A/N: Here's Chapter 10! For some reason it was painful to write. Not because the subject matter was so difficult, but I had trouble focusing whilst writing it. I'm thinking this story has 1 or 2 more chapters in it…but past experience dictates that I not make any concrete predictions about the length of this thing.
Lost and Found
Chapter 10: Pain
1759 Local
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown
It was an utterly dejected Mac that slipped her key into the newly changed lock of her door. She marveled at the difference between now and this morning—this morning, she'd happily donned her uniform, laid out her dress for her upcoming dinner with Harm, put on her coat, and was actually humming to herself as she locked up and went down to her car. The sun was up, and it had been tempting to leave the top down on her 'vette, despite it not being nearly warm enough for that.
Now, shoulders slumped, she stepped into her apartment, dropped her briefcase at her feet, and slipped her coat off. She stared down at the offending garment in her hands, wanting to rip it in two, but instead she carefully hung it up in her closet. Her hands were shaking, and, as it had a thousand times since she'd left JAG, the memory of that damning slip of paper fluttering to the floor filled her mind. She leaned her back against the closet door, closing her eyes against the new tears that insisted on falling.
It had taken her a good twenty minutes to get herself back under control at JAG and all her energy to maintain it as she drove home. Now that control was slipping once again, and instead of being out at romantic dinner with the best friend she loved more than life, she would be here, grieving the loss of him. Fighting the urge to drop to the floor then and there and curl up into a ball, she headed toward her bedroom, figuring she should at least change out of her uniform before she fell apart again.
The flashing red light on her answering machine caught her attention before she made it halfway across the room. She changed directions and walked to her desk, hesitating as her hand hovered over the machine. Would it be Harm? She had a feeling it was. But would his message break her further? Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out. She forced her finger to push the message button. Sure enough, it was him.
Um, Mac. It's me. Harm. I'm sorry about to—I-I'm just sorry. I won't be able to make our run tomorrow. I'll—I'll call you…sometime…I'm sorry…"
Three little beeps from her machine signaled the end of his message, and Mac's finger once again reached out, this time to delete it. Harm sounded shattered, and she didn't want to ever accidently hear that again.
Suddenly it seemed to be too much effort to make it to her bedroom. Instead, she sat down in the corner of her couch, sitting there in the dark until the minutes turned into hours.
0315 Local
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown
Mac awoke with a start, for a moment wondering where she was, why her body ached so, and what time it was. As awareness returned to her, the memories of the day before assailed her and she cursed whatever god had forced her out of slumber. Seconds later she realized it was no divine being that had awakened her, it was her telephone. She was unable to move fast enough to catch it before the answering machine picked up, but it was just as well. It was Harm again and she wasn't in any condition to speak to him. Her head was pounding, and she massaged her temples as his voice filled the room.
"Mac…it's me. Harm. I hope I'm not waking you…the admiral called…Bud and I have to head out to the Seahawk…probably till the end of next week. I just wanted to let you know…don't worry about my mail…Sturgis will take care of it and I…I still don't have any plants." There was an awkward chuckle."We'll talk when I get back, I prom—um, we'll just…we'll talk, Mac. I'd better get going. I lo—I'll see you. Bye."
Mac hauled herself off the couch, stepped over to the answering machine, and deleted Harm's message once again. So, he no longer wanted her dealing with his mail, was maybe going to talk to her when he got back, and he couldn't even say he loved her anymore. Well, so much for that. Her headache was rapidly turning into a full-blown migraine. She'd been sitting in one position for the last eight hours, and she was certainly paying for it.
Stumbling down the hall to her bedroom, she realized she probably wasn't thinking too clearly. The shock of Harm realizing she knew about the ring, the current vise around her head, and her lack of good sleep were not helping her. Harm had never actually said it was over between them…though Mac mused that he probably only planned on talking with her to get his apartment key back.
Stop thinking like that. It's not like you actually did anything wrong or on purpose. Well, besides not finding a way to get that note back into Harm's desk…forgetting it was in that pocket.
But the look on Harm's face…the way his voice sounded on her machine…
The migraine had progressed to the point of nausea; by now there was really nothing she could do but swallow her meds and sleep it off. She threw off her uniform and didn't bother to hang it up; she was too sick and dizzy with pain to do anything else but fall on the bed in her bra and panties and pray for sleep.
1238 Local
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
Mac had been staring at her computer for the last ten minutes, her hand on the mouse, the cursor hovering over the send button. It had already taken her forty minutes to compose an email to Harm, and it appeared it was going to take at least that long to get the courage to send it.
Which was silly.
It was only two lines.
It didn't mention the ring, their relationship, the demise of said relationship…
Now wait a minute…you don't know that it's over…he said you would talk…
To tell you it's over…
Mac buried her face in her hands. She needed to stop thinking like that. Again, she reminded herself that she hadn't done anything on purpose; she'd only found the ring by accident. Maybe if she had confessed to finding the ring right away…no, she would never have done that. She wasn't meant to see it, and no matter what, it would most certainly have been better if Harm had never known that she had.
Frustrated with herself and growing angry as well, she clicked send before she could talk herself out of it. She leaned back in her chair, releasing a long, slow breath. And now she would have to sit here and wait for a response…
That would likely never come…
She leaned her elbow on the desk and pressed her forehead to the heel of her hand. Again, she admonished herself that she had to give Harm the benefit of the doubt, needed to talk this out with him…
The truth was, though, that she had a hard time believing that this would turn out in her favor. She had been let down so many times, by her parents, her husband, Dalton, Mic. Why would now be any different?
Because Harm is different. She just had to keep telling herself that.
She sat there another two minutes and thirty-two seconds, until she saw the mail icon on her toolbar light up. Could it be Harm? With a slight tremor in her hand, she clicked on it.
It wasn't Harm. It was just a message from PO Coates regarding a meeting tomorrow with the admiral. Dammit.
Her message to Harm had been fairly simple, non-threatening:
Harm,
I hear you arrived safely on the Seahawk. Good luck with the investigation, and I'm glad Bud is there to keep you in line.
-M
Could there be a more innocuous message than that?
She supposed so…but that would have been a message to a man whose affections hadn't been spurned by a woman who had no idea she had done so.
Ugh. She needed to get back to work.
And she did get back to work…but she couldn't help being distracted by the email icon on her computer…the one that didn't light up for the rest of the afternoon.
1614 Local
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
It was now Thursday, and she assumed Harm and Bud would be back soon. She still hadn't heard from Harm. He'd never returned her email and she knew he had to have had time to do so; Harriet told her daily about her messages from Bud. Harm was just ignoring her and as the days went on, she grew more and more anxious.
It made her surly. She was short with the staff, easily irritated by her clients, and even had to bite her tongue when talking to the admiral. He hadn't said anything to her, but by the looks he was giving her, Mac suspected he was aware that all was not right with Colonel MacKenzie.
Every night after work, Mac would go home and check her answering machine, and, once she found that Harm had not called (by this point Bud had called Harriet twice), she would go into her room, strip off her uniform, and climb on the bed. The tears would fall then, silently, and she would sit there until it finally grew dark. Eventually she would get up, throw on her bathrobe, and head out to the kitchen to grab a bowl of cereal, anything that was quick and easy so she could at least say she had eaten something. Then she would go back to her room, strip off the robe and lie down on the bed again, sometimes taking hours to fall asleep. In the morning she would get up and do it all over again.
Mac had sent another email to Harm yesterday. She didn't know why she kept torturing herself; with every newsy email Bud sent to Harriet, she knew there was less and less a chance that Harm would respond. Her email this time was a lot shorter than the last one:
Harm,
Please call me when you get back.
She didn't bother to sign it; he'd know who it was from.
As she went yet another day without a reply, she wondered if he was just deleting her emails as soon as they came through.
He probably was.
She couldn't blame him.
But she did blame him.
You didn't do anything wrong! She told herself over and over.
Another day ended, and Mac once again went home to a lonely apartment to start her nighty ritual all over again.
0743 Local
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
Mac dropped her coat and cover off in her office and made her way to the lounge to grab a cup of coffee before the Monday morning staff call. She'd had an exhausting weekend, which was funny since she hadn't done anything but sit on the couch and watch TV…really bad TV. Infomercial-bad TV. To be fair, she'd also worked on a case, but it was an easy one and really didn't need that much preparation. She stifled a yawn as she stepped into the lounge.
"Tired, Ma'am?" Mac looked up to see Harriet making more coffee.
"Yeah, a bit. You must be too, being alone with two little ones." Mac smiled at the thought of her two godsons.
"Ma'am?" Harriet looked mildly confused.
"Well, I'm sure you have it all well in hand…If it were me taking care of two busy little boys by myself, I'm sure I would have pulled out all my hair by now. Still, though, I'm sure it'll be nice when Bud finally comes home."
"Ma'am?" Harriet asked again, appearing even more perplexed.
"Yeah, Harriet?"
"Um, Bud's been home since Friday afternoon."
Mac's eyes widened at that. "Oh…I guess Harm must have had to stay behind." Harm and Mac had finally told the Roberts' about their relationship.
A different expression flitted across the blond lieutenant's face. Was that…pity? "Um, Ma'am? The commander dropped Bud off…"
An involuntary gasp exited her, and all Mac could do was stare at the now sympathetic countenance of Lt Sims.
"Ma'am…" Harriet reached a hand out to her, but Mac took a step back.
"Oh, right…I'm sorry, Harriet…I don't know where my mind goes sometimes. Well, I'll see you in the staff meeting." With that she turned on her heal and left the lounge, not bothering with the newly-brewed coffee she'd originally come in for.
0755 Local
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
Harm was back? Since Friday? Why hadn't he…why didn't he call? Both Mac's heart and mind were racing. If anything had convinced her that they were over, this had. She was devastated, but she was also angry. Clearly, she hadn't meant as much to him as she thought. She'd never wanted to find that ring, she'd never meant for him to find out that she had, and surely he could understand that. Honestly, what great sin had she committed? That Harm would give up like this…hell, the whole ring debacle probably just gave him the excuse he was looking for to extricate himself from her.
The little voice inside continued to admonish her to give Harm a chance to explain himself before jumping to conclusions; he was probably just embarrassed. She ruthlessly snuffed that voice out.
Reluctantly she made her way toward the conference room for the staff meeting. She was not ready to face Harm, but he would be there and at least she would get it over with. Gathering every last drop of marine strength in her, she pushed open the door and walked in, head held high.
1732 Local
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown
Harm was gone. He wasn't at the staff meeting and Mac learned from the admiral that Harm had requested and been granted a week's leave. She thought about calling him, but if he didn't want to talk to her… She did go out of her way after work to drive by his place and found that his Lexus wasn't there and the lights in the loft were off. Briefly, she considered going up there anyway, but if he didn't want to see her…and was likely gone anyway…
She cursed to herself and drove home.
To cover her pain over everything, Mac grew angrier.
1312 Local
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
"Go home, Colonel."
"Admiral, with all due respect—"
"Colonel…Mac, it isn't that Lt. Dornier didn't deserve the dressing down you gave him…but yelling at him…nearly making him cry…that really isn't like you…"
"How would you suggest I should've handled it?" Mac realized her tone was just on this side of disrespectful. "um, Sir," she added. She fully expected Admiral Chegwidden to give her the same dressing down she gave the hapless John Dornier. She stared straight ahead, avoiding his gaze until she realized the awaited dressing down wasn't going to happen. She met his eyes. She was shocked when she could only see concern in his eyes. "Sir?"
The admiral sighed and moved around behind his desk. He sat down and motioned for her to do the same. "This is about Rabb, isn't it?'
Mac swallowed. "Sir, I would prefer not to…"
The admiral went on as if he didn't hear her. "You were surprised by his request for leave."
She glared at the admiral for a few beats, then dropped her gaze and nodded. "I was, sir." She heard him sigh and say something under his breath that sounded like 'damn him.' They sat in awkward silence for two minutes two seconds before the admiral spoke again.
"Colonel, I'm sor—"
"Admiral, really…I'm not comfortable discussing my personal life here."
The admiral sighed again. "Of course, Colonel. I do apologize…but I still think you should secure early today."
"Sir, I'll apologize to Lt. Dornier…as soon as we're done here. I don't need to secure early. That would just be more time to sit around and think…
She was surprised by Admiral Chegwidden's short bark of laughter. "Mac, he was an idiot. He probably deserved even more of a thrashing. It's just…well, it just wasn't like you…and…I'm worried about you."
Mac's head shot up. What? The shock in her eyes was met by the steady, concerned, fatherly gaze of Admiral AJ Chegwidden.
1919 Local
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown
The week had been rather surreal. To find out from Harriet that Harm had returned to Washington without even a phone call to her, her embarrassment as the younger woman looked on with pity…the admiral's concern…it was all a bit much. She did leave early on this Friday; the admiral had all but made it an order.
Unfortunately, it was going to take more than just an afternoon off to fix what was wrong with Mac. She had tried Harm's cellphone a couple of times during the past week. He never picked up, and he certainly never returned her calls. Mac alternated between tears and grief and fury. At the very least he could grow a pair and let her go. Being in limbo like this…no word from him in two weeks, no answers to her messages and calls…it had shaken her. She'd cried nightly, she'd raged nightly…there was a tight band around her heart that put her on edge, making her unable to sleep peacefully, and, despite the continued quality of her work…it made it nearly impossible to really focus on anything. She was exhausted but every nerve in her body was tense and it was only getting worse.
Mac left a half-eaten cheese sandwich on her kitchen counter and decided she should take a long, hot bath before bed. Correction: a long, hot bath before she would lay in the dark, wishing desperately for sleep so she could forget the look on Harm's face as read his mother's note, the note she had no right to have seen.
1033 Local
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown
Mac trudged up the stairs, carrying a basket of laundry. It was another great day. The washer on her floor was out of order, necessitating going to the one downstairs, and to top it off, the landlord was doing some maintenance on the elevator. Of course, she was glad he was maintaining things here, but perhaps he could have done it during the week instead of on a Saturday.
Mac set her basket down at her door and dug in her pockets for her keys. She was about to panic when she remembered that she had left the door unlocked to avoid the very activity she was engaging in, and with an irritated huff, she turned the knob and lifted the basket again. She used it to push the door all the way open.
"You really should lock your door when you go out."
Mac yelped and dropped her laundry at her feet. What the hell?
Startled brown eyes met unreadable grey-green ones.
"Harm?"
End Chapter 10