'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Part Twelve
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Part One
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'.
From part eleven:
"Good," Harm said, his emotional exhaustion evident in his voice. He didn't even seem to try to conceal it. "I've fulfilled my part of the deal. Now it's your turn, Ensign."
An achingly long moment passed before Golden spoke up again. "No," he said calmly, still smiling. "I don't need your offer anymore, sir. Why should I even consider turning State's evidence against my former partners? I'd have done it to have a bit of a vendetta because they screwed up my nice revenge plans in the first place. But... what they did accomplish is just so much better. I might even feel inclined to think of a gesture of gratitude towards them..." He stood. "If you'll please tell the guards to take me back to my cell, ma'am, sir?"
For a few seconds, Harm didn't even budge. He had paled and beads of perspiration were visible on his forehead. Then he slowly got up - a broken image of the man Sarah had come to know as Harmon Rabb, Jr. The man who had done the one thing he feared most, who had finally opened up and had laid his heart on the table in front of someone so utterly undeserving. He had bared his soul to someone he despised, for the sole purpose of helping her, and he had been pushed back into the dirt instead of achieving what he had made this enormous sacrifice for. He was standing motionless, unflinching, but to Sarah's eyes, it was as evident as anything that Harm was devastated and hurting tremendously.
This was her breaking point. Wondering for a fleeting moment if this was a remainder of Mac resurfacing, she suddenly sprung to her feet and violently punched the startled Golden in the face, making him topple to the ground. She stood over him for a moment, panting, willing herself not to kick his defenseless form. "Harm, I think we need a medic," she whispered shakily. "Self defense," she only added, knowing that from her point of view, it was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help her God.
Part Twelve:
Feb. 21st 0221 ZULU Mac's apartment Georgetown, D.C.
Silence.
Ever since they had left Leavenworth, they hadn't spoken but a few unavoidable words. The taxi ride to the airport, their flight back to D.C., the ride to her place in his car - endless hours of extreme tension and silent suffering on both sides. At least Harm suspected as much. He knew very well how he felt, and judging from the way Mac's jaw was set and how she tried to avoid facing him whenever she could, she had to be hurting just as much as he was. Just the reason was probably a little different.
He had vowed he'd keep his feelings buried deep inside, even at the price of giving an impression of being unable to talk from the heart. That had been the role he had played for years anyway. So it hadn't taken too much getting used to. The knowledge that he had once crossed that line and had been able to tell her how he felt had made him keep his vow. This and the hope he would be able to do it again when the time came - and that he would be rewarded with her love as he had been back then.
Today's interview had changed everything. Apart from hurting because he had allowed his feelings to resurface, his heart was aching even more because Mac had to think he was a coward, acting only under pressure and telling a worthless person what would have been hers to hear from him, all alone. He knew she had feelings for him that surpassed the boundaries of the 'friendship' scenario he had introduced her to. Their brief close encounter in Arizona had told him that she longed for him to tell her that he was feeling more than friendship for her, too. And today, he knew he had gravely wounded her recovering soul not only by explaining to someone else that he had loved the person she had once been, but even more so by choosing his words in a way that had made it clear to her that she couldn't expect to be loved by him anymore. Not as long as she didn't find her way back.
But that wasn't true at all - and that was where his ever-growing problem lay. He did love her. He still did want her in his life just as badly as he had wanted her before the tragedy. His longing and desire for her to become his - emotionally as well as physically - were slowly but steadily eating him up from inside. A thousand times a day, he had to will himself to refrain from pouring his heart out to her and give in to what he knew she wished most. Knowing they both wanted nothing more than to acknowledge their bond and yet knowing that it would be fatal to do so... Harm had no idea just for how long he would have the strength to carry on.
Only the conviction that he did it for her best, saving her the pains of a probable failure, was keeping him from faltering. He still loved 'Mac' too much not to look for her in 'Sarah'. And under this burden, Sarah was sure to break. She might not know it, but she was better off if he left her alone.
When he had still been seeing Diane in Mac, the danger of him having a weak moment had lessened as the time had passed. Being with Mac, he had soon learned that Diane had been a different person altogether. The longer he had known his JAG partner, the more his Academy love had faded into the background. At a certain point, it had become as natural as anything to know the difference between the woman who had once been in his heart and the one who had slowly found her way into it.
Now, however, the situation was reversed. As Harm was sitting on the couch in Mac's living room, waiting for her to get the coffee she had offered upon their return from Kansas, Harm was aware of how much the apartment had become 'her' again. It wasn't the clean, rather impersonal place anymore that he had brought her back to from California. In the course of the last weeks, Mac had made herself at home again. The place breathed of her personality. And he noted that it was just as he had known it to be. So, the longer he was near 'Sarah', the more she became 'Mac' again in his eyes, whether he wanted her to or not.
He saw that Mac's hand was shaking when she set the coffee mug on the table before him. A few drops fell onto the polished piece of furniture but right now she didn't seem to have the nerve to wipe them away. Instead she only retreated to the other end of the couch and, clutching her own mug with both hands, she blew into the brown liquid, staring at the ripples her breath caused on the surface.
Picking up his own mug, Harm observed her over its rim. Mac didn't even seem to be ashamed of showing how intimidated she was by the situation. He had to admit to himself that this was a side he liked in 'Sarah' - not having to fight the eternal wall that had so often closed her off from him. But then, he had changed, too, in this respect. Before New Year, it had just as often been him to seek shelter behind a mask of his own. Now, he felt he wanted to talk about what had happened today. Badly. So when she had invited him to come up for coffee, apparently having thoughts of a similar kind, he had gladly accepted right away. Much as he would try to keep his distance, he wouldn't be the one to run. This friendship was too important to miss out on any chance to save it.
When the silence was becoming hard to bear, he sighed, deciding it was up to him to offer the opening. After all it had been him - forced or not - who had clearly taken a step today that couldn't be undone. "I'm sorry about the way things went today," he said in a low voice.
Mac took a sip of coffee and swallowed it with considerable difficulty. Still not looking at him, she asked, "You're sorry that I heard how you felt about my alter ego?"
He couldn't help wincing slightly. Shaking his head slowly, he set down his mug again and unconsciously hugged himself in a gesture of self-protection. "No, I'm sorry about the way you heard. I should have told you directly. But I had no idea..."
"That he was going to pull that move on you?" she asked, unable to fully mask the hurt in her voice. "Do you think you would have told me if you could have been sure the topic would never be forced onto you?"
"I dunno," he murmured, resigned. 'Honesty, Rabb,' he then reminded himself. "No, actually, I do know," he went on just as low, making her look up at him, her surprise evident. "I do know that I wouldn't have," he admitted, pained, "Because I swore to myself I wouldn't."
The sudden flash of pain in her eyes stabbed him in the heart. "You must have loved her more than anything," she stated in a low, choked voice.
He nodded, drawing a shaky breath. "Yeah," he finally acknowledged, looking away.
After what sounded like a low, suppressed sob, it took her a while to formulate her next question. Or to gather her courage - Harm didn't know which it was. Eventually, though, she spoke up again. "Did Mac know how you felt?"
"For a long time, I suppose," he answered truthfully, forcing himself to meet her gaze again and finding a single tearstain on her right cheek that he didn't dare wipe away right now.
"But did you ever tell her?"
Harm felt as if he were standing at the edge of a cliff. Take one step forward - and break the vow you made to safeguard your hopes of happiness. Don't - and let her deduce from your silence that you want to exclude her from your life. With a slight, defiant shake of his head, Harm ignored the million thoughts spinning through his brain and decided to trust his gut for once. He stepped into the void.
"Yeah, I did," he confirmed, reaching for Mac's hand as she had just set down her mug on the table, too. Encircling her fingers with his, he became aware that they were icy although she had warmed them all the time while drinking. Her eyes widened as she seemed to read in his what had followed his admission back then.
Entire minutes ticked by. Neither of them knew in which direction they could safely descend the mountain they had just climbed together.
"Then why do you keep looking after me?" she finally queried, her voice barely audible. "If things have changed that much for you, you must hate me for not being her..."
"But I don't," he admitted shakily, desperately trying to stop himself but at the same time knowing it was a lost cause. The pressure deep inside had found a hairline crack in his armor and was about to make it crumble for good. "I don't, Sarah," he repeated, cupping her face with his left hand and finally brushing away the tearstain with his thumb.
Fear welled up in him when he saw the slightest glimmer of hope creep into her eyes. "Then stop drawing back," she pleaded shyly. "I may not be who I once was, but I can assure you that you won't find me any less devoted to you than she may have been." She swallowed hard, briefly closing her eyes and then looking at him again in firm determination. "Listen, Harm... you need to know that... that over the last few weeks, I have come to love you very much."
"Mac... Sarah... don't..." he protested weakly, knowing he didn't mean it.
The vulnerability in her eyes bordered on being inhuman. "Am I really that different?" she whispered, barely getting the words out. "Don't you think you could in time learn to love me? Would it be so hard to imagine that I might still be able to give you what you were hoping for? I'm only asking for a chance, Harm. Maybe you don't love me now but..."
At those words, his last defense line fell. "Wait," he choked out, looking down to regroup a moment and holding up his hand to make her see he needed to be heard out now. When he felt settled enough to speak coherently, he gently took her face in both his hands, laying all his heart into his gaze, praying he was doing the right thing.
"I do love you, Sarah," he admitted hoarsely, "Just as you said: more than anything. But this is the one reason why I need to leave you alone. I'm not sure if I'm mixing up wishful thinking and true caring here. Much as I'd like to convince myself that it's neither 'Mac' nor 'Sarah' whom I want in my life, but just you - I'm almost certain that I'll eventually screw this up because I can't stop thinking of could-haves or comparing the two of you."
Rage was rising inside him because he couldn't even seem to explain where the problem was. "Hell, I know that you're still her... or that she's as much you as she could be... or... dammit..." The swearword was choked by a profound sob he had tried in vain to suppress. He squeezed his eyes shut and sniffed before he could face her again. "Anyway," he forced himself to continue, "The bottom-line is that as long as you don't remember our history, or who I was to you or who you were yourself... I would only cause you even more pain than I already have. That is why I can't do this. For your sake - because I've hurt you over and over again unwillingly in the past, and I love you too damn much to risk breaking you for real."
She swallowed hard and didn't seem to do anything anymore to prevent her tears from falling, but in her eyes, deep understanding slowly became perceptible to him. And although the old scar on his heart was bleeding as much as ever again, making it hard to breathe, he suddenly felt immensely grateful.
She even tried a sad, tearful half-smile. "Would you kiss me goodbye?" she begged shakily.
Knowing his vocal chords were unable to comply, he only nodded and for one last time brought his lips to hers.
The memory of that one long moment of farewell, the deepest sincerity of their feelings, combined with the incredible tenderness of their touch, were what both took with them as they went to sleep only a short time later, separated by physical distance and rational decisions, yet united in pain and caring.
Feb. 21st 0910 ZULU Harm's apartment North of Union Station Washington, D.C.
It was the persistent knocking that woke him. He instantly knew it was Mac. For a moment, his heart started to race frantically because he had no idea what he was supposed to feel. Gratitude that she'd still come to him in the middle of the night when she felt she needed to? Or trepidation because the wounds of last night hadn't nearly closed enough to be tested again by the very same emotions that had caused them?
Yet, he knew she'd never have come if she didn't have a good reason, especially after last night. So he tried to block the thoughts about any possible outcome of the situation out of his mind. Mac came first.
Drawing one last decided breath to steady himself, he opened the door. She was wearing sweats and sneakers as if she'd been out for her early Saturday morning run - only that it was far too early this Saturday for her to be out running. Her face was still slightly red and swollen, telling him her tears hadn't stopped for some time after he'd left her alone last night. But a closer look at her face soothed his bad conscience just a little: her features now bore the expression of cool professionalism he knew so well.
"Can I come in?" she asked shyly instead of a greeting.
"Sure." Harm opened the door a little wider and gently took her by the arm, leading her inside without directly looking at her.
She stepped inside and put down a bag she had been carrying. Harm closed the door and looked at her questioningly. This time, the opening had to come from her. Not that he wouldn't have supplied it - he just didn't have a clue what she was up to.
She got straight to the point. "Harm, you told me you'd do anything to help me recover, right?" He nodded, waiting for her to elaborate.
"Then, please, get your overnight bag and come to the airport with me." With that, she handed him an envelope, her voice allowing no refusal.
His first notion would have been to ask her to slow down, take a seat on the couch and explain what this was all about. But the combination of vivid feelings mirroring in her eyes - hope, despair, defiance, determination, fear - made him control his reaction. It was evident she meant it, and it was equally evident that this wasn't a mere whim. Mac had decided to fight her fate. And if this meant she was in whatever way dealing with it, she had his full support.
"Where are we going?" he merely asked, his outward calmness not really genuine.
"Arizona." Her answer was just a little too curt to sound as unafraid as had probably been intended.
At once, the memory of their last trip resurfaced and he needed all his willpower not to wince. "Okay. What are we supposed to do there?"
"I want to go back to Red Rock Mesa. To where I was shot."
"But we've already been there," he reasoned gently, against his own will. "What do you expect to find this time that you didn't back then?"
She sighed, never averting her gaze. "I don't know. But I have to try. Something..." he could see she was searching for the right words, "Something just tells me I have to go there again."
'I'm sure the clue must lie somewhere in this story...' Harm suddenly heard Dr. Smith's words in his mind. This was the moment he knew he couldn't prevent her from going. He was still doubtful it would do more good than harm facing the ordeal head-on yet again, but if Mac had had some kind of a vision or whatever one wanted to call it - after his crash in May he was the last to contradict to giving it a shot.
He carefully laid his hands on her shoulders. "If you really think it'll help you..." he began, doubt ringing in his voice.
Mac's lower lip began to tremble slightly but she stubbornly held his glance. "Harm, last night showed me just what I've really lost. It's not only my past. It feels like my whole future. So, if you were in my situation, what'd you do?"
He only looked at her for a moment, not moving, all but losing himself in her pleading eyes. Finally shaking himself from his state of haze, he turned briskly and walked over to the bedroom. "Give me ten minutes."
"Harm..."
He stopped and turned.
"Thank you," she said shakily, relief lighting up her expression. He smiled back, thankful she still trusted him to this extent.
"Anytime."
Feb. 21st 1840 ZULU Red Rock Mesa Arizona
The rental jeep was jumping so hard Harm thought the axles would break before they even reached their destination. As they were driving across the rocky desert of Monument Valley at forbidden speed, Harm had to take a firm hold on the handle in order not to bump his head against the side window. He had offered to drive but Mac had insisted he navigate and let her take the steering wheel. After not too much of a discussion he had given in. It was much easier to look at her while she had something to concentrate on.
During the whole flight she had sat slumped in her seat, her fingers clutching the handle of her bag, miserably and impatiently staring out of the window. He had had to fight a strong urge to take her into his arms for comfort but he knew it would have been just the wrong thing to do. Her Marine mode was what she needed right now - it would protect her better against the hardship she was about to face than he himself possibly could have. So Harm had just sat there, watching as waiting for their plane to land had seemed to slowly drive her crazy. At the wheel, however, she looked almost relaxed. She was clearly working off her frustration and anger. He only hoped it would tire her out enough to allow a certain numbness to shield her from suffering too much if this trip turned out as fruitless as the first.
They rode in silence, each contemplating their own thoughts. The only words they exchanged were when from time to time, Harm would consult the map and give her directions. Finally Harm motioned her to stop. She stepped on the brakes, they jolted to a halt and exited the car.
Mac took a few tentative steps onto the open ground and then slowly turned and looked around, seeming to have no eye for the awing beauty of the reddish table mountains dominating the view. "I know we were here a few weeks ago but apart from that..." She sighed, then squared her shoulders. "Okay, let's go right back to zero. So this is where it happened?"
Harm walked up to her. "Yeah. Over there, on that hilltop, is the entrance to that cave you used to come to with your uncle. That's where they kept Sergei, Chloe and AJ hostage."
She had already seen the scenery once but apparently, she tried to look at it as if it were new to her. Harm watched as she climbed the little hill and entered the cave, staying back himself. He needed to give her all the time she needed, although he had little hope that she would find anything new. But maybe this trip would at least help her to find some kind of closure.
Mac re-emerged from the cave, frowning. She slowly descended the hill and walked back towards him across the plane, all the time scrutinizing her surroundings as if to make sure that not even the most unimportant detail would escape her notice. Harm felt his chest tighten as the time passed and her expression became more and more openly desperate. So far, nothing in the least helpful had come up and yet, she couldn't seem to bring herself to admit failure and break off her search for no one knew what. Stubbornly she continued pacing around, making him tell her the exact events over and over again. Harm was sure that from her inner clock, she had to know they had already been out here for more than two hours but if that was the case, she kept ignoring time. It seemed as if she were convinced that her last ray of hope would finally fade away, should she accept defeat.
They had once again climbed the hill that held the entrance to the cave. Trying to suppress her tears of rage and despair she scanned the surroundings for what had to be the hundredth time. But again, all her efforts were fruitless. Finally, lack of sleep, exhaustion and pain were taking their toll on her. Harm could see she tried to fight it, but in the end she broke down on the spot, crying helplessly.
Harm kneeled down and in spite of all his contrary feelings tried to take her in his arms. But apparently, the closeness was too much for her to bear. She roughly pushed him away, struggled back to her feet and started to run down the hill although she had to be half blind with tears.
"Sarah, don't!" Harm quickly got up but slipped and fell. Swearing, he pulled himself up again and as cautiously as he could, half ran half slid down the slope. He was afraid she would hurt herself badly if she kept on running like she was, oblivious to her surroundings and the dangers the rocky ground held. In the true sense of the word blinded by emotion.
"Mac!" he furiously shouted after her, too afraid to notice he used the old nickname, "Dammit, slow down or you'll fall!"
However, Mac didn't seem to hear him. Or if she did, she didn't seem to care anymore. She stumbled various times but never broke off her desperate chase. It was clear to him she didn't know where she was headed. Apparently, she only wanted to get away, to wear herself out to the point where no hurt could penetrate her conscious anymore.
Harm had almost reached her when suddenly his heart skipped a beat. About 60 yards before him, Mac stumbled again and this time lost her footing. A scream tore through the deep silence around them when she hit the ground. The momentum of her fierce run made her body roll on downhill, overturning several times until she had reached the even ground. Her head collided violently with a piece of rock, then she lay motionless.
"Sarah!" Harm screamed in terror, accelerating his pace as much as he could without risking to follow her down himself. It took him entirely too long until he reached her, all the time praying she wasn't injured for real.
To his overwhelming relief, she started moving again when he was only a mere ten yards away. Yet, what she was doing seemed strange. She seemed to reach for something on the ground before her and when she picked it up, she pulled her hand close to her face as if to examine what she held in her hand.
Panting, he finally dropped to his knees at her side. "Are you all right?" He cupped her face and examined the cut on her forehead that was bleeding considerably. When she didn't answer, he lifted her chin with his finger to meet her gaze.
Strangely, he didn't encounter physical pain. What he saw looked more like deepest confusion and absolute disorientation. "Sarah?" he asked softly, caressing her cheek. "Everything okay with you?"
"Not Sarah," she said in a barely audibly voice. "It's Mac."
"What...?" he whispered, aghast, suddenly unable to get his thoughts into an order that was reasonable enough to make him understand her words.
Painfully slowly, her face contorting from the strain, she held out her hand to him.
On it lay a piece of the most delicate white golden chain he had ever seen - a pendant shaped like the outlines of a heart dangling freely from it.
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!)
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'.
From part eleven:
"Good," Harm said, his emotional exhaustion evident in his voice. He didn't even seem to try to conceal it. "I've fulfilled my part of the deal. Now it's your turn, Ensign."
An achingly long moment passed before Golden spoke up again. "No," he said calmly, still smiling. "I don't need your offer anymore, sir. Why should I even consider turning State's evidence against my former partners? I'd have done it to have a bit of a vendetta because they screwed up my nice revenge plans in the first place. But... what they did accomplish is just so much better. I might even feel inclined to think of a gesture of gratitude towards them..." He stood. "If you'll please tell the guards to take me back to my cell, ma'am, sir?"
For a few seconds, Harm didn't even budge. He had paled and beads of perspiration were visible on his forehead. Then he slowly got up - a broken image of the man Sarah had come to know as Harmon Rabb, Jr. The man who had done the one thing he feared most, who had finally opened up and had laid his heart on the table in front of someone so utterly undeserving. He had bared his soul to someone he despised, for the sole purpose of helping her, and he had been pushed back into the dirt instead of achieving what he had made this enormous sacrifice for. He was standing motionless, unflinching, but to Sarah's eyes, it was as evident as anything that Harm was devastated and hurting tremendously.
This was her breaking point. Wondering for a fleeting moment if this was a remainder of Mac resurfacing, she suddenly sprung to her feet and violently punched the startled Golden in the face, making him topple to the ground. She stood over him for a moment, panting, willing herself not to kick his defenseless form. "Harm, I think we need a medic," she whispered shakily. "Self defense," she only added, knowing that from her point of view, it was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help her God.
Part Twelve:
Feb. 21st 0221 ZULU Mac's apartment Georgetown, D.C.
Silence.
Ever since they had left Leavenworth, they hadn't spoken but a few unavoidable words. The taxi ride to the airport, their flight back to D.C., the ride to her place in his car - endless hours of extreme tension and silent suffering on both sides. At least Harm suspected as much. He knew very well how he felt, and judging from the way Mac's jaw was set and how she tried to avoid facing him whenever she could, she had to be hurting just as much as he was. Just the reason was probably a little different.
He had vowed he'd keep his feelings buried deep inside, even at the price of giving an impression of being unable to talk from the heart. That had been the role he had played for years anyway. So it hadn't taken too much getting used to. The knowledge that he had once crossed that line and had been able to tell her how he felt had made him keep his vow. This and the hope he would be able to do it again when the time came - and that he would be rewarded with her love as he had been back then.
Today's interview had changed everything. Apart from hurting because he had allowed his feelings to resurface, his heart was aching even more because Mac had to think he was a coward, acting only under pressure and telling a worthless person what would have been hers to hear from him, all alone. He knew she had feelings for him that surpassed the boundaries of the 'friendship' scenario he had introduced her to. Their brief close encounter in Arizona had told him that she longed for him to tell her that he was feeling more than friendship for her, too. And today, he knew he had gravely wounded her recovering soul not only by explaining to someone else that he had loved the person she had once been, but even more so by choosing his words in a way that had made it clear to her that she couldn't expect to be loved by him anymore. Not as long as she didn't find her way back.
But that wasn't true at all - and that was where his ever-growing problem lay. He did love her. He still did want her in his life just as badly as he had wanted her before the tragedy. His longing and desire for her to become his - emotionally as well as physically - were slowly but steadily eating him up from inside. A thousand times a day, he had to will himself to refrain from pouring his heart out to her and give in to what he knew she wished most. Knowing they both wanted nothing more than to acknowledge their bond and yet knowing that it would be fatal to do so... Harm had no idea just for how long he would have the strength to carry on.
Only the conviction that he did it for her best, saving her the pains of a probable failure, was keeping him from faltering. He still loved 'Mac' too much not to look for her in 'Sarah'. And under this burden, Sarah was sure to break. She might not know it, but she was better off if he left her alone.
When he had still been seeing Diane in Mac, the danger of him having a weak moment had lessened as the time had passed. Being with Mac, he had soon learned that Diane had been a different person altogether. The longer he had known his JAG partner, the more his Academy love had faded into the background. At a certain point, it had become as natural as anything to know the difference between the woman who had once been in his heart and the one who had slowly found her way into it.
Now, however, the situation was reversed. As Harm was sitting on the couch in Mac's living room, waiting for her to get the coffee she had offered upon their return from Kansas, Harm was aware of how much the apartment had become 'her' again. It wasn't the clean, rather impersonal place anymore that he had brought her back to from California. In the course of the last weeks, Mac had made herself at home again. The place breathed of her personality. And he noted that it was just as he had known it to be. So, the longer he was near 'Sarah', the more she became 'Mac' again in his eyes, whether he wanted her to or not.
He saw that Mac's hand was shaking when she set the coffee mug on the table before him. A few drops fell onto the polished piece of furniture but right now she didn't seem to have the nerve to wipe them away. Instead she only retreated to the other end of the couch and, clutching her own mug with both hands, she blew into the brown liquid, staring at the ripples her breath caused on the surface.
Picking up his own mug, Harm observed her over its rim. Mac didn't even seem to be ashamed of showing how intimidated she was by the situation. He had to admit to himself that this was a side he liked in 'Sarah' - not having to fight the eternal wall that had so often closed her off from him. But then, he had changed, too, in this respect. Before New Year, it had just as often been him to seek shelter behind a mask of his own. Now, he felt he wanted to talk about what had happened today. Badly. So when she had invited him to come up for coffee, apparently having thoughts of a similar kind, he had gladly accepted right away. Much as he would try to keep his distance, he wouldn't be the one to run. This friendship was too important to miss out on any chance to save it.
When the silence was becoming hard to bear, he sighed, deciding it was up to him to offer the opening. After all it had been him - forced or not - who had clearly taken a step today that couldn't be undone. "I'm sorry about the way things went today," he said in a low voice.
Mac took a sip of coffee and swallowed it with considerable difficulty. Still not looking at him, she asked, "You're sorry that I heard how you felt about my alter ego?"
He couldn't help wincing slightly. Shaking his head slowly, he set down his mug again and unconsciously hugged himself in a gesture of self-protection. "No, I'm sorry about the way you heard. I should have told you directly. But I had no idea..."
"That he was going to pull that move on you?" she asked, unable to fully mask the hurt in her voice. "Do you think you would have told me if you could have been sure the topic would never be forced onto you?"
"I dunno," he murmured, resigned. 'Honesty, Rabb,' he then reminded himself. "No, actually, I do know," he went on just as low, making her look up at him, her surprise evident. "I do know that I wouldn't have," he admitted, pained, "Because I swore to myself I wouldn't."
The sudden flash of pain in her eyes stabbed him in the heart. "You must have loved her more than anything," she stated in a low, choked voice.
He nodded, drawing a shaky breath. "Yeah," he finally acknowledged, looking away.
After what sounded like a low, suppressed sob, it took her a while to formulate her next question. Or to gather her courage - Harm didn't know which it was. Eventually, though, she spoke up again. "Did Mac know how you felt?"
"For a long time, I suppose," he answered truthfully, forcing himself to meet her gaze again and finding a single tearstain on her right cheek that he didn't dare wipe away right now.
"But did you ever tell her?"
Harm felt as if he were standing at the edge of a cliff. Take one step forward - and break the vow you made to safeguard your hopes of happiness. Don't - and let her deduce from your silence that you want to exclude her from your life. With a slight, defiant shake of his head, Harm ignored the million thoughts spinning through his brain and decided to trust his gut for once. He stepped into the void.
"Yeah, I did," he confirmed, reaching for Mac's hand as she had just set down her mug on the table, too. Encircling her fingers with his, he became aware that they were icy although she had warmed them all the time while drinking. Her eyes widened as she seemed to read in his what had followed his admission back then.
Entire minutes ticked by. Neither of them knew in which direction they could safely descend the mountain they had just climbed together.
"Then why do you keep looking after me?" she finally queried, her voice barely audible. "If things have changed that much for you, you must hate me for not being her..."
"But I don't," he admitted shakily, desperately trying to stop himself but at the same time knowing it was a lost cause. The pressure deep inside had found a hairline crack in his armor and was about to make it crumble for good. "I don't, Sarah," he repeated, cupping her face with his left hand and finally brushing away the tearstain with his thumb.
Fear welled up in him when he saw the slightest glimmer of hope creep into her eyes. "Then stop drawing back," she pleaded shyly. "I may not be who I once was, but I can assure you that you won't find me any less devoted to you than she may have been." She swallowed hard, briefly closing her eyes and then looking at him again in firm determination. "Listen, Harm... you need to know that... that over the last few weeks, I have come to love you very much."
"Mac... Sarah... don't..." he protested weakly, knowing he didn't mean it.
The vulnerability in her eyes bordered on being inhuman. "Am I really that different?" she whispered, barely getting the words out. "Don't you think you could in time learn to love me? Would it be so hard to imagine that I might still be able to give you what you were hoping for? I'm only asking for a chance, Harm. Maybe you don't love me now but..."
At those words, his last defense line fell. "Wait," he choked out, looking down to regroup a moment and holding up his hand to make her see he needed to be heard out now. When he felt settled enough to speak coherently, he gently took her face in both his hands, laying all his heart into his gaze, praying he was doing the right thing.
"I do love you, Sarah," he admitted hoarsely, "Just as you said: more than anything. But this is the one reason why I need to leave you alone. I'm not sure if I'm mixing up wishful thinking and true caring here. Much as I'd like to convince myself that it's neither 'Mac' nor 'Sarah' whom I want in my life, but just you - I'm almost certain that I'll eventually screw this up because I can't stop thinking of could-haves or comparing the two of you."
Rage was rising inside him because he couldn't even seem to explain where the problem was. "Hell, I know that you're still her... or that she's as much you as she could be... or... dammit..." The swearword was choked by a profound sob he had tried in vain to suppress. He squeezed his eyes shut and sniffed before he could face her again. "Anyway," he forced himself to continue, "The bottom-line is that as long as you don't remember our history, or who I was to you or who you were yourself... I would only cause you even more pain than I already have. That is why I can't do this. For your sake - because I've hurt you over and over again unwillingly in the past, and I love you too damn much to risk breaking you for real."
She swallowed hard and didn't seem to do anything anymore to prevent her tears from falling, but in her eyes, deep understanding slowly became perceptible to him. And although the old scar on his heart was bleeding as much as ever again, making it hard to breathe, he suddenly felt immensely grateful.
She even tried a sad, tearful half-smile. "Would you kiss me goodbye?" she begged shakily.
Knowing his vocal chords were unable to comply, he only nodded and for one last time brought his lips to hers.
The memory of that one long moment of farewell, the deepest sincerity of their feelings, combined with the incredible tenderness of their touch, were what both took with them as they went to sleep only a short time later, separated by physical distance and rational decisions, yet united in pain and caring.
Feb. 21st 0910 ZULU Harm's apartment North of Union Station Washington, D.C.
It was the persistent knocking that woke him. He instantly knew it was Mac. For a moment, his heart started to race frantically because he had no idea what he was supposed to feel. Gratitude that she'd still come to him in the middle of the night when she felt she needed to? Or trepidation because the wounds of last night hadn't nearly closed enough to be tested again by the very same emotions that had caused them?
Yet, he knew she'd never have come if she didn't have a good reason, especially after last night. So he tried to block the thoughts about any possible outcome of the situation out of his mind. Mac came first.
Drawing one last decided breath to steady himself, he opened the door. She was wearing sweats and sneakers as if she'd been out for her early Saturday morning run - only that it was far too early this Saturday for her to be out running. Her face was still slightly red and swollen, telling him her tears hadn't stopped for some time after he'd left her alone last night. But a closer look at her face soothed his bad conscience just a little: her features now bore the expression of cool professionalism he knew so well.
"Can I come in?" she asked shyly instead of a greeting.
"Sure." Harm opened the door a little wider and gently took her by the arm, leading her inside without directly looking at her.
She stepped inside and put down a bag she had been carrying. Harm closed the door and looked at her questioningly. This time, the opening had to come from her. Not that he wouldn't have supplied it - he just didn't have a clue what she was up to.
She got straight to the point. "Harm, you told me you'd do anything to help me recover, right?" He nodded, waiting for her to elaborate.
"Then, please, get your overnight bag and come to the airport with me." With that, she handed him an envelope, her voice allowing no refusal.
His first notion would have been to ask her to slow down, take a seat on the couch and explain what this was all about. But the combination of vivid feelings mirroring in her eyes - hope, despair, defiance, determination, fear - made him control his reaction. It was evident she meant it, and it was equally evident that this wasn't a mere whim. Mac had decided to fight her fate. And if this meant she was in whatever way dealing with it, she had his full support.
"Where are we going?" he merely asked, his outward calmness not really genuine.
"Arizona." Her answer was just a little too curt to sound as unafraid as had probably been intended.
At once, the memory of their last trip resurfaced and he needed all his willpower not to wince. "Okay. What are we supposed to do there?"
"I want to go back to Red Rock Mesa. To where I was shot."
"But we've already been there," he reasoned gently, against his own will. "What do you expect to find this time that you didn't back then?"
She sighed, never averting her gaze. "I don't know. But I have to try. Something..." he could see she was searching for the right words, "Something just tells me I have to go there again."
'I'm sure the clue must lie somewhere in this story...' Harm suddenly heard Dr. Smith's words in his mind. This was the moment he knew he couldn't prevent her from going. He was still doubtful it would do more good than harm facing the ordeal head-on yet again, but if Mac had had some kind of a vision or whatever one wanted to call it - after his crash in May he was the last to contradict to giving it a shot.
He carefully laid his hands on her shoulders. "If you really think it'll help you..." he began, doubt ringing in his voice.
Mac's lower lip began to tremble slightly but she stubbornly held his glance. "Harm, last night showed me just what I've really lost. It's not only my past. It feels like my whole future. So, if you were in my situation, what'd you do?"
He only looked at her for a moment, not moving, all but losing himself in her pleading eyes. Finally shaking himself from his state of haze, he turned briskly and walked over to the bedroom. "Give me ten minutes."
"Harm..."
He stopped and turned.
"Thank you," she said shakily, relief lighting up her expression. He smiled back, thankful she still trusted him to this extent.
"Anytime."
Feb. 21st 1840 ZULU Red Rock Mesa Arizona
The rental jeep was jumping so hard Harm thought the axles would break before they even reached their destination. As they were driving across the rocky desert of Monument Valley at forbidden speed, Harm had to take a firm hold on the handle in order not to bump his head against the side window. He had offered to drive but Mac had insisted he navigate and let her take the steering wheel. After not too much of a discussion he had given in. It was much easier to look at her while she had something to concentrate on.
During the whole flight she had sat slumped in her seat, her fingers clutching the handle of her bag, miserably and impatiently staring out of the window. He had had to fight a strong urge to take her into his arms for comfort but he knew it would have been just the wrong thing to do. Her Marine mode was what she needed right now - it would protect her better against the hardship she was about to face than he himself possibly could have. So Harm had just sat there, watching as waiting for their plane to land had seemed to slowly drive her crazy. At the wheel, however, she looked almost relaxed. She was clearly working off her frustration and anger. He only hoped it would tire her out enough to allow a certain numbness to shield her from suffering too much if this trip turned out as fruitless as the first.
They rode in silence, each contemplating their own thoughts. The only words they exchanged were when from time to time, Harm would consult the map and give her directions. Finally Harm motioned her to stop. She stepped on the brakes, they jolted to a halt and exited the car.
Mac took a few tentative steps onto the open ground and then slowly turned and looked around, seeming to have no eye for the awing beauty of the reddish table mountains dominating the view. "I know we were here a few weeks ago but apart from that..." She sighed, then squared her shoulders. "Okay, let's go right back to zero. So this is where it happened?"
Harm walked up to her. "Yeah. Over there, on that hilltop, is the entrance to that cave you used to come to with your uncle. That's where they kept Sergei, Chloe and AJ hostage."
She had already seen the scenery once but apparently, she tried to look at it as if it were new to her. Harm watched as she climbed the little hill and entered the cave, staying back himself. He needed to give her all the time she needed, although he had little hope that she would find anything new. But maybe this trip would at least help her to find some kind of closure.
Mac re-emerged from the cave, frowning. She slowly descended the hill and walked back towards him across the plane, all the time scrutinizing her surroundings as if to make sure that not even the most unimportant detail would escape her notice. Harm felt his chest tighten as the time passed and her expression became more and more openly desperate. So far, nothing in the least helpful had come up and yet, she couldn't seem to bring herself to admit failure and break off her search for no one knew what. Stubbornly she continued pacing around, making him tell her the exact events over and over again. Harm was sure that from her inner clock, she had to know they had already been out here for more than two hours but if that was the case, she kept ignoring time. It seemed as if she were convinced that her last ray of hope would finally fade away, should she accept defeat.
They had once again climbed the hill that held the entrance to the cave. Trying to suppress her tears of rage and despair she scanned the surroundings for what had to be the hundredth time. But again, all her efforts were fruitless. Finally, lack of sleep, exhaustion and pain were taking their toll on her. Harm could see she tried to fight it, but in the end she broke down on the spot, crying helplessly.
Harm kneeled down and in spite of all his contrary feelings tried to take her in his arms. But apparently, the closeness was too much for her to bear. She roughly pushed him away, struggled back to her feet and started to run down the hill although she had to be half blind with tears.
"Sarah, don't!" Harm quickly got up but slipped and fell. Swearing, he pulled himself up again and as cautiously as he could, half ran half slid down the slope. He was afraid she would hurt herself badly if she kept on running like she was, oblivious to her surroundings and the dangers the rocky ground held. In the true sense of the word blinded by emotion.
"Mac!" he furiously shouted after her, too afraid to notice he used the old nickname, "Dammit, slow down or you'll fall!"
However, Mac didn't seem to hear him. Or if she did, she didn't seem to care anymore. She stumbled various times but never broke off her desperate chase. It was clear to him she didn't know where she was headed. Apparently, she only wanted to get away, to wear herself out to the point where no hurt could penetrate her conscious anymore.
Harm had almost reached her when suddenly his heart skipped a beat. About 60 yards before him, Mac stumbled again and this time lost her footing. A scream tore through the deep silence around them when she hit the ground. The momentum of her fierce run made her body roll on downhill, overturning several times until she had reached the even ground. Her head collided violently with a piece of rock, then she lay motionless.
"Sarah!" Harm screamed in terror, accelerating his pace as much as he could without risking to follow her down himself. It took him entirely too long until he reached her, all the time praying she wasn't injured for real.
To his overwhelming relief, she started moving again when he was only a mere ten yards away. Yet, what she was doing seemed strange. She seemed to reach for something on the ground before her and when she picked it up, she pulled her hand close to her face as if to examine what she held in her hand.
Panting, he finally dropped to his knees at her side. "Are you all right?" He cupped her face and examined the cut on her forehead that was bleeding considerably. When she didn't answer, he lifted her chin with his finger to meet her gaze.
Strangely, he didn't encounter physical pain. What he saw looked more like deepest confusion and absolute disorientation. "Sarah?" he asked softly, caressing her cheek. "Everything okay with you?"
"Not Sarah," she said in a barely audibly voice. "It's Mac."
"What...?" he whispered, aghast, suddenly unable to get his thoughts into an order that was reasonable enough to make him understand her words.
Painfully slowly, her face contorting from the strain, she held out her hand to him.
On it lay a piece of the most delicate white golden chain he had ever seen - a pendant shaped like the outlines of a heart dangling freely from it.
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!)