Harm was vomiting. Heaving. He had been for a while now. There was nothing left in his stomach but the nauseating feeling remained. He was kneeling on the bathroom floor, pretty much hugging the toilet. He was vaguely aware of Mac gently running her hand up and down his back. This was wrong. He was supposed to be comforting her. But he could not help it. The visual image of Mac being violated... raped... was more than he could handle.
He finally sat back, breathing heavily, acidic taste in his mouth. He felt Mac putting a cool wet cloth on his forehead then and soon after there was a glass filled with water pressed to his lips.
"I am so sorry," he let out. He felt devastated and at the same time angry with himself. He was not the one this had happened to. He should be the strong one. Instead, she was now taking care of him. "I'm sorry."
She helped him up and back to bed. His vision was still swimming, his heart hurting. She sat next to him on the edge of the bed. She seemed much calmer now as if the brief respite in the form of being the one in charge for a change boosted both her energy and spirit, even if a little bit. It had definitely torn her out of the memory which had been sucking her in so vividly before. With amazement, she realized she actually did feel better now that she had shared her shame. Poor Harm. She knew he would take it badly, but the strength of his reaction stunned her. A glimmer of ugly doubt flashed through her mind. Perhaps he was not disgusted by what had happened. Perhaps he was disgusted by... her. The damaged goods.
The idea did not have time to take root though. Harm moved and buried his face into her lap, his strong arm settling firmly around her waist. No, he was not repulsed by her. She felt relieved beyond description. She put her arms around his torso protectively and kissed his head.
And she realized that she could be weak but she could be strong too after all. If not for herself, then for Harm.
"Do you want to hear the rest of it?" she asked him after a while.
"No, but I need to hear it," he said, his voice muffled, his face turned into her lap still.
Mac took a deep breath. She needed this too. There were hardly any tears left for her to cry, so she willed her voice to be as even as possible.
"He fell asleep. Could you believe it? He simply rolled off of me and fell asleep on the floor. Eventually, I managed to crawl into the bathroom. The way he... handled me... the way he pressed... my back hurt so bad I thought I would pass out. I could barely stand up and when I finally did I took the most scalding shower I could, rubbed my skin raw everywhere he had touched me until it hurt. It was not enough. The water turned ice cold. I rubbed at my skin even more. Used three different soaps. It was not enough, but I was in so much pain I simply shut the shower off, locked the door to the bathroom behind me and spent the rest of the night sitting on the floor. In the morning I nearly crept out of my own apartment. He was still sleeping but had moved onto the sofa. Why didn't I call the police then? I honestly don't know. I suppose I decided to go with the routine not to break down. I put on my uniform. I put on my make-up. I picked up my briefcase and I managed to drive myself to work. I brushed off everyone who dared to ask me if everything was fine because I could not deal. The pain was worse by then. But the fool I am I decided to go on. The next thing I know is that I am on the courtroom floor, somebody is barking orders, Sturgis trying to talk to me. And then I know the General was there and I was in an ambulance and he was holding my hand... like a father might... firm and gentle at the same time... and he also kept ordering me to hold on. Really ordering, using my rank and I swear he was humming the Marine Corps anthem for a bit," she actually let out a tiny laugh at that memory.
So did Harm, but his face remained firmly buried in her lap, so she wouldn't see his own tears. She knew about them anyway, from the slight tremors of his shoulders, from the dampening fabric of her (his actually) T-shirt.
"When we got to the hospital they looked me over and informed the General of my endometriosis. He was... mad to put it lightly, did not understand why I would keep that away from him as a CO. He was right. But when they told him what had happened that set it off that day... Harm... he looked so very sad. Ordered me on leave, told me I could take as much time as I needed. The next day the doctor told me I could be released but should take care of myself. I knew I could not go back to my place but I could not stay in that hospital either. So I... just walked and walked for two days. Ended up in that motel. You know the rest."
"Why didn't you tell somebody?" Harm asked, still not comprehending. "Bud? Harriet? Jen? Anyone? Why didn't you tell me? I know I was away but you have to know there is no power on Earth that would have kept me away. I would have come. I would have taken care of you."
"I know. But that was just it. I didn't feel I had any right to disrupt lives of those people. And you couldn't have just come and I would be damned if I ever put your career in danger ever again. No, let me speak. It was other things too. I... felt that we have drifted too far apart. Remember shortly before you had to go away I came to you and found Alicia Montez here? I... thought you have moved on and I had no business dragging you into my problems."
"It was a working dinner," he interrupted her passionately. "Nothing happened! I respect Alicia. I like her a lot. But she is not you. She is not you and that's it."
"But I didn't know that, Harm," she continued softly. "And I also realize now that Webb... what he did... it was just the last straw. This whole mess is a result of many things. And all those many things have made me distrustful. Paranoid. I felt alone. Abandoned. And I felt that I deserved nothing better because I was.. well... me."
She took his head between her hands and made him look at her. His eyes were red and swollen, but he was still looking at her as if she were an angel descended from Heaven. "I was wrong," she said firmly, to reassure both him and herself. "I was wrong about so many things. I am not worthless and I deserve some happiness. Perhaps not a lot, but some. You taught me that, Harm. I am still not fine. I know that. I need... I think I need some therapy... or at least to talk with somebody with similar experience... I am slowly gathering my strength for it. And you are the reason for all that. Harm. I love you so much you cannot even begin to imagine."
He sat up and showered her face with little kisses.
"Take all the time you need, Sarah. Just don't ever shut me out again, please. I promise I will not shut you out ever again either. And I can imagine quite a lot of loving, actually," he whispered.
"No, no you cannot imagine how much I love you, Sailor."
"You really need to stop underestimating my imagination, Marine. Because quite frankly, I love you so much I don't even think the word love can even describe it."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Then I want you to promise me one thing."
"Just one?"
She studied him seriously. They both looked a mess. The darkness outside had changed into the grey tones of the early winter morning.
"I want you to promise me you will not hurt Webb over this."
His body tensed, his brow furrowed. He could not promise her that. Anything but that. Even as his heartbreak and his disgust lost their sharp edges and were now sitting dull and heavy in his chest, his outrage and vengefulness were only just taking shape and growing with every passing moment.
"Harm, promise me," she insisted.
He refused to meet her eyes.
"I cannot give you that promise, Mac."
"Why not?"
"Do I really need to answer that?"
She snaked her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his.
"Harm, please. I don't care what happens to him. I ... I just never want to see his face or hear his name, not if I can help it. If you go after him... what could you possibly achieve anyway? I cannot prove he raped me. Nobody can. And should anything really happen to him you are the one who is going to pay for it. I will not let you be court-martialed, thrown to jail and to lose everything good in your life over this."
"Mac, I cannot let this go," he protested. "I couldn't live with myself."
"And I am supposed to live with myself knowing you are throwing your life away because of me?" she almost cried out. All the time they argued they held onto each other tightly, more and more so with each new word. He was by now sitting on the bed and she was sitting on his lap, her knees on each side of him.
"Mac," he said heavily. "Mac." As if that one word could explain everything he was feeling. But she did understand. Their souls were speaking the same language.
"You cannot change what happened," she said. "You can only change what will happen. To you. To me. To us."
"How?" he asked, aching for an answer. He needed to find Webb. He needed to kill him.
"You want to take my pain away?" she whispered into his ear. He just nodded. She leaned a bit away from him, so their eyes met yet again. "You can."
"How?" he repeated.
"Harm. I want you to make love to me."
He stared at her in stunned silence, not sure if he had heard her correctly.
"Make love to me," she said in a trembling whisper, putting her hand over his racing heart. He was already shirtless. His skin felt so nice under her fingers. She had had no idea this was where the night would take her - a night that began with a nightmare and continued with her emotional confession and his ugly physical reaction to it. But now she was here and so was he and she knew, she just knew what she wanted. What she needed.
To feel clean again.
His touch could do what a thousand scalding baths could not.
Take the feeling of that other man, the monster, finally away from her skin.
"Mac, we can't," he said finally and closed his eyes as if he were in pain.
It was her turn to ask: "Why?"
"You... you have come through a very traumatic experience," he argued. "I will not take advantage of that. You need to heal first."
Yes. Yes, she needed to heal. She also remembered one previous time when she had asked somebody to make love to her. No. Not make love. To take her, seduce her, have his way with her. She didn't want to feel or think back then and he was the closes available body. How ironic that the same man who had resisted her then when she offered was also the one who raped her later. But that was different. She was out of her senses then. She was completely in her senses now. This was not her body wanting to be deadened by being used. This was her soul, starved of being treated with tenderness. And this was the man she loved.
"Make love to me," she repeated softly, taking both of his hands into hers. She leaned forward and placed a barely-there kiss on his lips.
"Sarah... sweetheart..."
"Please, Harm. I need you to touch me. Just touch me gently. I need to feel loved tonight. All of me needs to feel loved. Touch me. Love me."
Longing was written all over his face. So much longing. He needed this too. After weeks of closeness and intimacy that didn't go beyond caresses and few gentle kisses, his body was aching for her too. He still tried to resist, thinking back on all he had known about rape and its survivors. What if he did something to remind her of Webb? What if she had a flashback? He couldn't stand the thought of causing her any more pain, physical or otherwise. Was she really in a condition to make love anyway? His resolve was quickly fading and his thoughts got more and more jumbled when she dropped her head lower and she slid her lips over his collar bone.
"Are you sure?" he asked insistently. "Are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes."
His hands were still trapped in hers. Her lips were right over his heart.
"I... I don't want to hurt you."
She lifted her head. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks were pale. Her eyes were shining.
"Just be gentle," she reminded him. "I promise I will let you know the moment something might feel wrong."
"OK."
They stared at each other in silence. Harm felt awkward for a second. What exactly do you do when the love of your life asks you to make love to her anyway?
She knew how he felt. She knew it the moment he thought it. And because they both understood that this night was for her, she would be the one setting the pace, the intensity, everything.
She slowly lifted his hands and pressed his palms to the soft skin of her belly under the T-shirt. She slowly led those palms up, until they rested on her unbound breasts and stayed there for a long while without moving, just gently touching, feeling her skin and the rapid beating of her heart.
