WARNING: This one is again very dark AND there are profanities.
The Starlight motel was a small and frigid building of two storeys, with narrow windows and blue-painted doors, just a few miles beyond the city border. Harm stopped the car and was out of it before Meg could even unfasten her seatbelt and follow. The tall Navy Commander scanned the motel and its surroundings, noting a middle-aged man leaning next one of the doors on the ground floor, smoking. Harm swiftly moved towards him, Meg doing her best to keep up and inwardly cursing her high heels.
"Are you John Crawdon?"
"Are you here for the girl?"
"Yes."
The man threw away the cigarette, not even bothering to snuff it out, but instead of leading Harm to wherever Mac was, he put both his hands in his pockets, still leaning against the wall. Harm looked at him expectantly and with impatience.
"Where is she?"
"In a minute, my good man, in a minute. First I need to know if you are willing to pay for her."
"What the hell are you talking about?! Pay for what?"
"For the damages."
"What damages?"
"Broken utensils and a windowpane for the start. But also the mirror in the bathroom and a new carpet and a mattress. God knows no cleaner will get all of that blood out."
Harm turned positively green in the face.
"What blood? What happened? Hell! Tell me where she is or I'll pound you into the ground!" His voice was steadily rising. The monster made of dread and fear clenched his insides without mercy. Blood. There was blood. She was bleeding. So much so that the carpet was ruined. Jesus Christ. No. "You said... on the phone, you said she doesn't need an ambulance!"
"Easy, fella," the motel owner tried to placate him, obviously used to being threatened. It came with the profession really. "Just say you can pay, since she obviously ain't in any state to do that and I'll be damned if I don't get my money. Then you can do whatever you want. Call the ambulance. Take her to the hospital or the nearest park and have your way with her. I don't really care."
Harm sad red. "You bloody b..."
"We can pay," Meg interjected loudly. This was leading nowhere and Harm seemed to be beyond rational thinking at the moment. "But first we need to see the woman. I will go and pay with my credit card after that."
"Good enough for me," Crawdon shrugged, then finally straightened and motioned for them to follow him to one of the unremarkable blue doors. He reached into his pocket for a key and then finally the door opened.
It was completely dark inside and the silence was overwhelming. For a second the time seemed to stop for Harm. He felt as if the door opened into another dimension, into some deep, dark chasm. Some secret circle of hell Dante had missed to describe. There was just ominous blackness filled with frigid cold and unspoken pain. And Mac was somewhere inside it. Harm stepped inside and blindly searched for the light switch for a moment, then pressed it. The darkness fled into the corners and shadows behind the few unattractive pieces of furniture, but the chill remained as did the sense of terror.
There was really nothing wrong with the room itself. The small table and two chairs were clean, the closet with its drawers safely shut, the impersonal and boring wallpaper with grey stripes clung to the walls without a single tear in it. Except the draft was blowing inside through the broken window. And there were glass shards all over the carpet. And at the parts of that carpet, as well as the bedding, there were several spots marked in dark crimson stains. Blood. Harm felt physically sick, never even registering that Meg and Crawdon followed him inside, the former horrified at the sight of the room, the other seemingly indifferent.
She was lying on the bed, her arms and legs completely limp, her head turned to the side, long strands of hair matted with sweat clinging to her clammy, grey skin. With emotions he had never felt before Harm leaned over her, his hand shaking as he gently moved the hair out of her face. God, she was so cold to the touch!
"Mac?" he whispered. She did not answer. "Mac?" he repeated a bit louder. With each passing second, he noticed more and more things about her appearance which disturbed him. It was not just her unhealthy colour, so different from her usual golden glow. It was her dry, chapped lips and dark violet circles around her eyes. It was the gauntness of her sunken cheeks and sharp collar bones, her skeletal arms. And it was the bandages clumsily tied around her hands and feet. Blood had soaked through, but apparently the bleeding had stopped after that.
Harm felt his heart breaking. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. He was dreaming it. They both were. Perhaps if he could wake her up the nightmare would end?
"Mac?" he tried again, his fingers running over her cheekbone, as light as a touch of a butterfly. Her lids slowly fluttered open. Her eyes were glassy, unseeing and she closed them again quickly as if the light was hurting her. He moved directly into her line of vision now and called her name again. She reluctantly opened her eyes once more.
"You play a mean game of hide and seek, Marine," he said quickly, though his voice was breaking a little. He needed her to get a grip, to realize he was really there. She could not black out on him now. "I declare you a winner. Next time, however, you need to pick somewhere warm and sunny. And actually tell me we are playing. Agreed? Or is it my turn to hide this time?"
Her gaze remained impassive, but her mouth opened and she more croaked than said: "Harm?"
He gently squeezed her shoulder. "It's me, Mac. I'm here. I'm gonna get you through this, I promise," he said, remembering the first time he made the same promise, years ago. She had almost given up by the end of that adventure. He did not let her. He would not let her do that now.
"But you are mad at me," she said slowly, matter-of-factly. His smile was almost painful. He could not lie to her.
"No, sweetheart. I am not mad at you. I am fucking livid. But that does not mean I am not getting you out of here and into a hospital."
Suddenly her eyes opened fully and her whole body stiffened. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, her breathing fast and frantic.
"No... no hospital!"
"Mac you need help and you need..."
"NO HOSPITAL!" she shrieked and as if that took all of the strength she had left, she sunk into the crumpled pillows again, even more ashen than before.
"This is not a discussion, Mackenzie!" he snapped back. "I'm taking you to see a doctor and that's final."
"No hospital," she kept repeating.
"Why the hell not?!"
"Webb can find me in a hospital," she managed to get out. "I can't... can't..." She stopped, her eyes closing yet again.
Webb. Webb could find her. That was why she was here, in the forgotten shithole of a motel. That was why she did not contact anyone. She was hiding from the man who had taken over her flat. And one who had clearly gone off the rails. What did that bastard do to her? Why didn't she just throw him out? How come she was here and he was there? And even now, as wretched as she must have been feeling, all she cared about was not being found by the spook. What had happened? Whatever that was, Harm mused, she was right on one account. If Clayton Webb was looking for her, he would have no trouble locating her at all once she was admitted into any hospital. Taking a few minutes to make up his mind, Harm finally slid his arms under Mac's back and knees, lifting her into his arms.
He was terrified at how light she was. Even when in superb-shape Mac was a big girl. He knew. He had carried her before, and though he relished her closeness, he tired after a while. But now he felt as if she was rag doll with hollow bones. Her head lolled against his shoulder.
"No hospital," she said again, fighting a losing battle to stay conscious. She was tired. She was so tired. And Harm was here. Harm!
"No hospital," he assured her. "But you are coming with me and we are getting you some medical attention."
With that, he turned to leave, when Crawdon blocked the door.
"Not so fast, dude, I still haven't got my money."
If Harm wasn't holding Mac's limp body in his arms he would have torn the man apart with his bare hands.
"You locked her here. You locked her here like a rabid animal and instead of getting her help you simply called me to literally buy her right to even leave," he hissed and there was murder in his eyes. "You were not concerned about her at all, were you? What would you have done if... if she was lying dead here? Still call her friends to settle the debt for your shit motel equipment before bothering to get her a doctor? Or to get her into a hospital?! What kind of vulture are you?!"
It was only then that the motel owner realized he had gone too far. he raised both his hands defensively.
"Hey! Who do you think wrapped those bandages on her feet and hands? Yogi Bear? Na-ah! It was yours truly! I only called after that. Dude, this was a new carpet..."
Harm tightened his hold on Mac, who was now moaning softly into his neck in pain.
"Fuck your new carpet, you piece of shit," Harm said coldly. "Now get out of my way before I call the police and have you arrested for holding an injured woman hostage and asking for ransom."
"Now wait just a minute"
"You really don't want to pursue this," Meg entered the conversation, touching Harm's back in an attempt to soothe him. His muscles were stone rigid under her fingers. "We are both lawyers. Unless you step aside and let us leave we can make thing very unpleasant for you."
After several tense second Crawdon turned his back on them with a curse. "I don't want to see any of you here ever again!" he spat after them as they walked out of the door. "Keep away from here, all of you! This is a classy establishment! No place for drug-snorting whores who overdose and go crazy like that bitch of yours!"
Harm was almost in the car. He would put Mac down. Gently. He would go back. He would beat the man senseless. He would kill him and piss on his corpse. He would. He would!
"He is not worth it, Harm" Meg said, standing beside him. Apparently his emotions were clearly etched into his expression. "Let it go. He is a small, petty man who is not worth it."
He nodded. He was holding Mac. His Mac. Nothing mattered. Just her. He would not let go.
"Could you drive, please?" he asked Meg and she nodded, slipping behind the wheel, while Harm carefully slid into the backseat, limp, motionless Mac draped over his lap. He couldn't tell is she was sleeping or was unconscious.
"Where to?" Meg asked. She was burning with curiosity. She had so many questions. She wisely chose not to pursue the answers right now. "She said she didn't want to go to a hospital, but where else can we take her in this state?"
"Just take us to my apartment," Harm said after a moment of hesitation. "I know somebody who can help. I just need to get her somewhere safe."
"Is your place really safe?"
"It is better than a hospital. At least for now."
Soon they were on the road again, engulfed mostly in silence. Harm was cradling Mac in his arms, sometimes drawing idle circles on the skin of her arms, patiently brushing away the loose strands of hair falling over her face. She felt so fragile, like a little bird, and he was scared that he could fatally harm her if he pressed her to himself too tightly. She did not wake up, but her occasional soft moans and whimpers testified to her discomfort.
But she was here, with him, he said to himself. Finally found. And he would make it all right again. No matter what it took. He pressed his lips to her forehead, noticing with concern that while previously she was cold to the touch, she seemed to be burning up now.
Meg was driving carefully through the unfamiliar streets, sometimes asking for more directions. She had yet to visit Harm's apartment. Every time they had a meeting since her return to the town they were either at her place or some restaurant. She was now finally going to see it. She had tried to imagine what it would be like, him asking her to come over. In none of her fantasies was she stepping into his apartment while watching him carry another woman in his arms. She felt tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She angrily swiped them away. She was being silly. Harm was single. He told her so. Everybody told her so. This woman was his friend and she was really poorly. It was natural he was so concerned. In fact, it wouldn't be Harm if he wasn't concerned!
There were three people in the car and all of them were hurting.
