Thanks for the feedback, y'all. Yes, Harm isn't himself, but this is a more damaged Harm than we're used to seeing. We'll see flashes of the old Harm, but he has a long way to go to get back to normal. My beta reader found out that what I've been saying is "Bethesda Naval Hospital" is really called the "National Naval Medical Center", so it has been changed to match.

I'm posting early because, well, I posted late last week, and it is a holiday. Enjoy.

Chapter 15:

Without You

"Our friends should be companions who inspire us, who help us rise to our best."

--Joseph B. Wirthlin

1800 Zulu

4 February 2004

National Naval Medical Center

Bethesda, Maryland

Harm drifted halfway between sleep and awake, content with the fact that She was there. Part of him said that he had to be careful, be cautious. Part of him said that she was just another starlight-induced hallucination. Most of him, however, was convinced that she was really there, because he could feel her soft hand running through his hair.

Safety. Peace. Love. The feelings overwhelmed him, and he knew that as long as she was there, everything would be okay. He was safe in her arms. Mac was home. Her presence meant that he was where he belonged. 'Noooooo!' part of him cried out when he felt her leave. Harm opened his eyes and searched the small room for her. She wasn't there. "Mac?" he called, his voice scratchy from disuse.

"I'm changing clothes, flyboy," her voice said from the bathroom. "I'll be out in a minute."

Harm closed his eyes and sighed in relief. She hadn't left. She had kept her promise. He was still safe. Home. That's where this was. He knew he was in the hospital, but they'd be at her apartment or his soon enough. Being in a set of rooms with her with him was sufficient.

Harm pushed himself up in his hospital bed and listened to the rustling of cloth that came from the bathroom. He smiled as he started to think thoughts that he wasn't physically ready for yet about himself, his Marine, and a very big bed. He smiled as he imagined her pregnant with his baby--after all, the end of their deal was in a few months.

Half the fun would be making the baby, he thought with a grin. Lost to his own dreams and plans for their future, he didn't notice Sturgis's hesitant steps into the room.

"Harm?" he said, his deep voice echoing in the antiseptic environment.

Harm could feel his heart start to beat faster, and his breath rasped in his throat. He used his good foot to scoot to the side of the bed furthest away from his old friend and wished that he could get out of bed to go hide in a safe corner. "Mac?" he called.

Mac came out of the bathroom, straightening one of his old T-shirts. "I'm here, sailor," she said as she came over to sit on the side of his bed.

Harm moved closer to her, using her body to shield him from Sturgis. He snaked his untethered arm around her and drew comfort from her presence. "Hey Sturg," he said.

Sturgis walked forward and laid his hand on Harm's shoulder. "Hey, Harm--" he began

"Don't touch me," Harm said as he flinched away from the hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, buddy. I won't do it again unless you say it's okay." Sturgis said as he withdrew his hand and locked both of them behind his back.

"Okay," Harm said, inching closer to Mac as if he wanted to crawl into her skin.

Mac started stroking his hair again, and he relaxed under her gentle ministrations.

"I just needed to find out how you're doing, Harm," Sturgis said.

"He'll be okay," Mac said, glancing up from him briefly.

From her posture, Harm knew that she was warning Sturgis about pressing him about anything. "Yeah," he said, agreeing with her.

Sturgis settled in the chair beside the bed. "I need to apologize for the way I treated you last year, Harm; I knew you could never have killed Singer. I want you to know how much I missed having you around to trounce in basketball."

"It's all right," Harm murmured, tightening his hold on Mac.

"Mac? Can I talk to you outside?" Sturgis asked.

Mac looked down at Harm and shook her head. "Sorry, Commander, but I'm not leaving Harm alone," she said slowly. "Anything you need to say to me you can say in front of Harm."

Sturgis sighed. "All right, but I don't want to upset you, buddy. Harriet and Bud are planning on bringing the boys by, and both Coates and the Admiral will probably come to visit too. You scared the shit out of us when you were taken, and we all need to know that you're okay."

Harm stiffened again and buried his face into Mac's side. Mac leaned down and kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear that she'd be there for him. Muscle by muscle, Harm relaxed. "We'll get through it, Sturgis," Mac said.

Sturgis nodded. "I'll be back, buddy; I just wanted to see for myself that you're mostly in one piece. I'm gonna let you get some rest."

"Bye, Sturgis," Mac said absently, most of her attention focused on Harm.

"Bye Harm, Mac," Sturgis said before he strode out of the room.

"I can tell them not to come yet," Mac offered.

Harm looked up at her and shook his head. "No," he said. "I might as well get this over with and I'd like to see Little AJ, anyway."

Mac nodded. "Whatever you say, sailor, just as long as you promise to never scare me like that again."

Harm felt the tears build up in his eyes and bit his lip, hoping to distract himself from the feelings that came with the old nickname. "I'm not a sailor anymore, Mac," he pointed out.

Mac could see a tear glistening on his eyelashes before it escaped to run down his cheek. She brushed it away and smiled. "Yes, you are, Harm. The SecNav was sneaky and kept you in the Navy. He ordered the Admiral to process your resignation, then intercepted it and had you reassigned to his office." She leaned down and brushed a soft kiss against his lips.

"Why?" Harm asked, hurt, anger, and fear building inside of him.

"I don't know; but I do know that you were promoted recently, Captain Rabb."

"Captain?" he questioned.

"Yeah," she said as a silly grin spread over her face. "You also managed to pick up a third DFC along the way. I'm proud of you, flyboy." Mac leaned down and kissed him again. "As soon as you're feeling better, we'll have the ceremonies."

Harm shook his head and buried his face in her stomach again. It was simply too hard to believe. He closed his eyes, savoring her presence. It was then that the memories hit him:

"They're all dead Commander Harmon Rabb, Junior. How does it feel to know that you are responsible for the deaths of everyone you've ever loved? The barren woman you saved was especially lovely. We drew out her death so that we could hear her scream." Sadik paced in front of him, sliding from foot to foot in an almost snake-like manner. Harm shivered on the metal table, desperately trying not to believe the odious man.

He shivered and drew closer to Mac. It was the drug; it had to be. He didn't want to consider anything else.

Ten year-old Harmon Rabb closed his eyes and hid from the sight of Tom Boone kissing his mother. His father hadn't been gone for very long, and she was already giving up. Disgusted, he turned and ran out the back door to the treehouse that he'd built himself the previous summer. He climbed up in it and hid away in a corner. He was a failure, and his father's wingman was a traitor.

Harm came out of it with the feeling of Mac running her fingers through his hair. "Shhh," she whispered. "You're with me; I won't let him hurt you."

He tightened his grasp on her and leaned into her warm body. This was home. It was where he belonged.

1800 Zulu

4 February 2004

CIA Headquarters

Langley, Virginia

Jack paced back and forth in the briefing room, desperate to escape its small confines. "When are you going to let me out of here, Blaisdell?" he demanded, as he turned to face the table.

"You know the drill, Jack," Blaisdell reminded him. "You don't leave here until you've been fully debriefed, and that's not until I say so."

"Dammit, Allen, I've told you everything I know. If I remember anything else, it'll be in my report." Jack sat down in the sturdy metal chair beside the matching table with a thud and scowled at the man in front of him. "Now, what about the antidote to starlight?"

"It stays in the vault," Blaisdell said cheerfully. "Don't get me wrong, I like Rabb, but he's now a liability."

"One of our own is in a hospital bed right now, and he has more starlight running through his system than anyone else has managed to survive." Jack said in a low, dangerous voice. "You know as well as I do that long term use of that infernal drug can lead to--"

"Death," Blaisdell admitted with a smile. "Rabb is a security risk. We don't know what he told Sadik, and we can't afford to have leaks; especially now."

"Let me get this straight," Jack said with a snarl. "You're just going to sit there and let a good man possibly die just in case he might have told a bunch of terrorists something?"

"You know the score, Jack," Blaisdell reminded him. "Sadik may be dead, but his organization isn't."

"Yes, but I also know that Rabb told Sadik jack shit." He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

"How?" Blaisdell asked.

"The bastard kept electronic tapes of all the time that Rabb spent in there. Webb found the files and copied them to a zip disk."

"And you're sure that Rabb said nothing?" Blaisdell asked.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Of course I am. Our FUBAR king finally did something right. It's a moment for posterity," he said sarcastically.

"Aren't you being a little too hard on Neville Webb's kid?" Blaisdell asked.

Jack shook his head. "He's only managed not to screw up one mission, and he wasn't in charge. My advice is to give him a desk job; the man's hazardous to everybody around him as a field agent. Now, about the starlight antidote--"

"Denied. He could still blab; we don't know what kind of programming Sadik and his goons subjected him to. He'd be an easy snatch-and-grab right now for the remnants of Sadik's organization. We've got some unconfirmed intel that some of them are here in the US."

Jack pounded his fist on the table in exasperation, then pulled a disk out of his jacket pocket. "Yes we do. Rabb didn't crack, and here's a copy of his time spent as a prisoner. He withstood the mind games, the emotional torture, the beatings, and everything that bastard did to him--we got Rabb out in time."

Blaisdell took the zip disk and tucked it in his pocket. "What about the original, and how many other copies of this are there?"

"I have the original; you get it when I find out that Rabb is okay." Jack snapped.

"That still doesn't change the fact that some of them are still out there," Blaisdell pointed out. "The starlight antidote stays where it is."

Jack stood up, put his hands on the table, and leaned towards Blaisdell. "I don't think you understand where I'm coming from," he said silkily. "The minute you assigned us on an operation together, Rabb became one of mine. I do not leave my people behind. Got that? I will go rogue if I have to, but Rabb will get the help he needs."

Blaisdell smiled. "You've just given me the excuse I've always wanted to lock you in one of the holding cells, Jack. Want to dig yourself in deeper?"

Jack smiled. "Maybe I won't be forced to go rogue, old friend. Maybe a certain supervisor I know will give up the antidote in exchange for Tijuana remaining classified from his wife."

"You wouldn't dare," Blaisdell gasped.

"Wanna bet your marriage on it?" Jack asked with a wolfish grin.

Blaisdell sighed. "No, I don't," he admitted. "The antidote is yours, but we'll be watching Rabb to make sure he doesn't betray us, and to make sure that nobody gets their hands on him. His career with the Company is over, anyway."

Jack shrugged. "I expected that. With his skills, he'll be able to rebuild his life--as long as you bozos don't kill him. Oh, and you might want to start looking for a leak. Sadik got his hands on starlight somehow, and we both know that most of it is locked up."

"Do I get your help?" Blaisdell asked.

"I'm NIA, remember? That's a CIA internal matter; none of my business." Jack said with a smile.

Blaisdell sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "You'll have your antidote in an hour."

"Thank you," Jack said, then smiled as he sat down and leaned back in his chair. "Always good to save a guy like Rabb; people with his sense of honor are hard to find."

1930 Zulu

4 February 2004

National Naval Medical Center

Bethesda, Maryland

Mac leaned on her elbow as she watched her sailor sleep. Every once in a while, she leaned over and stroked his hair and face until he calmed. She'd seen him sleep before, but she'd never seen him as restless as he was since they'd found him.

"No! Not Mac, not Sarah!" Harm cried out in his sleep.

"Shhh, I'm here, flyboy," Mac whispered in his ear.

Every time he closed his eyes and fell asleep, she had seen him return to a world of nightmares. It was as if his worst memories were assaulting him, and his mind kept coming up with new and terrifying scenarios in which everything went wrong. It scared the hell out of her and made her worry for him. How could he escape with his sanity intact?

Mac wrapped her arms around him and hugged him gently. Perhaps he could feel her presence. Perhaps just having her near would help convince his unconscious mind that she wasn't dead.

Mac leaned her cheek against his hair and closed her eyes. She'd keep him safe; anyone who tried to hurt Harm would have to get through her first. She wasn't a Marine for nothing.

She was glad that she finally knew how he felt, but right now it was more important to be Mac, his best friend, and not Sarah, his girlfriend. She knew better than to think that he'd bounce back like Superman; even Clark Kent had to spend time recovering emotionally once in a while.

Mac pressed a kiss into his hair. If he was Clark Kent, then she had to be Lois Lane. Lois wasn't just Clark's wife; she was his best friend. Harm's actions had made it clear to her that he needed his best friend as well as time and space to recover. Clark had always returned to the farm; maybe, just maybe...

Mac closed her eyes and started planning. It could work. In fact, considering his history, it might help him recover. She yawned as the days without sleep started to catch up to her. She hugged Harm tighter and smiled. Somehow, she'd find a way to get the cocky flyboy she remembered back or she'd die trying.