AN: Ok, yall get some fluffish stuff at the end of this chapter! Wee! Warning…somehow a little violence slipped into this chapter. Just a little.
Spoiler and Disclaimer same as in chapter...one? It's back there somewhere. ::shrug:: Why did I even put this in? I'm rambling... here's the chapter.
"Now are you going to tell me why the two of you have passports linked to two dead people? Or is this going to make my bad day even worse?" Harm and Mac shared their look again, tired, sore and bruised. Obviously someone knew that most of the papers were forged. A dark chuckle broke the silence that filled the room when the hidden man stopped speaking.
"I see we're doing this the hard way. Perhaps you do not know who you are…inconveniencing." A few steps clicked on the file and the man who spoke so coldly to them came into the singular pool of light in the darkened room. He wore a crisp slate-gray 3 piece suit, a vivid red vest, black tie, and finely pressed white collared shirt accentuating his tall, thin frame.
"We mean to trouble no one, monsieur," Harm began in the fake German accent but the man smirked, holding up a hand for him to stop.
"You cannot expect me to let you use these passports. If you are these people," he held up the small blue notebooks between his fingers before throwing them at their feet, "then you are literally dead men walking."
"There must be a mistake, there could be another couple—" his wry laugh cut her off and he approached, leaning down to Mac's level as she sat in the chair, his face inches from hers. She could see every flaw and imperfection in the middle-aged man's face and immediately disliked his large beaky nose and water gray eyes. He spoke to her as if she were a child in a condescending tone.
"My dear, surely you agree that these matters are best left to the men to discuss." He canted his head to one side and brushed a hand on her leg in his slow raising of two fingers to her jaw. He roughly gripped her chin when she refused to make eye contact and she spit in his face. He winced slightly before a fake smile stretched his lips. This phony friendliness was becoming quite familiar to them, and they knew it would not be the last glimpse of it they saw…at least they hoped not. Meanwhile the man retrieved a silk handkerchief from his jacked pocket and proceeded to mop Mac's saliva off his features. He calmly tucked the cloth back into its home before smartly slapping Mac hard across one cheek, then the other, the sounds of his palm on her skin ringing out like gunshots. Harm toppled the chair in his haste to rise and had a raised fist against him when the lights flicked on and two burly body guards stepped up, glaring menacingly at him. Suppressing a snarl, Harm kneeled in front of an enraged Mac, who spit on the ground before throwing her head back and staring defiantly at him, his smacks leaving their mark as stinging and angry red circles.
"Perhaps I did not make myself clear. I am having a bad day. You are making it worse. I suggest you get on my good side unless you wish to face unpleasant consequences."
"I'll give you unpleasant consequences!" Mac growled before taking a step towards him with rage smoldering in her usually sparkling brown eyes. Harm tackled her just in time for the bullet aimed where her head was to graze her hair before she hit the ground with Harm. One of the stoic guards lowered a smoking gun slowly, still remaining as silent as ever. Harm held Mac in a vice-like grip until she calmed down, then turned his gaze on the composed man who was quietly fixing a cuff link as if nothing more than a pea shooter had gone off.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Oh is that the problem here? You don't know who I am? That question earlier was just meant to intimidate you." He laughed and clapped his hands in amusement. "This is wonderful. So, who sent you? FBI? CIA? Hell the United Nations could've sent you by now…and you don't even know my name." He turned to one of the beefy brutes next to him. "We must remember this later."
"Who the hell are you?" Harm repeated while Mac continued to scowl. If looks could kill…
"Allow me to introduce myself," he swept into a gracious bow.
"About damn time…" Mac muttered, glowering still. Harm only looked at her reproachfully.
"I am Pierre LaBlanc. This is Michel and Jean," He waved an arm over the muscled men who stood, never speaking a word. "If you still do not know me, I am the most dominant man in Lyon and I grow in increasing power that is starting to spread over France. My freedom fighters--"
"Freedom Fighters?!" Mac exclaimed, standing up. Harm scrambled to catch up but Mac had already put a hand to the small of her back and continued to shout. "Is that what you call yourself these days, terrorist?" She spat out the last word as if it were dripping with an acidic poison. "You take innocent lives and instill fear in this country so you can be powerful and bend the law to your will." Only Harm saw the barely visible nod come from LeBlanc before Jean and Michel reached for their holstered guns.
"Mac!" Harm yelled before drawing his standard issue and putting five shot's in Michel's chest. Mac mirrored him with a quick draw on Jean, and the two men fell beside LeBlanc as the sound of gunfire echoed away. A bit of blood pooled beneath them and LeBlanc wrinkled his nose, stepping over Michel and away from the mess.
"Was that really necessary? Good help is hard to find these days. I suppose now I'll have to hire replacements…" He spoke as if he lost a butler or something, not his main lifelines, taking everything with a grain of saltand a rather light mood.
"They aren't the only ones who get to die today." Mac raised her gun again, a grim smile curling her lips as a bit of déjà vu passed when she cocked the 9mm Baretta.
"You are absolutely right."
"Huh?" Mac's brows furrowed and she lowered the deadly weapon a fraction for a moment, and that was all the time he needed. LeBlanc escaped in the next second, setting off an alarm in the process. Mac tore after him, shooting at a blur of gray turning the corner but it nicked the wall instead and then he was gone. Harm collected the bag and pulled Mac in the opposite direction LeBlanc had gone. She didn't move for a second.
"God DAMN IT ALL!" She swore before sprinting with Harm. Screams of panic became louder and softer as they turned and ran down passageway after passageway. Soon numerous loud steps behind them told the duo that this escape wouldn't be easy. Finally finding an exit sign at the end of a hallway, they burst through the door to find themselves at the back end of the large parking lot of the airport.
"There!" Harm pointed. "The rental car place. We can get the hell out of here in a car much faster than on foot." They were about halfway there when a loud bang caused them to turn around. About twelve armed men were trooping after them at top speed, the door they'd all exited hanging on only one hinge now. Cursing like the sailor he was, Harm turned and headed for the first vehicle with keys he saw: A camouflage Jeep.
"We don't have time to pay, Harm!"
"I know. Just get in. They'll already be looking for us, so who cares?" She jumped in the back as he hit the gas, gunning the engine. The tires squealed and rubber burned before they began to pull out of the parking lot. Mac ducked and returned fire after a spray of bullets shot through and shattered a window. They finally were back to following country roads highlighted on the map when Mac slumped over in her seat and promptly began taking in long shaky breaths, a precursor to crying. Harm's blue eyes widened and filled with concern before he put a gentle hand on her back.
"What's wrong, Mac? Are you hurt?" She didn't reply, and Harm was too busy driving to see her carefully shift her ankle, which she had landed on funny when jumping hastily into the truck. "C'mon Mac, please, tell me what's the matter." She swallowed down the lump in her throat.
"I just shot two more people Harm." She choked out. (She'd hit the man shooting at their car.)
"They had it coming! It was us or them you had no choice. You know that."
"That means I have the right to kill?" She said, raising her tearful chocolate hues.
"We all have to do things we regret, Mac," he said slowly, "but it's gonna be ok."
"How can it be ok, Harm?" She was positively howling now, borderline hysterical, except the tears ran silently down her cheeks. "I'm a Marine! We're trained to handle anything. And I've left a man behind! What kind of Marine does that?" She lowered her head again, a sob racking her body every once in a while. She murmured to herself as guilty tears continued to spill.
"What man?"
"Webb!" She nearly screamed. "You were nagging me about it from the moment we left the train. And the more you talked the more I thought. How could I have just left him like that? Just because he was a jerk doesn't mean he deserved to die!" It seemed that she no longer believed in her own story of the agent's backup plan and she was also assuming the worst.
"It will be ok, Mac. I promise." She sniffed half-heartedly and looked at his strong profile as his eyes stayed on the road, his hand on her shoulder the only comfort he could offer at the moment. "Besides, it can't get any worse, right?" He glanced at Mac, giving her a flash of the Flyboy grin and she slowly curled her rosebud lips into the tiniest of smiles when the engine began to sputter.
"What was that?" Harm frantically looked at the instrument panel, then let a few more…er, colorful, shall we say, words slip. "Harm?"
"We're out of gas," and sure enough the car was rolling rapidly to a stop.
"What!" It was more of an exclamation than a question and he nodded slowly. Sunset hit and the sun dipped below the treeline when they abandoned the vehicle, trudging along on booted feet through the country once more.
"Explain to me why we left the safety of the car for sleeping tonight," Mac said as she climbed around a boulder jutting from the hillside, a bit of powder landing on Harm in the process.
"Because," he sighed, "they will be looking for the car and probably just fill it with holes or even blow it up before getting near it. Do you see somewhere we can sleep?"
"Yeah," Mac panted, her breaths coming faster after the rough hiking. "There's a cave up there."
Harm starts a small fire in the cave, lighting up the dim place. Mac tries to walk around, cleaning a space, but a limp is detectable, and she stumbles. Harm says nothing for the moment, but is watching over her with a careful eye. She finishes her task on her knees, scuffing and dirtying up the brown jeans. She lies on the semi-soft bed of moss and brush, using the duffel as a pillow. Harm crouches between her and the fire, looking at her silently for a moment as Mac lays quietly, eyes closed. Her brow is beaded lightly with sweat, and a scrape across her cheek is evident in the flickering firelight. Harm cools a rag in the snow outside before returning to her and wiping her forehead softly. Her eyes open quickly and she starts to sit up.
"No, no, it's ok. Stay still."
"I'm fine, really. I just could use a little food and water." He ignored her protest and pushed her down onto the makeshift bed.
"You know, you Marines continue to amaze me. I watched you fall, but without a sound. Barely even a grimace of pain." He looked up from wiping the scrape on her face and reached down, flicking her ankle. Caught unawares, she cried out.
"Ahh!" Gritting her teeth, she squeezed her eyes tight shut and fell back onto the 'pillow' from being propped up on her elbows. Cracking one eye, she glared at him for just a moment.
"I knew it. Let's see what you did."
"What I did? As if I like having to be taken care of while we're stranded out here!" Harm wasn't listening, nor did he respond. Without another word he pulled Mac into his lap and rolled up her jeans. The tight fitting pants had to be moved in a sliding motion and the tips of his fingers were moving slowly up her inner thigh, stopping about an inch away from…oh you get the idea. He moved his hands slowly back down her bared leg, checking for any other injuries. The only reaction he got was a sharp intake of breath, which he grinned at. He untied the laces of her sturdy hiking boot and slid the shoe off, tugging gently at the sock before it too released its hold on Mac's leg.
"Here, put your arms around my neck." She did as she was told, not questioning him, for once. He leaned sideways, Mac's face an inch from his as he reached for the pack and mini first-aid kit inside. He hesitated, looking down at her inviting, tempting lips. Mac's eyes rose and met his. Cerulean hues gazed deeply into chocolate brown ones looking right back. Harm sat up slowly, bag in hand. He cleared his throat before speaking again.
"Ok, good news is, you don't have a fever and you've only sprained your ankle. Bad news is you'll be slower than usual."
"Excuse me, usual?" She raised her eyebrows and looked him in the eye.
"Ah…why don't I wrap this up for you?" Taking an ACE bandage, he slowly wound it around her foot, then ankle, then leg to mid-calf. His large hands were unusually nimble and Mac saw the concentration it took to be extra gentle. Her big brown eyes glowed with love and the blood rushed to her cheeks for a moment. As he wrapped her ankle, she had a another slight case of déjà vu (again, I know. I wrote this part before the other…if it bothers you, too bad. Deal with it). Harm had been taking care of an injury when the crashed his biplane in the woods. Granted it was 6 years ago, and a bullet in her thigh not a sprained ankle, but still it was similar. It was his fault then too, she remembered -or at least she decided to blame him. But he also had comforted her, and carried her most of the way, promising to get her out of it and coming through.
"There," he said. "You should be alright, but let's not strain it any more than we have to, ok?" She nodded in reply. He picked her up and placed her on the 'bed' before going outside to gather a little snow. Half he put into a small tin cup, the other he stuffed into a plastic bag and tied up. Melting the snow over the fire created a little water, and the bag was a provisional ice pack which he set on her ankle. Putting the fire out, he handed Mac the cup, their only light now the waning crescent moon and stars. Soon, they lay a couple feet apart, trying to catch a few hours sleep. Finally, Harm turned over.
"Mac, c'mere."
"Wha? Why? I'm fine."
"No, you're not. I can hear your teeth chattering over here." He opened his coat. "Do I need to get you a written invitation? C'mere!" She smiled and scooted over, nestling into him, winding her arms around him and putting a leg between his.
"Brr…god, could it get any colder? Jeez. Thanks Harm, y'know this is better…" she trailed off into silence, recalling the last time they'd shared body heat. She smiled to herself at the memory. Webb had been a small part of that too. Harm sighed and closed his eyes, resting his cheek on the top of her head. An ear pressed to his chest, Mac sighed too and closed her eyes as well, the faint and familiar ba-bum, ba-bum of his beating heart lulling her to sleep with Harm's strong arms pulling her body close to his.
AN: Should they have kissed? I wasn't sure…Ok, I still don't know if you want me to write about the JAG family at home because 1) there weren't that many reviews, and 2) of the people that DID review, only like…one person voted. I'm getting really discouraged. Anyway, send me your vote via review! Unfortunately, I've missed my deadline of Christmas Day for the end of this story, sorry yall.