So this chapter is a rough one. Before I get a "Harm would never…" well, you don't know the why behind it - which is rather interesting. ;-)
Chapter 7 - Crash
Catherine Gail stepped in her eyes laser focused on Harm. "We need to talk, it's urgent."
"Hello, Ms Gail." Mac said, the shock on her face evident. While Bud had made it clear that Harm's wedding to Catherine Gail was a sham, a little shred of doubt crept in her mind as she started to do the math. There was no way that a tryst in May could have resulted in the woman looking this pregnant. She hadn't quite hit the waddling phase but her belly was quite pronounced.
"In private, if you don't mind Colonel."
It was clearly agency business and Mac was being dismissed. She hated not being in the know. She hated that they controlled him now. She hated the sudden feeling in the pit of her stomach making her feel like the 'other' woman. She hated all of this. "Sure, let me get dressed and I'll go."
"No, no you won't. Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Mac." Harm was drawing a line in the sand, daring Catherine to cross it and all of her bravado faltered when he came to Mac's side and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Whatever it is-"
"Harm, I'm not supposed to be here. I have information that I can't give to anyone but you."
"Well, that's too bad, Catherine."
Mac touched his arm as she turned to face him, her hands reaching up to frame his face forcing him to look at her. "I'm gonna finish breakfast, go with Ms. Gail and see what she has to say."
He tried to object, his mouth open to speak but then she came to her toes and brushed a soft kiss against his lips that lingered long enough for the other woman to know he was taken. "Go. I trust you."
She trusted him and it wasn't lie, the intensity in her eyes spoke more than words could. Harm didn't want to continue keeping secrets, not from Mac but his resolve faltered. "Fine. Give me a couple minutes to get dressed."
"How far along?" Harm asked once they'd stepped into the elevator and he could better see her belly. Catherine was leaning against a corner, her hand buried into an open purse where he caught the glimmer of a pistol and heard the 'click' of the hammer being locked into place. "Is that for me?"
She rolled her eyes in dramatic fashion then tilted her head to take inventory of his recent injuries. "You look like shit."
"I try. Mac loves the rough and tumble look."
"Hah, funny. I heard about your rough day in the office. Being an aviator for the agency isn't safe either."
Harm shrugged, "Except for two flights, every assignment had a little more of a harrowing aspect than I expected. This time Beth was nearly killed."
"I heard." Catherine frowned, although she'd had little interaction with Beth O'Neil, the pilot was well liked and respected, a good stick that was leaving the company far too soon. "She resigned."
"I know and I'm close to doing the same." He declared once the elevator hit the ground floor and he pushed open the door for her. They stepped out to the sidewalk and he instantly regretted not wearing a jacket when the brisk breeze of an oncoming storm swirled between the walls of the building. "Catherine, why are you here? Let me guess, you need me to lie about the paternity of your kid, too?"
A sly grin spread across her lips as she leaned against the Mercedes SUV she'd parked in the alley, a gift from the company for all of her hard work. "Colonel MacKenzie seemed concerned."
"Mac knows I didn't sleep with you."
"Does she? Because for a moment there she acted like a jealous woman staking her claim. I honestly didn't know you two were involved. Now we know who really got the girl."
Her comment made his teeth grind as did the notion that someone else was after Mac. "I didn't realize she was part of a competition."
"The Colonel's a catch. Or so I hear." She shrugged and the grin went up in wattage to a point where Harm had to stop himself from hurting the woman.
"What the hell do you want, Ms. Gail? And why are you here carrying a piece?"
"Oh, so it's Ms. Gail now? I thought we were married?" Catherine quickly learned that it was easy to toy with him. Harm wore his emotions on his sleeve. His obvious discontent hit some sort of chord especially with the way he leaned into her, trapping her body against the car. "Okay, back off. How much can I trust you?"
"You're seriously asking me that? Give me a break."
"Fine." She pushed him away and with great hesitance opened the rear passenger door. She was cautiously eyeing the alley, reluctantly taking her hand off the pistol to pull a small velvet bag out of an inside pocket of her jacket. "I don't have to tell you what these are or what they mean. I think you know."
A handful of diamonds poured out of the small bag, the small jewels glistening in Harm's palm as he held them up. He didn't know much about the stones other than the small details Mac afforded him one night in Paraguay. There were different distinguishing marks that increased the value, the greatest being clarity. "He's here, isn't he? Sadik found us."
"I don't know. Van Duyn, our jewelry expert was caught trying to sell these. I was brought in to interrogate and he told me something...something that may have gotten him killed." It was the casual shrug that alerted Harm that something else had happened and when she spoke he felt the color drain from his face. "There's a reason why Clay and the Colonel weren't killed in Paraguay."
"You think Webb was working for Sadik?"
Catherine took the stones and placed them back into hiding, the velvet bag tucked into her jacket for safekeeping. "That is what Van Duyn said and after a little research, it makes sense."
"You believe a jewel thief over the CIA poster boy? His family was born into the agency. Hell, I'm not totally fond of the guy but the Webb's are hardly double agents."
"Hardy is dead, so is his secretary and everyone else involved with Paraguay. Your friend, Victor Galindez, was shot in Nevada last night, he's in critical condition."
"Gunny?" That news hit him like a ton of bricks. It was bad enough that Victor was involved but, to think he was a casualty after Mac rescued him, was far too jarring. "Will he live?"
"I don't know. Clay isn't a good guy, Harm. He may have been once but after the Angel Shark investigation, he was demoted and sent on assignments that were the terminal kind. He changed."
"Webb was tortured, almost killed. For the rest of his life he has to use a cane to walk. He shakes when holding anything."
She nodded. The story seemed far fetched at first but then the chips began to fall, the information was damning. "If he got out unscathed it wouldn't look good. He needed to make it believable and put blame on some agency mole that doesn't exist."
Harm folded his arms across his chest, hoping to keep the chill away as droplets of rain began to fall. "What else? What couldn't you tell me in front of Mac?"
"Your girlfriend is in on it. She's working for Webb."
That made him laugh because just the utter thought of Sarah MacKenzie betraying him was comical. While it was somewhat plausible that Webb could work for the other side, not Mac. Never his Mac. "Now you're just over reaching. She would never-"
"Maybe she doesn't know she's being used?"
While it was no secret that Mac occasionally visited Clayton Webb, that was where the relationship began and ended - a friend being concerned over the welfare of another friend - and he trusted it would go no further. "Harm, I'm not making shit up. Blaidsdale would tell you himself, in fact, he's the one that sent me."
"Then why didn't he come?"
"Because he's being monitored as your handler and I'm just the pretty, dumb pregnant woman that rides a desk and only knows what I'm told... Look, I came here because I care about you. I care about you a lot. I happen to think that, if things were different - if we met another time, maybe we'd…"
She shrugged and looked away, the intensity of his blue eyes making her blush. Harm was a catch although not quite her type, she could have made it work. "I love her. I love Mac. Everything I did was for her."
"I know. Just be careful what you say around her until you're sure. Please be careful." Catherine hopped in the SUV and turned it on as heavier rain had began to fall, the kind with cold, heavy drops that felt like pinpricks on the skin. "The baby, it's Clay's."
And with that, she was gone.
September 2004
Victoria, British Columbia
Canada
There were several perks as an aviator in the agency, small delights like piloting a seaplane from Vancouver to picturesque Victoria, British Columbia where the water was like glass the day he touched down. The aircraft slid effortlessly as Harm guided it to the small port where he'd end his day after flying small cargo from Whistler.
Finally, he was due a break after spending the last week constantly on the move. He barely had time to sleep, much less any kind of time to himself as 'classified' material was flown up and down the coast. He didn't ask and they didn't tell, content in being out of Harm's way for the first time in over a year.
He was set up in a tiny one bedroom, one bath right on the wharf and just a few minutes away from the seaplane port where his new favorite aircraft was moored.
Assignments could be worse, he thought as he entered the wooden house, tossing the keys onto a small table right at the entrance. As was routine, he pulled out the pistol tucked away at the small of his back, made three security checks which included a stop to view the outdoor camera footage. None of his failsafes were tripped nor were the small traps he'd set. He was safe, at least for now.
Yet, he was always cautious, carrying a sidearm even into the bathroom as he quickly showered and changed. Some sort of weapon was constantly in each and every room, all readily accessible but his pistol was never far away, like an old friend he needed constantly at his side.
His only friend, he knew because the ones back home, that had been such a big part of his life, refused to speak to him. Without Mac, he had no one left except for those in the agency and that was a bridge he wasn't willing to cross.
Every evening was the same, he'd pour himself a glass of bourbon and sit outside on the balcony looking out over the water. It was peaceful and serene, the kind of spot he might have taken her for a romantic getaway if only…if only...
"Stop. Stop it." He wouldn't think about her, not tonight when he'd finally been granted a bit of rest. Harm wouldn't think about her because thoughts of Mac would keep him awake. Thoughts of Mac would drive him insane. Thoughts of Mac would take him back to the day it all fell apart and there was no way of fixing what went terribly, terribly wrong.
Their first time was etched in his mind, he recalled it fondly time and time again because it brought him peace and grief. He never told her that he loved her. Even as they spent so many months together, he failed her in that way. Perhaps that was what made their break up especially painful. "Oh, Mac."
The more he drank, the more the memories fluttered in his mind - the bad kinds. The break-up kind that tore your heart out because there was no way of taking it all back. How he wished he could turn back the clocks and stop himself from strutting into JAG Headquarters a year prior; every bit the arrogant, jealous prick Harm knew he could be.
Anger was one hell of a motivator and that day, he let it all out...
September 2003
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
Even at his worst, Harm always had respect for the uniform, the office and his coworkers. Being a military man taught him the decorum that was missing the second he burst through the glass doors of the bullpen.
A visitor's badge was pinned to his black Harley Davidson t-shirt and his left arm was held in a sling, a visible reminder of his latest fracas that left his new partner, Andy Watson, ina coma.
"Commander, how are-" Bud Roberts barely got a greeting out and while Harm didn't immediately punch the junior officer, his fist stopped an inch away from striking.
He saw red, blood red and an anger that had been dormant awoke to spawn an uncontrollable demon. Bud was the first unfortunate soul to get in his way when he saw Mac's office was empty. "Where is she?"
"Wh-who?" Bud gulped when the arm his former mentor was favoring slipped out of the sling and was used to pin him against the nearest wall.
"The Colonel. Where the fuck is she?"
The younger officer's eyes grew wide with shock and Harm was pretty sure Bud had pissed himself as well. He took another glance at Mac's empty office and then chanced a look towards his to find Sturgis Turner standing inside, staring out the windows. "Where the hell is she!"
"Sir, let me go...please...let."
It was the timbre of her laughter that alerted him to her arrival. Mac strutted through the doors with her suitcase in hand and a shit eating grin at having wiped the courtroom with Matonni. She was beautiful and perfect, the epitome of a top Marine. And he was the former military man that had completely lost his mind. "You...You bitch."
If his attack on Bud hadn't stopped the bullpen in its tracks, it now ceased completely. The only sound was that of two ringing phones that no one dared pick up and Mac's heels clicking across the linoleum. He took his hands off of Bud slowly and turned to face Mac.
Harm moved like a primal jungle cat zeroing its prey, circling as he searched for the right time to pounce. When he spoke, it wad like venom and words he'd never imagined calling her flowed with ease. "You fucking bitch."
Initially she didn't notice the change in him nor did Mac hear his derogatory comment. Upon first seeing him, rose colored glasses made her look with eyes of love. She enjoyed the mid-day surprises, the occasional lunch breaks when he was in town. Yesterday he'd sent flowers and today- "Harm, what…"
But the man who stood before her wasn't the same one who had left four days prior. The former was loving, kind and this one looked like a monster. Harm was unkempt, his hair a little longer and sticking up as if he'd just gotten out of bed. The five o'clock shadow was thicker when he usually preferred to be clean shaven. A sling hung from one shoulder and the jeans he wore were filthy as if he'd just crawled out of a jungle. "Harm?"
"How could you? How could you do this to me?"
Alan Mattoni took a step between them, a valiant effort to protect his coworker that was all in vain when Harm tossed him aside like a ragdoll and stalked after Mac.
"Harm, please. Talk to me." For each two steps she took back, he moved one forward, following her retreat until a desk stopped her escape. Mac bumped into the edge, moved around it quickly but it was too late.
A large hand clamped down on her wrist, squeezing so tight her gasp of pain was audible in the silent bullpen. "You fucked me over, you destroyed me you fucking bitch."
"Harm, stop! You're hurting me." She had nowhere to run, the wall of his body towered over, pressing her onto the hard surface. Mac took a breath when he let go of her wrist and expected him to back off but, he didn't. The hand that had wrapped around her wrist now reached for her chin.
Harm held her face, raising it up so that his eyes bore into hers. "You wait for me to leave and then let him into your bed don't you?"
"What? No! I've never cheated on you! I'd never do that to you."
He laughed mirthlessly and it was one of the most terrible sounds she'd ever heard, worse that Clay's screams in Paraguay. "I know everything, all the dirty deeds. I also know he tried to get me killed and you let him. Why?"
"Harm, please...Stop. It isn't what you think."
"I don't care anymore." With one quick movement he shoved her off the desk, watching as Mac's body hit the ground with a loud crash. Nothing had broken, thank God and despite having the wind knocked out of her, Mac was able to curl to her side and shield herself when he tried to attack.
Due to the adrenaline in his veins, the rest he remembered in slow motion. Chegwidden called for the MPs but he was too strong, too enraged for them to stop him. They grabbed but he broke their hold and lunged at Mac, his rage was too far out of control to be stopped.
Sturgis raced across the room, slamming himself into one of his oldest friends to prevent the attack on a defenseless woman. It caught him by surprise and as the men wrestled for dominance there was little chance in stopping the former Commander.
Glass broke and shattered when Harm slammed the submariner onto one of the computers. There was screaming, yelling and more commotion. Mac's voice was louder than it all, begging him to stop and listen but, he ignored her. He ignored them all until the MPs doubled their efforts, pinning him down as Harm'shands were cuffed behind his back, the movement popping his injured shoulder out if it's socket.
The pain fueled more anger and even held at gunpoint, he fought until his body was completely exhausted and all that was left were the obscenities he hurled at Mac. Horrible words spewed out, the kind no sane man would ever call the woman he loved.
DC police waited outside and the once honored Naval Commander was now a criminal, a man who attacked women. Humiliated and embarrassed, he mustered just enough energy to fight one last time as his former coworkers stood on the steps outside the building. Bud comforted Harriet, Mattoni and Sturgis stood side by side. And when his eyes found Mac, she was held back by Chegwidden that gripped her shoulders.
"We're over. I want nothing more to do with any of you." Finally, he was forced into the back of thr cruiser but through a small gap in the window he yelled his final goodbye. "Rot in hell, MacKenzie!"
It was Clayton Webb who bailed him out after a pretty blonde attorney turned down his case and Catherine Gail refused as well. Clay's assistance came with an ultimatum - join a strike team put together to capture men like Sadik Fahd. "I can't refuse, can I?"
"You can but only if you want to spend your life in a cell. The SECNAV wants to throw the book at you and he won't go easy. There's no protective custody either, you'll be in gen pop with the men you put away. You'll die in there."
"And if I take your offer?"
Webb smiled, "I'll make it all go away but Sarah put out a restraining order against you. Don't go anywhere near her or our little arrangement will be null and void. Understood?"
Harm knew Webb was right. He was tough, strong but he could see former clients and men he prosecuted ganging up on him. No one would survive and certainly not a former lawyer with a chip on his shoulder. He relented, accepted but before Clay could leave the room Harm asked what he needed to know. "So, how long you been fucking her?"
The CIA officer's hand shook, his eyes wouldn't meet his, which was a confirmation of sorts. Clay's nervousness almost made him laugh, it was so silly coming from the super spook or maybe it was residual from the torture? "I know about you and Mac. I know she set me up for this. What I don't understand is why you never had the balls to tell me. You're supposed to be my friend."
"I'm your handler, Harm."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Webb sat back down and clamped his hands together in effort to stop the shakes. He took a breath and shook his head as if lamenting his decision. "Blaidsdale quit. No one wants to work with you and as a friend, I agreed to watch your back. I owe you my life."
"My handler?"
"Yes. I know the ropes better than Blaisdale ever could. I've been out there for years."
"Ah, I see. Keeping your thumb on me at all times then?" The more he thought about it, the more his previous assignments made sense; the amount of time spent away from home mounted.
He expected a few trips a month but it was never supposed to be more than two and never for longer than a week. That's what was promised as well as access to classified aircraft, the carrot dangled on the stick for this pilot. Field duty was never mentioned and wasn't talked about because Harm wasn't trained for such things until Libya. "You did everything possible to keep me away from Mac."
"She loves you, you idiot and nothing…nothing ever happened between the two of us. But, it might now. You see, Sarah and me, we shared something in Paraguay that you could never, ever understand. It'll keep us close for life."
"Sarah, huh? I don't even call her that." It was the blind rage that had him reach out, his fists grabbing the lapels of Webb's suit, bringing him close enough so that Harm could ram his forehead into Clay's nose. He laughed as the CIA officer stumbled, his hands clutching his face as bright red blood spewed. "Fuck you, Clayton."
"You're a madman, Rabb! And you know what sucks? You blew it… you monumentally blew it and you won't realize it until it's too late. Guard!" Webb grabbed his briefcase while a bloody handkerchief was held over his nose. "You lost her - for good all because you're a jealous prick."
"Whatever, Webb… I'll see you and your precious 'Sarah' in Hell." That was the last time he'd see Clayton Webb until the gala where he found the spook clinging to Mac's every word.
September 2004
Victoria, British Columbia
Canada
The bottle of bourbon was empty, his hand wrapped around the neck as he tipped his head back to drip the last of the liquor into his mouth. Harm was never the kind of man for drunken stupors having been this inebriated only twice in his life. It was a chink his control couldn't handle but tonight, he willingly gave up. There was nothing left to lose.
His phone rang an hour earlier, a new assignment was sent to his PDA that he was too drunk to acknowledge. "Fuck 'em."
Webb was still very much his handler, a situation Harm tried to extricate himself from but was refuted. He had quite the reputation at Langley, despite every assignment meeting a successful outcome, no one wanted to work with him.
The training at the Farm had done him good even though it was a short stint to learn a new set of skills that helped him become part of the shadows and Harm was one of the most sought out operatives for difficult missions. He was a problem solver, a go-getter and a man of action that wouldn't leave anyone behind, the military had taught him that.
But, the CIA had little loyalties.
Harm wanted to break things, to crush whatever got in his way with his bare hands if possible. When he tried to stand, the liquor seemed to sweep the legs right from under him and he fell down on the ground.
It wasn't funny but he laughed. He rolled onto his back and laughed so hard until it hurt and then he laughed some more. When did his life become so absurd? He wondered once the laughter turned to tears.
He stood slowly and stumbled towards the head, his reflection made him stop and turn to face the mirror - a reflection that was familiar and yet not. This wasn't the same Naval Commander who stood there day after day running a razor over his stubble to meet grooming standards.
This man had longer hair and a beard that, while well kept, was never part of his normal appearance. His eyes focused on his left cheek and the scar that wasn't quite hidden between his facial hair. It ran one inch under his eye and curved almost to the corner of his mouth. Nothing could hide the face that was so obviously marred now.
He was once good looking. Some women found him attractive and sexy but that was gone. The man that stared back at him was no longer Harmon Rabb Jr. but a clone - with all of the imperfections finally showing. Trying to tame the rage had worked for a time but, tonight…Mac's final nail in the coffin had the mad man in him snap which was why he wound up his fist and slammed it straight into the mirror.
It broke into pieces and so did his right fist that now had shards embedded into it and blood dripping to the tiled floor. He watched the rivulets, how they swirled passed his knuckle, through his palm and splatter drop by drop. The crimson was mesmerizing, the ache not so much and when he tried to open his fist the pain was excruciating.
A hangover from hell forced Harm to swallow a handful of ibuprofen. Not that they would help much but at least it got home moving and strapped into the pilot's seat of his seaplane.
Lightning crackled in the distance. A line of storms was inbound and Harm had limited time to take to the skies and begin the flight to Whistler.
Even feeling like shit, work didn't stop and he needed to complete each assignment in hopes of eventually being freed.
Rougher water made the pontoons bounce against the surface, making the small plane feel like it was falling apart as it reached maximum speed for take off. He pulled hard on the wheel, bringing the plane into a steep ascent when every bone in his body warned him not to fly.
"C'mon girl, be good to me...We got this. We got this." But his confidence wavered once the clouds swallowed the seaplane and he was caught in the deadly storm.
Canadian news would later report on a plane crash just North of Squamish. There were no survivors.