Chapter 14 - Memories

Harm hadn't thought she'd traversed that far into the woods but carrying Nazanin back to the cabin had been hell on his already aching body. She was a mess, her beautiful face marked with mud and grime, her hair wet and matted. The slacks she wore had torn and the sweater hung precariously by a few threads off one shoulder.

It hadn't helped that the rain brought in the cold as well and his hands and feet were numb by the time he finally reached the cabin.

Now, hours later, Nazanin was still unconscious. He'd stripped off all her clothing and diligently used warm water and a washcloth to clean off most of the muck. Mercifully, her head wound barely bled and would not need stitches. Her hand was another matter.

Tiny pieces of glass embedded themselves in her palm that required the use of a tweezer to remove each piece. He then cleaned her hand, realizing she was not faking unconsciousness because the sting of antiseptic spray would have at least caused a wince. He'd used more gauze than needed but wanted to make sure he could stop the bleeding and prevent it from seeping.

After she was tucked into bed, he piled on a few extra covers and simply watched her sleep, the even rise and fall of her chest gave him some sort of comfort. If she wasn't awake by morning, he made the decision to take her into town, to the small hospital. It was a choice he didn't really want to make knowing it would separate them indefinitely.

In the pouring rain he repaired the window from the outside by hammering a sheet of old plywood over the area she had busted open. It was a temporary fix but it w9uls at least keep some of the cold and the rain out until he figured out a way to replace the window. Harm was exhausted by the time he was finished.

Tired and freezing he stumbled into the bathroom and stripped out of his wet and dirty clothes not caring that he left them piled in a corner. He showered quickly and afterwards stood in front of the mirror to take stock of his own injuries.

the scratch on his cheek would not leave a mark and the cut on his head had already healed. His ribs hurt a bit but, he was sure they weren't broken and the rest of his scrapes he'd treated with antiseptic.

He slipped on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt then stood by the edge of the bed watching Nazanin sleep

Nazanin.

God, was he actually thinking of her with that name now? Had he claimed defeat? He wanted his Mac back but at what cost? She could have been hurt worse,.cracked her head wide open and bled out. Help was nowhere near and he feared what taking her to town in this state would accomplish.

He'd be seen as a kidnapper, arrested even before his insane story was brought to light. Nazanin would likely be sent back, far away from him and if she ever made it to Farid, she would be lost to him forever.

Harm left the door wide open as he ventured to the living room and collapsed into the sofa. After watching for some time he could tell Nazanin was soundly in a dreamless sleep. Her rest was not fitful or unpleasant just deep deep enough that she hadn't even woken when he used the head in the middle of the night or pulled another blanket to keep her warm.

He tried to keep himself awake in case she needed him but the second his head hit the back of the sofa the weariness took Harm into his own slumber. It was fitful, as it usually was when he wasn't using alcohol to drop him into the dreamless abyss.

Mac was always in his dreams or not far from them although he fought to keep her away and let him rest. He was still hammered with dream after dream of them together: specifically the nights after the wedding. He would wake to find her watching him, a soft smile spread across her lips as her fingers ran through his errant hair.

Damn, every touch from her set Harm ablaze morso with the knowledge that they were free to feel, to hug, to kiss openly. At least in their own private space intimacy was their own, no one to break that perfect bubble.

"Something wrong?" He asked her once they arrived back to Washington and his apartment of all places because the power was out in hers. Harm lay on his belly, his head turned towards her while Mac lay on her side.

Her fingers ran lazy patterns across his broad back, each sweep tingled with renewed electricity that he felt they'd combust. "No. Something right. Very, very right."

Mac scooted down on the bed and pulled the covers up over both of them, covering their heads. She pressed her lips to his, in a soft, sweet kiss that had him flipping over and pulling her on top of him. She laughed, that rich melodic sound that he fell hard for. Her head came down to his chest and she peppered more kisses over his pecs stopping just on top of his heart.

"I love you, you know?" It wasn't the first time she'd said it that way, slightly apprehensive, fearing a lack of retort. Despite having his ring on her finger, she still doubted not that Harm could blame her, the road to that moment had been a bumpy one.

"I know, Mac."

"No you don't, not really." She stretched out over him, head resting on his chest as Harm's arms came around her. "I've actually pinned over you. Hurt over you. Ached over you. I gave up believing this would ever be a thing...I'm not the spontaneous type and yet I agreed, I went with you. We eloped and I'm still trying to wrap my head around that."

"Do you regret it?"

"No….I just...I love you that much. I'm in love with you that much. It was spontaneous and wonderful and crazy and.. I love you.. I always have and I always will." She was actually crying, he could feel the tears on his chest and if Harm was honest, her words affected him as well.

"Harm?"

"Yeah, Mac?" He looked down but she didn't say anything else. In fact, her mouth never moved and yet he heard her say his name again.

"Harm? Where am I?"

The voice was not in his dream but the living World. It woke him with a start and when his eyes snapped open Harm found her standing in front of him draped in a bedsheet to cover her nakedness.

The sound of rain on the roof was a pleasant sound, the gentle, steady raping kept drifting her back to sleep or maybe it was the odd lethargy? She felt warm, cozy but more than anything she felt safe. The World around her could crumble but at this moment, in this space everything would be fine.

Her inner clock came with an alarm that usually got her up sometime around 5am and today was no different. She hit the mental snooze button and snuggled into the comfy bed, warm sheets and the gentle scent of a man's aftershave that lingered in the air.

The delicious fog her mind was in, her tired limbs demanded more rest but it was her wandering mind that cracked one eye open. There was also a tiny detail, realized only when she shifted to find there were no clothing on her body. Not a stitch. She was nude as a newly born babe and there were patches of skin that ached when the blankets rubbed against her.

The room was unfamiliar. Wooden ceiling, wooden walls, wooden bed posts. Wooden dresser. Everything rembled a log cabin of old although there were modern touches like lighting for instance. A sliver if it slipped from the bathroom to the bedroom.

Carefully, she sat up and stopped all movements when her aching head watched something awful forcing her to lean against the headboard. She brought both hands up, in effort to massage her temples and that's when she noticed the heavy bandage. Flexing her palm open and closed made her wince. Whatever injury she sustained burned like hell.

It took several minutes, 13.4 to be exact for her limbs to feel like they could bear weight and even though she stood on shaky legs. Her body felt different, not as strong or fit just thin and her hair. How had it gotten so long? It was touching her buttocks and upon running her fingers through it she found it damp and dirty.

Using the top two blankets she wrapped herself in a bundle and padded towards the open bedroom door. It was still dark out, the sun hadn't begun to peek over the horizon and even so the rainfall and its heavy clouds would keep the day dreary.

Only one other light was on, the one from the kitchen that illuminated enough of the small cabin for her to see a figure stretched out on the sofa. Quietly she moved closer, her heart hammering so hard she was sure it would pop out of her chest.

She wished she had a weapon of some sort although intuition told her she was still safe because the man fitfully sleeping on the sofa could never hurt her. "Harm?"

Her voice felt raspy as she called his name, one that she'd said so many times before it was a normal part of her vocabulary. He did stir only slightly, a shiver running across his body when she called his name again. "Harm? Where am I?"

The headache began it's assault once more, this time with a ferocity that had her gripping the back of the sofa to prevent blacking out. Tiny pictures played behind her tightly closed eyes, memories that passed like old, grainy movies.

Paraguay. The name shot out at her and Mac could see and feel her arms and legs being shackled down to splintered wood. The shack was terrifying, hooks, batteries and rusted equipment all used to inflict pain. It smelled of blood, dirt, sweat, urine and other things she would rather not recall. Her life would end there, she knew. Clay was locked up and too far gone to help anyway.

And then the door swung open, a male figure in deninum appeared and a rat-tat-tat of gun fire echoed all around. Mac had never been so relieved to see a familiar face - her own personal hero - her best friend and the man she'd been fruitlessly in love with for the better part of 9 years.

He was all business and for reasons she couldn't understand something told her to kiss him. So she did. She kissed him like she missed him. She kissed him as if they'd shared more than just a few stolen moments. She kissed him like he was hers although he'd likely never be.

When she opened her eyes she found him sitting up staring at her. He was speaking but she could not fully understand the words he was saying. It was as if a filter covered her ear and her initial response was to run from him.

She had to run, had to save herself from this man. And she had to do it now but, when she tried to move the blankets would not let her and neither did the strong arms that suddenly wrapped around her middle. "Stop, Nazanin. I won't hurt you."

Nazanin? The name stopped her from struggling as did more memories, these hazy and confusing of a man named Farid. Not just a man, her husband Farid who had found her in an institution and had taken her home.

"That isn't home." She said out loud and turned in the man's arms to stare up at the eyes she'd shared conversations with for nine years. "Harm."

"Nazanin?"

"No..I don't know." She felt faint, the edges of her vision darkening until she almost passed out. He held her to him, carried her back to bed where Harm lay her down with such tender care. "Harm. Don't...Don't go." She pleaded, wrapping her good hand around his forearm.

"I'm not going anywhere." Harm sat by her side quietly watching her eyes drift shut although she tried to fight it. "Just rest."

"You. Lied. To. Me." She punctuated suddenly and the hand still holding his forearm tightened, fingernails digging into his skin. "Stubborn...So stubborn."

"What?" Harm stared at her quizzically feeling as if a pail of cold water was suddenly thrown over him. His breath caught and it was now becoming hard for him to swallow. "What are you talking about?"

"Paraguay."

"Paraguay? You...You remember?" He held his breath, hoping above hope that she would recall something, anything other than the life of Nazanin. Harm on the edge of the bed and watched her eyes flutter closed and behind her eyelids he could see rapid movements. He imagined her mine was like a computer at the moment, searching file to file for memories that had misfiled or cached somewhere. He'd read that amnesia could happen that way and just as quickly as it came it could go. "What do you remember?"

Harm had rescued her, removed the shackles that bound her and then they kissed. She initiated it because, well... she had to, needed to convey something to him that words couldn't. There was more to that story, more that her mind was willing to reveal but then they had stepped out of the shack and all hell broke loose. There were more men than before, Sadik's croanies that came out of nowhere and were hell bent on dealing death to every infidel they could find. They had set their sights on the two of them but through the woods their only form of salvation sat in a weathered Ford truck that Gunny was trying to get started.

"We need to get to them." Mac said, pointing in the direction while bullets whizzed above, one imbedding itself into a tree just above their heads. She came to her knees, years of practicing with weapons had made her an expert shot as so when she took aim it slammed into the man that had been shooting at them. One down, she thought although more were coming and the time for escape was dwindling.

"Run. I'll give you cover."

She turned to find Harm aiming at someone else, firing and then ducking out of the way again. That damned hero complex of his was making decisions for her, for both of them and it wasn't one that she would agree to. If she went, he would too - no man or flyboy would be left behind. She wouldn't let him die to save her and so she stood defiantly rooted in place. "No, I'm not leaving you behind."

Harm promised, she saw it in his eyes, he promised to follow right behind and Mac believed him because Harm wouldn't lie - not about this. Not when it was about life and death. He kept his promises and he would keep this one too. And so she took a deep breath, said a silent prayer and ran.

Mac ran as hard as she could given the stupid pregnancy suit that covered her abdomen and made it difficult to move. From behind she could hear Harm giving her cover, his weapon never stopping until she reached safety. Even when she did, bullets hit the car, one sliced through her right bicep but she ignored the searing pain and took a rifle from Gunny to give Harm cover. She fired at the woods ahead, not knowing if her aim was hitting an attacker but praying that each one would buy Harm precious seconds. "Harm!"

He began racing towards her, his long legs carrying him quickly in almost a dead sprint and to her it felt like slow motion. It was slow motion because she could clearly see the first bullet cutting through his thigh. "No!" Everything stopped then. Time. Space and especially her heart. She felt his pain, knew it first hand because Mac had been shot once in the leg and remembered the agony of searing pain like her thigh had been ripped apart.

He fell.

Her hero.

Her rock.

The man she loved.

Her... everything.

He fell to the ground, one bullet stripping all of his strength. Harm was left in the open field like a wounded animal waiting for the slaughter and all rational thought became nonexistent. He'd managed to come up to his knees, was ready to run again. Then came the next shot, the through and through that entered his flank.

She had to save him. He needed help.

Mac wrestled out of Gunny's grasp, the Marine had tried to hold her back, to keep her safe but all she could see was Harm. Desperation had her running hard or at least trying to but her legs felt like they were made of lead.

She was halfway to him, one hand holding her gun blasting round after round to the direction of the enemy. God, she was so close, so close. Too close because Mac clearly saw when another bullet slammed into his chest and took his life.

Legs finally gave out and she fell over him, her body shielding his from the barrage whizzing atop. "No...Please no." She expected to die there with him, ravaged with bullet after bullet until her body succumbed to its own injuries. The strike never came and suddenly they were left in an eerie kind of silence.

Mac pressed her fingers to Harm's chest, a sticky crimson substance coating them as she tried to staunch the bleeding. His breath was gone, his body lay limply on the ground and in those seconds even his face had taken on a whiter shade of pale. She searched for some sign of life but he was gone and a heavy grief weighed over her. "No. No. No!"

She was unable to hold back her agonizing cries or the heavy sob that sucked the breath out of her. "Harm, I love you. I will always love you!"

Moments later she would be taken. The men that were left alive grabbing her by the arms and pulling her free of Harm. She yelled for them to stop, begged for them to kill her too but they would not comply simply threw her into the back of a truck headed to parts unknown.

And that was where her memories stopped.

"Mac?"

Teary eyes locked onto his and for the first time he saw that look of recognition. It didn't fade right away, she didn't fuel her brow or try to run from him. This was his Mac.

She sat up and stared at him with a look of wonder and bewilderment. Her hand snaked out from under the covers and first went to the puckered skin on his thigh. It rested an inch below the hem of his boxers, the spot of the first entry wound that would send both their lives into hell. "I saw you fall. I thought I could reach you."

Without asking she pulled at his shirt, moving it up enough to see the scar on his side. "Oh." Fingertips moved over the skin also tainted in purplish blue crom his fall the day earlier.

Her eyes came up to his chest, dead center where she knew the final mark would be. Harm pulled at the collar just enough so that she could see the entry wound and not the other scars that ran down from the surgery needed to save him.

Mac's palm flattened against the wound and he felt a warmth flicker alive within, a light he thought would be dim forever. "How are you still alive?"

"No one knows." He would tell her about his ordeal one day or at least the stories related to him about how he was kept alive. It was nothing short of a miracle and dumb luck. "What else do you remember?"

Mac closed her eyes seeing bits and pieces of her former life. "Joining the Marines. Uncle Matt, JAG. I remember our friends."

Her hand was still on his chest, warming his soul like a balm he needed so badly. Harm's own hand pressed over hers, wrapping around her delicate fingers knowing she could feel his dog tags and the rings they bore. He was suddenly anxious to know more about her memories. "What else? Do you, do you remember Christmas?"

"Mmm. At Bud and Harriets?" She nodded. "Awkward moment under the mistletoe."

"No. A year later at their new house."

Her brow furled in concentration and another headache came on so hard she had to pull her hand out from under his and press it to her skull. "I can't. It hurts too much. I can't."

"Okay. It's okay...baby steps." The pang over his heart made it feel broken but then it hadn't healed from the moment he woke at the hospital and found out she was gone. "Can you, at least, tell me who you are?"

"Yeah...I'm...Sa-Sarah... Mac...Kenzie. Sarah MacKenzie."