When Sturgis drove up, Harm was sitting on the step outside Mac's apartment, patiently waiting in the cold-his jacket tightly zipped and his hands in his pockets for warmth.
Sturgis watched as Harm quickly strode to the car and got in.
"Thanks, Sturgis. I appreciate it. Ah, and you have the heat on-great-I'm freezing."
"Not a problem, Harm," Sturgis said. Curiosity getting the better of him, he decided to got for it and ask what the hell was going on. Harm was rarely without his vehicle so something must have happened.
"So, what's going on? What happened to your car? It wasn't stolen, was it?" Sturgis asked, pulling his car away from the curb.
Harm shot his friend a confused look and then realized he hadn't told Sturgis where to retrieve his car from.
"It's in Old Town Alexandria-I left it there."
"Why did you leave it there-did it break down?"
"This isn't going to be 20 questions, is it Sturgis? Because if it is, I'm walking."
"Come on, Harm-I'm just asking. So what gives?"
Harm sighed, wondering what he should tell Sturgis-if anything-about why he needed a ride. What was going on between him and Mac was their business. Although, he was quite sure there was scuttlebutt around the office as to what was going on-the counseling-he didn't want it coming from him.
Picking up on his friend's uneasiness, Sturgis decided to let it drop, saying, "Look, Harm, whatever it is, I'm sure there's good reason for it. Let's leave it at that. Okay?"
"Yeah, it was a good reason. Thanks for understanding," Harm said. He hoped that Mac was okay-and that she wouldn't be too pissed that he carried her into the bedroom. He'd have to get his defense in order for that one.
During the drive to Old Town Alexandria, the conversation was kept light. Sturgis kept Harm up to date on the cases as well as Bud's progress for the PEB, managing to monopolize the chit-chat for the entire ride. Harm only heard half of what he was saying. His mind was elsewhere, occupied by thoughts of Mac and where all this uncertainty would lead.
Today was stressful for both of them. Mac-because she had to relive the horridness of her teenage years. And Harm-because he had felt powerless to stop the avalanche of memories that brought her crashing down.
With the lack of traffic on the roads, the ride to Old Town Alexandria didn't take very long. Sturgis dropped Harm off without another question. Seeing his car in the exact space he left it, he thanked his friend for the ride and scurried in the direction of his vehicle, eager for the solitude of his apartment.
****
Mac's Apartment
2315 hours
Images were dancing around her dizzily. Muffled voices, then screaming shattering the silence. She cowered in her bed; those voices were just behind the closed door. Shattering glass startled her; and then crying-smothered by empty apologies, yet again. One vision blended into another. Now it was the jarring of a vehicle as it slammed into something-then the darkness of unconsciousness and the feeling of loss. Suddenly it all faded into a body-cradled in her arms-blood and death surrounding her on the pavement. The figures were now spinning-a man was grabbing her and . . . a gun-a flash of brightness-the explosion from the barrel piercing her eardrums. The thud of a body falling, the bright red of his blood spilling onto the rug. The cold air of death was filling the room and her lungs-trying to suffocate her.
The pictures changed again. Now she was walking into a room-a maze-full of doors and mirrors. Voices were echoing off the cold glass-"Do you love him?"
"That's not a question you get to ask." Her voice, her words. She tried to find a way out of the room but the mirrors trapped her, spinning her around in her subconscious.
Again a voice -this time an accent-"I was sitting here wondering who you'd go to first. I have my answer."
Then more voices-familiar ones-"Come to me . . . you know the reason."
"Anyone who has ever been involved with Mac is either dead or feels like they are."
The nightmare consumed Mac. Bed sheets were tangled around her legs as she tossed and turned, trying to run from her past. She struggled with the sounds and images that were drowning her, hovering perilously between sleep and wakefulness. She clung to the blanket for dear life, attempting to keep herself from getting lost in the labyrinth of her past.
Suddenly the dream demons released her from their grip and she was sitting up in bed-completely drenched in sweat and confused. Her heart was pounding almost uncontrollably in her chest, making her gasp for air. She didn't know where she was or how she got there. As her body and her mind slowly adjusted, she realized she was in her apartment, in her own bed, still in the clothes she had worn earlier. There was a vague recollection of Harm and something about tea, but everything else was just a blur.
The apartment was dark, except for a dim light streaming through the curtains from the lamppost outside. She had no idea what time it was-her mind was still so clouded. Judging by the darkness outside, she figured it was late. Unsure if she was by herself, she called out, "Harm?" quietly at first, then a little louder. She was alone and suddenly panic was gripping her.
Quickly she turned on the bedside light and reached for the phone, pushing numbers she hoped were the right ones.
Picking up on the first ring, the voice on the other end groggily said, "Rabb."
"Harm. . ." Mac said with a desperation filling her already shaky voice.
By now Harm was wide awake at the frantic sound of her voice. "What's wrong-you okay?" he said, turning on the light and sitting straight up in bed.
"I had a horrible dream. I couldn't wake up and I . . ." she cried into the phone, clinging to the receiver like a lifeboat, the soothing sound of his voice a beacon in the darkness.
"Mac . . . relax . . ." Harm was out of bed, pacing the floor as he spoke with her, the anguish in her voice ripping his heart out. I knew I should have never left her alone, he thought, chastising himself for leaving.
"I'm just . . . I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry for all this," she gasped for breath, struggling to control her emotions. Her sobs were choking her words. She pulled the blanket back up over herself, shivering in the coolness of the room.
"Hey . . . you have no reason to be sorry for anything," he said emphatically, "Now-I want you to take a deep breath-okay?"
"Okay," Mac replied, complying with Harm's request. She inhaled sharply then blew it out with a huff.
Hearing her do it, he asked, "Feel any better?"
"No," she said, a slight chuckle mingling with her tears, "Am I supposed to?"
"That was the general idea," he countered with a smile in his voice.
She snickered at his comment and then took another deep breath, calming herself now that she had him on the phone, consoling her. Harm could hear her breathing beginning to return to normal-she was no longer sobbing or gasping for air as she was when he answered the phone. For this he was grateful.
Moving back to his bed, he lay down again, cradling the phone against his ear. He silently wished he were there with her so he could hold her and comfort her like he did in the hallway at Maddie's. She felt so good in his arms-almost as if she belonged there. So much wasted time had passed-time that he regretted. But now wasn't the time for regrets. The opportunity had come to make things right with their lives through the counseling. And for as stressful as it had become, he could see a light at the end of the tunnel.
Neither one knowing what to say or do next, they allowed a comfortable silence to fall between them. It had been a long time since one went running to the other for a safe haven in a storm.
**Mac . . . where are you going?
I don't know.
Come to me.
Why?
So we can talk.
We already talked.
Don't argue with me.
I need a better reason.
You know the reason . . . Mac?
I'm here.
I'm waiting.**
Mac recalled that night with sadness. Her life had fallen apart and it seemed like it was the beginning of the end. Things had turned out differently back then-for both of them. So much had happened since then too-more so recently. But she had to admit that despite the recent anguish, getting counseling for their problems was appropriate. There were issues to contend with, but it was a necessary evil to fix that umbrella of trust and faith they had frequently sought refuge under.
Realizing there was dead air over the phone, Mac quietly said, "Harm?"
"I'm still here." The calmness of her voice was music to his ears. "You okay?"
"Uh huh," she replied, leaning back into the pillows on her bed.
"Do you want to talk about it-about the dream?" he asked gently.
"Not really." Well, I do, but I don't want to, she thought.
"Okay." Harm didn't want to push her. If she wanted to tell him, she would. And he'd be there when she did.
Again, silence.
"What are you thinking about?" Harm queried.
"Just wondering."
"Wondering what?"
"Why we let it get this far."
Harm knew exactly what she was talking about. It was that question that had consumed his thoughts lately-why did they let the rift between them grow into a chasm, nearly destroying their friendship? He wished he could turn back the clock and take back every derisive word he had spoken in the court-room that day. He wanted their friendship back, yet he wanted something more. He didn't want to have to imagine his life without her in it-not for one second.
"I don't know, Mac. I wish I had the answer to that," he replied, wanting to say so much more, but holding back-for now.
"Me too," she said, her voice almost inaudible.
Minutes had gone by since Mac's "me too". Neither of them had wanted to break the tranquility of their silence nor break their connection. Content, they sat there, joined together by a phone line, each taking comfort in hearing the other breathing. Words were hardly enough to convey what their hearts and souls felt at that moment.
Harm was the first to fall asleep, the phone still gripped in his hand and against his head. His even breathing wafted into Mac's ear-a gentle lullaby crooning her into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
Sturgis watched as Harm quickly strode to the car and got in.
"Thanks, Sturgis. I appreciate it. Ah, and you have the heat on-great-I'm freezing."
"Not a problem, Harm," Sturgis said. Curiosity getting the better of him, he decided to got for it and ask what the hell was going on. Harm was rarely without his vehicle so something must have happened.
"So, what's going on? What happened to your car? It wasn't stolen, was it?" Sturgis asked, pulling his car away from the curb.
Harm shot his friend a confused look and then realized he hadn't told Sturgis where to retrieve his car from.
"It's in Old Town Alexandria-I left it there."
"Why did you leave it there-did it break down?"
"This isn't going to be 20 questions, is it Sturgis? Because if it is, I'm walking."
"Come on, Harm-I'm just asking. So what gives?"
Harm sighed, wondering what he should tell Sturgis-if anything-about why he needed a ride. What was going on between him and Mac was their business. Although, he was quite sure there was scuttlebutt around the office as to what was going on-the counseling-he didn't want it coming from him.
Picking up on his friend's uneasiness, Sturgis decided to let it drop, saying, "Look, Harm, whatever it is, I'm sure there's good reason for it. Let's leave it at that. Okay?"
"Yeah, it was a good reason. Thanks for understanding," Harm said. He hoped that Mac was okay-and that she wouldn't be too pissed that he carried her into the bedroom. He'd have to get his defense in order for that one.
During the drive to Old Town Alexandria, the conversation was kept light. Sturgis kept Harm up to date on the cases as well as Bud's progress for the PEB, managing to monopolize the chit-chat for the entire ride. Harm only heard half of what he was saying. His mind was elsewhere, occupied by thoughts of Mac and where all this uncertainty would lead.
Today was stressful for both of them. Mac-because she had to relive the horridness of her teenage years. And Harm-because he had felt powerless to stop the avalanche of memories that brought her crashing down.
With the lack of traffic on the roads, the ride to Old Town Alexandria didn't take very long. Sturgis dropped Harm off without another question. Seeing his car in the exact space he left it, he thanked his friend for the ride and scurried in the direction of his vehicle, eager for the solitude of his apartment.
****
Mac's Apartment
2315 hours
Images were dancing around her dizzily. Muffled voices, then screaming shattering the silence. She cowered in her bed; those voices were just behind the closed door. Shattering glass startled her; and then crying-smothered by empty apologies, yet again. One vision blended into another. Now it was the jarring of a vehicle as it slammed into something-then the darkness of unconsciousness and the feeling of loss. Suddenly it all faded into a body-cradled in her arms-blood and death surrounding her on the pavement. The figures were now spinning-a man was grabbing her and . . . a gun-a flash of brightness-the explosion from the barrel piercing her eardrums. The thud of a body falling, the bright red of his blood spilling onto the rug. The cold air of death was filling the room and her lungs-trying to suffocate her.
The pictures changed again. Now she was walking into a room-a maze-full of doors and mirrors. Voices were echoing off the cold glass-"Do you love him?"
"That's not a question you get to ask." Her voice, her words. She tried to find a way out of the room but the mirrors trapped her, spinning her around in her subconscious.
Again a voice -this time an accent-"I was sitting here wondering who you'd go to first. I have my answer."
Then more voices-familiar ones-"Come to me . . . you know the reason."
"Anyone who has ever been involved with Mac is either dead or feels like they are."
The nightmare consumed Mac. Bed sheets were tangled around her legs as she tossed and turned, trying to run from her past. She struggled with the sounds and images that were drowning her, hovering perilously between sleep and wakefulness. She clung to the blanket for dear life, attempting to keep herself from getting lost in the labyrinth of her past.
Suddenly the dream demons released her from their grip and she was sitting up in bed-completely drenched in sweat and confused. Her heart was pounding almost uncontrollably in her chest, making her gasp for air. She didn't know where she was or how she got there. As her body and her mind slowly adjusted, she realized she was in her apartment, in her own bed, still in the clothes she had worn earlier. There was a vague recollection of Harm and something about tea, but everything else was just a blur.
The apartment was dark, except for a dim light streaming through the curtains from the lamppost outside. She had no idea what time it was-her mind was still so clouded. Judging by the darkness outside, she figured it was late. Unsure if she was by herself, she called out, "Harm?" quietly at first, then a little louder. She was alone and suddenly panic was gripping her.
Quickly she turned on the bedside light and reached for the phone, pushing numbers she hoped were the right ones.
Picking up on the first ring, the voice on the other end groggily said, "Rabb."
"Harm. . ." Mac said with a desperation filling her already shaky voice.
By now Harm was wide awake at the frantic sound of her voice. "What's wrong-you okay?" he said, turning on the light and sitting straight up in bed.
"I had a horrible dream. I couldn't wake up and I . . ." she cried into the phone, clinging to the receiver like a lifeboat, the soothing sound of his voice a beacon in the darkness.
"Mac . . . relax . . ." Harm was out of bed, pacing the floor as he spoke with her, the anguish in her voice ripping his heart out. I knew I should have never left her alone, he thought, chastising himself for leaving.
"I'm just . . . I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry for all this," she gasped for breath, struggling to control her emotions. Her sobs were choking her words. She pulled the blanket back up over herself, shivering in the coolness of the room.
"Hey . . . you have no reason to be sorry for anything," he said emphatically, "Now-I want you to take a deep breath-okay?"
"Okay," Mac replied, complying with Harm's request. She inhaled sharply then blew it out with a huff.
Hearing her do it, he asked, "Feel any better?"
"No," she said, a slight chuckle mingling with her tears, "Am I supposed to?"
"That was the general idea," he countered with a smile in his voice.
She snickered at his comment and then took another deep breath, calming herself now that she had him on the phone, consoling her. Harm could hear her breathing beginning to return to normal-she was no longer sobbing or gasping for air as she was when he answered the phone. For this he was grateful.
Moving back to his bed, he lay down again, cradling the phone against his ear. He silently wished he were there with her so he could hold her and comfort her like he did in the hallway at Maddie's. She felt so good in his arms-almost as if she belonged there. So much wasted time had passed-time that he regretted. But now wasn't the time for regrets. The opportunity had come to make things right with their lives through the counseling. And for as stressful as it had become, he could see a light at the end of the tunnel.
Neither one knowing what to say or do next, they allowed a comfortable silence to fall between them. It had been a long time since one went running to the other for a safe haven in a storm.
**Mac . . . where are you going?
I don't know.
Come to me.
Why?
So we can talk.
We already talked.
Don't argue with me.
I need a better reason.
You know the reason . . . Mac?
I'm here.
I'm waiting.**
Mac recalled that night with sadness. Her life had fallen apart and it seemed like it was the beginning of the end. Things had turned out differently back then-for both of them. So much had happened since then too-more so recently. But she had to admit that despite the recent anguish, getting counseling for their problems was appropriate. There were issues to contend with, but it was a necessary evil to fix that umbrella of trust and faith they had frequently sought refuge under.
Realizing there was dead air over the phone, Mac quietly said, "Harm?"
"I'm still here." The calmness of her voice was music to his ears. "You okay?"
"Uh huh," she replied, leaning back into the pillows on her bed.
"Do you want to talk about it-about the dream?" he asked gently.
"Not really." Well, I do, but I don't want to, she thought.
"Okay." Harm didn't want to push her. If she wanted to tell him, she would. And he'd be there when she did.
Again, silence.
"What are you thinking about?" Harm queried.
"Just wondering."
"Wondering what?"
"Why we let it get this far."
Harm knew exactly what she was talking about. It was that question that had consumed his thoughts lately-why did they let the rift between them grow into a chasm, nearly destroying their friendship? He wished he could turn back the clock and take back every derisive word he had spoken in the court-room that day. He wanted their friendship back, yet he wanted something more. He didn't want to have to imagine his life without her in it-not for one second.
"I don't know, Mac. I wish I had the answer to that," he replied, wanting to say so much more, but holding back-for now.
"Me too," she said, her voice almost inaudible.
Minutes had gone by since Mac's "me too". Neither of them had wanted to break the tranquility of their silence nor break their connection. Content, they sat there, joined together by a phone line, each taking comfort in hearing the other breathing. Words were hardly enough to convey what their hearts and souls felt at that moment.
Harm was the first to fall asleep, the phone still gripped in his hand and against his head. His even breathing wafted into Mac's ear-a gentle lullaby crooning her into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.