Title: Mine
Summary: Mac has a stalker… (Harm/Mac Romance, Drama).
Part Nineteen
Mac
Tuesday, March 12, 2002
I know I have no time to waste. He's gone, and I know he won't be gone for long. He's just going to ditch the car, and since he said he'd be back soon, I doubt he's going far. There has to be something in this room I can use as a weapon or use to break these restraints. I bring my wrists closer to my face and notice the small locking bar. If I can pry that up, I know I can loosen the zip ties enough to free myself. I move around the room, inspecting every inch of it. There must be something – a loose tile or a screw sticking out. I feel around the top of the bathtub, then get on my hands and knees and feel around the vanity. It's a lost cause, and I stand up again. There isn't anything worthwhile in this goddamned room, and I feel tears prickle my eyes.
No. I will not cry. There has to be some way out of this. I take a deep breath, but it doesn't help; I still feel like I'm about to break down. I refuse to let that happen, and instead of allowing myself to cry, I reach out and slap my hand against the door. The old wood is rough against my hand but based on the sound and the vibration I feel under my palm, I can tell the door is hollow, and I feel a tiny surge of hope.
I take a step back and kick the door. I can hear the old door crack, and I feel a rush of adrenaline. I can do this. I can get out of this room. I kick the door again and again and again, and finally, the crack opens up, and there is a decent-sized hole in the door. I put my hands in the opening, pried the cheap material, and tossed chunks of it aside.
When my side of the bottom half of the door is gone, I start kicking at the other side. It doesn't crack as easily – I'm guessing the years of humidity in this tiny bathroom made a big difference. But eventually, the door does break, and I take a moment to breathe. I can do this. I'm almost there. I give it another kick – and say a silent thank you to John Farrow, who got me interested in kickboxing all those years ago – and then there is finally a hole big enough for my hands.
I'm so close. The hole I've made is almost big enough to climb through when I hear a car door close outside, and my heart stops. Shit. I lost track of time and have no idea how long I've been alone here, and I can't imagine what he'll do when he sees the mess I've made in my attempt to escape. I eye the hole and think about attempting to squeeze through as it is. Realistically, there's about a 50/50 chance I could make it, and I need to quickly decide if that's a chance I want to take. But I know I've lost any chance when I hear the front door open and close. I stand behind what's left of the door and hold my breath as the footsteps get closer.
"What the fuck?" He sounds confused, and I close my eyes and place both hands against the top of the door. "Sarah, what have you done?" He now sounds angry, and I swallow hard as I wait for the jingle of keys and the doorknob rattle. When he unlocks the door and pushes it open, I take the opportunity and slam the door into his face. He screams and lets out a string of expletives. He comes close again, and I hit him with the door again.
He's quiet on the other side now, and all I hear is his muffled breathing and my heart racing. I imagine I've hurt him, but I'm still stuck in this bathroom, and he's still there on the other side. I place my hand over my chest, trying to calm myself, and I don't realize he's reached through the hole I've made in the door until I feel his fingers wrap around my ankle. He pulls my foot, and the action is so startling that I lose my balance and fall. I land on my ass and brace my weight on my hands to keep my head from hitting the edge of the tub.
He finally pushes the door open and steps into the bathroom. There's blood on his face and a dangerous expression I don't think I've seen yet. "You fucking bitch." He wipes his face on his sleeve and hovers over me. "You fucking bitch," he repeats.
My eyes narrow, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek. "You will not use that kind of language in front of me," I say, mimicking his words from yesterday – God, was it really just yesterday? It feels like I've been trapped here for weeks.
He glares at me and pulls the ever-present gun from the waistband of his pants. "I've been nice to you, and this is the thanks I get?"
"Nice to me?" My eyes widen, and I shake my head. "No. You've stalked me and terrorized me. You've broken into my home and my office. And you got me to come with you because you threatened the man I love. How is any of that 'being nice to me'?"
"You don't love him," he spits.
"Oh, I do," I say, feeling bolder than I probably should. "I love him, and I will never, ever love you. You can hold me here against my will forever, but you can never make me love you."
His eyes move over me, and I resist the urge to squirm. "Get up," he orders. I don't move, and he points the gun at me. "Get. Up." I bite the inside of my cheek again, pushing myself to my feet. He presses his free hand against the bathroom door, keeping the doorway unobscured. "Come out here." I briefly close my eyes and step into the hallway. "To the left," he says. I do as he says, and he steps behind me, pressing the gun between my shoulder blades. He keeps the gun pressed against me until we reach a doorway at the end of the hall. "In here," he says.
We're in a bedroom and a wave of nausea hits that nearly brings me to my knees. He gives me a shove, and I fall onto the bed. He leers at me, and I look from him to the gun.
I'm not stupid – I knew this was a possibility. I had hoped his desire to draw blood to make sure I was clean would give me a few days. I had hoped that would be enough time for Harm to find me. But I knew this was a possibility. I knew that by resisting him, he'd have to find other ways to assert dominance.
I shake my head. "You can't do this to me," I say.
He waves the gun at me and sneers. "I have this; I can do whatever I want. I've tried to be nice, Sarah. I've tried to be gentlemanly. I wanted to love you and cherish you and treat you like the special lady I thought you were. But apparently, that's not what you want." He pulls his tucked-in shirt free from his pants and pulls it off. "Apparently, you want the kind of man who fucks you against the front door in front of an open window." He reaches for the button on his pants and undoes it. "I can be that man." He kicks off his shoes, steps out of his pants, and moves toward the bed. He reaches for my knees and forcefully parts my legs.
I fight back another wave of nausea and kick at him. I have decent aim, and my foot makes contact with his stomach, and I can tell I've stunned him. He's still for a moment, and then he climbs onto the bed and straddles me. He keeps the gun in one hand and pulls at my blouse with the other, but he's having difficulty undoing the buttons with only one hand. He stops for a moment and studies me. My hands are still bound, and I feel like he's gauging the risk of setting down the gun. I hold my breath while he decides what to do and force myself not to let out a sigh of relief when he finally sets the weapon next to me on the bed. I eye the gun as he moves his hand to the hem of my skirt, and then I take my chance when he begins to push the material up.
I wrap my restrained hands around the grip and raise it. He realizes what I've managed to do a moment too late and tries to take it back. But his hands are slick with sweat and caked with the blood from his face, and the adrenaline has made me stronger. My finger moves to the trigger, and I breathe and fire.
His eyes go wide as the bullet goes into his shoulder, and the surprise of the shot and the immense pain he's feeling finally gives me a window to get away from him. I push him off of me, grab the gun, and run for the front door. I have my freedom now, but I know that window is limited. I didn't shoot to kill, and I know he'll come after me once the shock wears off. But before I can cross the living room and get to safety, I hear his footsteps in the hallway and momentarily freeze.
'GO,' my inner voice screams. But before I can run to the door and my freedom, the door forcefully opens, and my breath catches in my throat when Harm and Admiral Chegwidden rush inside.
I hand the gun to Admiral Chegwidden, and then Harm is holding me. His arms tighten around me, and I finally allow myself to cry. I want him to hold me forever, but after a moment, he pulls back, and his hands move over me.
"Are you hurt? Sir, call for an ambulance." He sounds frantic, and his fingers press at the dried blood on my temple. "There's so much blood; where are you hurt?"
"Hey, I'm okay," I say softly. I reach up for him and spread my hands enough to cup his face. "Harm, I'm okay," I say. "Most of the blood is his."
He seems to notice my restrained wrists, and his eyes darken. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the knife he always carries, and I stay still as he gently cuts through the plastic and then tosses the tie aside. I can touch him now – really touch him. I cup his cheeks and brush my thumbs over his lips, and this time he starts to cry. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me flush against him.
"I'm okay," I repeat. "It's just the head wound," I say. "I promise you I'm okay. I didn't let him hurt me."
"I would never hurt her," Tyler slurs from across the room. We pull apart and turn to look at him. The Admiral has the gun trained on him, and he's propped up against the wall. "I love her," he insists.
"Shut up," Admiral Chegwidden orders. He looks at me, and I offer him a shaky smile. "You okay, Colonel?"
"Yes, sir."
He nods and looks away from me and at Harm. "Commander, why don't the two of you step outside to wait for the police and the paramedics? She doesn't need to be in here with him."
Harm's attention is on Tyler, and I tug at his arm. "He's right," I say softly. "Let's go outside." He looks uncertain, but I tug at his arm again. "Come on," I say, and he follows me outside. I lean against him and rest my head against his chest once we're outside. I can smell the booze on him; his heart is beating wildly, and I know he must have been terrified. I think back to the beginning of this ordeal when he told me that he knew what I would look like dead because of Diane, and my heart hurts for him. "I'm okay," I tell him again.
He pulls back enough to tilt my face up. His fingers go to my temple again, and I shudder. "I should be comforting you."
He's right, of course. But I don't need comfort right now. The adrenaline has worn off, and now I just feel… numb. "There will be plenty of time for that," I say. "But, right now, I think I'm in shock." I rest my head against his chest again and close my eyes as he vigorously rubs my arms. "I knew you'd find me." My voice is muffled, but he gently kisses the top of my head, and I know he heard me.
Before he can say anything, we hear the sound of approaching police sirens and see flashing blue and red lights. I pull away from Harm, prepared to face the police and the EMT, but his hand stays on the small of my back. Multiple cars and an ambulance come to a stop in the driveway, and then there's a flurry of activity as everyone runs toward the house.
"He's inside," Harm says when they get closer, and Detective Bigi sends a few of the uniformed officers into the house while he turns to me.
"Are you okay?"
I nod and reach up to touch my head. "He hit me with his gun, and I was unconscious for a while. But other than that, I'm fine."
He nods and gestures to a female officer. "One of our officers can take you to the hospital.
"No," I say. "Harm can take me."
The detective gives Harm the once over and shakes his head. "I don't think the Commander should be doing any driving for at least twelve hours." He leans closer and takes a sniff. "Maybe closer to twenty-four." I feel Harm stiffen, and I instinctively move closer to him.
"I'm not driving, Detective. I rode over here with Admiral Chegwidden."
Bigi gives a satisfied nod and turns his attention back to me. "We're going to have lots of questions, but we can get a statement at the hospital. Why don't you three go ahead and head that way." He looks me over one more time and gives me a gentle smile. "I'm glad you're okay, Colonel." I nod, and he takes a deep breath and then steps inside.
End Part Nineteen
