The admiral is not happy with me. I can't really understand why. I work more effectively then ever before. Work is all I think about. It's everything I do. I hardly sleep anymore, I spend every night up at my desk at home over law books, reports and witness statements. I've never come to court as prepared as I am now. I don't get why he's complaining. How I'm feeling is none of his business. He even ordered me to go to therapy and I have an appointment later today, but I already know it's not going to lead anywhere. There's no one who can help me now. Maybe at some point I could have been saved, but that point was past long ago now.
I wish I could just get to run my life my way. It's not like everyone else around here is doing such a great job with theirs that they are qualified to give other people advices.
I look up when there's a knock on my closed office door. It's Harm. I keep my office door closed all of the time nowadays, and except for Harm no one comes in there unless it's absolutely necessary. That's good. No distractions make me even more focused and effective. Harm however, as proven by the fact that he's here now, still comes in here for no good reason sometimes.
My intension was never for him to feel guilty about what happened that night. I didn't think he would regret it. It's not like he hasn't had one-night-stands before. I know about several and I'm sure those aren't all. Why is he treating this so differently?
He opens the door and clears his throat. I still haven't told him to come in, but it doesn't really matter. He's called me everyday since that night, I haven't been taking his calls. That's what caller-ID's are for. Two days ago I left a message on his machine asking him to stop, but he's still called. So what does it matter to him if I want him in my office or not. He doesn't care. I just wish I didn't either.
"Hey," I try not to sound angry and he looks relieved. Most of the times that I've looked at him this last week he's looked upset. I can't really tell if he's mostly angry or hurt. I guess I just can't read him anymore, I can't tell how he's feeling anymore and for once that feeling of anger drifts away and the miles-deep sadness that lies beneath it comes to the surface for a second or two. As soon as it came it goes away and buries deep inside of me again.
"Hey Mac," he tries to sound cheerful "How are things today?" I wonder if anyone suspects what has happened between us.
I shrug my shoulders. I can't give him a satisfying answer.
"Actually I came in here to tell you that I'm coming over to your place tonight," Harm says so casually that the meaning of the words are almost lost to me. I just cock my eyebrows in response. "I know you don't want to talk about this, Mac, but I need to talk to you. I guess it's kind of stupid to … warn," he thinks again like he still isn't quite sure it's the correct word "you about this. I just want to talk to you. Mac, please for me. Be there tonight."
I start shaking my head. I don't want to talk, not to him and not to anyone, but I guess I don't have a choice. "OK," I shrug my shoulders pretending it's not a big deal, but Harm and I both know that that's not true.
"I'll be there around 8," he says and leaves my office.
I still have three minutes to get out of here before he arrives. Three minutes. I could get far in three minutes. I know Harm told me he was coming so I could choose not to be here. He gave me an out, but I guess I'm not going to take it after all. He asked me to be here. Well, not exactly asked me, but he said he needed to talk to me.
Anyway the out is gone now, because he's here. I actually knew before I heard the knock on the door.
I open the door for him. He's not wearing his uniform. He takes off his leather jacket and hangs it over his arm.
"Do you want something to drink?"
"Yeah, sure," he says. "I'll have what you're having."
"Orange juice OK?"
"Yeah," he agrees. He follows me out to the kitchen. The first thing I see entering the kitchen makes me turn around and stop him to further enter it. I can't believe I didn't put it away. It's already too late though, he has gotten suspicious and his eyes searched through the room until he finds the thing I so desperately wanted him not to see.
"Oh, Mac," he sighs and he sounds so disappointed and afraid. "Have you … ? Are you drinking again?"
I turn around and continue to walk into the kitchen getting the orange juice out of the refrigerator and two glasses out of the cupboard.
"You didn't come here to talk to me about my alcoholism," I state.
"I came here because I'm worried about you and so far I've only gotten more worried."
I walk past him and we sit down on the couch in my living room.
"There's no need for you to be worried about me," I say. I'm not going to give this fight up.
"Mac, there's a bottle of vodka in your kitchen. You're an alcoholic and … and there's a bottle of vodka in your kitchen so don't tell me that I don't need to worry about you," he sounds so shaken when he says that and I can't help looking at him.
"You shouldn't worry about me. It would be much better for you if you would just stay away from me. I'm not good for you," I pause. I really hope he could just walk away so I don't have to feel like this "I'm really screwed up and there's nothing you can do about it, Harm. You should stay away from me before I … before I'm able to completely screw your life up as well."
"Mac, right now it doesn't matter what you say to me. I think you need help and I'm going to make sure you get it."
"You're not listening," I'm getting frustrated and I know what's going to happen soon. I don't want him to see me like this. "I've been treating you so badly … how can you … ? I don't understand why you keep coming back for more." I look away from him. Now the tears have won the battle "There is absolutely nothing and no one that can help me anymore."
"I don't believe that. I will never believe that, Mac," I can hear him drawing air into his lungs until they're absolutely full. "I know I'm acting like a fool reaching out to you time after time when you obviously don't want me around, but I can't give up on you. I just won't do that."
I can't talk to him. Tears are flooding my face. I can't look at him and I can definitely not talk to him. Why did he come here? He only makes me feel worse.
"Something happened to you, Mac. Sadiq would be the easy answer, but I think it was something else, something before that. You know, there are people that can help with these kinds of things, people who can help you fix …"
"Harm," I don't know what has gotten me to turn my head and look at him "I don't think I'm fixable anymore." I don't know why, but there are even more tears coming down my cheeks now. Maybe, just maybe there's a little part of me that isn't quite ready to give up fighting that loosing battle just yet either.
"We'll get through this together," he puts his arms around me and pulls me close to his body "No matter what it takes, I'm there for you. Everything will be OK. Just trust me, talk to me, let me know what I can do to help you."
"I can't, I can't," I'm crying into his shoulder and he holds me even tighter. "Harm, there's something inside of me that's broken and I don't think it can be fixed anymore. It's been too many things and I wasn't strong from the beginning. I had a mask that's what got me here, but it's broken and it won't get me any further."
He doesn't say anything. He just holds me closer. I can't believe he's still there after everything I did to him, after Paraguay, after that night last week.
"Mac," he says. I actually don't know for how long we've sat there, but it's late now. I've calmed and I'm no longer crying. I can't believe I've let him see me like that. I've cried in front of him before, but never like that. "I want to know about that night. What happened?" he asks me. I can see that he afraid that it will upset me again, so he must really need to talk about this.
"I needed to feel something, anything."
"Did it help?" he asks. There's nothing judgmental in his voice.
"Yes, no. Well, at the time, but afterwards it just made me feel worse. Webb said that people who have been in life or death situations … they need to feel alive."
"You talked to Webb about me, about us, about that night."
"I wouldn't say talking. More like screaming and fighting. You know we've been going out occasionally since Paraguay, but I wanted it to stop. He came over here and he wasn't going to give up so I guess I said it so he wouldn't want me anymore, but unfortunately he was a bit too understanding." I attempt a smile, the first in three weeks.
"Mac, I'm so sorry about that night. I know I should have said no, but I couldn't reject you, not again."
"Actually I thought you were going to reject me. I wanted to feel something, anything. Rejection would have been OK," I look over at him. My thoughts travel back to the ferry in Sidney, but soon they're back in my apartment and the present. "Harm, I'm sorry. It was so egoistic and selfish of me to do that. I wasn't thinking." I hear my voice sounding so desperately.
While we've been talking we've slowly drifted apart physically. His arms have no longer been around me and his body heat hasn't been warming me. Now he once again embraces me and pulls me so close that I'm practically sitting on is lap.
"Mac, I need you. You have to get better, because I need you and you're my best friend. Mac, I need you to get better."
I can hear that he's crying now too. I never meant to make him cry. I never ever meant to make him cry, but I'm afraid it's not the first time.
He stays with me well into the night. I can't believe that he's here comforting me when I'm the one who's been hurting us both. I feel him starting to move a bit under me and I realize that he needs to get home to Mattie.
"I'm sorry for keeping you," I say.
"I haven't been anywhere I didn't want to be," he simply says and for once I believe him.
"Thank you, Harm."
"Do you think you could come over for dinner tomorrow? You haven't been over for dinner with me and girls for a while."
"I can't … I have that closing argument on Friday and I have to prepare."
"It's OK if you don't want to come, but I don't think you should be working. You've been working too much lately and I'm sure you're already more than well prepared for that closing."
I shrug my shoulders.
"On Friday, could you come by then?" he asks.
I nod "OK."
TBC