked their way through her mind. He was afraid. Frantic. Angry. She felt the shadow slip a little further away, shrinking from Harm. Calling her still, but not as strongly as before.
She held onto the memory of the last moment she touched him. He had cradled her bleeding and broken in his arms, and she had given her last bit of strength to reach up and caress his face. She focused her will on seeing that face again. And she had, waking up in sickbay with his beautiful face next to hers. His lips and fingers brushing over her. She had stared into his eyes for as long as she could. When exhaustion claimed her, the vision of him accompanied her into darkness.
But with the reality of Harm came the reality of her body. Her agony returned every time she drew near consciousness. She could feel something lodged in her throat, forcing her to breathe. Every rush of air a new source of torture in her chest. Her back was on fire, her limbs useless. Any movement sent shock waves through her ravaged body. She hung on. Hung on for him.
Another black dream came crashing down on her. Her face pressed into a rough wall. Her back torn open. Her mind reeled at the relived nightmare. Angry voices shouting all around her, demanding truth. A boot slamming into her ribs again and again.
Shock waves traveled the full length of her body. The machines monitoring her condition began to register rapidly fluctuating pulse and blood pressure. As her mind relived her horror, it once more traumatized her already weary body.
So ... ... so tired. Just ... ... stop.
But he was there again. His face flashed in her mind, hovering over her. She had come awake briefly during the evac from the Henry. She could feel herself being carried to the flight deck, loaded onto a helo. Takeoff. She had no sense of how long they had been airborne. But she knew they were headed home. She had to try. Had to see. She had directed her efforts to her opening her eyes. Slowly, her heavy lids had retreated. And she had seen him.
He had reacted instantly when he saw her awake. He was on his knees beside her, his thumb stroking her skin. He did not try to speak over the sound of the aircraft. She felt his lips pressed to her forehead. Then he had pulled back and mouthed words so she could see.
LOVE ... YOU ... SARAH
His hand had drifted down to cover her left one, careful not to use too much pressure. The other hand had continued to gently stroke her face. Before long, his fingers were wet.
Mac felt herself crying. The words he mouthed to her filling her heart, spilling from her eyes. She watched his face change as his fingers swept away her tears. She felt his warmth on her hand, and gathering what little strength she had left, squeezed.
She had seen him feel her hand briefly try and grip his fingers. He broke eye contact long enough to look at her left hand, hope and disbelief mixing his expression. She had felt him lift her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. Returning his gaze to meet hers, he gently kissed her hand.
She soon felt his tears on her hand, cool and wet. She struggled to stay with him, to squeeze his hand again. But she hadn't the strength. She blinked once, then felt the darkness take her. She had not wakened since then. She had not seen or heard Harm. And the shadow's voice had returned, even stronger than before. Teasing her, offering to take away all the pain.
Please, Harm.
She continued to resist. She clung weakly to the images of Harm in her mind, warding off the temptation to let go. But it was getting harder and harder to turn her back on the shadows.
Harm. Please, Harm.
He answered her cries, coming to her in a dream. Her thoughts drifted to the Taliban holding cell. She felt his mouth on hers, warm and exploring, full of tenderness. Her hands touching his face, his strong arms around her. Her spirit swelled at the memory. She grasped onto it, and again felt the shadow slip away, if only a little.
The surroundings began to change. She was back on the Admiral's porch, reaching to take her purse from Harm. Their fingers touched, sending a jolt of electricity through her. Her lips parted in a slight gasp, and she raised her eyes to meet his penetrating gaze. Losing herself in his kiss, feeling his warm hands sliding up her back, soothing her.
"What do you want most?"
"What I want ... is never to lose you ..."
She felt his warmth now. She felt it in her mind, imagining his gentle, cautious hands stroking her wounded back, soothing her. Caressing her face and body. Breathing new strength into her.
A trauma nurse stepped into Mac's room to check on her. She detected no change in her, no movement. Completely unaware of the desperate struggle raging inside. The nurse deftly changed one of the IV bags, made notes in the chart, and turned to leave.
She was met at the door by Harmon Rabb. He entered Mac's room tentatively, eyes downcast. His shoulders hunched, his step uncertain. The nurse saw a man on the verge of losing hope...losing everything. Feeling a pang of sympathy for the wreck of a man before her, the nurse reached out and gently rubbed his arm. She encouraged him into the room, pulling a chair towards the bed for him. He stared up at her, eyes moist, and nodded his thanks. She left the two of them alone.
Light came in from the window behind him, softly framing her beaten face. Sunlight danced about the room, the machines throwing odd shadows on the walls. His eyes glazed over, no longer really seeing. Her face a blur before him.
He had not let himself sleep since she had regained consciousness on the way back to the states. His body was starting to assail him now, punishing him for the lack of rest. But he could not risk missing her come awake again.
He did not want to face the dreams again.
His dreams were still being plagued by the Shadow. Every time Harm closed his eyes, the demon was there. Every time, Harm found himself back in the cave, roped in by flames, and Mac dying before him.
He violently shook his head, rubbing his eyes to come out of it. He focused on the noises of the respirator and heart monitor. Harm's back was to the window, and he was facing her. His eyes traveled up and down her still form. They came to rest on her left hand, which extended out towards him, as if reaching for him. Needles punctured her pale skin, bringing fluid and medication. Her hand was open, palm up, slender fingers extended.
Hesitantly, Harm reached out. His hand wavered over hers for a moment. Slowly, delicately, he let his fingers graze her forearm. They carefully traced her skin, brushing over her palm.
He touched her fingertips with his own. A familiar tingle ran through his body at the touch. He could feel the current coursing through him and entering her, connecting them in a way he had never felt with anyone before. He closed his eyes, forcing his heart to stop racing. Allowing himself to feel nothing but the contact between them.
Once more he found himself wishing away the past, beaten down by the reality of what lay before him. Taking a ragged breath, he leaned forward in his chair, burying his face in his hands.
"Sarah, I don't want to lose you ..."
When he finally found the strength to sit up again, he gasped at the sight before him.
Sarah MacKenzie had opened her eyes.