Forgiving Our Mistakes
Chapter 2
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Season 9 spoilers. Thanks to Mac2 for the beta. You are wonderful, babe.
Readers: Thanks so much for your encouragement. It's really made me feel welcomed into the fandom.
**
Harm awoke to nausea rolling over him. His head throbbed and he could feel blood caked on his temple. He reached up and gingerly touched it, wincing as he pressed the bruise. His nose was assaulted by the scent of damp and he willed his stomach to maintain control. Slowly, he opened his eyes as the previous events unfolded in his mind.
Let her be OK.
Small basement windows showed tiny slivers of light pouring over a dank basement. Shelves were lined along the walls almost empty, but clean clothes and towels sat on one. A small shower and toilet were off in the corner across from him. He had been laid behind the stairs and he rolled off the old lumpy cot, his feet hitting the floor.
"What the hell?" he asked, as he saw a camera right above his bed.
He stood and cringed as his head reminded him of his injuries. Grabbing onto the stairs for support he moved around them to look at the rest of the room. More cameras aligned the walls. Looking up he saw a wooden door at the top. He climbed the stairs and tried the lock, unsurprised to find it locked. He walked back down and saw a curtain off to the side, pulled tight. He moved forward slowly and pulled the curtain back.
Mac was laid out on a cot similar to his own. His heart beat picked up as he checked her pulse, finding it steady and normal. He rolled her over and shook her gently needing to know she was alright. Her eyes blinked open.
"Harm? What happened?" she asked, her voice groggy from the deep sleep she'd been in.
"I'm not sure. How do you feel?" he asked, moving back as she sat up.
"A little nauseous. I'm guessing that's from the chloroform," she replied, her eyes suddenly widening. "Damn, Rabb. What happened to you?"
She reached out for the cut on his head, but he winced away. "I may have lost my temper when they knocked you out," he said, averting his gaze.
She didn't say anything, but stood up and began to look around. Moving to a shelf behind her, she saw a clean cloth. Quickly she wet it in a sink and walked back toward him, dabbing at his cut.
"Do you have any idea why we were taken?" she asked, rolling her eyes as he winced yet again. "Suck it up, sailor."
He smiled. "No. I didn't recognize anyone. I tried the door at the top of the stairs, but it's locked."
"This looks like someone's house. Who would kidnap us and stick us in their basement?" she asked, incredulously.
"There are cameras all over. Whoever they are they're nosy, but they're also smart. They picked us up on a weekend we were going away, and took my car," Harm said, finally moving, and sitting beside her on the cot.
"We could always hope the hotel notifies the Admiral when we don't show up."
"Even if the hotel cares that we didn't show, it's doubtful they'll contact the Admiral. They'll probably hold our spots for most the weekend. My only expectation is that when we don't show up for work..."
"They'll start looking for us," Mac finished.
"Dammit. We have to find a way out of here," Harm said, standing, his knees wobbling before he got very far. Mac was instantly beside him, her arm wrapped around his middle.
"Always there to catch me aren't you?" Harm asked. There eyes held until she broke off the contact. She pulled him back toward the cot, helping him to sit back down.
"We need to think," Mac said. "Who have we had trouble with that could pull something like this off? They'd have to know our schedules, so whoever they are they have access to what goes on at work."
"You think this was an inside job?" he asked, picking up the cloth she had wet and placing it against his head. The ache was beginning to lessen.
"I'm not sure what to think," she said, standing and beginning to pace. She walked to one of the thickly glassed windows and tried to look out.
"It could have something to do with Webb," Harm said, quietly. He watched Mac's body tense.
"This is not the time or place for this, Harm," she said, turning around slowly.
"It's a viable theory, Mac. Who's pissed off more people than Webb?"
"Fine. Let's say this is all Clay's fault…"
"I didn't say that-," Harm started, but was stopped by Mac holding up a hand. He clamped his mouth shut.
"Let's say this has something to do with him. This is a good thing. He'll send someone to get us out."
"You think you mean that much to him?" Harm asked, more harshly than intended.
"I do."
Harm growled and moved across the room to pry at the windows. "If you think I'm waiting for your boyfriend to get me out of this you're crazy. I'll get us out of this, Sarah."
He could feel her eyes on his back. He turned back around. "And what then, Harm? How will you get us out of this?" she asked, gesturing between them.
A knock at the door interrupted them. Two men walked down the stairs, both armed with guns. "I was correct then," one of the men said. "You do know where I can find Clayton Webb."