Little Sarah Mackenzie was five years old that day.

Her mama dressed her in a baby blue dress with a broad white satin sash around her tiny waist. It had a big bow in the back. Then her mama made her sit very still and braided her long, dark hair into two neat plaits and secured them with special elastic bands. They were special because there were plastic butterflies on them. Sarah's large brown eyes lit up when she saw herself in the big mirror in her parents' bedroom.

"You are the prettiest little girl in the world," her mama told her and Sarah buried her face in mama's lap, suddenly shy, but also feeling that it was true. She was the prettiest girl in the world. At least for that day and that was fair. There were, after all, other little girls, and she felt it would not be correct if they did not get to be the prettiest ones too. But today was her day.

There was a birthday cake waiting in the fridge. Sarah was mostly a solitary girl who was perfectly happy to play on her own, the dolls and stuffed toys being company enough for her imagination. But she did invite Cheryl from down the street and when she arrived, Sarah squealed with joy when she was presented with a small porcelain elephant by her friend. They played on the swing until daddy came home.

Sarah never knew beforehand in what mood would her daddy open the door and step into the house. Usually, he gave his daughter a smile, patted her head and asked if she was a good girl, then he would watch some TV or go out with his friends. More often, however, he would come in and hardly talk. He would only say he was really tired and that was it. He would still go out with his friends though and Sarah could not really make sense of it. Shouldn't he go to bed if he was tired? Fortunately, today was her special day! And when Joe Mackenzie appeared in the door, he did what he only did on very special occasions. He swept Sarah up in his arms and kissed her cheek affectionately. The girl wrapped her little arms around his neck, but soon let go. She liked her daddy when he was like this, but he did not smell nice.

"So my little Princess is five already!" Joe said as he sat down, holding his daughter on his knee and reaching into his jacket. Then he pulled a black band with fake daisies attached to it out of his pocket and promptly set it on his daughter's head. "Here, now you look like a fairy!"

Sarah rushed to the mirror for the second time that day and admired herself. Her childish eyes found beauty in the cheap trinket immediately. She was indeed the fairy Princess now, with flowers in her hair! With daisies! And that was magic because there were no daisies to be found in any of the gardens in her small part of the world. She thanked her daddy and ran to the garden again to show Cheryl.

After a while, the girls returned into the house, hungry and prepared to ask for the birthday cake. But before they could even reach the kitchen, they could hear Sarah's parents talking. No, not talking. Shouting. Cheryl looked bewildered and decided to flee. She did not like raised voices. "I have to go home," she said and was gone the next moment. Sarah felt sad. Then she felt a bit angry. Cheryl was her only friend. And now her mama and daddy drew her away on her birthday. Why were they arguing anyway?

The girl stepped into the kitchen, ready to ask if her parents could stop shouting, please. She could still fetch Cheryl back afterwards. There could still be a cake. "Mama," she started, but her parents did not hear her. They just kept shouting.

"She doesn't need any more bloody dolls!" her daddy shouted. "It is wasted money!"

"She is five, Joe!" her mama shouted back. "And we agreed on the gift before! You agreed! So how come all she gets is a lousy headband!?"

Sarah now realized she was in the centre of the argument. But she did not understand. She did not get any lousy headband. She got a crown of daisies! A magic crown that made her a fairy! Her mother's words hurt. They punctured the girl's dream and the magic was quickly seeping out. Soon there would be none left in the daisies. Soon the girl would snatch them off her head and give them a questioning look. She would throw them away later that night.

"Look, Deanne, you may sit on your ass all day but I am the one who has to work and I am the one to decide what we do with the money! And I am not wasting it on toys she is going to be too old for soon!"

"But you are wasting them on booze!"

"So what if I get a drink or two! Have I not served my country well enough!? I have seen things you could only dream of! I deserve a stiff drink once in a while!"

"More like once in a day! Once in an hour!"

"Shut up! You make me sound like some old drunkard!"

"You are! You are one!"

Sarah never forgot how quickly her father's hand moved the next moment, or how ungainly her mama crashed into the table and chairs behind her. A little, sharp cry of fright escaped the girl's lips. Her parents did not notice her, her mother now crying, holding a hand to her cheek. Joe Mackenzie would apologize later and promise it would not happen again. But for now, he only said gravely and menacingly: "If I am a drunk, you are a whore. And no dolls will ever change the fact that in this miserable world Sarah will become just like me or just like you. And just maybe both of us. So stop whining about dolls and shit."

Joe Mackenzie went out after that and did not return until the next day.

Deanna Mackenzie spent the rest of the day weeping and avoiding her daughter.

Sarah Mackenzie, her little heart beating wildly, her eyes full of tears, never ate the slice of her fifth-birthday cake. She sat on the swing until dark, listlessly, battling a feeling she later came to know as a mixture of helplessness, anger and shame. She did not yet understand the words "drunkard" and "whore", but they sounded ugly. Her daddy said she would become one or the other. Or both. And there was no helping the fact.

She was not the prettiest girl in the world anymore.


When Harm woke up, it was already light outside. A quick look at the alarm clock told him it was almost 10 o'clock on Saturday, which meant he had slept for about six hours. That was good enough, especially considering Mac had woken him a few times, softly crying in her fevered sleep, rambling something about birthday cakes and daisy chains. He looked at her for the first time in weeks in the clear light of day. She was still a pitiful sight. Pale, gaunt and clearly exhausted. He felt her forehead and his own brow creased. If her fever did not break soon, he had no idea what he should do. Untangling himself from the bedsheets he dressed and descended to the kitchen to start making coffee and breakfast when he froze.

Meg. Meg was here yesterday with him. She went to the motel with him. She helped him with Mac. Or tried to. They were supposed to have tea, right? And he... forgot?! He did. He simply forgot all about her, completely consumed by his worry about Mac. His eyes quickly scanned the apartment, but there was no trace of the blonde officer. Hurriedly, he picked up the phone.

"Meg? Yeah, hi... listen... uhm... I am really sorry about yesterday. I guess I just got too distracted and I realize it was beyond rude when it comes to you."

"Harm," the voice on the other end of the line said, "I am not going to pretend that I was not hurt and frankly, a bit insulted." There a short bitter laugh. "I mean how often does a girl glam up for a guy and spends the night dancing away with him only to be driven into a seedy motel and then watch the said guy have his hands all over another woman. A naked one at that," she added. It sounded bitter. Exactly the way she felt. Never in her life has she ever felt as humiliated as when she had to call a taxi in the early hours of the morning to be driven away from an apartment where three was definitely a crowd.

"I am sorry," Harm repeated. "It really was a lovely evening and you looked gorgeous. It's just that..."

"Just that I don't look like Dianne Schonke," she interrupted.

"What? What are you saying?"

"Harm, I am not blind or stupid. She is Colonel Mackenzie, your partner, right? That alone would explain you rushing to her rescue. But even the little of her I saw... She is like a carbon copy of Dianne. No wonder you feel so ... protective of her."

"That... that's not the reason," he stammered out. Dianne. God! He hadn't thought of her in years! But deciding he had enough things to feel guilty about at the moment decided to reschedule that particular moping party to another time.

"Isn't it?" Meg asked incredulously. "Because I get that, Harm. I have no idea how the two people could ever look so similar though. Are they related in any way?"

"No, no relation. The resemblance is... just there. Took me by surprise the first time, to put it mildly."

"I can imagine. It also explains a lot."

"Like what?"

Meg said nothing for a moment, then completely changed the subject.

"So are you going to take her to the hospital or not?"

"No. Not right now. But I have remembered a doctor. A Navy doctor. I defended him once at court. We became casual acquaintances of sorts. He owns me one and I intend to collect."

"Harm, you really should take her to the hospital."

"Meg, you were there yesterday! You saw her! She was adamant she would not go there!"

"What I saw was a distraught woman in need of urgent medical attention who, forgive me, you decided to coddle like a baby. She is obviously not in the right mind. If she cannot do what is best for her, somebody else should!"

"I am not going to betray her trust!"

"Harm, she was raving! Get her into the hospital! She will be grateful once she comes to her senses."

"Look, Meg, I am sorry about last night," he said, barely concealing his anger. "And thank you for everything you did. But Mac might wake up at any moment and I need to prepare something for breakfast. Thanks. Bye."

He hung up before waiting for her reply.

Mac did not wake up for breakfast, lunch or even dinner. She did not wake up at all that day. In her sleep she was tormented by bad dreams, sometimes whimpering or softly crying. Several times she downright wailed as if she were in pain. He tried to wake her up to no avail, tried to soothe her but with no effect. In the evening he finally got hold of William Bennet, the doctor he had told Meg about. Will arrived and carefully examined Mac's hands and feet, skillfully stitching several lacerations in her soles. He did not like the state of her at all.

"She is terribly malnourished," he said. "That means her wounds will actually take longer to heal. She will also feel cold very easily so make sure you keep her warm, especially her limbs. She needs to take on some weight and quickly. Make sure she eats lots of vegetables and things like pasta and rice. Dairy products are also good. I'm going to prescribe something stronger than Tylenol for the fever. If she isn't up and at least a little better in a few days, you have to get her into the hospital."

"I promised her I wouldn't," Harm admitted.

"Yes, you have told me that, though you also refused to give me any sane explanation," William said and prepared to take his leave. "But sometimes what the patient wants is not in their best interests. I believe this may be exactly the case."

Harm pondered over that. Apparently William and Meg in agreement. But neither William nor Meg had any idea about Mac and her intuition. Harm was torn between trusting Mac and wanting to ensure she would get the best treatment for whatever it was that was ailing her.

She slept on. Hours passed and Sunday too began to quickly slip away. Should he call the General? Request leave? He could not just leave her alone like this. She could not wake up into an empty apartment. And what if she did wake up. Shouldn't he still take a day off to take care of her? There was no way she could walk as yet.

Near midnight her fever finally broke. By that time she sweated through the T-shirt and the bedsheets, growing more and more uncomfortable in her sleep. He managed to change both the sheets and her clothes as she kept murmuring nonsense. There were names. Some he knew, some he did not. There was Chris and Joe and Dalton. There was Cheryl and Chloe and him. And daisies. Always she came back to the daisies.


It was now Monday. 04:45 in the morning. He woke up from his uneasy slumber. It was still dark outside, but the soft light of a small lamp he had left on in the corner of the room illuminated his little corner of the world. There was no tossing or turning beside him. There were no incoherent words or little sobs or broken whispers. Everything was quiet. He turned his head to look at her.

She was looking right back.

She woke up and her eyes were clear.