Meg knocked on the door, chasing away her trepidation. Harm was not at home yet, she knew, but he had told her to ask Mac to let her into the apartment. "She knows to expect you," he said reassuringly. "And you two will have some time to go over the clothing without me interfering," he also added with a smile. "Just... be patient with her, please." And so now she was standing in front of his door, waiting to be admitted, two large bags of clothes weighing her arms down. She knocked a second time. She was almost ready to give up, retreat back into her car and wait for Harm to show up when the door finally opened a crack.
"Yes?" a female voice asked, not unfriendly, but filled with caution.
"Colonel Mackenzie, hi. I'm Lieutenant Commander Meg Hartley. Harm told me to come over and bring you these," she explained and raised the bags as if to prove her words.
There was a short moment of palpable hesitation, then the door finally opened wide.
"Come in," said the dark-haired woman and Meg stepped into the loft. She strode to the kitchen island, putting the bags on it. Only then she turned around and looked at the Colonel who has been plaguing her thoughts for way too long.
This "Mac" as Harm and everyone at the office kept calling her, stayed by the door, now closed, and was actually leaning against it as if she was expecting to be attacked and needed to cover her back. Her eyes were large and dark and - to Meg - unreadable, though her whole posture clearly showed discomfort with the situation. Well, she was not the only one uncomfortable, thought Meg to herself, begging the invisible Force above to have Harm walking into the door as soon as possible. Or rather... not. There were things she needed to discuss with the Colonel out of Harm's earshot. That was why she was really here.
Mac looked a lot better, Meg noted. Still rather pale, but the paleness spoke more of prolonged stay indoors rather than an ailment. The dark circles around her eyes were gone, so she must have been getting enough rest. the bandages were gone from both her hands and feet. The only thing that was remaining was the thinness, and even that did not seem as terribly alarming anymore. Her cheeks have filled up a bit already. Her manner though screamed nervousness, her frame drowning in what were obviously Harm's T-shirt and boxers. Meg felt a sharp sting of jealousy and at once was glad that she could come and offer different clothes. Wearing anyone's garments, their underwear no less, seemed way too intimate.
"Harm told me you were there that night... at the motel," Mac said quietly. "I'm afraid I don't recall much."
"I didn't really do anything," Meg shrugged her shoulders. "I merely tagged along."
"Still, thank you."
"I must say you look a lot better. We might even improve your looks when you shed off that garb and slip into something more comfortable," Meg forced a smile.
"Yeah," was a half-hearted answer. Meg noticed that Mac wrapped her arms around herself at that as if she were trying to commit the feeling of Harm's clothes against her skin to memory before she would be expected to strip them away. Meg turned to the bags and started to dig the clothes out of them, laying them carefully on the counter to busy herself as she talked on, desperately counting seconds and hoping to stave off the awkward silence before Harm would be walking in:
"So tell me, how has been Harm behaving these past few years? I was his first partner at JAG, you know. Went by my maiden name Austin back then." She put the deliberate weight on the "first". She could not help but feel proprietor. Loving a man did that to her, she supposed.
"I thought Harm's first partner was Kate Pike," Mac said. It was an indifferent statement, void of any emotions. She frowned as if trying to remember something. "But maybe I have everything mixed up. I'm sorry. Some things are still ... hazy."
"Yeah, well, Kate was there for just a few weeks," Meg said quickly, feeling the blush of embarrassment rising to her cheeks. "But I was with him for over a year, so... anyway. I am sure you have heard all about our adventures," she laughed nervously.
Mac has come nearer the kitchen island, her arms still firmly wrapped around her own torso. She shook her head now. "No, I'm sorry," she apologized again. "Harm never really told me much about you. I think I recall just... Say, are you claustrophobic? I think he mentioned that once."
"Yes, I suffer from claustrophobia," Meg admitted and pressed her lips firmly together.
Harm did not talk about her. This partner of his, with whom he was in close contact for eight years, had never heard anything of the consequence of her. Why? How? She herself knew only too well that her marriage had dissolved partly because she often compared her husband to Harm - the man she idolized and longed for - more and more frequently. And aloud. How was it possible that Harm had never told this woman about her?
"Well, maybe you should ask him sometime," Meg said quickly.
"Yeah.. maybe I should." The Colonel sounded apologetic. She also, obviously, wished the whole encounter was over. Meg herself was itching to getaway. Something about this woman positively unnerved her.
"I didn't know your size while shopping so you need to try these on," she switched the topic to the clothes, now neatly presented on the counter. Mac ran her hand lightly over the nearest sweater.
"I like this one," she said and tried to smile. Meg would never know what a torment her presence was causing Mac. Not only was she the first person besides Harm and the doctor who stepped into the apartment, her safe place, in days. But Mac's old insecurities reared their ugly head as well. Was this the woman Harm was now spending his time at work? The woman who occupied her office? Mac could not help herself but draw comparisons. Surely Harm could not stay enamoured with her too long if he had his former partner by his side again. This woman was taller than her, her skin flawless, her eyes bright and voice pleasing. Blond hair, pink lips. Confidence and a head held high. She felt dreadfully inadequate and although the clothes Meg had brought were indeed pretty and obviously from the finest fabric, she knew she would not be changing out of Harm's T-shirt and boxers today. She could not. She needed to keep those on for a little longer for her own sanity.
"I'm glad you like it," said Meg. For her part, she too inevitably scrutinized the woman in front of her. She was beautiful, sure. Or perhaps would be again when she pulled herself together. But she seemed altogether too timid, too stand-offish, too... unreadable. Meg could hardly put together this frail creature with the Marine Colonel she had gathered information about.
Anyway, it was not her business to figure out why Harm might like her, because there was somebody else who loved her. She promised to help to reunite the two lovers: the desperate man and the confused woman.
"This is not all I have brought you, though," Meg started carefully. Mac raised her eyebrows questioningly. Meg reached into the second bag, which still held some of the clothes and pulled them out. She left them folded in front of Mac. With an unsure smile, the latter reached out and took the piece on the top. It was a "Property of the USMC" T-shirt. Not new. Worn. Hers. One of those that should be at...
She lunged after another piece from the pile. Jeans. With the tell-tale tiny rip showing at the pocket. Hers. Another piece. Pyjamas with shamrocks. Hers.
Impossible. All of these were supposed to be... at her apartment. And nobody had been in her apartment ever since... Yet this woman...
"How?" Mac asked. Her mouth was dry, her heart was beating wildly. She was desperately trying not to panic. In her fist, she was clenching a delicate lacy camisole. Hers. "How did you get these?"
"I thought you would be most comfortable in your own clothes so I went to your place. I know you didn't invite me but I thought..."
"How did you get there?! Harm doesn't have a key," Mac said firmly, her voice louder than it had been in weeks. No, Harm did not have a key. She had found the spare she had given him years ago in her mailbox after Paraguay. Even when they somewhat mended the bridges they had not gotten to a point where it would feel right to give him the key back.
"I didn't ask Harm," Meg said, noticing the agitation in the other woman. Fortunately, she had been warned as to the Colonel's rather volatile nature. She kept her voice calm and low. Friendly.
"Then who?"
"The man who loves you," said Meg, leaned over the counter and in a gesture of attempted comfort laid her hand on Mac's arms. "Colonel... Mac... I have spoken to him several times. In fact, he contacted me at first. He is going crazy looking all over for you. He is a wreck, constantly worrying about you. I know Harm is your friend and he has taken excellent care of you, but don't you think it's time to return home? To Clayton?"
All colour drained from Mac's face. She roughly pulled her arm away, dropping the camisole as if it had burned her. He jaw was clenched. She could not speak. The feeling of dread assaulted her, rendering her speechless.
Meg frowned. This was not a reaction of a loving woman. Webb had assured her Mac was being pretty much held by Harm against her will, too fragile to stand up to him, too dependent on men to walk out. Meg was here to help her. To reunite Mac with Webb. To explain things to Harm. To offer comfort. To start the healing process for all of them. Could it be that Webb was wrong? Could it be that not only was Harm infatuated by the Dianne-Schonke look-a-like, but she herself was determined to use her looks as an advantage to bind the handsome Navy Commander with a trust fund to herself? Whatever pity Meg had felt for the Colonel was quickly slipping away. She was not giving up just yet though.
"Clayton talked to me about you. He loves you so much. He said he is more than ready to apologize for the fight you had prior all of this. You are really lucky to have somebody loving you like that. The man lives in your apartment. He sleeps in your bed. And he looks really bad. He just wants to set things right with you."
There was absolute silence from Mac. Only after a long while she finally opened her mouth: "And what would you know about any of that? What gives you right to ... to... You told him I am here, didn't you?" Her eyes were wide open, her breath coming out in short gasps. She was starting to shake. Still, her tone was accusatory and unpleasant. Meg bristled.
"Look," she cut Mac off. "What happened between Webb and you is your business, sure. But this business is heavily affecting somebody I deeply care for, and through him, it is affecting me. I am done just watching how you take advantage of Harm, how you apparently play on his emotions, how you blackmail him. You know who you look like, don't you? You know it only too well. Yes, I told Clayton where to find you, why wouldn't I? He is your boyfriend and wants to take care of you. Quite frankly, I have a feeling he deserves better. And Harm definitely deserves better."
"Meg."
She turned around, startled. Harm was standing in the doorway and she only now registered his presence. He was as pale as Mac, whose eyes were now unseeing, her fists clenched so hard around the edge of the kitchen counter they were white. Her breathing was quickly getting out of control fast as if she couldn't get the air to travel to her lungs.
"Harm, I..." Meg started but within half a second Harm made his way towards Mac, taking her face between his palms, forcing her to looks at him.
"It's OK, sweetheart, I'm here, it' OK, everything is OK, I've got you" he kept repeating, his thumbs brushing the soft skin of her cheeks. "You need to breathe, alright? Just relax. Slow breaths. Slow. Nice and steady. It' alright. Deep. Breathe deep. That's it. That's it."
She finally calmed down a bit. Trembling all over, she closed her eyes and buries her face in his chest, her fingers curled around the edges of his coat. He felt the weight of her body lean against him in sudden exhaustion which had overtaken her. His own arms were wrapped around her waist and her shoulders.
Eventually, he turned to Meg. His face was a study of cold rage.
"Harm..." she attempted to start again now that she finally had his attention. He did not let her finish the sentence.
"You need to leave."
Hurt, she just stared at him.
"I was only trying to..."
"You need to leave. Now. Before I say or do something I might regret."
This was not Harm. She didn't know who the man in front of her was but it wasn't Harm. She had seen him angry. She had seen him... dangerous. She had never appreciated just how dangerous he could feel. She did now, when his anger was obviously aimed at her.
"I'm sorry," she burst into tears, the result of sudden fear, frustration and a heart that was almost breaking. "Forgive me?"
"Leave."
Swallowing a sob, she hung her head and nearly run out of the loft. It was only on the stairs that she caught Harm's voice again, possibly even more chilling than before:
"And tell Webb that if he ever comes near her again, I will kill him. You can promise him that."
She shot out of the building into the cold pre-winter twilight. She was crying so hard it took her several minutes to even find the key and unlock her car.
