Chapter 15 - Stay

Harm was pacing the living room, walking back and forth like a caged lion. He felt a little desperate although it should be the opposite. Mac remembered. She remembered her name. She remembered Paraguay. She remembered him...Well, not everything about him...them. Not the part that mattered to him the most.

He sighed, feeling a weight settle heavily in his chest. Patience was not a virtue of his and for the life of him, all Harm wanted was to shake her and hope that the memories would all settle into place.

He imagined her mind was currently like a puzzle, one of those complex ones with a million tiny pieces that took forever to assemble. He wondered what Sadik's men had done to her or was it Farid? Someone else? If he could he would hunt down each and every bastard that even looked at her and kill them with his bare hands.

They spent the last hour talking but it was mostly him trying to keep her awake out of fear that Mac would leave him again. There was no manual for this, no instructions or how-tos, he was at a loss and so far over his head.

It was the gaps in her memory that made his heart sink. She didn't remember their marriage. To Mac, he was merely her friend, her best friend but nothing more. Everything that began one evening in Harriet's kitchen didn't seem to exist.

Most of all Harm was terrified. What if this was just some sort of fluke and her mind would hold her prisoner again? He wasn't accustomed to being scared much over anything. Between his ramp strike, nearly dying in Laos as a teenager and all of his other near death experiences, he had ice in his veins.

Except when it came to others. He had a habit of wanting to carry everyone's pain and beat it down until it disappeared. Ever since meeting Mac he'd been obsessed with her past, her pain and the weight she bared on her shoulders. He hated that she'd effortlessly wore her strikes like badges of honor, fortifying her into the woman she became.

Much like their past, he couldn't take this weight off her shoulders nor could he fix her. And so he paced more until he heard the shower shut off and he stood in the middle of the living room with his hands on his hips.

She'd been in the bathroom for over an hour. How long did it actually take a woman to shower?

His washcloth bath could only help so much and her hair required a good scrubbing with soap and water. Mac felt sticky, she said and so he'd left to make breakfast. Thinming back to fheir conversation, Harm felt like an idiot.

It was not the first time he acted like a fool over her but he was rambling...

"I feel sticky...dirty...I need to shave...my legs are...I'm sorry, you don't need to know that...And I'm naked?... Why am I naked?" Mac pulled at the sheets wrapped around her and glared at him with an eyebrow raised.

"I didn't look...Well, I did but only where I needed to. I wasn't looking looking...you know? Not that way...like most guys do." Harm blushed, he tried to stop the rush of blood from tainting his cheeks but it did anyway. God. she was gonna kill him wasn't she?

"Harm…"

"I mean, what do you expect? I wasn't gonna leave you covered in dirt. Bleeding, soaked to the bone. You needed to get warm and those clothes, you know...they were a mess and you were cold...I had to get you warm."

"It's okay...I'm not upset."

"You should shower...I can help...or not…Of course not why would you need my help..." He continued to ramble on, this time jumping off the bed and heading to the dresser. Harm pulled out a t-shirt, underwear, yoga pants and held them all up. "I brought you clothes...yours." He felt the need to point out. "From your apartment... jeans, t-shirts, underwear, bra...your robe. That fuzzy one you like? The one with the slippers?"

"Okay."

Harm was almost frantic when tossed the clothes on the bed and then hurried into the bathroom holding up a red toiletry bag. "This one is for you...toothbrush, paste...there's a razor if you need it." His shoulders actually hunched as he opened up the bag and looked in. "Damn...Damn. The razor isn't pink...umm...I didn't think to get you a pink one...I'm sorry, I know you like those pink ones."

She shook her head and smiled. "The color doesn't matter it works all the same."

"Oh...your shampoo too...the body wash they don't make it anymore...so...I bought something similar. If you don't like it I can…"

"Harm stop!" Mac came off the bed making sure to keep the sheets wrapped tightly around her. He was standing to the side, his brow furled and the cutest look of concern was in his eyes. It was a rare treat to see him so off kilter but heartwarming nonetheless. One thing was for sure, she'd only ever see him ramble this way with her.

When she touched his forearm Harm felt a calming warmth spread through him. He let out a breath and glanced down at the hand touching him. "Mac?"

She leaned into him, came to the tips of her toes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

And then Mac disappeared into the bathroom.

The idea of washing sounded heavenly until Mac saw her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Concern at what she would find once she let the sheets fall off her body made her apprehensive.

At least the headache was mostly gone but she could feel a dull pressure on her temples, squeezing and releasing. But each time she closed her eyes there were flashes of another woman who looked just like her wearing a veil that covered most of her face.

She hated wearing that thing and always cringed when the Admiral had sent her on an assignment which required headdress. Of course she would wear them without argument, honor and duty held her bound to do so but, she did not have to enjoy it.

That other woman was kept, held back by an oath and religion that wasn't hers and yet it was to a degree - part of her heritage. Her grandmother had worn an abaya in her youth and only stopped when her Scottish-American grandfather brought her to America.

"Here goes nothin'." She sighed and let the sheets drop like a curtain to the floor. Her breath caught audibly over the changes she was not prepared for.

Her arms and legs were thinner and missing the feminine muscular cuts from hard workouts. Her abdomen wasn't as flat and it too no longer had the cuts from grueling core exercises. She wasn't overweight, not by a long shot but any of that physical strength she had was gone.

Mac's face looked the same but upon closer inspection she saw the worry lines, the creases that were starting to show themselves. She looked worn and tired as if sleeping for one hundred years wouldn't fix the weariness.

Her hair. Dear Lord, her hair was ridiculously long falling to the edges of her buttocks. It wasn't well kept, she noted by the splitted ends and the lack of sheen. Compounded by the fact that it was matted in some places and had a variety of leaves and twigs still in it, Mac was a proper mess.

It was instant, that squeeze over her heart when it came to Harm. She glared at the closed bathroom door as if it had offended her and sighed heavily. He wouldn't want her this way, not when all of the parts of herself that made her feel sexy were stripped away. No man would.

"One man will." The words were in Farsi and her temples began to squeeze again. She held on to the edges of the counter and shook herself out of the thoughts that wanted to consume her.

"Sarah MacKenzie. You're Sarah MacKenzie." But, she still couldn't remember everything, Mac wasn't sure she even wanted to.

Harm now stared at the food on the griddle. Pancakes. The kinds with blueberries in them because she loved those more than the chocolate variety. He'd give her some space, he decided and would wait - none too patiently - for her to come to him. He hoped she would, they hadn't exactly discussed what would come next. She hadn't even pressed him on how she wound up in this place, naked in the bed with a bandaged hand.

Throughout tenure as a Lawyer he'd dealt with exactly two cases of amnesia. One had been faked in an effort to get out of the Navy when recruitment didn't live up to certain standards. The other had been to prosecute a Lieutenant who had sent his SEAL team to the wrong LZ. His incompetence put the men in danger, one of which was hit over the head with debris from an explosion. The man had lost his memories and never really remembered who he was.

"Harm?" She walked into the kitchen wearing the clothes he'd pulled out. For the first time in days he saw her, really saw her without the scarf that covered her head. Her skin was a little pinkish from the hot shower and her hair was slicked back. His heart stopped for a moment only to kickstart as she moved closer. "I need help."

"Help?"

"Yeah. Tried to do this by myself." She held up her hand and the bandage hanging haphazardly because it was almost impossible to wrap alone.

"Oh." He washed his hands, dried them and quickly got to work.

They sat across from each other at the small dining table, his large hands gingerly worked on smearing triple antibiotics on her palm, covering it with gauze and then bandaging. "Reminds me of the time I burnt my fingers with acid."

He looked up at her and snorted. "Except you never asked for my help and would shoo me away whenever you needed to change the dressing."

Mac laughed. She laughed in that way he'd heard for years, a sweet sound that nearly brought a tear to his eye. "You still helped. Fixed my terrible bandaging."

"I did." After applying two pieces of tape, he kissed her hand, keeping eye contact with Mac as he did. "There. All done...How do you feel?"

Mac felt a flutter across her heart, achingly familiar and yet not. The way he kissed her hand, the way he looked at her was with the familiarity of a lover. And she certainly had never been intimate with him although her body said otherwise. "I don't know. I'm not sure what to feel."

She pulled away from his hold and sat back, any levity between them growing tense. Frowning, she ran hand through her scalp squeezing in places that ached. Mac thought back to her reflection in the mirror, the woman that wasn't her and yet, she had been for three years. "I saw my reflection and she wasn't me. I'm not sure who she is."

"She is you, Sarah MacKenzie." She is my wife, Harm wanted to say but held that piece back out of fear that he would push too hard and lose her again.

"I know my name. I just, I don't know...And Where are we? Why are we here?"

Harm raised a brow, she didn't remember. "I made you pancakes. You should eat." He stood up suddenly knowing her eyes were following him as he plated the pancakes, the bacon and the side of eggs.

"Your diversionary tactics never were smoothe, Rabb."

"It's not a tactic."

"So then answer me." She eyed the plate of food he placed in front of her and felt her mouth water. The man never did play fair. "Blueberry?"

"Of course….I know what you like, Mac."

She ignored the innuendo to his tone or that sexy grin that often made her knees weak. Letting him off the hook was more of a strategy of sorts but after they ate, she would get the answers.

"Did it hurt?" They sat on the sofa at opposite sides. After breakfast Mac found herself practically lethargic, needing more sleep and fighting the most annoying type of exhaustion. He'd helped her back to bed, tucked her in and to the sound of soft falling rain Mac drifted off to sleep.

She woke up hours later to find Harm seated at the sofa, a deck of cards in one hand and a single card pinched between his thumb and forefinger hovering over the rows of cards on the coffee table. "Solitaire?"

"Twelfth game, trying to keep myself entertained. The weather has been shit...Satellite is down." He pointed out nodding towards the window. "How'd you sleep?"

"Deep. But, I kept having odd dreams." She was drawing in those dreams. Over and over she sketched a man's eyes - Harm's. Happy, sad, quizzical, tearful. She grew them in all of the shades of greys and blues that his irises could bear. Each time a faceless man would tear the pages. The moment she drew them again would be met with the same cruel fate. There was another drawing one with roses but Mac woke before she could see the finished product.

She settled herself on one end of the sofa. He was focused on the game and didn't realize that his buttoned shirt had several top buttons open leaving his chest exposed enough that she could fixate on the bullet wound. "Did it hurt? I mean it had to hurt. When I was shot it felt like someone dropped lava onto my thigh."

Harm followed her gaze and pressed a hand to the area. Oddly enough, that one caused no pain mainly because it ended his life for a moment. "I didn't feel this one. I think the first shot sent me into shock, the second desensitized me. I just remember you talking to me and your voice began to fade until I blacked out. I thought you would have left with Gunny, I hoped you did. I thought I'd die out there."

She watched the spot intently and without asking pressed a palm to that area. "I'm sorry, Harm."

"It wasn't your fault. And I'm here, I'm still alive."

"We both are."

His eyes found hers, locking onto the chocolate-amber orbs that once again belonged to the woman he knew. They weren't lost or scared - this was Mac, not Nazanin and he resisted the urge to lean in and kiss her senseless. "Gunny and Webb played a part.. Clay kept his shirt pressed into my chest and gave up his own medical care until I was stable."

All was a secondhand account because from the moment that bullet slammed into his chest until he woke in Bethesda, Harm was out cold. "I don't remember anything. From what I'm told Victor found a tiny local hospital. I guess someone up there is still looking out for me."

Mac looked up to the ceiling. One thing was for sure, Harm definitely had a personal guardian angel. "Your dad."

"Yeah. Had to be. Turns out the doctor was a missionary from England, a former field medic. He'd treated those wounds before, knew how to stop me from bleeding out. Months later I find myself in Bethesda only to learn you were missing…. I needed therapy. So. Much. Therapy." He punctuated on a rough sigh. "And you weren't there. No one could find you. It's been three and a half years...I was beginning to give up."

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have been out there."

"Neither should you. I had to come for you, Mac. I knew something was wrong. Kept dreaming of you hurt or...or worse. When I found you in that shack...I don't regret it. I don't regret finding you even if I would have died."

She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly. Each bullet that had hit him chipped a piece of her and Mac never wanted to remember that day. He had died, that was all she believed. He died and that left little room for much else making it easier for her to be taken.

"What do you remember? Do you know who Farid is? Or...Nazanin?" It was hard to say that name, he feared she would revert back to that old self and would lose whatever version of Mac this was.

"That part is hazy. I know the names. I was called Nazanin but I don't know why... When you were shot they grabbed me. I fought for a while and then decided it wasn't worth the struggle." If a person could fall into instant depression it happened some time after Sadik's men drove her off to an encampment in Boliva. She cried so much Mac was sure she'd dehydrate.

"We traveled in the most bumpy roads, it felt like forever until we reached a hacienda where Sadik was. I expected he would finish what he started. Instead, it was like a different man. He gave me a room, food, clothing. He let me shower...He was kinder to me. Let me mourn you."

"There were times I thought you were alive but I couldn't find you." Mac resided in that room for about a week in a deeply depressed state. Over and over she tried to find Harm in a way only she knew she could. What came up were fantasies and dreams. They were on a beach kissing and she was pregnant with his baby. Deliriously happy and he was still alive in those dreams that she would beg God to never let her wake.

"One day they grabbed me, jabbed some needle in my arm."

"What did they give you?" He shuddered to ask because through heavy drugs was the method in which some women were exploited.

"I don't know. I was lucid enough to notice some things like being transported to a dock and a waiting ship." The voyage was across heavy seas and a storm or two. She threw up so much the dehydration almost killed her. "I know we got to Cairo. Why there, I don't know. Sadik told them I knew Farsi so they made sure not to speak to me."

Mac didn't remember too much of her time there only that she was held prisoner and eventually got the smarts to do calisthenics to work some of the medication off. "I escaped. I escaped out a window they left open...Nearly broke my neck. I found an old truck, remembered how to hotwire it and sped off like a bat out of hell." But with the drugs in her veins her driving skills diminished greatly.

"I didn't see the ditch. It was dark and I went straight into it. The truck rolled over several times, it caught fire. I knew I'd die there." Part of her did because when she woke again Mac was gone. "I know there's more. I know I was someone else for a time...I just can't remember. You know don't you? You know why I look this way. Why may hair is so long. You know."

"Parts but not most of it. Not the how or why. I only know after I found you and Webb did research." Harm sadly looked at her wishing he could be of more help. He knew about Farid of course but the patch of time was empty. "Do you want me to tell you? I don't understand a lot of it but I can try."

"No. If I can't remember there's a reason for it. If I do, I do." She shrugged as if losing three years of her life weren't that big of a deal. Harm knew her well enough that subtle little actions like biting her lower lip weren't meaningless.

"You're scared, aren't you?"

"No." Mac quickly replied only to find that wasn't true, not at all. She wanted to pretend things were normal but something traumatic had happened to her and someone took advantage of it. She looked up at Harm and frowned. "Yes. I'm terrified. Whatever happened, I don't want to go back there."

Harm pulled her into his arms. "You won't. I promise, you won't." And he'd die to keep that promise.

Mac spent the day trading naps and conversation. She wouldn't talk about Nazanin and had snapped at Harm once when he tried to probe. It was bad enough that her memories were scrambled like a twisted transistor. His curiosity didn't help.

He was holding something back from her and whatever it was Mac knew it was huge. But, if she wouldn't let him pry, she wouldn't force him to either. He had a way of eventually talking to her and, unlike Harm, Mac was the patient kind.

They played board games - Sorry and Clue - splitting wins with him until she could no longer keep her eyes open. "Off to bed with you." Harm ordered, she was too tired to argue and afterna quick shower, she snuggled into fresh sheets.

She hadn't fully drifted off when the bathroom door opened slowly and she saw Harm peek in and practically tip toe into the room. "Harm?"

"Sorry if I woke you. I forgot my shirt." Indeed, he was only wearing boxers and even through the shadows cast from the bathroom light, Mac could make out his body. She felt them when he hugged her, the full muscles and hard male frame that were much more developed than before.

He'd always been lean and strong but at the inception of their partnership he'd been thinner. Stickboy, she mused again. That man was gone, replaced by one with a wide back, wide chest and muscles that bulged and rippled when he moved his arms. Damn, she thought. Maybe 40s were the new 20s?

"Night. I'll see you in the morning."

"Harm, wait." He was half way out the door to the living room when Mac stopped oggling him enough to realkze he was leaving. He'd been sleeping on the sofa for a week and from the dark circles under his eyes it was clear he hadn't rested.

She'd caught him napping at one point. His body barely fit the couch which wasn't meant for stretching out as a 6'4" man. He didn't have a pillow and was using a throw as a bedsheet.

"Come to bed." He stopped moving almost completely and before he could argue, Mac upped the ante. "Scared I'll bite? We have slept together before."

Harm turned at that, the light from the living room illuminating him enough that she could spot his raised brow and little smirk. "We have? When?"

"That cave in the mountains. The desert. The vast number of hotels with only one room because the Navy failed to notify that Rabb and MacKenzie weren't two men... Russia, we shared a bed the night before we left."

Ah yes, Russia. A night he'd broken down before her, shattered by the failed dream of finding his father alive. He was a mess that night, so broken and distraught. He was angry, hurt and reluctantly Harm let Mac pull him to bed. She held him as he cried, ugly sobs that were unmanly. He laid himself open to her, so vulnerable and Mac simply let him grieve. She was his strength that night. "Right. Russia, the night I cried like a blubbering idiot."

"It's okay for men to cry.

"I know that...believe me I know that. You saw me at my weakest point that night."

Mac cocked her head to the side, studying his expression. He seemed ashamed and for the first tike she wondered if that was when all of his walls were built up around him. "Is that when our downfall started?"

"What downfall?"

She shrugged. "We were getting close. Spent all of our free time together or at least most of it. You weren't dating, neither was I and it all just turned into snide comments and pointless arguments." He didn't answer her and so she went another tact to a subject that wasn't really discussed between the two of them just brushed under the rug. "Or was it my involvement with John?"

"John? Farrow? John Farrow?"

"Him, yes."

Harm ran a hand through his hair. John. She called the other man John. Not by his rank or last name but with familiarity. He felt a bitter anger raise and took a steady breath to calm himself. "We never really talked about any of this before."

"Maybe we should start it's not too late."

"What? Now? It's the middle of the night, Mac."

She raised herself up, leaning against the headboard and then flicked on the table lamp. "Actually it's 2332." She patted the spot next to her and was surprised that he actually sat down. "We can't keep avoiding things."

Harm mulled over that subject for a moment. Though in the past, it always bothered him to see Farrow be so tender, loving even. The way Mac spoke of him so highly made Harm feel gut punched and inadequate. "I was...Am jealous of him...of John."

"You had nothing to be jealous of."

Her voice held little room for argument and yet, Harm doubted. He took another breath and settled himself next to her. "I did have reason to be jealous, I still have reason to because I know the moment he sees you, he'll look at you like you're the last woman on Earth."

"We meant something more to eachother than just what it was."

"I know." It had been evident from the first second they were put on his case. "You looked at him with such admiration but, it wasn't just that. You became less of a Marine and more of a woman around him. I don't think you realized that...I didn't think I could hold a candle to him. He's a good man."

"So are you. Honorable, noble. You're my favorite person, you know. Even when we fight."

"You loved him once." And through the years he wondered if one day Farrow would appear out of nowhere and take her away. "Maybe you still do."

"Harm." Mac snaked her hand under his threading their fingers together and then squeezing. "I did love him once, I won't deny that. But I wasn't in love with him. There's a difference."

Maybe he was dreaming this? For sure his desperation to bring his wife back to him had manic thoughts running through his head. To his ears her voice had taken a husky timbre as if she was daring him to question her. Harm swallowed hard and his voice felt thick as he asked, "Are you in love with someone else, Mac?"

"I am." Mac had tried telling him how she felt before, several times in fact when she hoped he understood what she was trying to tell him. She loved him more than any other, wanted to be with him just as bad. Maybe the gaps in her memory had caused her to lose her mind because in the span of just ten seconds, she leaned over enough to kiss him.

It wasn't a peck. In her opinion, they were far beyond such chaste kisses. She kissed him, kissed him. Open mouthed, tongue touching his lips, passionate kind of kissing that he reciprocated. Her uninjured hand gripped onto his shirt when he pulled her closer and an sulty moan escaped her lips.

There was nothing to stop them this time. No significant others, no mistletoe, no ghost lover, nothing but them two and the burning desire that began one day at a rose garden.

She would have surrendered herself to him, was busy trying to pull off his shirt when Harm stopped her. "Mac, we can't. Not now."

"I'm sorry."

God he was hurting her again just like Australia and she physically and emotionally began to shut down. "No, don't be sorry. I want you, I do but, give me time. Just a little bit, please." Time he hoped would snap more memories into place.

"Why do I feel like you're waiting for someone else? Another woman?"

He didn't answer, instead got out of bed and made a beeline for the living room. "Good night, Mac."

It was her voice that stopped him, made him turn around. "Stay. Stay here with me. I promise you I won't bite and you look like you need a good night sleep."

"Okay." He gave in because even though she wasn't completely his Mac, he wanted to stay.