WARNING - This part includes a bit of violent imagery and threats of violence that could be a bit harsh if you are very sensitive to such things. Not really any worse than what's seen on TV these days though.

Trinkets – Part 6

Three pairs of eyes set on the man, all with a certain amount of apprehension. Nichols was finally the one to speak though. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You and I have a deal," Clinton reminded him.

"I've done my part!"

"You're not done. … I haven't gotten what I want yet, and no one leaves here until I do."

Suddenly smiling, Clinton patted his partner's arm. "But don't worry, Jake. Work with me here, and you'll get to enjoy this game." He took the needle and syringe from Nichols' hand, gave Mac an appreciative once over and looked back to his partner with a sardonic twinkle in his eyes. "I promise."

Mac felt a chill go down her spine when Clinton's gaze had roamed over her like a hungry lion with a piece of fresh meat. She glanced at Jake, but he wasn't looking at her, and his expression was surprisingly stoic and hard to read.

Meanwhile, the man who was now clearly in charge knelt down in front of Harm, placed the needle on the ground, and took out a small flashlight from his pocket. He tilted his captive's head back and then used his thumb to pull the upper eyelid on Harm's left eye, shining the light in the pupil. Done examining that eye, he moved to check out the other.

"So, does this game have teams?" asked Mac, trying to get Clinton to reveal as much as possible.

The man by Harm laughed. "And whose team would you like to be on, Sarah?"

"I don't think I have a choice, do I?"

"Answering a question with a question. You sound like my shrink."

'This nutcase needs a shrink,' thought Mac. But she replied, "And what does your therapist say about you kidnapping and torturing people?"

"Oh, I don't see her anymore. I have too many control issues … that I have no intention of changing. And speaking of control, … to answer your question, for this game to work, I'm afraid that, by necessity, you do have to be on Commander Rabb's team."

He pivoted to face Mac. "Now, I realize that you are at a disadvantage, because, although he's awake, Rabb here is still under the influence of some major sedatives … and other things."

Mac's jaws clenched in anger. What had they done to Harm? She really wished her hands weren't tied right now.

"But I'm willing to play fair. That's actually what this is for." Clinton picked the needle up off of the floor and held it up. "This should help perk him up, get his brain functioning a little better."

"No!" Mac objected. "No more drugs," she pleaded getting to her feet.

He ignored her and looked to Jake. "Do me a favor, Jake. For the time being, we need her to be … not so mobile. Cuff her to the wall, too."

Jake looked from Clinton to Mac and then back. Finally he nodded, picked up a pair of handcuffs that had been in the corner, and moved towards Mac.

"Fine, chain me to the wall, but don't inject Harm," Mac tried to negotiate.

"You don't believe me, do you?" asked Clinton, referring to what was in the syringe, as Jake pulled Mac closer to where Harm was.

"Why should I?" she countered, while Jake, without untying her, cuffed her right wrist.

"Well, … it really doesn't matter, seeing as how you have no say in the matter." Clinton turned back to Harm and put the needle to his arm.

Before he was able to inject the dose, Mac acted, stepping to one side and kicking Jake's feet out from under him. He had just broken the bond on the tie that had kept her wrists together, so, although Nichols held onto her, taking her down with him, she was able to flip so that her hands were in front of her, and she quickly maneuvered herself on top of the lieutenant.

Before she had a chance to do anything further, a sound near Harm got her attention, and she looked up at Clinton to see that he had pulled a gun out and had it to Harm's head. She froze when she saw that, causing the man with the weapon to grin.

"Your choice, Sarah. A shot in his arm …" he indicated the needle now in his left hand, "… or a shot in his head," he indicated the gun.

Mac swallowed the lump in her throat. "You won't shoot him. You still want something from him." Nonetheless, out of caution for Harm's life, she did not move.

"Ah, perceptive. I don't want him dead just yet. … Maybe I should rephrase." He lowered the gun to Harm's groin area. "Injection in his arm of - what I promise will only wake him up some more - … or I blow his balls off." Looking at Harm's confused, but panicked face, he asked, "What's your choice, Commander? You want me to use the gun?"

The fog in his brain kept Harm from processing the whole scenario, but he could feel the implements pressing against him and was able to understand the basic question given him. "… No," he weakly croaked out.

"I thought not." Clinton turned to his partner, who was still flat on his back, pinned down by Mac. "… Now, Jake, I told you that you would enjoy this game. You really think you would have gotten Sarah to straddle you so soon without it?"

Jake's expression was not nearly as pleased as Clinton seemed to have expected. "Not exactly what I had in mind."

"… Well, … be patient. Let's just call round one a draw. Sarah, if you would kindly dismount from Jake and let him cuff you over here, I'll make sure that Harmon remains bullet free … for the moment."

Reluctantly, Mac pulled off of Jake, allowing him to sit up and reinforce his hold on her wrist.

Clinton, meanwhile, reholstered his gun and proceeded to inject Harm with whatever substance he had in his syringe. "… You know, I'm beginning to see why Jake is so enamored by you," he told Mac in an off-hand way. "… Beauty, … brains, … and fighting abilities that are very sexy."

Jake glared at his partner, which was something that did not go unnoticed by Mac.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," she whispered to Nichols while he draped the second bracelet over a pipe and then cuffed Mac's other hand.

Once the cuffs were secure on her, Jake grabbed her arms near her shoulders and pushed her back to the wall. He stared intensely into her face for a very long moment, … eleven seconds by Mac's count, though it seemed much longer. Finally, he moved his hands to palm the sides of her head, pushing her hair back. He was not rough; it was almost a reverent move.

When the sort of trance that he was in suddenly broke, Nichols let her go, stepped back and turned to Clinton, who was just cleaning up his 'medical' supplies after Harm's injection.

"I don't like this," Jake told him. "I want to get her away from him! She needs to forget about Rabb."

"In due time," Clinton tried to assure him.

"No! This is stupid. You're going to torture him in front of her? … What is the point of provoking her like that?"

"I assure you, Jake, that I will not torture the Commander in her presence, … at least not physically. And it's not my intent to provoke her. Her response is … purely collateral."

"Why does she need to be here at all?" asked Nichols.

"Because," Mac interjected, finally understanding the master plan, "… he wants to use me to provoke the Commander, … not the other way around."

Jake looked at her with confusion, and then turned to Clinton. "I don't understand," he said. "How would you get her to provoke him?"

"He reverses the situation," Mac said.

Clinton paused for a moment, and then stepped closer to Jake. "I tell you what. How about you and I go downstairs for a few minutes, and we'll talk about it … without input from the peanut gallery," he suggested, shooting a quick glare at Mac. "It will take a little bit for Mr. Rabb to come back to his senses, so we can't quite proceed just yet anyhow."

Since Jake immediately looked to Mac, Clinton added, "She's not going anywhere. … Neither of them are." He put his arm out to usher Jake downstairs. "She'll be fine."

Jake resisted for a moment, but, after a final look back at the captives, especially Mac, he relented and went with his partner. As the two descended the stairs, Mac could hear Jake say, "Rabb doesn't care about her like I do, and I don't want to see …" The rest was lost to her, and she quickly refocused on her neighbor.

"Harm! Can you hear me?" she asked quietly, but urgently.

His eyes had closed again, and he responded with only a grunt.

She slid herself as close to Harm as she could get, being cuffed to a different pipe than he was. "Harm, look at me!"

He did as he was told. "Mac, is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me. Are you okay?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Seeing his pained expression, Mac decided, "Never mind, stupid question." Getting to business she asked, "Harm, what does this Clinton guy want from you?"

"What does he want?" he echoed.

"Yes, they said he wanted some information from you. What does he want to know?"

He shook his head. "No."

"No?"

"I can't tell you. You're probably not real. It's just a trick to get me to talk."

"It is me, … Mac," she told him. "… But you're right, don't tell me the information he wants to know in case they're listening. Just tell me what he wants to know."

Seeing Harm's very baffled expression, Mac quickly clarified, "I mean, tell me what question he is asking you. Not the answer."

"He asks lots of questions."

"Okay." Mac looked over at the monitors to see that Nichols and Clinton were downstairs involved in what seemed to be a disagreement. Maybe she should use this time to discuss other matters.

Harm wanted to change the topic anyhow. "Is it really you, Mac?"

"Yes. Would you really be seeing me if I wasn't here?"

"I … My brain makes me think you're here. Just like … I heard my Dad's voice in China when they drugged me. But he wasn't really there."

Not familiar with Harm's captivity in China, Mac's brows furrowed, as she tried to follow what he meant.

"But it kinda helped me through it. I guess it helps to hear people I love." He chuckled. "Besides, this isn't the first time I'm seeing you when you're not really there."

Mac couldn't resist asking, "You often see me when I'm not really there?"

"Mmm. After I hit my head. … In my dreams. … Some nightmares. … And apparently drug-induced hallucinations."

"I give you nightmares?" she reflexively responded. She did not like the idea that any of Harm's dreams about her could be classified as nightmares. It's usually thinking about people that you don't like that creates terrifying dreams.

"That happens when you're in love with a woman," said Harm, as if talking to himself. "You worry that something bad'll happen to her. Or that she'll be taken away from you. Or leave you."

Mac didn't know what to say to that. As far as she knew, Harm wasn't really in his right mind at the moment. But she still wanted to assure him, "… I'm not going to leave you."

Harm smiled softly. "Benefit of you being in my head."

"Harm, it really is me. How do I prove that to you? Can I tell you something only I would know?"

True, he was starting to feel a bit more coherent, but still, he knew he couldn't trust what he saw or heard just yet. He shook his head. "You can't prove it. That's the thing. Anything that only you and I would know … is in my head already. That doesn't prove that I'm not imagining you."

"Okay," she saw the logic in that. And the fact that Harm was thinking logically was a good sign. Although the pipe she was chained to was low, she got to her feet, allowing her to push her shoulder up close to the pipe and thus to maneuver her hands out as far as an arm-length away. She reached her bound hands out and touched Harm's fingers with her own.

He looked up at the contact. "My … my hands are kinda numb," he said.

She nodded, happy to at least have some physical connection with him. "They've been raised for awhile. The blood hasn't been getting to them very well. Can you get to your feet, like I've done? Or your knees at least? Maybe you can move your arms a little then and get the blood pumping back to your hands?"

It was a struggle, but Harm did manage to get to his knees, which brought his head up, closer to Mac. She dropped to her knees as well, since it was getting uncomfortable to be squatting on her feet.

"That's it," she told him. "Try to shake your hands out a little."

He complied and was focusing so much on getting feeling into his fingers that he jumped a little when Mac touched the side of his face with her hand.

"Sorry," she said, taking her hand away.

"No." He stopped her. "It just surprised me. It felt good though."

She smiled slightly and ran her fingers gently over his face. For a moment he closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her, even over the sorest of spots.

Assessing those cuts, swellings, and bruises, Mac whispered, "What have they done to you?" asking more rhetorically than anything else.

Harm opened his eyes and stretched out his own arm. Mac had to bring her own hands back to allow him the room to reach out to her face. He placed a hand on her cheek and she automatically leaned into it.

"It is you," he determined.

"Yeah, it's me."

His relief was short-lived. "They kidnapped you, too?"

"No, I came after I was sent a note. It said they'd kill you if I didn't follow instructions."

"You shouldn't have come," he told her very seriously.

"How could I not?" she asked him, the love reflecting in her eyes. "Besides, you'd do the same for me, and there's no way Navy outdoes the Marines."

He knew there was no point in arguing with her. "Did the marine happen to bring back-up?"

"… Not exactly, but -"

B A N G !

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the building.

Mac's eyes flew to the monitors, and what she saw caused her to have to suppress a fresh wave of nausea. The blood was flowing quickly out onto the floor, and she knew that there was now, or within minutes would be, a dead body on the downstairs level.

She took just a second to compose herself. When she heard footsteps, signaling that they would not be alone much longer, she turned to Harm and pleaded, "Promise me that no matter what you see or hear, no matter what is done to me, … you won't break. You won't say anything that you shouldn't."

Mac knew that whatever information Harm had that he had withstood beatings and drugs to protect, whatever knowledge he had that was apparently worth murdering for, had to be important. She was not about to be used to weaken his resolve.

She suddenly considered that it might have been better to have let Harm continue to think that this version of her that was with him right now really did only exist in his head. It would have been easier to convince Harm to keep his mouth shut if he thought that the 'real her' was somewhere safe.

TBC ...