Disclaimer: None of the JAG characters are mine, they belong ot Donald Bellisario and CBS and whatnot.
Thanks for the reviews! Glad to know people are enjoying the story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. o) To answer a couple questions, as of right now Mac isn't quite to the point of hitting him, but that may change. And as to why she didn't save Harm, well then there wouldn't be a much fun angst to write. Not to mention I felt it was a little more in character for Harm to sacrifice himself to save someone else. So keep reading, hope you all like this part also. We'll be heading back to JAG HQ temporarily in the next part also, just in case people were wondering what was going on elsewhere in the world. Enjoy!
His entire body hurt, his mind was even more fragmented than before. Vaguely he remembered the yelling, the alarm, being hit. He remembered something about being asked where Mac and Vukovic were, he was fairly certain he hadn't answered. In all honestly, he didn't know where they were, could only hope they'd gotten away. Groaning Harm tried to move, the stabbing pain shooting up his arms and legs bringing back his memories full force.
He remembered being dragged from the cell, shoved into the truck, barely able to stand on his own much less walk. He could feel the ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles. The floor of the truck vibrated roughly against his body, causing his entire body to ache. There was a sharp jolt as the truck drove over a pothole and Harm barely managed to bite back the scream, his ribs feeling like someone had taken a bone saw to them. For a moment he panicked, his scattered mind unable to reassure him that his ribs indeed hadn't been sawed up.
Squirming in an automated response brought on by the panic attack he whimpered at the stabbing pains. Slowly he cracked one eye open, trying to take in his surroundings. The interior of the truck was dark, vaguely he could see what appeared to be a bench… or at least he thought that was what it was since there also appeared to be two of them. After a long moment he tried to force open his other eye only to realize he couldn't. A small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he'd been punched for refusing to speak. A black eye, fabulous, he thought to himself. For a brief moment he felt the urge to laugh, a hysterical reaction taking over.
A short chuckle forced its way out, causing him to hiss in pain. Yeah, definitely some cracked ribs, Harm tried to catalog his injuries, the moment of amusement fleeing. Methodically he continued his assessment, Bruises, possible broken leg, lacerations on wrists and ankles… he sighed softly, this was definitely not what he'd expected when he'd been rerouted from Florida to the middle east. Vaguely he wondered if he had a concussion, not that these guys were really going to try and prevent complications if he did have one. His vision was still doubled so he closed his eye again, deciding that the weird double vision wasn't really going to help him.
Carefully he shifted, trying to jar his body as little as possible. He wasn't entirely successful, gritting his teeth as some stubborn flyboy part of him refused to cry out. Eventually he'd managed to reorient himself so he could see deeper into the truck. Opening his eye again he wondered wryly what exactly he had accomplished by moving. The truck was dark, uniformly brown, and empty except for him. He felt miffed that they hadn't even thought him worthy of a guard; then he had to concede that they were right. He could barely move much less try to escape.
Harm began sifting through his memories, attempting to come up with a timeline for all that had happened. He remembered Mac at his door and telling her to save Vukovic. The next thing he remembered was being screamed at by the guards, a fist flying at his face, stumbling to the ground and a boot catching him in the ribs. The rest was a blur, loud and confusing. Then he was in the truck and he had no clue how long he'd been there. His lips twisted in a sad smile; if Mac was there she'd know how long it had been. But he banished that thought, there was no way he wanted Mac anywhere near this situation if at all possible.
Suddenly a memory flared, perfectly clear. His sharp intake of breath caused his ribs to protest again but he barely noticed it. Clearly in his mind he could hear the conversation between himself and Mac before she left. The tail end of it was now replaying itself in an endless loop, I love you. Harm closed his eyes; the words wouldn't leave him, whispering through his thoughts, banishing all others.
Like a drowning man he clung to those words, but almost immediately another thought slammed into his mind on the heel of the first. What if she hadn't meant it? Had she even realized she was saying it? Was she even thinking of him when she'd said it? A single tear streaked down his cheek, his heart was twisting in agony, but the doubts wouldn't leave him alone. He wasn't even sure she'd heard his response.
Slowly his memories were returning, and his doubts continued to grow. He'd hesitated in his answer, what if she hadn't heard him? What if she'd only heard the hesitation and thought he didn't love her back? That thought was somehow even worse than the thought that she didn't love him. He couldn't bear the thought that he could die and she would never know how much he cared.
He tried to force the thoughts from his mind and focus on his situation but was finding it difficult to do so. He replayed the entire conversation over and over; he remembered Mac's hesitation, her attempts to speak which he kept interrupting. Harm cursed himself for stopping her, why could he never figure out how to shut up and let her speak? Pissed at himself he let his head thump back onto the floor of the truck and yelped in pain. Bad idea, very bad idea, his mind told him. I noticed, he thought bitterly then laughed shortly, now he was talking to himself. The truck hit another pothole then swerved sharply to the right, causing him to slide across the floor. His head slammed heavily into the side. Son of a bitch was his last thought before he slipped back into unconsciousness.
When he came to again the truck had stopped. Groaning he tried to move his head only to be stopped as he realized he was still flush with the side. Dimly he could hear voices outside. The truck shook; he recognized it as the jolt from a door closing. He'd just started to crack his eye open again when the rear end was open. Blearily he tried to make out the man standing there but his vision was now blurry as well as doubled.
Another man joined the first and with an apparent lack of concern for their captive they roughly grabbed his feet and hauled him out. Harm was unable to suppress a whimper then a fell fledged scream as his body slammed to the ground. Gasping for breath he was so consumed with the pain he no longer cared about being stoic and silent. He whimpered again as the men sliced the ropes tying his feet and hauled him upright. He stumbled along between them, his entire attention focused on staying upright.
He barely registered being half-escorted, half-dragged into a building and down a hall. If anyone were to ask him how he got from the truck to the room they finally threw him into he wouldn't have been able to say. When they finally dropped him to the ground of his cell he felt a dim sense of gratitude that he was no longer being forced to move, as well as a slowly growing sense of helplessness. He had no idea how long he lay there in the dark before finally slipping into a restless sleep, haunted by dreams of Mac being recaptured.
Time crawled for Mac; it was times like this she really didn't like her internal clock, it made her too aware of just how little time had passed. She couldn't shake the depression that had settled over her since watching Harm be taken away. She wasn't even sure she wanted to shake it off. But finally 1600 rolled around. Carefully she stood, hissing softly in pain. Sitting for so long had definitely not been a good idea.
Glancing over at Vukovic for the first time since their conversation about the time she realized he had fallen asleep at some point. Grimacing she nudged him with her toe. When he didn't wake up she sighed in annoyance and nudged him again, none too gently this time. With a start he woke up, blinking at her in confusion. Mac arched an eyebrow at him, clearly waiting for him. "Huh, what?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.
"Get up, Vukovic, it's time to go," without waiting for a response she turned and moved to the front door, exiting without a backwards glance. Vukovic scrambled to his feet and stumbled after her. He rubbed his eyes as he left the building then eyed Mac for a moment, noticing something peculiar.
Catching up with her he glanced down, trying to catch her gaze. When she refused to look at him he sighed then commented, "You're limping."
"Observant," she muttered, without breaking stride.
Vukovic glanced up, his face a mask of confusion, "Uh… why are we going this way? Don't we want to get away from here?"
Mac sighed; sometimes she really wondered how he'd managed to become a naval officer. After a pause she answered, "In case you hadn't noticed it's getting a bit cold. I want to check and see if they left anything useful behind seeing as they were in a rather large hurry to get out of here."
"Oh," Vukovic thought about that for a moment, "good idea."
Mac just rolled her eyes and tugged open the door they had kicked open just hours before. Carefully she scanned the front hallway, automatically bring the pistol up, holding it vertically just in case. Vukovic entered behind her, also holding his pistol up. Well, at least he knows that much, Mac thought sarcastically, though she said nothing. Moving forward she stifled a groan at the pain in her leg. She was fairly certain the ankle was sprained but she really didn't want Vukovic to know so she sucked it up and kept moving. They reached a juncture and Mac glanced at Vukovic, "You go that way." She gestured to the right then promptly headed down the left hallway.
She'd chosen this direction deliberately; it was the hallway that led back to the rooms in which they'd been held. Carefully she made her way through the building, checking each room as she came to it. Though there were obvious signs of the quick exit so far she'd found nothing of use. After a few minutes she reached the hall of cells. Taking a deep breath she moved straight for the room Harm had been in. Hesitantly she pushed the now unlocked door open. Slipping through the doorway she let the door close behind her. Slowly she slid to the floor, back against the door.
Mac dropped her head into her hands, trying hard not to burst into tears. She really didn't want Vukovic asking awkward questions. Sighing softly she tilted her head back, resting it against the door and staring off into space. She knew she couldn't sit here long as Vukovic would eventually come looking for her. She felt closer to Harm in here and for just a moment she wanted to be selfish, before she had to go back to being the kickass marine that would have to save both their asses.
After a couple minutes she stood, dragging her right hand through her hair which had long since come unbraided. With one last glance around the room she slipped back out, carefully closing the door behind her. Briefly she leaned against the wall, doing her best to get her emotions under control. Suddenly visiting Harm's cell didn't seem like such a bright idea, but it was too late now. Shaking her head she straightened and continued down the hallway to the small storage room at the end.
She had just pushed the door open and entered the room when she heard footsteps behind her. Without thinking she whirled around, leveling the gun at the intruder. She froze when she found herself face to face with Vukovic, who looked both surprised and amused. When she didn't lower the gun immediately he frowned, reaching for her. Mac deftly stepped out of the way and lowered the weapon. Turning she commented over her shoulder, "I almost shot you, lieutenant."
"That's the second time, colonel. I'm beginning to think you don't like me," he smiled.
Mac was somewhat less than amused, "Then maybe you should stop sneaking up on me, lieutenant." She didn't give him time to reply, continuing speaking as she moved further into the room, "Did you find anything?"
"Not much, just a flashlight."
Mac nodded absently then came to a sudden halt, half-smiling, "Well here's something."
"What?" he came up behind her to peer over her shoulder.
Mac grabbed an item and handed it to him, "Our BDU jackets."
"Excellent," he slipped it on then turned to continue searching the room. He didn't notice that Mac hadn't joined him.
For her part she was still staring at the two remaining items on the shelf, her jacket and Harm's. She started to reach for her own but her hand seemed to have a mind of its own, grabbing Harm's instead. Temporarily forgetting Vukovic's presence she hugged the jacket to herself; she could still faintly smell his cologne in the material. Closing her eyes tightly she clung to the jacket. Vukovic's voice startled her out of her reverie, "I don't think there's anything else of use here, colonel."
Mac glanced over at him, grateful for the darkness and the fact that he still wasn't looking at her. She nodded slightly in agreement, "No, probably not."
"You got your jacket?" he smiled at her.
"Yeah," Mac set the pistol down and slipped her arms through the sleeves of Harm's jacket. It was too big for her but she refused to leave it behind. Grabbing the pistol again she strode out of the room, "Let's go."
Vukovic followed, getting quite annoyed at her tendency to just give him an order and walk off. Jogging slightly he caught up and fell into step behind her, "You know, that's getting irritating." Mac glanced at him briefly, moving as rapidly as she could through the building towards the exit. She wanted to be out of here as quickly as possible. Vukovic huffed, "And so is that."
"What?" Mac knew exactly what she was doing that was annoying him, but she really didn't care. Her whole life now was getting back to US forces so she could then return and find Harm, nothing else mattered, especially not Vukovic's petulance.
"You keep walking off."
Mac shrugged still striding through the building, "Your point, lieutenant?"
Vukovic scowled, not that it had any impact, especially not in the dark. He continued, "And you won't answer me half the time."
"And?" They exited into the moonlight. Mac glanced around briefly before starting off down the road, hoping that it would lead somewhere useful, like a marine outpost. Vukovic ground his teeth together as he paced next to her.
Finally he bit out, "Were you like this with your last partner?"
"Last partner?" Mac stopped abruptly and turned to face him, eyes flashing warningly.
"Yeah, Commander Rabb. He was your last partner right?"
"No, he wasn't. Commander Rabb is my current partner. You're a trainee, my colleague, NOT my partner," Mac snapped. She glared at him for a moment longer then spun again and stalked off, tucking the pistol into the waistband of her BDUs and tugging the jacket closer. Vukovic watched her go in stunned silence. It took him a few moments to shake off the shock; by that point Mac was a good hundred feet away. He sighed; this was going to be a long journey.