AN: As I promised, another chapter on the same day. Hope you'll enjoy it, as this story seems to gradually grow on me.
Disclaimer: Like I said before and I'll repeat it under oath...not mine.
CHAPTER THREE
For long, silent, creeping minutes they just stood frozen in place. He didn't know what to do, or what to say. The realization that he was at least partially to blame for her current state of mind and occupation had unsettled him, the guilt gnawing at his already overheated conscience.
He was fighting an inner war between his mind (how could you just walk out on us all? Did we, did I mean that little to you?) and his heart (I'm so sorry, Sarah. Please forgive me, let me set things right, give me a chance), which was effectively ended by the look of utter defeat she gave him.
She looked so vulnerable, so shy, so…exposed. Neither offering apologies nor putting blame. Lost in memories and useless could-have-been dreams.
His resolve broke. Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done, nor would it solve anything or negate the need to talk later, but he didn't care. He simply surrendered, opening his arms to her.
"Sarah…"
She started to sob quietly, before silently slipping into his embrace.
Nothing before had ever felt so good to him than holding on to her, softly caressing her heaving shoulders, burying his face in the soft crook of her neck, ignoring the smell of alcohol, cheap perfume and cigarette smoke. The essence that was purely Sarah was still there, ready to be discovered. By him only.
At long last her sobbing seemed to subdue, she was only sniffling now. But still she held on to him for dear life. He let her, too overwhelmed by his own juggling feelings to confront her yet. For as long as she stayed plastered against his chest, he could pretend all was well, instead of a mess.
Unavoidably, the time came where she, albeit reluctantly, let go of him. She sat down on the chair in front of the vanity, and he found himself a seat on another chair, carefully taking what appeared to be her normal outfit from its back, so he wouldn't wrinkle it. Her jeans and sweater looked so heartbreakingly normal next to the skimpy cowgirl outfit she was wearing underneath her robe.
Suddenly he wanted to cry for her, for them, for whatever it was that had made her take the road downhill.
She owed him an explanation. She knew she did, even if she wasn't ready to give it to him. Carefully she thought of all the letters she had written to him, some for real, some just in her mind. She tried to relive all the fantasies of the conversations she'd had with him whenever she would (day)dream about seeing him again. Problem was, this wasn't her imagination, this wasn't alcohol speaking. This was the real deal. He was here. For real. And she didn't know where to start.
She'd done the hugging and crying part, so only the talking part was left. Would he settle for the short-cut? The basic, naked facts? Almost subconsciously, she shook her head. Knowing Harm, she expected him not to have changed all that much. He was a lawyer, the sharpest one she happened to know. He would dig as deep as he needed to reveal the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. So help him God. Or without His help if necessary.
She opened her mouth, hoping words would magically appear without her thinking, but the only sound she produced, was a soft whisper.
"I'm sorry."
She choked again, looking at him helplessly.
To her big surprise, he didn't only meet her halfway, he took the distance, took the blame from her shoulders in a typical Harm-fashion. She should have known he couldn't do anything halfway.
"I'm the one who's sorry Sarah. I'm…"
"Harm, you don't have to…"
He cut her off.
"Yes I do."
He shifted in his seat uneasily, knowing that this was not the place nor the time he'd always had in mind to have the much needed heart-to-heart with Sarah, but realizing at the same time that keeping his mouth shut now was not an option.
"Sarah, would you let me finish, please?"
When she nodded, knowing there was no stopping him whatever she tried, he scraped his throat as to take a moment to gather his thoughts.
"I'm sorry you ran away. So sorry that I never made things clear to you when I had the chance. Sorry that I was too afraid, too stunned, too much focused on my career and officer's decorum to open my eyes and see, really see what was in front of me all along. I'm sorry I stabbed a knife straight through your heart the first time I rejected you, only to keep twisting it, never giving you time to heal."
He took a deep breath, halting her with one hand when she wanted to speak, indicating he wasn't nearly done.
"I chased you away didn't I?"
Not awaiting an answer, he plunged on, being his own prosecutor, judge and executioner at the same time, his skills in court coming in handy as he chastised himself for what he was convinced was all his fault. Problem for her was, she actually felt some of it was. Though, with a stab of self-hatred, she had to admit she did take the decision to run on her own accord.
"I gave you no choice. I simply wasn't there for you. Whatever it was that got you stuck here was beyond my control, but I triggered it and for that I'm more sorry than I could ever tell you."
He reached out for her hand and when she put her hand in his, he held on to it, rubbing her knuckles while seeking out her eyes with his.
"Am I too late? Can I still fix it? I so desperately want to fix this. I need you more than I need the Navy, I need you more than I need my next breath. This past year has suffocated me, Sarah…I miss you."
He couldn't help himself any longer. The tears that had started to pool in the corners of his eyes with the first onslaught of emotions now slowly trickled down over his cheeks. He wasn't ashamed of them, he was helpless to stop them, deserved them even.
Harm buried his head in his hands and silently wept.
For Sarah, all the had registered from his monologue, were the three last words. The sadness in his voice when he said them, the sincerity…it had more impact than all the apologies presiding. He missed her. Correction, he misses her, as in present tense.
In vain she tried, for the first time probably since she'd left them all, to envision their life without her. As confused as she had been when she up and left them, she had never stopped to consider their feelings, their confusion, their fear. And she was deeply ashamed of herself now. They'd been her friends, her betrayal was inexcusable.
Had they searched through her personal things? What had happened with her apartment? She'd given Harm an emergency key, she remembered, but had he used it? She could almost picture him, wandering from living room to bedroom to kitchen to try and find something, anything that would help him locate her. The first few weeks.
And what about after that? Did they mourn her, like she was dead? Did they keep the pictures of her at better times? Did they celebrate the holidays together, secretly wishing she was there, wondering where she was and what she was doing? She'd stopped celebrating holidays and birthdays, but did they?
Or were they mad at her, for the way she acted? Were they glad to get rid of her, did they consider her a traitor, her behavior as an act of mutiny, even if she was legally no longer on active duty?
How presumptuous of her just to assume nothing had changed for them. No matter how they felt, if they were sorry or happy she'd fled, fact was, she'd just…left. Left them to deal with questions that would never be answered, her things to be taken care off…and to top that all, Harm was apologizing to her!
Yes, she'd blamed him for her rash actions, but now, looking back (hindsight is twenty-twenty, remember?) it was just a very convenient excuse at a moment in life where she'd felt out of control. Not very Marine-like. But also nobody to blame but herself.
No, she couldn't let him be a martyr, couldn't let him carry the burden that was rightfully hers. She was the one to leave her life behind without looking back at the devastation her departure evoked, so she was the one who had to pick up the pieces. Her running would have to end someday. Might as well be now. Correction again. It had to be now.
She kneeled in front of the silently crying man, cringing at the thought that she'd never seen him lose control before. She had to get a grip on him, she had to make him see she wanted to go back to her old life, was ready for it, even when she knew her old life would never be the same as it was. Because she'd changed too much in the process.
Though she wasn't even sure she had the right to ask him for help, she had no choice in the matter. He would have to be her opening, her portal back to the world.
"Harm…Harm!…"
No reaction whatsoever, he didn't seem to have heard her. Time for desperate measures.
"Suck it up, Squid. I need you to come out of this haze. Snap to it!"
Wow! She hadn't used any Marine language for years, but boy, did it feel good to be using the terms again. Standing straight, Mac felt herself getting back in control, back into the marine grip that had saved her the first time around. She might have forgotten, pushed that life to the back of her mind, her instinct apparently had not. And she was glad for it.
It surely had the desired effect on Harm too, as he looked up with shock and sudden recognition.
When he'd first stepped into the dressing room, seeing Sarah in a surrounding so far away from the life she'd know, the life he'd known her to have, he'd felt deflated. Getting her back to where he knew she belonged seemed an impossible obstacle.
But at the tone of her voice, he looked up and saw…Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, US Marine. Hell, he almost stood at attention before her, ready to snap off a curt salute. The sudden realization that it was still in her blood opened the road to recovery again.
Their eyes met and sudden understanding passed silently between them. He grabbed her normal clothes from the spot he had tossed them on and handed them over.
"Get dressed, Mac. We're getting out of here."
Where will they be going next? Next installment soon. Reviews (of any and all kind) much appreciated.
