Chapter 10 - Dreary

Exact Location Unknown
Kennebec River, ME

It was downright dreary in the late morning hours, rain had kept a thick blanket of fog covering the large river the boat slowly navigated through. Harm brought it to a gliding stop, knotting two thick ropes around the cleats that were moored to a small dock.

He hefted the duffle bag Webb had given him, using the strap to secure it across his body and then plucked a still unconscious Mac into his arms. She was thinner, he noted because carrying her was almost effortless and much easier to hold when she wasn't attempting to escape.

Webb's little serum had helped the second he pulled off to top off the gas tank and she feigned sleep. Blessedly, it had been in a tiny town and his vehicle was the only one at the station when Mac jumped out of the car and ran off. He managed to stop her before she made it into the woods and dragged her back into the SUV to administer the shot that knocked her out seconds later. He really had turned into a kidnapper now, a thought that saddened him terribly. His wife wanted nothing to do with him. Now all he could do was snort at the irony - they were always running away from each other, weren't they?

Harm found the small cabin exactly how he'd left it almost two weeks prior when their plan had begun to take shape and he'd taken a two day trip to stock the place.. Many of Mac's old clothes packed all but two drawers in the bedroom dresser. In the closet hung both his and her jackets. He'd even made the bed in sheets they bought for their king size bed at her apartment, the fabric now hung loosely from the mattress as this bed was much smaller.

He'd bought some of her favorite foods, filled the fridge so full he could likely serve three meals a day for two months and not completely run out. The cabinets too had some of her favorites including the brand of coffee she prefered and beside the coffee machine sat Mac's USMC mug waiting for its owner to fill it with Marine grade jet fuel.

The bathroom had toiletries, her body wash, her shampoo, her conditioner and he would have purchased her body lotion that she enjoyed to slatther on but the manufacturer no longer made it; he found a substitution. The towels were from her apartment along with that cute fuzzy robe he'd gifted her the previous Christmas and the fuzzy slippers that came as a matching set. Hell, he would have brought her whole apartment if he believed it would force a memory from her.

As he laid her in bed his thoughts went to this woman, the one still dressed in turquoise silk, the one whose face was still covered, the one who didn't know him. Maybe his efforts had been all for naught? Maybe he was nothing more than a lovesick fool pining for a woman that was never meant to be his.

Love could only fix so many things and at best his brand of affection had scared her, taken her away from whatever life she currently owned. At worst…

...He didn't want to think about it too much, that impossible possibility that she may choose Farid over him. It made a mix of emotions whirl through his body but none stronger than the ugly rear of jealousy which led to anger and finally sadness.

Carefully he dared to pull away the face veil and those beautiful features he'd stared at for almost nine years were still there. Unblemished, olive coloured skin he'd touched so many times, pouty pink lips that needed to be properly kissed. Cute pointy nose that she'd rubbed against him a time or two. And those eyes; chocolate, amber ever expressive in how they held his and they were holding his gaze now.

It startled them both: Harm because he expected her to still be asleep, Mac because he was a stranger. But nothing could prepare him for what came next or how his heart would threaten to beat out of his chest when Mac pushed him away. Her hands came up to his chest, shoving him with all of her might and clearly catching him off guard. It was enough for her to scramble away from him, hitting the ground with an audible thud and eventually curling her body into a ball in the farthest corner.

There was no escape.

The window was sealed shut Nazanin could tell by the thick bead of sealant at its base. There was a door but the man would likely stop her from fleeing before she even had a decent chance to break out in a hard sprint. She was trapped and now the tall man was walking towards her like a stalker who cornered their prey.

The closer he came, the more she cowered and Harm felt his heart hurt more than it had. He was making her uncomfortable, his desire to wrap his arms around Mac had him acting irrationally. Clearly she didn't want his touch, was scared of it and so he ceased his movements bringing his arms up, palms facing forward as a show of surrender. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Mac."

She wouldn't unfurl her body, even as he softened his voice to a mere whisper. "Sarah, it's me. You know me...I won't hurt you."

Nothing, the woman before him still cowered and her body shook from fear. To Nazanin he was nothing more than a stranger who had stolen her away from her husband. And this stranger was imposing with his towering height, broad chest and shoulders and brute strength.

Brute indeed how he'd dragged he fought off Farid's security force and proceeded to drag her away. He was even more menacing hours later when her attempt to escape was thwarted. He manhandled her, roughly plastering her body against his so that she could feel the hard muscle beneath the suit he wore. "Stay away from me you crazed infidel. Allah will punish you for what you've done."

Nazanin spoke the words firmly but as she peaked out she saw he hadn't moved, was still standing too close, still towering over her. "I said stay away!"

This time she yelled and Harm cursed himself a million times over for never learning Farsi. For that matter, with all of his preparations he never thought to purchase some translating book that would aid in telling her that he meant no harm. "Mac…"

She yelled again, this time a slew of words rattled off so quickly that it made his head spin. She was likely cursing at him, insulting him, damning him for all eternity. The words slammed into him just as hard as if it were her fists making contact. It forced him to take several steps back, so many in fact that his back careened into the wall near the door.

That was when she stopped and Harm mentally slapped himself. He must have terrified her with his tall frame hovering over. Plus the way he'd taken her by force, hit her. God, in her eyes he was nothing more than a monster. "I won't hurt you. I won't." I love you, he added hoping that link was still there.

For a brief moment she brought her head up and stared, her eyes meeting his but their infamous, silent conversation was gone. Again, no flash of recognition although her eyes did crinkle for a moment as if she was studying him. And then she began yelling again which made him yell back. "Stop it! I don't know what the hell you're saying! Speak English! You know English!"

Nazanin was unsure of what made her stand but she did and moved out of her corner with her arms folded across her chest. "Do not yell at me! I am the wife of Farid Ahmadi! In Allah's name you will pay dearly for taking me. What did you do to him? Did you harm my husband?"

Harm stood rooted in place, surprised by the anger that easily flowed through her now. It reminded him of years passed, heated legal battles and brainstorming that often led to one of their tumultuous arguments that set the bullpen ablaze. The fire was still in her, that Marine fiest that he loved so much about her. It made him relax although the woman glaring at him was not amused when he cracked a genuine smile that even lit the gloomy grey colour that had been perminating his irises of late. "I really don't understand you. But, I think you mentioned Farid? Yes?"

"Farid, my husband." She nodded, her arms still folded tightly across her body. "Did you harm him? Is he alive?" Nazanin pointed an index finger at him and pointed her thumb upwards, curling it down to make a 'gun' hoping he'd understand. "Farid?"

"No! No, Farid is alive." He waved his hands at her and brought his index finger and thumb together to make the 'okay' sign with his hands. "Can. You. Understand. Me?" He pointed at her and then brought that same finger to his temple and then down to his chest hoping his mock language would register. While she didn't answer with words, Mac nodded and neared her thumb and index finger together to signal 'a little.' THat made him let out a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. Uh, well…"

There was something about Mac that always turned him into a bumbling idiot. He could try the most difficult of cases, remain cool and collected while being chased through the skies at MACH 3 but she always threw him for a loop. She was the only woman to do so, to make him feel inadequate when he was anything but. Now he felt like an utter fool, unknowing how to act around her, what he should say, how he could make her remember. Cautiously, he moved to the oversized, wooden dresser that was near him and pulled open the first drawer. He pulled out a modest pair of underwear and held it up for her to see, blushing as he did so. "I uh...if you want to change… there's clothes… those got umm… a bit… dirty and I'm sorry about that I really didn't mean for...yeah, I ah…"

Her eyes threatened to pop out of her head and he quickly shoved the garment into the dresser and moved one drawer down to where an array of long sleeve shirts, blouses and t-shirts were. He plucked out a burgundy cashmere sweater that was one of the softest fabric he'd ever had the pleasure of touching and then held it up. "It's modest, I guess. No a niqab but...I want...No, I need you to be comfortable. I'm not a threat. I won't hurt you."

Harm blushed again, this time his cheeks burning a furious red that he could feel. He wondered if this was some sort of cosmic joke, a personal hell he was meant to endure from all of the faux pas of the past. Although they'd only been engaging this way for a few minutes he was exhausted from it, or maybe it was the lack of sleep from the previous days,Harm wasn't sure.

"Why did you take me? Who do you think I am?"

"I don't understand you, I'm sorry. It never crossed my mind to even learn a little bit of Farsi." Not even 'I love you' which he should have been fluent in if just to make her smile when they were at their happiest. Harm would give his soul to see her smile like that again, to hear that laughter that came with it. He reached to pluck the veil from the bed, handling the turquoise material with the utmost care as he reached out to give it to her. "You may have different customs now, I suppose." And although he didn't want to see her face covered, forcing her into this new reality would not work - it never did with his Mac either.

Nazanin walked to him, stopping a very long distance away so that she needed to stretch in order to retrieve the veil. Anger flashed in her eyes, how dare he defile her that way? How dare he! She snatched it forcefully and turned from him as she worked on fixing the headscarf and veil into place. She wouldn't admit that the clothing was dirty or wet and yes, maybe a little tattered. Some of the jewels hung precariously, the lacy edges frayed. Nevermind that she was starting to smell either from sweat or something she would rather not even think about. The man was insane if he believed she would wear anything but the cloth that covered her completely, especially the racy underwear or the form fitting sweater he held up. She would not entertain his carnal thoughts and would use a bed sheet to cover herself if needed and use the bathroom to wash her current clothing.

This wouldn't last long anyway, she knew because Farid would certainly search for her. He would comb the edges of the Earth, undeterred until he found her. Despite the wives, the mistresses in Tehran, he loved her and only her. And she was duty bound to find a way back to him despite the nastier side of their relationship. "Leave. I want you to leave me. Leave me alone!" She told the man and he may have understood then.

Harm left the sweater on top of the bed, stretched out so that the warm and inviting garment could pose no threat to her. He raised his hands up once again, this time in surrender and carefully backed his way out of the only bedroom in the cabin, closing the door behind him.

He tried to fight it, the emotion that was gripping him so hard it made a lump manifest in his throat but then he felt something hot sliding down the side of his face.

His breath was coming at a much faster pace, making his chest rise up and down so quickly it scared him. He needed to run. He had to because he felt the walls in the small home closing in on him and so Harm raced across the small living room, practically crashing through the wooden front door and then the screen one. He almost made it to the doc when the lack of breathing forced him down to his knees from hyperventilating. FInally he gave into them the tears he'd swore he'd never cry, not with this kind of anguish that his soul had carried since he woke in Bethesda years prior.

He gulped for air, trying to swallow down a cry that manifested itself into a yell of pain, suffering and rage. All he ever wanted, all he dreamed of was here in flesh and blood but, she didn't remember him. As cried himself into exhaustion Harm came to his final conclusion - he failed her.