Title: A TRIP TO AFGHANISTAN VII
SESSIONS
Series: A Trip to Afghanistan
Author: Piper86
Email: improvkris@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Harm/Mac pairing, JAG story
Spoilers: Not this time
CHAPTER VII: SESSIONS
BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL
PSYCHIATRIC SERVICES
OFFICE OF CMDR FREIDA LANGE
THREE MONTHS LATER
Sarah MacKenzie stared at the window, memorizing each pattern the rain wove as it ran down the glass. Last time, she had been enthralled with taking inventory of the leaves on the maple tree outside. Before that, the dots in the ceiling tiles of Dr. Lange's office had held her rapt attention.
It gave her a focal point, an assignment that could justify her ignoring the gentle elderly voice that tried to stubbornly to reach her. The Marine Colonel took a deep breath, letting it fog the window as she exhaled. She watched intently as it disappeared. Her internal clock telling her only nine more minutes left before she could escape.
Before she could run.
"Sarah, why don't you sit down for a few minutes? We're almost done here." Dr. Lange's neutral tone convinced Mac she had no ulterior motive.
She smiled briefly at the doctor as she took a seat, but refused to let herself relax. She would not let her guard down, not when she was so close to getting out. Mac watched as the older woman's forehead creased even more deeply, feeling her eyes. Mac's face reddened a bit as she felt the doctor search her face, using the silence to penetrate Mac's defenses. Determined, she raised her eyes to meet the doctor's, only to see an immense, gentle sadness reflected in them.
"How is your physical therapy coming along?" the unexpected question caught Mac off guard.
"Oh, it's fine. I'm able to jog fairly good distances now. My biggest trouble is with my hand. I can use it, but I still can't make grip anything tightly. I am learning to write with my left hand." She absently opened and closed her right hand as she spoke. Dr. Lange glanced briefly at the motion, then back at Mac.
"Well, good. I'm glad things are progressing. And how are the other wounds healing?"
"I've been off antibiotics for a few weeks now. My back took the longest to recover, but it's been all right. The incisions from the surgery didn't take near as long."
"Mmmm Hmmm," the doctor nodded, understanding. "So tell me ... have you seen them?"
Mac looked at her cautiously, eyes narrowing. "Seen ... what?"
"The scars, Sarah. Have you looked at them?"
Deafening silence filled the room. Mac gripped the arms of her chair and vaulted herself towards the door.
"Doctor, we're only 96 seconds shy of end time, and I'm rather tired. I'll see you next time."
"Sarah,"
Mac paused, her hand on the doorknob. She felt trapped, desperate to get out of this cage. She turned to see the doctor standing, facing her. Her palms were sweaty, and she felt her heart ramming in her chest.
Dr. Lange stared hard at Mac's darting eyes, then gave a heavy sigh.
"See you next time, Sarah."
Mac did not look back. She burst out of the office, running straight into the downpour outside. She tilted her face up, letting the rain wash over her.
ROCK CREEK PARK
PICNIC AREA
NEXT DAY
Dr. Lange politely folded her hands on top of the picnic table in front of her. She quietly shifted her backside on the wooden bench she had climbed into, trying to ease the ache developing there. She waited for her companion to speak again.
"I just ... wish I knew how to reach out to her."
"I understand that, Commander. And it's wonderful for Sarah to have someone so intent on helping her. But I need to make sure that BOTH of my patients' needs are addressed."
Harmon Rabb looked up at Dr. Lange for the first time since they'd sat down over an hour ago. His eyes searched hers for some miracle answer, only to laugh softly at his own desperation.
"I know, I know. These appointments are for MY benefit, not just Mac's. It's just hard for me to focus on anything but her right now."
Dr. Lange touched his hand, giving it a warm squeeze. "She's got to be willing to help herself first. She has to make the first step. Until she does, neither you nor I, nor anyone for that matter, will be able to do her any good."
"She KNOWS this, doctor. She has to. All the years of sobriety. Taking that first step ..."
"Commander, this is different," Dr. Lange reminded him gently. "Whatever circumstances drove her to drink, however powerful they were, it was still HER choice. She made the decision, and chose to drink. It was then that she gave up her control. She gave it willingly, at least in the beginning."
Harm felt the elderly woman squeeze his hand a little harder.
"What happened to her in Afghanistan was completely out of her control. There was nothing she could have done to stop it ..." She bent her head until she held his eyes in her gaze
" ... and there was nothing YOU could have done either, Harm. Do you understand that?"
Harm felt his eyes begin to water. He blinked furiously, trying to ride out the emotions threatening to choke him. He looked at her, nodding.
She took both his hands in hers.
"Harm, can you ACCEPT that?"
He slowly pulled his hands away from hers. His eyes clouded over, the question almost unbearable. He pressed his hands to his face, shaking his head.
He heard Dr. Lange get up from the bench, laying one hand softly on his shoulder.
"Then we still have work to do ... "
OFFICE OF DR. LANGE
ONE WEEK LATER
Mac had attempted to resume her usual post by the window, but Dr. Lange challenged her, almost dared her, to stay seated. Feeling like she had something to prove, Mac now sat across from the doctor, stiffly at attention.
"Sarah, it is all right to sit 'at ease', I won't report you." Dr. Lange chided softly.
Mac allowed herself to relax. A little. She knew the question was coming at any moment.
"Sarah, last time I asked you if you had looked at your scars. I gather from your reaction the answer is no?"
Determined to be the strong Marine, Mac only hesitated a moment before responding. She had decided to be direct with the doctor.
"No, doctor, I haven't. After my surgery, I wasn't able to see my incisions due to the bandages. I was always laid out flat when they came to change the dressings, so I could never see. And of course my back was another problem. I guess I got used to not having the opportunity."
"I see. All right, what about now?"
"What do you mean?"
"Sarah, you're back home, the bandages are off. The stitches are dissolved, or should be soon. Tell me, when was the last time you looked in the mirror?"
"Just this morning. I put my makeup on and brush my teeth in front of the mirror every day."
"That's not what I mean, and you know it. When was the last time you looked at your BODY in the mirror?"
Mac's bottom lip trembled a little, and she bit down on it to compose herself.
"Sarah? When?"
"I ... I don't recall exactly."
"What about in the shower?"
"N ... No,"
"It's all right to be afraid, Sarah."
At this Mac snapped her head up, eyes defiant.
"Is it?! Is it all right to not want to see how badly my body has been mangled?! To never want to look at myself again?! To know that my body will always be a reminder of what happened to me and I can never escape?!!"
Mac was practically screaming. Her eyes flooded and hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Dr. Lange crossed over to her, kneeling down and taking her hands.
"Sarah, look at me! Yes, it IS all right. It's all right for everything to be overwhelming. It's all right to be out of control right now. It's all right to FEEL, Sarah."
Mac pulled her hands away from the doctor's, standing up and wiping her face. She straightened her uniform, determined to regain her composure.
"Sarah," Dr. Lange said, standing behind her. "I want you to try something for me."
"What ... ?"
"Sometime before our next meeting, just once, I want you to look at yourself. Even if it's only a glance. Can you try to do that for me?"
An assignment. A challenge. Semper Fi, Marine.
Mac nodded briefly, allowing Dr. Lange to escort her to the door.
"Good. Next time, we'll talk about it."
HARM'S APARTMENT
WASHINGTON DC
LATER THAT EVENING
Harm cleared away the dinner dishes, placing them in the sink. He would give them his attention later. At the moment, he was focused on the tired woman stretching out on his couch.
Since Mac had gotten out of the hospital, they had developed an evening ritual he had come to cherish. He would fix dinner for her, and they would work on some backlogged casework. She was not back to full active duty yet, and the Admiral didn't want her to push it. So, Harm had suggested these evening sessions as a way to ease her back into the swing of things.
At the moment, Mac looked like she had swung enough. Her eyes were puffy and red. She hardly ate any of the meal, opting to push the food idly around her plate. He guessed it had something to do with her appointment with Dr. Lange, but he didn't want to push her.
"Hey Marine, how about some music?"
"Yeah, sure ... I guess," she whispered. Even a few words took so much effort.
"OK." He moved over to the CD player. "Let's see how you like ... this," he said as he selected one of the discs in the carousel.
Light classical music began to fill the room, violins and woodwinds.
"Mmmmm, not bad flyboy," she murmured as she turned onto one side, cradling her head in her arm.
Harm moved to sit at the end of the couch. Mac's eyes closed, and he watched her as she drifted off to sleep. He gently placed one hand on her leg, stroking it through the fabric of her jeans. His heart ached to be able to do more for her, frustrated by Dr. Lange's words to him.
"Right now, you can only do what she'll allow you to do. It might not be much, and it may drive you insane, but remember whatever you do now, however small, IS making a huge impact."
He let out an exasperated breath. Ok, doctor. I hear you.
Harm slipped off the couch and knelt in front of Mac's head. Her breathing was slow and steady. He watched her chest rise and fall, mesmerized by it. His fingers softly outlined the side of her face, from her temple down to her jaw.
Thank you, God, for giving her back to me.
His touch caused Mac to stir, her eyes fluttering open. In a split second she was sitting up, her legs swinging around him to the floor.
"Whoa, didn't mean to drop off like that." She bit out nervously.
"Mac, it's OK. You were out maybe two seconds."
"Yeah, well, I ... um ... I shouldn't have imposed on you."
"Mac, since when have you ever imposed? It was just a little catnap. What's the big deal?"
She turned to face him, her arms wrapping around her chest. The look on her face was one of sheer terror.
"Harm, thanks so much ... for dinner, and well, everything. I better get going. Tomorrow night?"
"Of course, tomorrow night." Harm got up, following her to the door. He reached for her coat and helped her into it.
He opened the door for her and she brushed past him into the hallway. He gently caught her arm. She turned and looked up at him, her brown eyes full and glistening. He tugged at her arm, pulling her closer. His hand cupped the back of her head.
She tilted her head to look into his eyes. He smiled gently, seeing a flicker of the old light in her gaze. He dipped his head down, brushing his lips over hers. She responded instantly, parting her mouth and deepening the kiss.
He felt her hands gripping his upper arms as he held onto her waist. They broke apart slowly, her lower lip pulling gently in his mouth.
"I love you, Sarah"
"I know, Harm. I love you too" she smiled weakly, then turned and was gone.
Harm closed the door, leaning his head against it for a moment. Then he slammed his open palm against the metal, the sound echoing around the room.
"Damn!"
MAC'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN
THE NEXT MORNING
The sunlight filtered through Mac's living room window, finding her exactly where she had deposited herself the night before. Once she had gotten back from Harm's, she curled into a corner of her couch, feet drawn up, hugging her knees. She had not moved. She had not slept.
Her challenge awaited her in the bathroom. The mirror, which she had so carefully avoided since coming home, hung on the wall as it always had. Only now she found its presence, its very existence, oppressive.
She got up stiffly, stretching. Slowly, she made her way into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, letting the water run hot. Steam soon fogged the room, blanketing the mirror. She sighed with relief, then stripped out of her clothes and entered the shower.
The hot water turned her skin red as she washed. She could feel it running down her body. She shampooed her hair, rinsing the lather. She could feel it running over her scars. But she had grown adept at showering blind. As she worked in the conditioner, she kept her head tilted back. She reached for her body wash, and expertly let her hands slide over her skin without using her eyes.
Once done, she rinsed out the conditioner and turned off the water. The bathroom was now completely obscured by the steam. She turned on the fan, and went out to the bedroom to towel herself off.
As she dried herself, she glanced now and then at the bathroom. She was in a race with the mirror, hoping to be dried and dressed before it was clear enough for her to see. So far she had won each battle. And it looked like she was going to win again.
She went to her closet, pulled the doors open and started choosing her clothes for the day. She would not need her uniform until tomorrow when she went to see Dr. Lange. Her hair was still wet, so she headed into the bathroom to get a fresh towel.
Turning the corner, Mac froze. The mirror was clear.
She clutched the new towel to her chest, feeling her heart starting to race. This is it. Suck it up, Marine.
She stood in front of the counter, the mirror framing her from head to waist. She took a deep breath, and began sliding the towel down her body. Unable to stand the slow torture, she finally let it drop to the floor. Her Marine instincts taking over, she willed herself to look.
Scar tissue ran down her chest, in almost a straight line between her breasts. She reached up and traced her finger down the raised flesh. She then shifted her gaze to her abdomen. A jagged, snaking line wrapped itself almost all the way around her belly. She traced her fingers over it, stopping when they reached her lower abdomen.
Shaking slightly, rubbing her fingers over the spot, Sarah MacKenzie began to cry.
OFFICE OF DR. LANGE
NEXT DAY
"Sarah, I am so proud of you." Dr. Lange said finally, after listening to a distraught Mac relay the events of the day before.
"Here I am a blubbering mess, and you're proud of me?" Mac almost laughed, wiping her eyes again.
"Absolutely. You have taken a BIG step, Colonel. Being able to look at your scars is going to help you deal with what happened."
"Doctor, I have been dealing with it. I AM dealing with it."
"Sarah, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that you haven't been making progress. But I think it's safe to say that you are a long way still from truly dealing with ..."
"EXCUSE ME? Obviously you haven't been privy to the hours of hell and rehab I've gone through." Mac was getting angry.
Dr. Lange took a slow breath, Mac could see she was trying to choose her words.
"Sarah ... you ... you have been dealing with the physical aspects of your recovery. And doing so admirably. But you won't let yourself open up to the emotional pain. At least not yet. But looking at your scars, being able to let your feelings out about them, it's a major step towards dealing with the rest."
Mac was seething. Her voice was icy and harsh. You tell ME, doctor ... what good could come of me 'facing my emotions' or 'dealing' with what happened?! It won't change anything. It won't give me back what I lost. So I've chosen to move on. I am a Marine. I am going to be just fine. There's nothing wrong with me."
Dr. Lange stood up, moving so she was face to face with Mac. Her eyes were sharp and piercing.
"Then why are you afraid to sleep, Sarah?"
SESSIONS
Series: A Trip to Afghanistan
Author: Piper86
Email: improvkris@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Harm/Mac pairing, JAG story
Spoilers: Not this time
CHAPTER VII: SESSIONS
BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL
PSYCHIATRIC SERVICES
OFFICE OF CMDR FREIDA LANGE
THREE MONTHS LATER
Sarah MacKenzie stared at the window, memorizing each pattern the rain wove as it ran down the glass. Last time, she had been enthralled with taking inventory of the leaves on the maple tree outside. Before that, the dots in the ceiling tiles of Dr. Lange's office had held her rapt attention.
It gave her a focal point, an assignment that could justify her ignoring the gentle elderly voice that tried to stubbornly to reach her. The Marine Colonel took a deep breath, letting it fog the window as she exhaled. She watched intently as it disappeared. Her internal clock telling her only nine more minutes left before she could escape.
Before she could run.
"Sarah, why don't you sit down for a few minutes? We're almost done here." Dr. Lange's neutral tone convinced Mac she had no ulterior motive.
She smiled briefly at the doctor as she took a seat, but refused to let herself relax. She would not let her guard down, not when she was so close to getting out. Mac watched as the older woman's forehead creased even more deeply, feeling her eyes. Mac's face reddened a bit as she felt the doctor search her face, using the silence to penetrate Mac's defenses. Determined, she raised her eyes to meet the doctor's, only to see an immense, gentle sadness reflected in them.
"How is your physical therapy coming along?" the unexpected question caught Mac off guard.
"Oh, it's fine. I'm able to jog fairly good distances now. My biggest trouble is with my hand. I can use it, but I still can't make grip anything tightly. I am learning to write with my left hand." She absently opened and closed her right hand as she spoke. Dr. Lange glanced briefly at the motion, then back at Mac.
"Well, good. I'm glad things are progressing. And how are the other wounds healing?"
"I've been off antibiotics for a few weeks now. My back took the longest to recover, but it's been all right. The incisions from the surgery didn't take near as long."
"Mmmm Hmmm," the doctor nodded, understanding. "So tell me ... have you seen them?"
Mac looked at her cautiously, eyes narrowing. "Seen ... what?"
"The scars, Sarah. Have you looked at them?"
Deafening silence filled the room. Mac gripped the arms of her chair and vaulted herself towards the door.
"Doctor, we're only 96 seconds shy of end time, and I'm rather tired. I'll see you next time."
"Sarah,"
Mac paused, her hand on the doorknob. She felt trapped, desperate to get out of this cage. She turned to see the doctor standing, facing her. Her palms were sweaty, and she felt her heart ramming in her chest.
Dr. Lange stared hard at Mac's darting eyes, then gave a heavy sigh.
"See you next time, Sarah."
Mac did not look back. She burst out of the office, running straight into the downpour outside. She tilted her face up, letting the rain wash over her.
ROCK CREEK PARK
PICNIC AREA
NEXT DAY
Dr. Lange politely folded her hands on top of the picnic table in front of her. She quietly shifted her backside on the wooden bench she had climbed into, trying to ease the ache developing there. She waited for her companion to speak again.
"I just ... wish I knew how to reach out to her."
"I understand that, Commander. And it's wonderful for Sarah to have someone so intent on helping her. But I need to make sure that BOTH of my patients' needs are addressed."
Harmon Rabb looked up at Dr. Lange for the first time since they'd sat down over an hour ago. His eyes searched hers for some miracle answer, only to laugh softly at his own desperation.
"I know, I know. These appointments are for MY benefit, not just Mac's. It's just hard for me to focus on anything but her right now."
Dr. Lange touched his hand, giving it a warm squeeze. "She's got to be willing to help herself first. She has to make the first step. Until she does, neither you nor I, nor anyone for that matter, will be able to do her any good."
"She KNOWS this, doctor. She has to. All the years of sobriety. Taking that first step ..."
"Commander, this is different," Dr. Lange reminded him gently. "Whatever circumstances drove her to drink, however powerful they were, it was still HER choice. She made the decision, and chose to drink. It was then that she gave up her control. She gave it willingly, at least in the beginning."
Harm felt the elderly woman squeeze his hand a little harder.
"What happened to her in Afghanistan was completely out of her control. There was nothing she could have done to stop it ..." She bent her head until she held his eyes in her gaze
" ... and there was nothing YOU could have done either, Harm. Do you understand that?"
Harm felt his eyes begin to water. He blinked furiously, trying to ride out the emotions threatening to choke him. He looked at her, nodding.
She took both his hands in hers.
"Harm, can you ACCEPT that?"
He slowly pulled his hands away from hers. His eyes clouded over, the question almost unbearable. He pressed his hands to his face, shaking his head.
He heard Dr. Lange get up from the bench, laying one hand softly on his shoulder.
"Then we still have work to do ... "
OFFICE OF DR. LANGE
ONE WEEK LATER
Mac had attempted to resume her usual post by the window, but Dr. Lange challenged her, almost dared her, to stay seated. Feeling like she had something to prove, Mac now sat across from the doctor, stiffly at attention.
"Sarah, it is all right to sit 'at ease', I won't report you." Dr. Lange chided softly.
Mac allowed herself to relax. A little. She knew the question was coming at any moment.
"Sarah, last time I asked you if you had looked at your scars. I gather from your reaction the answer is no?"
Determined to be the strong Marine, Mac only hesitated a moment before responding. She had decided to be direct with the doctor.
"No, doctor, I haven't. After my surgery, I wasn't able to see my incisions due to the bandages. I was always laid out flat when they came to change the dressings, so I could never see. And of course my back was another problem. I guess I got used to not having the opportunity."
"I see. All right, what about now?"
"What do you mean?"
"Sarah, you're back home, the bandages are off. The stitches are dissolved, or should be soon. Tell me, when was the last time you looked in the mirror?"
"Just this morning. I put my makeup on and brush my teeth in front of the mirror every day."
"That's not what I mean, and you know it. When was the last time you looked at your BODY in the mirror?"
Mac's bottom lip trembled a little, and she bit down on it to compose herself.
"Sarah? When?"
"I ... I don't recall exactly."
"What about in the shower?"
"N ... No,"
"It's all right to be afraid, Sarah."
At this Mac snapped her head up, eyes defiant.
"Is it?! Is it all right to not want to see how badly my body has been mangled?! To never want to look at myself again?! To know that my body will always be a reminder of what happened to me and I can never escape?!!"
Mac was practically screaming. Her eyes flooded and hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Dr. Lange crossed over to her, kneeling down and taking her hands.
"Sarah, look at me! Yes, it IS all right. It's all right for everything to be overwhelming. It's all right to be out of control right now. It's all right to FEEL, Sarah."
Mac pulled her hands away from the doctor's, standing up and wiping her face. She straightened her uniform, determined to regain her composure.
"Sarah," Dr. Lange said, standing behind her. "I want you to try something for me."
"What ... ?"
"Sometime before our next meeting, just once, I want you to look at yourself. Even if it's only a glance. Can you try to do that for me?"
An assignment. A challenge. Semper Fi, Marine.
Mac nodded briefly, allowing Dr. Lange to escort her to the door.
"Good. Next time, we'll talk about it."
HARM'S APARTMENT
WASHINGTON DC
LATER THAT EVENING
Harm cleared away the dinner dishes, placing them in the sink. He would give them his attention later. At the moment, he was focused on the tired woman stretching out on his couch.
Since Mac had gotten out of the hospital, they had developed an evening ritual he had come to cherish. He would fix dinner for her, and they would work on some backlogged casework. She was not back to full active duty yet, and the Admiral didn't want her to push it. So, Harm had suggested these evening sessions as a way to ease her back into the swing of things.
At the moment, Mac looked like she had swung enough. Her eyes were puffy and red. She hardly ate any of the meal, opting to push the food idly around her plate. He guessed it had something to do with her appointment with Dr. Lange, but he didn't want to push her.
"Hey Marine, how about some music?"
"Yeah, sure ... I guess," she whispered. Even a few words took so much effort.
"OK." He moved over to the CD player. "Let's see how you like ... this," he said as he selected one of the discs in the carousel.
Light classical music began to fill the room, violins and woodwinds.
"Mmmmm, not bad flyboy," she murmured as she turned onto one side, cradling her head in her arm.
Harm moved to sit at the end of the couch. Mac's eyes closed, and he watched her as she drifted off to sleep. He gently placed one hand on her leg, stroking it through the fabric of her jeans. His heart ached to be able to do more for her, frustrated by Dr. Lange's words to him.
"Right now, you can only do what she'll allow you to do. It might not be much, and it may drive you insane, but remember whatever you do now, however small, IS making a huge impact."
He let out an exasperated breath. Ok, doctor. I hear you.
Harm slipped off the couch and knelt in front of Mac's head. Her breathing was slow and steady. He watched her chest rise and fall, mesmerized by it. His fingers softly outlined the side of her face, from her temple down to her jaw.
Thank you, God, for giving her back to me.
His touch caused Mac to stir, her eyes fluttering open. In a split second she was sitting up, her legs swinging around him to the floor.
"Whoa, didn't mean to drop off like that." She bit out nervously.
"Mac, it's OK. You were out maybe two seconds."
"Yeah, well, I ... um ... I shouldn't have imposed on you."
"Mac, since when have you ever imposed? It was just a little catnap. What's the big deal?"
She turned to face him, her arms wrapping around her chest. The look on her face was one of sheer terror.
"Harm, thanks so much ... for dinner, and well, everything. I better get going. Tomorrow night?"
"Of course, tomorrow night." Harm got up, following her to the door. He reached for her coat and helped her into it.
He opened the door for her and she brushed past him into the hallway. He gently caught her arm. She turned and looked up at him, her brown eyes full and glistening. He tugged at her arm, pulling her closer. His hand cupped the back of her head.
She tilted her head to look into his eyes. He smiled gently, seeing a flicker of the old light in her gaze. He dipped his head down, brushing his lips over hers. She responded instantly, parting her mouth and deepening the kiss.
He felt her hands gripping his upper arms as he held onto her waist. They broke apart slowly, her lower lip pulling gently in his mouth.
"I love you, Sarah"
"I know, Harm. I love you too" she smiled weakly, then turned and was gone.
Harm closed the door, leaning his head against it for a moment. Then he slammed his open palm against the metal, the sound echoing around the room.
"Damn!"
MAC'S APARTMENT
GEORGETOWN
THE NEXT MORNING
The sunlight filtered through Mac's living room window, finding her exactly where she had deposited herself the night before. Once she had gotten back from Harm's, she curled into a corner of her couch, feet drawn up, hugging her knees. She had not moved. She had not slept.
Her challenge awaited her in the bathroom. The mirror, which she had so carefully avoided since coming home, hung on the wall as it always had. Only now she found its presence, its very existence, oppressive.
She got up stiffly, stretching. Slowly, she made her way into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, letting the water run hot. Steam soon fogged the room, blanketing the mirror. She sighed with relief, then stripped out of her clothes and entered the shower.
The hot water turned her skin red as she washed. She could feel it running down her body. She shampooed her hair, rinsing the lather. She could feel it running over her scars. But she had grown adept at showering blind. As she worked in the conditioner, she kept her head tilted back. She reached for her body wash, and expertly let her hands slide over her skin without using her eyes.
Once done, she rinsed out the conditioner and turned off the water. The bathroom was now completely obscured by the steam. She turned on the fan, and went out to the bedroom to towel herself off.
As she dried herself, she glanced now and then at the bathroom. She was in a race with the mirror, hoping to be dried and dressed before it was clear enough for her to see. So far she had won each battle. And it looked like she was going to win again.
She went to her closet, pulled the doors open and started choosing her clothes for the day. She would not need her uniform until tomorrow when she went to see Dr. Lange. Her hair was still wet, so she headed into the bathroom to get a fresh towel.
Turning the corner, Mac froze. The mirror was clear.
She clutched the new towel to her chest, feeling her heart starting to race. This is it. Suck it up, Marine.
She stood in front of the counter, the mirror framing her from head to waist. She took a deep breath, and began sliding the towel down her body. Unable to stand the slow torture, she finally let it drop to the floor. Her Marine instincts taking over, she willed herself to look.
Scar tissue ran down her chest, in almost a straight line between her breasts. She reached up and traced her finger down the raised flesh. She then shifted her gaze to her abdomen. A jagged, snaking line wrapped itself almost all the way around her belly. She traced her fingers over it, stopping when they reached her lower abdomen.
Shaking slightly, rubbing her fingers over the spot, Sarah MacKenzie began to cry.
OFFICE OF DR. LANGE
NEXT DAY
"Sarah, I am so proud of you." Dr. Lange said finally, after listening to a distraught Mac relay the events of the day before.
"Here I am a blubbering mess, and you're proud of me?" Mac almost laughed, wiping her eyes again.
"Absolutely. You have taken a BIG step, Colonel. Being able to look at your scars is going to help you deal with what happened."
"Doctor, I have been dealing with it. I AM dealing with it."
"Sarah, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that you haven't been making progress. But I think it's safe to say that you are a long way still from truly dealing with ..."
"EXCUSE ME? Obviously you haven't been privy to the hours of hell and rehab I've gone through." Mac was getting angry.
Dr. Lange took a slow breath, Mac could see she was trying to choose her words.
"Sarah ... you ... you have been dealing with the physical aspects of your recovery. And doing so admirably. But you won't let yourself open up to the emotional pain. At least not yet. But looking at your scars, being able to let your feelings out about them, it's a major step towards dealing with the rest."
Mac was seething. Her voice was icy and harsh. You tell ME, doctor ... what good could come of me 'facing my emotions' or 'dealing' with what happened?! It won't change anything. It won't give me back what I lost. So I've chosen to move on. I am a Marine. I am going to be just fine. There's nothing wrong with me."
Dr. Lange stood up, moving so she was face to face with Mac. Her eyes were sharp and piercing.
"Then why are you afraid to sleep, Sarah?"