AN: Again, dialogue in is in Russian.
***********************************************************************
Yekaterinburg
City Jail
December 7
0158 local
They had only managed a few hours rest when the guards had come,
waking them from their uneasy, exhaustion-induced sleep. Sleeping in
the same position as they had earlier sat, both were rudely awakened
when Harm was yanked roughly from Mac's arms. They were quickly forced
into handcuffs, Harm receiving a sharp smack to the head when he again
protested Mac's treatment. But it was when the guards manhandled them
out of the cell and separated, clearly intending to take them to
different locations, that the situation really went to hell.
Harm wasn't about to let Mac out of his sight. "Hey! What the--
NO! Leave her alone, she doesn't know anything!" he insisted loudly,
desperation coloring his voice. Another heavy-handed blow made his head
spin, his vision blurring slightly. "Mac!"
"No! Leave him alone, he's hurt, can't you see that!" she yelled
at the guards. Her own outburst earned her a slap across the face,
further enraging Harm.
"You bastards, leave her alone!" he bellowed.
She ignored the trickle of blood coming from her split lip.
"Harm, stop!" she cried desperately, even as the guards drug them
further apart. "They're just going to keep hurting you, please...
HARM!!" Her final cry echoed in the hall, even as she was shoved
through a doorway out of sight.
"Mac!" he cried, terrified. "SARAH!!"
**************************
O520 local
She had to give the interrogators credit; they had tried just
about everything short of outright torture to get her to reveal
information about the murder, Mercedes Rabb, and the missing remains.
But she said nothing, insisted she knew nothing, which wasn't entirely
untrue. But the duration and intensity of the questioning had set off
alarm bells; there was a lot more to this than a simple police
investigation, she was sure of it. And right now, she didn't give an
airborne fornication about any of it.
Her internal clock told her she had been returned to her cell 18
minutes and 37 seconds ago... and there had been no sign of Harm since
their earlier parting. She was terrified, trying not to consider the
distinct possibility that may have been the last time she ever saw him,
that his last words to her had been the desperate scream of her given
name. Oh God.... She closed her eyes, trying to escape from her own
thoughts. Unwittingly, she drifted into a light, restless slumber.
She snapped awake awhile later at the sound of keys in the cell's
lock. A guard cocked his weapon and pointed at her, ordering her to
face the far wall, her hands behind her head. Catching a glimpse of
more guards approaching, she gave up any plan to resist and did as she
was ordered.
Deprived of seeing the goings-on, she relied on her hearing to
tell her what was happening. The door was opened, and more than one
guard entered. But no one approached her; instead, there was a
scuffling sound, then the *thud* of something solid being dropped. The
guards retreated, shutting and locking the cell behind her. She took
the click of a weapon being secured and the sound of the guards'
departure as a signal she could move from her position.
Lowering her arms, she turned around slowly. A soft cry escaped
her lips as she took in the scene. Harm lay in a heap on the floor,
moaning softly. She rushed to him, kneeling next to his battered form.
"Harm? Harm, it's Mac," she said softly, urgently. "Come on, Harm,
answer me," she pleaded when she got no response. She couldn't stop her
hands from shaking slightly when she reached out to try and gently roll
him on to his back.
Another soft moan of pain accompanied the movement. There was a
tightening in her chest as she got a good look at him. As bad as her
own session with their captors had been, it never went much beyond a
stinging slap of a hand, not much by Marine standards.
Harm hadn't been so lucky. His face was battered and bloody; one
eye was nearly swollen shut, and his arms were wrapped protectively
around his torso, cradling likely injured ribs. She was sure there
were more injuries that she couldn't see.
She tried again to pull him from his semi-conscious state. "Harm,
please... it's Mac--Sarah," she added remembering his parting cry. "I
really need you to wake up and talk to me, flyboy. Please..."
Her voice finally reached him through the haze of pain surrounding
him. "Mac...? He asked weakly, his eyes flickering open. "Are
you...?"
"I'm fine," she lied, even as relief and an odd happiness flooded
through her. Even now, his concern for her was foremost. "You, on the
other hand," she said, trying for a touch of lightness, "look like
hell."
"You… shoulda seen... the other guy," he replied, adding a weak
laugh, then wincing at the pain it caused.
She shook her head in amazement. "You're something else, squid.
I'm just not sure what." She paused, assessing the distance between
where he lay and the metal slab chained to the wall that passed for a
bed. It wasn't much, but it was up off the cold and damp floor. "We
need to get you off this floor. Do you think you're up to moving about
eight feet?"
He groaned. "No, but I'll do it anyway."
A good fifteen minutes later, Mac was exhausted and Harm hurt even
more than before, but he was on the 'bed'. Breathing hard from the
exertion, she asked him, "Comfortable?"
"Not hardly...This place... makes the bunks... on the Watertown...
look appealing," he replied, panting for breath, fighting down the
pain.
"Yeah, well at least there won't be any bored sailors waking me up
in the middle of the night just to get a peek at my underwear," she
said resignedly, leaning back against the wall.
"Don't... count on that," he said, missing the wry look she gave
him. "Mac.... what do you think... happened to Mercedes?"
"I don't know, Harm," she answered wearily. Her adrenaline from
the guards' visit and his return was quickly fading, and fatigue was
taking its toll. Slowly, she sat down on the floor by the bed. "I'm
so tired I can barely see straight."
"You won't... get any rest... down there." Gingerly, he moved
over as much as he could, making room. "Come here."
"Harm, no," she protested, leaning toward him, "if I try to
squeeze on there, I'll probably just hurt you more."
He closed his eyes, hating his own weakness. The truth was, he
wanted her beside him, just as reassurance all was well. The entire
time they'd questioned him, beat him, all he could think about was
her. They'd take her away from him again only over his dead body. But
he just couldn't tell her that, admit that he needed her like that.
Instead, he simply pleaded with her in a quiet, broken voice.
"Please... Sarah."
She looked up, studying him for a moment. Then slowly, carefully,
lay down next to him, sidling as close as she could without hurting his
damaged ribs. Her chin on his shoulder, her hand sought out his, their
fingers intertwining. "We'll make it, Harm. We'll get out of here and
find your Dad and Mercedes, and take them home. I swear it," she
whispered. Before long they were both deep asleep.
TBC.....
***********************************************************************
Yekaterinburg
City Jail
December 7
0158 local
They had only managed a few hours rest when the guards had come,
waking them from their uneasy, exhaustion-induced sleep. Sleeping in
the same position as they had earlier sat, both were rudely awakened
when Harm was yanked roughly from Mac's arms. They were quickly forced
into handcuffs, Harm receiving a sharp smack to the head when he again
protested Mac's treatment. But it was when the guards manhandled them
out of the cell and separated, clearly intending to take them to
different locations, that the situation really went to hell.
Harm wasn't about to let Mac out of his sight. "Hey! What the--
NO! Leave her alone, she doesn't know anything!" he insisted loudly,
desperation coloring his voice. Another heavy-handed blow made his head
spin, his vision blurring slightly. "Mac!"
"No! Leave him alone, he's hurt, can't you see that!" she yelled
at the guards. Her own outburst earned her a slap across the face,
further enraging Harm.
"You bastards, leave her alone!" he bellowed.
She ignored the trickle of blood coming from her split lip.
"Harm, stop!" she cried desperately, even as the guards drug them
further apart. "They're just going to keep hurting you, please...
HARM!!" Her final cry echoed in the hall, even as she was shoved
through a doorway out of sight.
"Mac!" he cried, terrified. "SARAH!!"
**************************
O520 local
She had to give the interrogators credit; they had tried just
about everything short of outright torture to get her to reveal
information about the murder, Mercedes Rabb, and the missing remains.
But she said nothing, insisted she knew nothing, which wasn't entirely
untrue. But the duration and intensity of the questioning had set off
alarm bells; there was a lot more to this than a simple police
investigation, she was sure of it. And right now, she didn't give an
airborne fornication about any of it.
Her internal clock told her she had been returned to her cell 18
minutes and 37 seconds ago... and there had been no sign of Harm since
their earlier parting. She was terrified, trying not to consider the
distinct possibility that may have been the last time she ever saw him,
that his last words to her had been the desperate scream of her given
name. Oh God.... She closed her eyes, trying to escape from her own
thoughts. Unwittingly, she drifted into a light, restless slumber.
She snapped awake awhile later at the sound of keys in the cell's
lock. A guard cocked his weapon and pointed at her, ordering her to
face the far wall, her hands behind her head. Catching a glimpse of
more guards approaching, she gave up any plan to resist and did as she
was ordered.
Deprived of seeing the goings-on, she relied on her hearing to
tell her what was happening. The door was opened, and more than one
guard entered. But no one approached her; instead, there was a
scuffling sound, then the *thud* of something solid being dropped. The
guards retreated, shutting and locking the cell behind her. She took
the click of a weapon being secured and the sound of the guards'
departure as a signal she could move from her position.
Lowering her arms, she turned around slowly. A soft cry escaped
her lips as she took in the scene. Harm lay in a heap on the floor,
moaning softly. She rushed to him, kneeling next to his battered form.
"Harm? Harm, it's Mac," she said softly, urgently. "Come on, Harm,
answer me," she pleaded when she got no response. She couldn't stop her
hands from shaking slightly when she reached out to try and gently roll
him on to his back.
Another soft moan of pain accompanied the movement. There was a
tightening in her chest as she got a good look at him. As bad as her
own session with their captors had been, it never went much beyond a
stinging slap of a hand, not much by Marine standards.
Harm hadn't been so lucky. His face was battered and bloody; one
eye was nearly swollen shut, and his arms were wrapped protectively
around his torso, cradling likely injured ribs. She was sure there
were more injuries that she couldn't see.
She tried again to pull him from his semi-conscious state. "Harm,
please... it's Mac--Sarah," she added remembering his parting cry. "I
really need you to wake up and talk to me, flyboy. Please..."
Her voice finally reached him through the haze of pain surrounding
him. "Mac...? He asked weakly, his eyes flickering open. "Are
you...?"
"I'm fine," she lied, even as relief and an odd happiness flooded
through her. Even now, his concern for her was foremost. "You, on the
other hand," she said, trying for a touch of lightness, "look like
hell."
"You… shoulda seen... the other guy," he replied, adding a weak
laugh, then wincing at the pain it caused.
She shook her head in amazement. "You're something else, squid.
I'm just not sure what." She paused, assessing the distance between
where he lay and the metal slab chained to the wall that passed for a
bed. It wasn't much, but it was up off the cold and damp floor. "We
need to get you off this floor. Do you think you're up to moving about
eight feet?"
He groaned. "No, but I'll do it anyway."
A good fifteen minutes later, Mac was exhausted and Harm hurt even
more than before, but he was on the 'bed'. Breathing hard from the
exertion, she asked him, "Comfortable?"
"Not hardly...This place... makes the bunks... on the Watertown...
look appealing," he replied, panting for breath, fighting down the
pain.
"Yeah, well at least there won't be any bored sailors waking me up
in the middle of the night just to get a peek at my underwear," she
said resignedly, leaning back against the wall.
"Don't... count on that," he said, missing the wry look she gave
him. "Mac.... what do you think... happened to Mercedes?"
"I don't know, Harm," she answered wearily. Her adrenaline from
the guards' visit and his return was quickly fading, and fatigue was
taking its toll. Slowly, she sat down on the floor by the bed. "I'm
so tired I can barely see straight."
"You won't... get any rest... down there." Gingerly, he moved
over as much as he could, making room. "Come here."
"Harm, no," she protested, leaning toward him, "if I try to
squeeze on there, I'll probably just hurt you more."
He closed his eyes, hating his own weakness. The truth was, he
wanted her beside him, just as reassurance all was well. The entire
time they'd questioned him, beat him, all he could think about was
her. They'd take her away from him again only over his dead body. But
he just couldn't tell her that, admit that he needed her like that.
Instead, he simply pleaded with her in a quiet, broken voice.
"Please... Sarah."
She looked up, studying him for a moment. Then slowly, carefully,
lay down next to him, sidling as close as she could without hurting his
damaged ribs. Her chin on his shoulder, her hand sought out his, their
fingers intertwining. "We'll make it, Harm. We'll get out of here and
find your Dad and Mercedes, and take them home. I swear it," she
whispered. Before long they were both deep asleep.
TBC.....