Thank you for your reviews!
Devorah: Lol, okay, I hope I wrote fast enough! Happy reading! Thanks for reviewing!!
harmsgirl: Whoa, okay! You can bet I'll finish it, I've havin' a blast writing it! Thank you for your support, it means a lot!!!!
starryeyes: Thank you for reading!!!
jagchick105: Ohhh....research.....that was fun.....lol.....no, it was good and I've been learning a lot. Wow, it's neat to get a perspective from someone so perceptive of the details!! Thank you so much for all your nice compliments!!! Oh, and I did get your first review for the last chapter in my email, but for some reason, it didn't show on the review board, yet it registered in the number of reviews. I dunno, they site has been doin' a lot of things so it might have gotten lost.
Hm, not as many reviews. I probably spent too much time on the beginning and got people bored. Oh, well. I'm glad I still have ye faithful readers! Thank you very much!!!
~sancti
CAUTION: The history of Private Thomas has rape-relations.
Chapter 6: Signs
1430 ZULU
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
The two JAG officers sat expressionless across from the Admiral. But the lack of physical expression hardly reflected the constant spinning in their heads, for their situation had just gone from bad, to much, much worse. The Admiral perused the report recently given to him, his face drawn and his eyes cold. Harm and Mac waited patiently for the Admiral to speak, but both felt like two kids sent to the principal's office, and they slipped each other tense glances. And Harm couldn't help but want to throw something at that blasted clock that seemed to tick louder with the passing seconds.
"Well," The Admiral finally said, breaking the uneasy silence, "the girl went from a veggie state to becoming functional enough to break out of a high-security facility...interesting how neither of you caught this sudden...breakthrough, no pun intended."
Harm straightened in the chair. "Admiral, during our investigation, we did notice she was becoming...somewhat functional. But, nothing allowing her to strategically plan anything."
"Do you think she was kidnapped?"
Harm shrugged. "I suppose it's possible, sir. But I believe Thomas would've made quite a racket."
Chegwidden led his gaze to the report, searching for something specific. "You have written she started speaking..." The Admiral sighed heavily, "in Latin." He said cynically.
Mac took on this one. "Sir, we considered it a step forward for Thomas, because she hadn't spoken or made any coherent actions—"
"Until you two arrived?" Chegwidden finished for her, quite unimpressed.
Mac looked down at her hands. "As far-fetched as it may sound, sir, we believe she was rapidly responding to our presence, and in turn—recovering."
Chegwidden grunted in response. "Maybe she recovered too fast for her own good." He moved on when his officers didn't say anything. "And now she's running around out there. Who knows what kind of state she's in."
"I wouldn't be too concerned, sir." Harm said with unwavering confidence, "if she's as unstable as she probably is, it shouldn't be too hard for her to be spotted."
***
Arial dragged the unconscious woman behind a trashcan, propping her up in such a position that it looked like she were simply sleeping. Anyone that would happen to come across her would think she was sleeping off a night of too much alcohol. Arial slipped the young woman's jean jacket over her new clothes, a cream-colored crochet trim top with lettuce edges on the cuffs and hem (a piece Arial grew quite fond of), faded blue-jeans, and a very comfortable pair of black ankle boots, these also once belonging to the girl. Arial guessed she would miss them.
Arial also took the young woman's purse and groped through it. Eventually, she found a pocket with makeup. Arial quickly took out a small mirror and put it in front of her face. Arial froze. Was this truly her? This beaten, tired face? Arial made a variety of expressions just to make sure. She then closely examined the bruises and cuts that adorned her features. A bit of Cover-Up would disguise them well enough. She couldn't do much about the cuts. But that was the least of her problems.
Arial sat down cross-legged on the ground and removed all of the makeup from the purse. She took her time identifying each piece.
Base, a light color, and Arial was already quite pale, but it were give her a better complexion.
Blush. Not too dark, and that was fine.
Eye shadow. A light, sophisticated aqua color.
Mascara. Expensive mascara, Arial would have fun with that.
Lipstick. A dark, rosy red color that Arial knew would look gorgeous on her heart-shaped lips.
Arial grinned in satisfaction. He would probably not even recognize her. But it was not time for Arial to reveal herself yet. She'd leave clues. Just enough to shake him up. Arial was almost giddy with excitement. Her revenge was so near. But first, she'd pay a little visit to her darling boyfriend.
***
Stephens didn't want to sleep, though his body craved it. How could he sleep?
Arial had escaped. Stephens mulled over this a bit, trying to make sense of it. For four months, she was in a veggie state and now she was walking around out there on her own. Stephens knew it was impossible. It had to be impossible.
The Marine jerked in the cot when a guard hit the bars.
"Stephens, you have a visitor!"
Probably his lawyer. Stephens sat up in the bed and ran a hand through his sandy-blond hair. Footsteps approached the cell.
"I don't want to plea-bargain, Mr. Grabaldi. I'm not guilty."
When he didn't answer, Stephens looked up to find the one person he least expected standing on the other side of those bars.
"Hello, Luke."
Stephens shot out of the bed and bolted to the bars. "Arial, what---"
"Shh!" She hissed, giving a glance to the guard who was leaving, closing the door behind him.
Stephens lowered his voice. "Arial, what are you doing here?"
Instead of answering, Arial landed a hard kiss on his lips. Stephens took in the full strength of it, and wanted more, but Arial pulled away. Stephens regarded her for a moment. She had let her chocolate-colored hair fall to her shoulders, and that's how Stephens always liked it. Though you could tell her face had taken some damage, she'd successfully covered all the bruises and only a few cuts were still visible. And the makeup, wherever she'd gotten it, adorned her features beautifully. She smiled at his look of astonishment.
"I clean up well, don't I?"
All he could was nod. "I'm sorry, you know that right? We looked for you day and night, but..." He let it trail off.
Arial pursed her lips, deciding how to answer. "You're not the one that needs to be punished."
The color drained from the Marine's face at his girlfriend's reply. "Just what do you plan to do, Arial?"
She graced him with a tight smile. "You know very well what I'm going to do."
Stephens dropped his head, leaning it against the cold bars. "Arial, he's not who you think he is. He doesn't even know you!"
"That's not true!" She hissed.
"You're confused, Arial," He said exasperatedly, "you don't know what you're doing!"
Her face suddenly appeared to be that of a child that was being scolded. Arial backed away from the bars and crossed her slender arms over her chest. "I thought I could trust you." She whispered.
"You can, Arial," Stephens tried to point out, "But this isn't the way to go, I'm telling you!"
Arial turned away and headed for the door.
"Arial, wait—please!"
She stopped with her hand on the door, but she didn't turn around. "I'm sorry, Luke," She murmured, "Don't tell anyone I was here."
***
2400 ZULU
Harm's Apartment
Washington DC
Harm locked the door behind him and flipped on the light switch. Light flooded the apartment as Harm put his suitcase and cover on his desk. After adjusting to the sudden brightness, he hit a button on the answering machine to find out he had three new messages. Harm played them as he went to fridge to get a bottle of water.
"Harm, it's your mother. It's after six where you are, why aren't you home having dinner? Anyway, dear, do call me, I need some advice on a...legal problem. I got into a small accident---now don't get worried, I'm fine, just a fender bender, but I'm sure it wasn't my fault yet my insurance agent keeps saying it is. But I really don't trust that man...anyway, please call me Harm. Good night."
Harm made a mental note to do so.
"Good evening, sir, it's Bud. I know that you're in the middle of a case and I wouldn't think of asking you any time else, but see, sir, the babysitter cancelled on Harriet and I, and we both haven't had one free night just to ourselves in a long time, and Colonel Mackenzie said she's suddenly gotten a cold, though I thought she looked fine today...and we don't think Tiner could really handle A.J., and Mikey isn't in port and won't be for a long time and---"
"Oh, just ask him, Bud!" Harriet's voice filtered in through the background.
"Okay, okay. Anyway, would you mind babysitting little A.J. tomorrow night? It'll only be for a few hours. Thanks, sir, good night."
Harm chuckled in amusement as he poured the water into a glass.
"End of message." Came the tinny, female voice of the recorder. "One new message."
"Do you ever lie awake at night, Harm?"
The aviator froze with the glass at his lips. That strange streak of ice crawled its way up his spine.
"Do you know how many times I'd lie awake? Wondering when they'd come---what they'd do---for how long they'd do it. The same thoughts every night. The outcome usually the same as well. But you know about the dark place I'm talking about. You've been there yourself, in a way. You've seen people die. People you killed. See, your dark place lies hidden in that jungle, surrounded by death. Mine is a moldy, dark, wet cell. And hate, and pain, and a number of other things I'd rather not mention surrounded it. Though we each have different experiences, the end result is the same. We lock away that pain. Me, I hid myself completely, let the pain take me over. But you---you walk around each day trying to push those thoughts out of your head. You avoid talking about it with almost everyone. I wish I could do that. Forget about all that's happened to me. But I can't. And it's your fault I'm like this.
I'll be watching you, Harm. Every time you leave your apartment. When you enter JAG. Go the dry-cleaners...even when you're babysitting little A.J. I'll have my eye on you."
Having not moved, with the glass still at his lips, Harm heard the click of the receiver as she hung up the phone.
"End of message."
***
Mac carelessly flipped through the channels, hardly paying attention to what was on them. It was just something to keep her thumb moving. She suddenly stopped at a commercial for a fast-food restaurant, momentarily drooling over the quarter-pound burgers they were advertising, and then she moved on. Growing restless, she hit the power button and tossed the remote on the sofa. Mac sighed sharply and slowly gazed at her apartment.
Empty and silent. Well, empty except for Jingo who slept peacefully at her feet. But even having the lovable animal with her didn't change the fact that she felt alone. And she hated being alone. Mac snatched the remote to her stereo from the coffee table and turned on the radio. She flipped through the different stations, not finding anything to her liking, and in frustration turned it off. This was weird. She was never bored like this, or fidgety might be the better word. Mac felt she wanted to do something and couldn't stand the thought of just sitting here.
Mac glanced down at the case files that were scattered all over the coffee table. She grunted in disgust. She'd already memorized the necessary information, she didn't need to read over the same words again. And she never really liked bringing work home. Being home was a rare time when she thought of herself as simply Sarah. Not the Marine, Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie, of the JAG Corps. But the more she gazed at her empty apartment with its almost bare walls caused by her insipid talent for decorating—she realized that that's what she was—Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie of the JAG Corps...nothing else.
As Mac pondered this disturbing concept, she almost didn't hear the soft knock at the door. Jingo sprung into a sitting position, ready for action. Glad for the interruption, Mac stepped over Jingo and went to the door, looking through the peephole. On the other side of the door, she saw Harm biting his lip. Mac blinked in surprise. Did he discover something about Thomas? When Harm frowned and turned to leave, Mac inwardly chastised herself and rushed to unlock the door. When she finally opened it, Harm had turned back towards the door. A small smile washed itself upon his features, but left as quickly as it came.
"Hey, Mac." He said softly. "Nice pajamas." He added rather sarcastically when he noticed her wearing an oversized, pale blue sweatshirt with a heart stitched in the middle...over bottoms with stars on them.
Mac looked down at her clothes, her cheeks flushing. "They were all I had that was clean. They were a gift."
"Ah." He said simply.
Mac sighed, deciding to change the subject to more cardinal matters. "What's up, squid? It's kinda late."
Harm cocked his head to the side to get a look into the apartment. "Can I come in?" He asked cautiously.
Mac backed away into the apartment, holding the door open. "Of course."
Once being given permission, Harm wasted no time in doing so. He quickly made his way to the stereo, pulling a tape from his pocket. Mac watched him curiously as she closed the door.
"What are you doing?"
Harm closed the tape deck and pushed "play." "This was on my answering machine when I got home."
Mac halted on her way to the stereo when the tape started to play. Harm watched her reaction as Thomas made her threats. Mac slowly walked up to the stereo and was standing next to Harm when the tape ended. She stared at the machine as if waiting for more.
"Well, that's...disturbing." She finally said when Harm removed the tape. "Has she contacted you since?"
Harm shook his head as he walked over to the couch and sat down. "I get the feeling that she blames me for her imprisonment."
Mac sat down next to Harm, drawing a blanket over herself. "That's preposterous. She doesn't even know you."
Harm leaned his forehead into his hand, messaging his temple. "I know. But why else would she be watching me?"
Mac chuckled, amused. "Maybe she just has a crush on you."
Harm leaned back into the sofa and smiled at the thought. "I wish that was all it was."
Mac shrugged. "At least she not speaking Latin anymore."
Harm glanced over at his partner, about to say something, but decided against it. "Do the police have any information about the guy with the dog?" He asked instead.
The Marine played with a loose string of the blanket. "Detective Moar called earlier. He said he might have some leads but nothing conclusive. I doubt the incident had anything to do with Thomas." Mac added knowing Harm would question it.
Mac suddenly took Harm's hand in hers, sensing he needed a bit of comfort. Thomas's case was getting to him. He wanted to help Arial, but was at the same time he was fighting her.
Harm didn't seem surprised at Mac's sudden, profound action and he didn't pull away. In fact, the aviator didn't say anything for a while and he stared at the floor, but his eyes suggested he was in deep thought. Mac also had a lot on her mind at the moment. That girl, who was nearly incapable of any speech two days ago, was now a walking, talking lunatic with a taste for revenge—if Harm was right and Thomas really did think he was responsible for her imprisonment. Mac brushed it off. It was too far-fetched.
Mac's thoughts suddenly drifted to a conversation she had a few days ago with Harm. They were in the bullpen, and the report on Thomas's rescue was on the overhead. Harm had mentioned that he recognized her. Had they actually met before? Perhaps he had questioned her during another investigation? Or was it more than that? Maybe he even knew Thomas's mother at one time and simply saw a resemblance between the two.
Mac felt a tingle in her spine and shifted her gaze to Harm, who stared at her with an amused yet cocky expression.
"What?" She asked softly.
Harm glanced down at his hand, still clutched in Mac's. "Can I have my hand back?"
The Marine instantly let go.
Harm smirked, and gave the Marine a once over.
Mac rolled her eyes. "What?" She asked persistently.
He then put a hand over Mac's forehead, but she jerked away. Harm narrowed his eyes in mock speculation. "Why couldn't you watch little A.J., again?"
[(A/N) The last line here was inspired by a great writer, flyboyfan. She gave the suggestion of adding this as comical relief. I wouldn't have even thought to add it, so I believe she deserves the credit. Thanks!]
***
Harm simply sat in his car for a moment outside of his apartment. It was nearly midnight now. He and Mac had talked all night. But not just about Thomas. They swapped stories from their childhood (mostly Harm's, considering Mac's tumultuous past), shared stories of lost loves and comrades. They'd each heard these same tales before, but just talking about them, talking about something normal, cleared their minds.
Mechanically, Harm made it to his apartment door and stepped in, but froze at his doorway, his hand still grasping the handle. He'd locked that door before he left for Mac's. He was sure of it.
Harm peered into the darkness of his apartment—listening, and letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. He could make out pieces of furniture, the kitchen counter, the dining room table. He watched for movement. None.
With his hand still on the door, Harm reached to his left to flip on the switch. Light poured over the apartment—and the desk drawers that had been flung to the floor, the papers scattered in every direction, and cabinet doors that had been left wide open.
Harm finally stepped into his home, his mouth agape as he surveyed the damage. The first step Harm took, something crunched under his foot. Harm looked down to see the broken framed picture of him as a boy in that F-14 cockpit. His father at his side.
Harm knelt down and brushed the broken glass off the photo, which luckily wasn't damaged. Harm took the almost sacred photo out and placed it on the shelf next to the door.
After he'd searched the rest of the apartment, it was clear that Thomas had ransacked it a while ago, probably immediately after Harm had left. He then began the agonizing job of cleaning the place up.
Harm quickly surveyed the damage: Several dishes and a lamp were broken. A couple of his father's tapes were also ruined in the process of Thomas's rampage—crushed under the weight of a drawer being dropped on them. Nearly everything in Harm's closet in the bedroom had been torn out and flung to the floor. Even the bathroom had been searched. Harm also discovered his gun was missing—as well as all of his knives and forks from the kitchen and other sharp utensils. Harm understood. Anything that could possibly be used as a weapon was missing.
***
1430 ZULU
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
"She stole all your eating utensils, sir?" Bud inquired, eyes wide.
Harm held up a single plastic fork. "This is all I have left." He said, eyeing it as if it were a precious stone.
The Admiral entered the break room heading straight for the coffee machine. "Good morning, gentlemen."
"Morning, sir." They said in unison.
"Commander, I hear you had a rough night."
"You could say that, sir." Harm said as he placed the fork with a Tupperware container in the fridge. "Threatening messages, ransacked apartment."
Chegwidden crossed his arms over his chest. "If I remember correctly, you seemed quite confident Thomas would be caught by now." He said wryly.
Harm felt an embarrassed smirk play across his lips. "You're right, Admiral, I did. Perhaps this is payback for doubting her abilities."
The three headed out to the bullpen, which was bustling as it usually was in the morning. Harm stopped when he noticed Tiner standing at his door with a rather confused expression on his young features.
"Something wrong, Tiner?"
The Petty Officer didn't seem to notice the Commander at first and he shot his gaze to Harm in surprise. "Um, no, Commander. I just had a very...strange encounter."
Harm took a sip of coffee before answering. "Encounter?"
Tiner gestured to the doors. "Some Marine Private came in here and she started asking me a bunch of questions."
Harm's brow creased. "Questions?"
"About you, sir. She asked me if you looked "well rested" and then questioned me about your schedule."
Having all the information he needed, Harm gave his coffee to Tiner and dashed through the bullpen to the elevator. He pushed the elevator button several times, but gave up and sprinted to the stairwell. Skipping several steps at a time, Harm finally made it to first floor and out into the parking lot. Harm swept the grounds with his eyes, but all he saw were the small crowds of uniformed personnel, all Navy. No Marine uniforms.
Harm interrupted each group of officers asking if they'd seen a female Marine Private. All denied noticing any such person. Harm finally asked the Marine guard at the parking lot entrance. He told Harm he'd missed her by only a minute and that she'd left in a cab.
Harm peered down the street, seeing no trace of the vehicle.
***
TBC
***
Whew, long, but that was fun to write. Have a few new things happenin' and you're in store for more twists!!!
C yas
~sancti