Title: Just to talk Part XIII
Author: Nan
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Mac/Harm
Spoilers: Take It Like a Man
Authors Notes - Sorry this post has taken so long. Got caught up in RL.
******************************************************************
Mac looked around the room, her over-wrought senses on high alert, recording each detail. The steaming food was arranged carefully on red flowered Wedgwood. Only the plate in front of her was not chipped. The walnut table was spread with a starched linen tablecloth, thin with age. She stood behind her ladder-back chair waiting with Daniel and the boys for Susan to bring in the final dish, a salad. She ran her hand lightly over the cross-stitched cushion covering the seat. The harsh glaring of the overhead light fixture was muted by a dimmer on the wall. A fire cackled unseen from the next room fireplace.
There was a firm edge to Daniel's voice as he told Robby and Neil to sit quietly. It was the closest all day that he had come to raising his voice. Mac watched as the little boys automatically bowed their heads for the grace. She felt little hands grab hers as everyone reached out to their neighbor and repeated in unison. "Bless us this day..."
Mac felt herself immersing in the family scene. It felt rejuvenating, like stepping into a scented bath. Her tightly wound nerves slowly unraveled. Her world of deadlines and duty seemed so far away. She watched the expressions on the little boy's faces as they talked about school and friends. No issue seemed too unimportant to discuss, from Neil's victory goal at football during a recess game, Robby's perfect spelling score or Susan's visit to her mother at a nearby nursing home.
For perhaps one of the first times in her life, there was little she had to say. How could she add to this? What she was; what she did; seemed coarse and crass when compared. Suddenly, the conversation turned. They were discussing the incident at the memorial.
Robby, the ten-year old, nearly burst with excitement as he said, "Dad said that you took out that man with one good kick! Kung Fu! Bamm!" He made chopping motions with his hands.
Neil rose up, kneeling his chair. He was only seven. "I'm going to do that! When Ryan O'Neil comes around, I'm going to get him back! He'll never take my Pokemon pencil again!"
"You most definitely won't, Neil Wood. Sit down!" admonished his mother. Susan shot a knowing glance to her husband. "Tell me, Sarah, what leads a woman like you to join the marines, anyhow?"
Mac answered truthfully. "My uncle. At the time, it seemed the only escape route possible."
Susan raised an eyebrow. "Escape from what?"
"Alcoholism, an abusive father and a foolish marriage."
Daniel and Susan exchange a second set of looks. Daniel said, "It's not the first time, the military straightened out a life. A sense of purpose. A colonel, did you say?"
"Lieutenant colonel, actually. I'm a military lawyer."
Susan cut in. "There was no church for you to turn to back then, Sarah?"
"It didn't seem so at the time." Mac looked around at the faces at the table. "Maybe I should have looked harder."
Susan was watching her and Mac knew she doubted her genuineness. Somehow, what Mac represented put Daniel's wife on the defense. Funny that was, considering all Mac felt for Susan was envy.
Mac tried to make amends. "This dinner is lovely," she said. "And your family is wonderful."
Neil was not easily deterred from the subject foremost in his mind. "Did you ever kill anyone?"
"Neil!" said Susan. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I don't know what's gotten in to him. We have always advocated peaceful ways. No war toys, no violent videos, but somehow it seeps through."
Neil was disappointed. "I just wanna know. Sean's Dad is in Iraq. He drives a big truck. Bang, bang! Do you drive a tank?"
"Neil!" said Susan, horrified. "You're finished here. Why don't you and Robby watch some television?"
Daniel took this opportunity to change the topic. "Tell me, Sarah, what brings you here? To England?"
"Vacation," she said flippantly.
"Croydon?"
Mac searched for answer. "Local sights," she lied.
"Daniel told me that you were quite interested in the memorial to Karla and Warren," said Susan. "How did you come to know of it?"
Why did Mac felt like she was about pick up a metaphoric sledgehammer and shatter the calm? "I met them."
"You knew Karla and Warren?" Susan chattered, picking up empty plates. "I'm glad so we met you! Daniel is Karla's bother. Did you know that? He treasures any connection to his dead sister."
Mac raised her eyes to Daniel. Somehow this revelation didn't surprise her; she had felt the link. Fate was funny at times.
She found Daniel looking back at her. Studying her. Two steps ahead of his wife; he was already considering how his martyred sister might have met an American marine. She could read conflict in his expression. Like he had already guessed what she might say. Like suddenly, he was wishing he had never met her.
He abruptly stood up. "I'll put some water on for tea," he said and walked from the room. Mac stood up too and helped Susan clear the table. They worked in silence.
Susan said, "You must have met them on that fund raising trip to South Carolina," she said. "Right?"
Mac shook her head. "No. I never met them in the US." All three had made their way back to the dining room. Empty red flowered cups and saucers stood with the cream and sugar, waiting for the water to boil.
Susan was puzzled. "Here, then?"
Daniel sat down. "It was Paraguay." It was a statement. He had guessed.
Mac looked at him. "Yes."
Susan sucked in her breath. Immediately concern for her husband filled her face. She reached across the table for his hand. "Paraguay? Oh no," she said.
"At the mission?" said Daniel, grasping at the last easy answer.
"No, not the mission," said Mac. She looked at the couple. "Do you want me to stop?"
Daniel stood up. "Yes!" he said, abruptly. Then, "No! If you know anything about the deaths of my sister and her husband, I should know."
Mac wondered how to describe this to these gentle people. "What have you been told?" she asked.
"Nothing." Daniel spat out the word with surprising force. "The kidnapping, the demand for money and then their bodies were found. Nothing else. They were both shot with a single bullet to the base of their necks."
"Who did you talk to?" asked Mac.
"People from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Plus a man from the US State Department."
"What were you told about their killers?" said Mac. Security and secrecy meant that these people knew nothing. She was putting her own security rating at risk. But they had a right to know.
"It had something to do with the global drug trade."
Mac looked down at her hands, folded on her lap. She grasped them tighter to keep them from trembling. She was suddenly scared. How would this story sound to people like the Woods? How could they not judge her? And why was it suddenly so important that they understand?
She started to speak. In a monotone voice, she told them about how she came to be in Paraguay. How she was captured. And how she met Warren and Karla. How they shared their food with Webb and herself.
She painted a picture of Sadik, not leaving out any details about his intentions or cruelty. The only detail she left out was the story of Karla's betrayal towards herself. Nothing would be gained by it. Better-trained people than Karla had reacted poorly in Paraguay. Looking around this room told her that Karla had no experience with the perverted and brutal world of Sadik Fahd.
The room was silent. Mac tentatively raised her eyes to look at the Woods. Tears were streaming down Susan's compassionate face. She took one of her hands away from her tight grip on Daniel and reached out to Mac. Slowly, Daniel did the same. Mac felt the wetness on her own face as she felt their hands encase hers.
They sat in a huddled group for an interminable amount of time. Mac's internal clock ceased to function. Suddenly, she felt so tired she wondered if she could find the energy to drive her rental car back to the hotel.
Reading her mind, Susan asked, "There's a spare room out back. We'd be honored if you would spend the night." Mac's legs trembled a little as she slowly stood up. Somewhere, there was a kettle whistling.
Author: Nan
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Mac/Harm
Spoilers: Take It Like a Man
Authors Notes - Sorry this post has taken so long. Got caught up in RL.
******************************************************************
Mac looked around the room, her over-wrought senses on high alert, recording each detail. The steaming food was arranged carefully on red flowered Wedgwood. Only the plate in front of her was not chipped. The walnut table was spread with a starched linen tablecloth, thin with age. She stood behind her ladder-back chair waiting with Daniel and the boys for Susan to bring in the final dish, a salad. She ran her hand lightly over the cross-stitched cushion covering the seat. The harsh glaring of the overhead light fixture was muted by a dimmer on the wall. A fire cackled unseen from the next room fireplace.
There was a firm edge to Daniel's voice as he told Robby and Neil to sit quietly. It was the closest all day that he had come to raising his voice. Mac watched as the little boys automatically bowed their heads for the grace. She felt little hands grab hers as everyone reached out to their neighbor and repeated in unison. "Bless us this day..."
Mac felt herself immersing in the family scene. It felt rejuvenating, like stepping into a scented bath. Her tightly wound nerves slowly unraveled. Her world of deadlines and duty seemed so far away. She watched the expressions on the little boy's faces as they talked about school and friends. No issue seemed too unimportant to discuss, from Neil's victory goal at football during a recess game, Robby's perfect spelling score or Susan's visit to her mother at a nearby nursing home.
For perhaps one of the first times in her life, there was little she had to say. How could she add to this? What she was; what she did; seemed coarse and crass when compared. Suddenly, the conversation turned. They were discussing the incident at the memorial.
Robby, the ten-year old, nearly burst with excitement as he said, "Dad said that you took out that man with one good kick! Kung Fu! Bamm!" He made chopping motions with his hands.
Neil rose up, kneeling his chair. He was only seven. "I'm going to do that! When Ryan O'Neil comes around, I'm going to get him back! He'll never take my Pokemon pencil again!"
"You most definitely won't, Neil Wood. Sit down!" admonished his mother. Susan shot a knowing glance to her husband. "Tell me, Sarah, what leads a woman like you to join the marines, anyhow?"
Mac answered truthfully. "My uncle. At the time, it seemed the only escape route possible."
Susan raised an eyebrow. "Escape from what?"
"Alcoholism, an abusive father and a foolish marriage."
Daniel and Susan exchange a second set of looks. Daniel said, "It's not the first time, the military straightened out a life. A sense of purpose. A colonel, did you say?"
"Lieutenant colonel, actually. I'm a military lawyer."
Susan cut in. "There was no church for you to turn to back then, Sarah?"
"It didn't seem so at the time." Mac looked around at the faces at the table. "Maybe I should have looked harder."
Susan was watching her and Mac knew she doubted her genuineness. Somehow, what Mac represented put Daniel's wife on the defense. Funny that was, considering all Mac felt for Susan was envy.
Mac tried to make amends. "This dinner is lovely," she said. "And your family is wonderful."
Neil was not easily deterred from the subject foremost in his mind. "Did you ever kill anyone?"
"Neil!" said Susan. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I don't know what's gotten in to him. We have always advocated peaceful ways. No war toys, no violent videos, but somehow it seeps through."
Neil was disappointed. "I just wanna know. Sean's Dad is in Iraq. He drives a big truck. Bang, bang! Do you drive a tank?"
"Neil!" said Susan, horrified. "You're finished here. Why don't you and Robby watch some television?"
Daniel took this opportunity to change the topic. "Tell me, Sarah, what brings you here? To England?"
"Vacation," she said flippantly.
"Croydon?"
Mac searched for answer. "Local sights," she lied.
"Daniel told me that you were quite interested in the memorial to Karla and Warren," said Susan. "How did you come to know of it?"
Why did Mac felt like she was about pick up a metaphoric sledgehammer and shatter the calm? "I met them."
"You knew Karla and Warren?" Susan chattered, picking up empty plates. "I'm glad so we met you! Daniel is Karla's bother. Did you know that? He treasures any connection to his dead sister."
Mac raised her eyes to Daniel. Somehow this revelation didn't surprise her; she had felt the link. Fate was funny at times.
She found Daniel looking back at her. Studying her. Two steps ahead of his wife; he was already considering how his martyred sister might have met an American marine. She could read conflict in his expression. Like he had already guessed what she might say. Like suddenly, he was wishing he had never met her.
He abruptly stood up. "I'll put some water on for tea," he said and walked from the room. Mac stood up too and helped Susan clear the table. They worked in silence.
Susan said, "You must have met them on that fund raising trip to South Carolina," she said. "Right?"
Mac shook her head. "No. I never met them in the US." All three had made their way back to the dining room. Empty red flowered cups and saucers stood with the cream and sugar, waiting for the water to boil.
Susan was puzzled. "Here, then?"
Daniel sat down. "It was Paraguay." It was a statement. He had guessed.
Mac looked at him. "Yes."
Susan sucked in her breath. Immediately concern for her husband filled her face. She reached across the table for his hand. "Paraguay? Oh no," she said.
"At the mission?" said Daniel, grasping at the last easy answer.
"No, not the mission," said Mac. She looked at the couple. "Do you want me to stop?"
Daniel stood up. "Yes!" he said, abruptly. Then, "No! If you know anything about the deaths of my sister and her husband, I should know."
Mac wondered how to describe this to these gentle people. "What have you been told?" she asked.
"Nothing." Daniel spat out the word with surprising force. "The kidnapping, the demand for money and then their bodies were found. Nothing else. They were both shot with a single bullet to the base of their necks."
"Who did you talk to?" asked Mac.
"People from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Plus a man from the US State Department."
"What were you told about their killers?" said Mac. Security and secrecy meant that these people knew nothing. She was putting her own security rating at risk. But they had a right to know.
"It had something to do with the global drug trade."
Mac looked down at her hands, folded on her lap. She grasped them tighter to keep them from trembling. She was suddenly scared. How would this story sound to people like the Woods? How could they not judge her? And why was it suddenly so important that they understand?
She started to speak. In a monotone voice, she told them about how she came to be in Paraguay. How she was captured. And how she met Warren and Karla. How they shared their food with Webb and herself.
She painted a picture of Sadik, not leaving out any details about his intentions or cruelty. The only detail she left out was the story of Karla's betrayal towards herself. Nothing would be gained by it. Better-trained people than Karla had reacted poorly in Paraguay. Looking around this room told her that Karla had no experience with the perverted and brutal world of Sadik Fahd.
The room was silent. Mac tentatively raised her eyes to look at the Woods. Tears were streaming down Susan's compassionate face. She took one of her hands away from her tight grip on Daniel and reached out to Mac. Slowly, Daniel did the same. Mac felt the wetness on her own face as she felt their hands encase hers.
They sat in a huddled group for an interminable amount of time. Mac's internal clock ceased to function. Suddenly, she felt so tired she wondered if she could find the energy to drive her rental car back to the hotel.
Reading her mind, Susan asked, "There's a spare room out back. We'd be honored if you would spend the night." Mac's legs trembled a little as she slowly stood up. Somewhere, there was a kettle whistling.