Chapter 3 - Recovery
Harm's road to recovery seemed endless with no proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. He was lucky, or so the doctor's, specifically his neurologist, had told him. The effects of being in a coma were minimal and could be treated successfully with no lasting repercussions. The physical part would take longer, the months laying in bed had atrophied some of his muscles and the wound to his thigh was bad enough that it required him to learn to walk again.
It reminded him of the recovery after the ramp strike, the weeks of agony he endured while his body, mainly his back, healed. Back then he was determined to get better in hopes that he could one day take the stick of his beloved F-14 again. This time the mission was similar but the goal was so much more important - he would get stronger, stronger than ever and search for her.
Harm would search the ends of the Earth because the fact remained that nobody had been found. There was no coffin to bury, no remains and he was damned if they would hold some presumptuous funeral at Arlington for a woman he knew was still alive. Mac was out there, somewhere. He could sense it in that unique way that they were linked. Only he didn't share her gifts, he couldn't pinpoint locations on a map; Harm just knew she was alive. His body was broken, battered but he would recover and he would find her - he had to. There was much yet to say to her, so many ways he needed to beg for forgiveness.
The biggest opposition to his recovery had been sleep or the lack thereof. He never had a night of dreamless rest because the moment he closed his eyes, his mind took him to Mac. No, he couldn't see where she was but there were snippets that seemed so real it was like they actually happened.
They were in her apartment sitting next to each other on pillows and sheets that she'd dropped just in front of the fireplace. Her body was curled close to him and a simple diamond ring glinted in the firelight when Mac held her hand up. She had the loveliest smile and he was apprehensive. "I wish it were bigger…"
"Harm, size doesn't always matter. Besides, I am not the type to like big, gaudy pieces of jewelry." Mac pointed out, threading her fingers with his.
"You liked Mic's." Insecurity was not a good look on him and yet, Harm couldn't help himself. He hated that she sometimes brought it out in him, that feeling of inadequacy that was unfounded. But he was so scared to mess up and force her to leave. His lips stretched out in a terse smile that she kissed away. It was always her kisses that did him in, stopped those silly wayward thoughts that meant nothing in the end. He had her now but Harm had a habit of never letting go of the past when loved ones had been taken away. "Mac, I mean it.. If you want something else I can afford it. Any style, any cut you want."
"Nope." She kissed his lips and then peppered kisses all over his face. "I don't want anything else, Harm. I just want you."
Her voice had been so sweet sounding; musical really and when he closed his eyes as he did just this moment, it was real. In his mind, in his dreams - Mac was real.
"Looking good, Commander." Harm's head snapped up, that euphoric feeling ending instantly at the sound of Chegwidden's voice. He glared at the man and couldn't help the scowl that formed at his presence. Along with Clayton Webb neither of them were held in a favorable light. As far as Harm was concerned, her disappearance was their fault. Webb for recruiting Mac and Chegwidden for letting her go.
Seated on the quad extension machine he began pumping rep after rep on one leg and then the other. The force, even with the low weight coated him in sweat making the grey FLY NAVY T-shirt stick to his chest from the perspiration. The hue of his eyes turned dark, almost deadly so and any joy he had from the hard workout ceased immediately as AJ stood there watching him.
"You're getting stronger." AJ motioned at the weights which was quite high given Rabb was told to take it easy. He knew his subordinate would never adhere to that recommendation as his want to return to his post fueled every painful workout. He monitored Harm's rehabilitation with great interest mainly because Chegwidden took the blame for it, all of it. He'd been the one to allow Mac to help the CIA in an assignment which had more holes in it than a chocolate teapot.
The meddling Ted Lindsey had forced his hand which meant letting the agency use his people in order to get in the SECNAV's good graces. It was a gamble but MacKenzie actually seemed excited about the prospect of a real mission and he knew she was more than capable of holding her own.
"Here." Chegwidden handed Harm a bottle of water and watched as the younger man drained the liquid. He leaned against the machine at the opposite side and nearly rolled his eyes as the obstinate Commander pretended he was not there. This was the real reason why Mac had eagerly agreed knowing there could be consequences. The partners had a habit of bickering, pushing each other's buttons until ultimately, something would snap. It first splintered when Rabb returned to a carrier and finally shattered somewhere in Australia when the Colonel came back with Brumby's ring and the promise of some sort of future.
He'd seen the ups and downs always watching without commenting although part of him longed to lock them in the room, have them 'do the deed' and get it out of their systems. But that wouldn't work, he knew because the pair didn't seem to figure out that one without the other meant nothing. Something had sparked in the last year and that same spark carried onto the Holidays and New Year where the partners were inseparable. One could surmise they were dating until Harm's obsession and a discreet investigation nearly locked him up for life.
Chegwidden could tell she was hurt over Harm's omission, evident in the shocked expression when she received the news of his incarceration. If he had to put a label on it, Mac seemed lost and he figured the time away would do their partnership some good. There had been assurances, agreements and the nature of the case seemed cut and dry until it wasn't. The fact of the matter was, he'd failed her. Failed to protect his people which he'd fought for so zealously in the past. The SEAL in him just gave up without realizing the consequence would be so disastrous.
"You need to take it easy, Harm." The Commander had added another ten pounds and was barely able to lift it with his injured leg. It caused the weights to crash down loudly and got the attention of a few other service men and women also in rehab. "I know you're probably upset with me."
Each word that Harm had spoken with him held some sort of contempt and anger. The look in his eyes was a veiled expression of hate. He was always offered military courtesy because of rank but, any warmth was gone and all interactions were cordial and cold. This needed to end, it had to be fixed. "Harm, I know what you're going through."
"Do you? My partner. My best friend got taken and no matter who I ask no one knows a damned thing. I apologize, sir if I don't feel like chatting with you." He hopped off of the machine and made his way to the other, clamping his thighs down to start seated hamstring extensions. "If you don't mind." Harm grunted, "I'm working harder so I can get out of here as soon as possible."
He needed to get back to some sort of routine, anything that would take his mind off of Mac for a little while. Although he knew what would happen when he entered JAG ops again, seeing her darkened office would hurt much as it did when she left for the CIA. Every day he passed by it, he felt a pang of regret and annoyance at his inaction towards her - this time, when he found her, he'd make things right. "To find her?"
The words made the weights slam once again this time harder than before and just as quickly as he began the workout, Harm ended it, took his towel and asked the therapist to be returned to his room. He wasn't surprised Chegwidden followed but was intrigued to find Webb in tow.
The CIA officer walked in with a noticeable limp that required the spook to use a cane. Webb's own injuries, mostly neurological, had nearly crippled the man. He would have to walk with a cane for the rest of his life and live with a nearly constant shaking of his right hand that the doctor's didn't have a full prognosis for. He was better, getting stronger every day but from the lasting affects of his torture, things will never be the same. "We're probably not your favorite people at the moment."
"No shit. Love how you state the obvious."
"I know 'I'm sorry' won't cut it but Sarah knew the danger I just never expected we had a mole if not….Look, I'm sorry Harm." There was absolutely no mirth in the spy's eyes, only shame as they focused on Harm and then dropped down to the linoleum flooring.
And yet the way he said Mac's given name was like nails on a chalkboard. Not for the first time Harm wondered if something had happened between her and the spy. Did he hurt her that badly? How the hell did things fall apart so quickly? "If the tables were turned, you'd be the one in her place. You know it. Both of you have this innate need to play hero at all costs. It wasn't Mac playing chicken with a nuke. It was you."
"Okay, okay… But, no back up?"
"You know how we operate. I honestly couldn't have imagined it would be that bad. We paid people well enough for them not to betray us and lost." He brought up his cane to Harm's line of sight. "Did you think I wanted this? So many assignments I've been on in the past. I never expected it to feel that way. At least you passed out. They kept waking me up so I could feel more."
Harm swallowed hard. He really hadn't thought of what the other man endured to keep the terrorists from torturing Mac. They'd been close, yes but if Webb hadn't taken the brunt of it, he could see them using her first to get him to react. "I'm sorry about that Clay… You're right, we know the risks."
"I'm sorry I couldn't do more."
He saw the spy shift oddly, his eyes still clouded over in some sort of shroud of mystery and secrecy. Something was wrong, he sensed it now because that chilling sensation ran down his spine. "Why are you here, Webb? What… What aren't you telling me? She's not…No she can't be..."
"We had a lead on a woman with Mac's description boarding a boat in Uruguay."
"What kind of boat?" His heart began to race wildly in his chest, so loud he could hear it in his ears drowning out all other sounds. Boats were a good thing with vessel numbers that could be traced all over the World.
"Small cargo. We had the Coast Guard tracking it but then the ship went missing for a time only to show up in Cairo with a whole different country of origin and vessel number." Those same numbers could be changed even in high seas and made to look like they came from a different country of origin than registered. It was how pirates operated as well as gun runners.
"They took her to Egypt?"
Clay nodded and sighed deeply. He didn't want to tell Harm the rest, the fact that she'd now become one of the lost like so many others the CIA or FBI could never find. He hurt for Mac, the horrors that she would likely endure, a life of pain and servitude to the gross pleasures of some. Fuck, what had he done? "I'm just gonna go out and say it… Mac was sold, Harm. Sadik sold her."
"Human trafficking?"
"Yeah. One of Sadik's many commodities above weapons and diamonds."
"But, you know where she is… you can find her." There was a hope in him that ran eternal because Mac wasn't just some missing person, she was military and they had an array of methods to finding even those who did not want to be found.
"No." Clay swallowed hard, the rest of the story weighed heavily on his shoulders, the fact that for the last few weeks every last stitch of intel had disappeared like Mac never existed. "The trail went cold… She's gone."
"Gone? No! That's impossible! A Marine Lt Colonel doesn't just disappear off the face of the fucking Earth!" Harm was yelling now even when Chegwidden grabbed his arm in a tight hold and forced him to quiet down.
"You know that isn't true… How many people go missing in the United States alone? Sex slaves, organ harvesting. Shit Harm, they take kids! Kids that are never to be found again, ever."
Never. Harm felt the color drain from his face and that eerie, sickening feeling made his heart drop like a stone. "Admiral. Sir, she can't...not her."
"We have people out there looking. It's not their first mission but Mac's picture has been passed around the CIA officers in country. The Navy and the Marines are aware and so is Interpol. If she's alive…"
"She is alive…I can find her."
"Is that why you're trying so hard?"
Clay shook his head. "Harm, you need to understand, if they took her like I think they did, you may never see her again. I'm sorry."
Gunny was right, there were worse things than death. He didn't want to entertain the horrors that could befall her, the certain torture she likely endured despite him saving her. It made Harm sick and he managed to hold down the bile until he reached the bathroom and retched into the toilet.
Three Weeks Later
North Of Union Station
He breathed a sigh of relief once his parents left, the hovering was sweet at first but Harm had always been the kind to care for himself. Frank tried to get his wife to heel but Trish had other ideas. She was constantly at her son's beck and call to the point that Harm waited for her to shower before he phoned Frank and almost begged him to take her home.
They'd been gone for over an hour most of which he spent sitting on his sofa in the dark. The only light came from the streetlamps outside and the waning sunlight. For the first time in months he was completely alone.
No doctors would come in to ask questions. No nurses to take his temperature and administer medicine. No well wishers to visit and give him pitiful looks or tell him they were sorry. Those were the worst, their mutual friends which treated him like a widower when he knew Mac wasn't dead - she couldn't be.
His stomach growled as Harm realized he was starving but opening the fridge did not net anything appetizing despite the rows of fresh foods waiting for him to create something tasty. He then moved to the cabinets, opening and closing doors, rustling through contents until he moved a box of oatmeal out of the way. Behind it was an unopened bottle of bourbon.
Harm grabbed the bottle and held it up noting it was of the insanely expensive variety that he never opened because it seemed too precious to drink. It was a gift from a client, a full bird Colonel he bailed out a lifetime ago who felt the young JAG Lieutenant deserved to taste some of the finer things in life. And so he stored it away waiting for the right moment that never came.
Tonight, that would change.
The seal broke with one quick twist and amber liquid poured like syrup into special Glencairn glass. Neat, of course. Fine spirits like this need not be tainted by ice but kept room temperature and warmed by the palm of his hand. He brought it up to his nostrils and took a long whiff, his senses eased by a rich a smell of smoke, wood, vanilla and butterscotch that eased when Harm swirled the contents to aerate the bouquet.
He took a sip and as expected it went down his throat like a liquid form of silk, smooth and warming his body from inside out. And it felt good, so good to feel something more than the abysmal pain coursing through his veins for the last few months. His battered body needed the momentary levity, the lack of pain pills and injections. He needed to feel like a normal man again.
'One drink, just one.' He promised himself and then the rest of its contents would be dumped down the sink. That was all good and well but at times some promises were meant to be broken. As one drink turned to three, he felt that familiar numbing sensation and welcomed the liquid heat flowing through his veins. He imagined Mac would berate him for this condition, the abuse of alcohol she fought so hard to overcome that he willingly embraced.
So much for all of the control that had kept them apart despite the desire in him to love and possess her. But then, that lifeline had disappeared the second his lie of omission sent him to the brig for Lauren's death. Through hazy eyes he could see Mac standing in front of him, her eyes filled with anger and disappointment.
"I'm not an alcoholic!" He yelled out to that dream version of her that stared at him through disapproving eyes. "Stop it. Stop haunting me!"
Eventually he would pass out and tumble into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chegwidden found him sometime the following morning laid out across the sofa in an awkward angle that couldn't be comfortable for his frame. He faintly heard his commanding officer's voice calling out to him, it was actually the splash of cold water across his face that had Harm sitting up. "What the hell?"
"So this is what you decided to do to yourself?" The man did not seem pleased as he settled into the chair across from Harm and simply stared. "Mac would have your ass in a sling if she saw you like this."
At the very least the cold water had cleared the fog but did nothing for the headache currently pounding at his temple. His stomach lurched and Harm swallowed back down the bile in effort to not embarrass himself farther. "Guess it's good that she's missing then, huh?"
"And you blame me for it."
"Every chance I get until my dying breath."
AJ winced from the hatred spewed through Harm's voice. Through the years he'd dealt with insolent subordinates but Rabb had a habit to take things a step farther. It never ceased to amaze him how petulant the man could get or how obsessed although he knew the reason for his reaction to Mac's disappearance even if the Commander wouldn't admit to himself. "Mac wanted to go, it was almost the same desperate attempt to leave JAG like she did after the engagement went sour."
In fact, she'd been pacing outside of his office much the same way she did back then, looking for something. "You pushed her to leave, pushed her buttons like you usually do and when the outcome isn't what you hoped it would be…"
"You don't know a fucking thing."
"No and I don't pretend to but that little stunt with Singer almost ended your career. Mac was your partner and she deserved your trust. Hell the woman went to the end of the Earth for you twice, did you think she wouldn't understand?"
Harm honestly didn't know other than whatever page they were finally on seemed to self combust suddenly. It began while they traded blows on the bench because every single one of his plays she knew how to maneuver around. Mac her courtroom into an even playing field and he just wanted to best her. Fundamentally, that was the issue with this thing between them - both of them wanted to be on top and that was both physically, mentally and emotionally exhausting. "I… I don't know."
The altruistic part of him wanted to believe he was protecting her from his obsession, keeping her way from getting involved in one of his manic schemes. He didn't realize the wedge had already been driven and how badly it would separate them farther.
"I miss her too." Chegwidden said suddenly and Harm was unsure but he could swear he saw the former SEALs eyes glisten with unshed tears. "The review board wants to meet with you in two weeks. SECNAV wants you back. I want you back, you're too damned good of an officer to lose and frankly, you fill a void."
"Back? I resigned my commission, remember?"
"I resigned my commission, remember?"
"It was never processed." The Admiral stood and pressed a hand to Harm's shoulder. "Get yourself together, Commander. I expect you to check in at the office on Monday morning in uniform. We can discuss your options which aren't as limited as you may think."
"What about Mac? She isn't gone, she isn't dead. Why does it feel like you don't want to find her?" It never occurred to him that others had suffered from her disappearance just as much, if not worse than he had. Everyone else kept moving, time didn't stop as it had in the months he'd been in a coma. They all had months to hurt, to grieve and heal when he just began to realize the depth of his mistakes.
"We tried. It's been months and each trial has run cold. No more leads came out of Cairo, nothing out of South America. I won't bullshit you, Harm, it doesn't look good and I'll have to live with that blame for the rest of my life." He sighed heavily. It was his biggest regret, a terrible request led by the need to satisfy the SECNAV and erase Lindsey's damning report. "Clean yourself up, that's an order."