Hello! :)
Sorry for the delay in this chapter - I wasn't happy with it. Still not 100% happy with it except for a certain reunion. ;) I hope it reads well, there is a lot going on that I wanted to explain and not have it drag on.
Chapter 9 - The Art of Separation
Internal clocks had an odd way of dying at the most inopportune moments. Currently it flickered in her mind like an alarm clock that lost power after a storm, the wrong digits glaring back behind closed eyes as Mac tried to gather her bearings.
Some time ago, there had been a man wearing aviators, his head covered by a hoodie and in his shaking hand was a pistol that was pointed her way. She expected to be followed, female intuition noticed the shift in the vessel, a light creak and although there were no sounds of footsteps, Mac's own pistol was held at the ready with a round in the chamber and her finger on the trigger.
That warm metal had been her security blanket during her trip to the Ozarks, a little bit of comfort which she let drop when Mac realized who stood before her. "It's you."
His own pistol hit the ground, scattering near hers. In a tangle of limbs and passionate kisses, Mac fell into him and held on for dear life. The rest was a blur as her body finally succumbed to the exhaustion only to wake in an unfamiliar bed in a room that was rocking gently.
Only mustering the strength to open one eye she glanced at the man lying next to her. He was familiar and yet not, his handsome features marred by the scar barely hidden beneath the beard he now sported. The facial hair made him different, dangerous and if she was being honest, sexy. He'd always be the sexiest man she'd ever seen.
Tall, dark hair with blue eyes that she swore always saw straight to her soul. And now those eyes stared at her curiously, his gaze casting a warmth through her body. This wasn't a dream. He wasn't a dream that could suddenly disappear. This was real. He was real and she wanted to cry out of sheer happiness.
Only a pale light from a lamp on a nightstand illuminated him, casting an odd shadow across his face that disguised the blue of his eyes and turned them grey. It was a soft smile, his smile which made the butterflies rumble in her stomach and then his husky voice quietly said one word, "Hey."
Suddenly wide awake, Mac shifted, turning on her side to face the man that she loved. "Hi."
The vestiges of sleep clung to the edges of her mind and she blinked a few times to try and bat it away. Harm's hand moved over the side of her face, his palm cupping her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her. "I thought you'd never make it."
She didn't either given how long it had taken for the truck to leave Townsend and never return. It took three whole days longer. Three days of preparations. Three days of stalking her stalker. Three days of waiting like a lion in a cage plus another two for travel, all with little sleep. It was a wonder she'd made it, adrenaline was the only thing keeping her on the road.
"I had to be careful. Someone was following me in Townsend, I needed-"
"Following you?" Harm interrupted in a voice that dropped low. He tried to veil his anger but Mac didn't miss how his body shook. The hand that touched her slid down to the crook of her elbow and lower to thread his fingers through hers. "How long?"
"A few days. It was a white Chevy, started at Knoxville. Left two…no three days, maybe four days ago." Mac yawned and stretched, her body was achy and heavy, needing more rest despite the fight to stay awake. "What time is it? Hell, what day is it?"
"You don't know?"
"I'm exhausted, give a gal a break."
The clock thing concerned him because even at their most stressful endeavors, it always ticked true down to the second. Harm turned just enough to see the bold red numbers of the alarm clock on the nightstand. "0345, you practically collapsed into bed. Been sleeping since."
"I feel like I could sleep for days." She yawned again and when her eyes closed he realized it was best to let her sleep until her eyes opened and Mac suddenly sat up, her heart racing a million miles an hour. "Harm? What if…What if I was followed?"
"You weren't. I have cameras everywhere. We're safe. You're safe." And he wouldn't let a soul come between them. He urged her to lay down, the heat of his body providing a comfort she needed so badly. The past year had been absolute hell and he would protect whatever time they had together.
"Do you think this worked? Our plan?"
"Yeah, Mac. I do."
"It's been a year…I'm…I'm sorry." She apologized, unable to stop herself from doing so because the beginning of their end started with one little trip to Paraguay. "I'm sorry."
The pad of his thumb caught a tear which slipped from her eye, a kiss caught another and when he pulled the covers over them, Harm felt her relax against him. "Sleep, Sarah. We'll talk when you wake up."
Harm wanted to sleep but couldn't, the delight of finally having her close again kept him wide awake as he watched her sleep. Her exhaustion was evident given the darkness under Mac's eyes, the tightening of her jaw that only relaxed when her body gave into deep rest.
"A year." He thought to himself knowing she'd dictate the exact time frame down to the second once Mac's internal clock resetted. A year of loneliness, of pain and lies. A year of hiding and pretending to be something they weren't: apart.
Their breakup was never far from his mind, a horrific experience that was all a lie. A ruse. A deception that was crafted in the days after Catherine Gail left his apartment and Harm was able to verify the validity of her accusations.
Of course he'd go to Alan Blaidsdale, his handler who wouldn't speak at first but eventually broke with the rumors which had swirled around Clayton Webb for years: the man was thought to be working for the other side, a double agent.
The Webb family fortune had a way of paying off almost anyone. If not, the slew of dead bodies after many of Clay's assignments would keep their silence. Harm and Mac were caught in the middle with only one way to break free.
"A break up. A public one." Was Harm's decision crafted after an assignment to Egypt when he noticed a man following him. He was meant to fly to Cairo, pick up a package and get out as soon as possible. There was no back up, just an asset he was to contact. An asset that Harm had to kill in order to stop the transfer of a microchip full of information on the US Embassy in Egypt.
The man spoke Webb's code name as he died but the evidence had been destroyed in the struggle. It put a target on Harm's back, a variable bullseye and when he came home he found diamonds spread across his bed in the shape of a heart with a picture of Mac in the middle.
"You're not safe if we stay together." And while Mac agreed with his assessment, she didn't want to endure the time away from him which would be replaced with frequent visits to Webb. If the spy believed she and Harm suffered from a rocky relationship, perhaps he'd be forthcoming with information and take pity on her.
Lies of Harm's unhinged mood swings had Clay hanging on her every word. As his concern for her grew, so did Webb's sociopathic ideals and then, one day, he tried to plant a seed of doubt that would never sprout roots: Harm was a double agent and she, his pawn.
"He said you were trading information to save Sergie's life."
"Do you believe him?" He'd asked as a shadow of doubt crept across her face.
"You'd do anything for your brother." And for a moment, Harm was sure Mac had been brainwashed until her hands took his and held on tightly. "But not this."
"I've made mistakes. Chegwidden was right, I am emotionally driven."
"Yes but, you are a patriot and Webb is not." She was pacing from a nervous kind of anxiety that prevented Mac from staying still. "You're right. We need to split up and it needs to be public. I may get more information out of him that way."
"I don't want to do this."
"I don't either."
'The Art of Separation' was put into place and with it a method to keep in touch that fell apart far too quickly. Harm was being watched and so was Mac, the last time they'd meet would be one stolen moment at a hotel in Miami Beach.
November 2003
Fountainbleu Hotel
Miami beach
Mac hadn't slept, not really because the insomnia that all but disappeared when she was with Harm returned with a vengeance. It reflected in her face, her eyes enough that even the staff and Chegwidden had voiced their concern.
While she used to cover up the exhaustion in years past, she'd given up the effort because there was no way around it. The break with Harm had left her scarred and an emotional wreck. Which was why Chegwidden's suggestion for a weeklong TAD to Miami's Southern Command had been welcomed.
Work would be mundane, training newer Judge Advocates on software that was newly implemented. It would take all of three days and the rest she could spend recharging her much needed Vitamin-Sea on trendy South Beach.
It would get her away from Webb.
She found it pathetic and almost comical how quickly his 'friend' role switched to a perverse pursuit for her affections. He didn't hide his attraction or mask it under the guise of keeping her safe. This time he wasn't subtle either when he tried to kiss her the day that she left and Mac put a stop to him. "No Clay. It's too soon."
"When then? Sarah, he never loved you. I have feelings for you, strong ones."
"Probably never. I don't feel the same."
"I'll wait." He was trying too hard to be her rebound man by abruptly frequenting her job and apartment, offering protection from her former lover with lies that Harm had finally lost his mind. She hardly entertained the romantic overtures and turned down his initial invitations to dinner.
The one positive reason to keep Webb close was Harm whose assignments were closely monitored by the spy. She used him to know when Harm was away and hid her fear of his demise until her former lover returned home.
"You don't have to check up on me. I can handle myself." Mac spoke into her cellphone as she stepped into the room and began to unwind. "He's out of town, isn't he?"
And Webb still called, still offered to spend time with her. Stubborn as an ox the man was and the quality wasn't the endearing kind like Harm's. She loathed his pining and his faked friendly concern because Mac saw it as it was: the man was trying to break her down. And that was something that would never, ever happen. Nevermind that he'd reserved her a room at the iconic Fontainebleau, a hotel that she couldn't possibly afford on an officer's pay.
"Look, I just got in, I'm exhausted. Stop calling, I mean it Clay. I need some time away from everyone and that includes you too." He acquiesced, for now but Mac knew that his constant badgering would soon resume along with the unwanted attention.
She snapped her phone shut and tossed it onto the bed then slipped out of her heels. Next Mac undid her tie and walked to the windows where she had a view of the ocean. Small waves lapped the shore and she longed to dip her toes in the warm water and maybe relax in the sand with a good book.
Maybe she'd go topless for a bit and work on the awkward tan lines that were left over from running in a racerback shirt. It was South Beach after all where those sorts of activities were part of the norm. She hadn't accounted for the visitor that stood hiding in the shadows.
Her scream was muffled by a large hand that clamped over her mouth. Any Marine escape technique was disarmed as the man raised her up and took a flailing Mac to the bathroom where he released her long enough to flip in the light.
The man wore a tacky Tommy Bahama shirt and a white mesh fedora, the picture of a tourist that was almost comical. His reflection ceased the struggle, blue green eyes locked onto hers and made Mac take a breath. His finger came up to his lips, a sign to remain silent which she nodded in understanding as he turned on the shower.
The running water created a type of sound buffer and she watched him with curiosity as Harm pulled something that looked like a small wand out of his breast pocket. He moved the device along her uniform stopping twice, the first over the EGA on her lapel, the second was the USMC ring on her finger.
He pulled off the pin first as Mac twisted the ring and handed it to him. Harm made quick work of popping the stone off, a small tool kit he carried helped access the tiniest of trackers. The EGA simply had a bug, one so microscopic it ran on the smallest battery he ever saw. Both devices he dropped into a cup that he filled with water before turning to face Mac.
She was pale, eyes sullen with unshed tears that brimmed the edges. Mac swallowed hard before speaking and even choked on the words as she spoke. "He's always following. Always listening."
"Oh, Mac…I didn't…I couldn't know it would get this bad." Harm wouldn't tell her about the dozen or so in her apartment, the ones he located and eradicated once she left for Dulles.
"I'm sorry, Mac. I'm so fucking sorry." His hands framed her face, thumbs ran delicately over her cheeks. When he leaned in for a kiss he felt her move with him, Mac's lips parting as his touched hers.
He missed her. He missed this and needed to touch, to feel and caress. He wanted to be with her, to love her and erase the hell he thrust them into by joining the agency. But the light at the end of the tunnel was absent and the longer he spent in the CIA, the farther away it went. "I'm sorry."
"No, don't stop…Please, don't stop. I need you." Mac pleaded when he broke off and she guided his hands to the front of her blouse, urging him to undress her. "Please."
"Yes."
They made love in the shower against cool tiles and the hot spray of water. He couldn't stop kissing her lips, her neck, the curve of her shoulder. He nuzzled her breasts, gripped her hips and each time he entered her Harm's body shook. It had been weeks since they'd last been together and he didn't know when they'd see eachother again.
In two days time he would venture to the Farm and then to parts unknown with no sign of return. He loved her like a desperate man with the belief that he would never come home again.
Eventually, they would make it to her bed where they lay in a tangle of sheets. He'd fallen asleep and awoke to Mac's fingers tracing patterns over the light peppering of hair on his chest. "I'm surprised Webb didn't follow."
"He tried. I almost begged him not to."
Harm took her hand in his, raising to his lips so that he could kiss her knuckles. "He's obsessed with you. I don't know why I never saw it before."
"He scares me." Mac said quietly and those beautiful brown eyes locked onto his with a sadness that broke Harm's heart. "How many bugs this time?"
"Eleven total. Two on each uniform. One on your laptop and the rest in various areas in this room. And your cell phone, of course." He confirmed making it abundantly clear that the agency was keeping a close watch and this stolen space in time couldn't last.
"Webb thinks you're coming for me. Or so he says. It's hard to tell if he really believes this or if it's just bullshit to make me fear you."
"What do you believe, Mac?"
"That you love me. That you're not working for the other side." She sat up and reached for a book on the nightstand, a hardcover of an Agatha Christie novel that Mac opened midway. "Look."
Only the first half of the tome was normal, the rest of the book had the pages cut in such a way so that a small phone fit in the center, inconspicuous to anyone who didn't know where to look. "The burner phone fits here. If we keep to a schedule we can talk, make plans. We can see each other again, in secret until this blows over."
God how he wished it were that simple but Harm saw things, he knew how the agency operated and it was with a great weight on his heart that he broke hers. "We can't. Not anymore…"
"What do you mean? I thought-"
Harm pushed her off of him and sat at the edge of the bed where he located his boxers and shorts, slipping them on to feel less exposed. He didn't dare turn back to her because the look in her eyes would be his undoing and Mac already compromised them by allowing him to make love to her.
"Harm, wait…stop."
"I can't tell you I'm just a pilot because it would be a lie."
Mac saw his shoulders slump, her breath caught at the thought of what another job entailed. Images of him running and hiding flashed through her mind along with darker images, crimson images that she stopped herself from formulating. "He told me you were just flying cargo now. Nothing else."
"I head to the Farm in two days."
"The farm-" She knew what that meant, special training for those who were selected to work in the field. To pass the time in Paraguay, she'd picked Webb's brain about their training, asking for clarification about the rumors she had heard. Some were confirmed, others were kept in a shroud under classified training material.
The one fact Mac recalled was the assignment which came after training: a post abroad to some undetermined location in order to test the field officer's metal. If Webb had any control over Harm's future, she feared what it meant, imagining a war torn country and him stuck in the middle. "They'll send you away."
"He'll send me away. Probably to some shithole on the other side of the planet."
"Harm, leave. Leave them."
"I can't. You know he won't let us go."
Harm sat on the edge of the bed burying his face in his hands. It felt like the weight of the World was crashing down on him and he had no way to push it off. Funny that his thoughts went to the family he left behind. "They all hate me now, don't they? Our friends? I reached out to Bud and Harriet, they politely declined seeing our godson. Sturgis avoids my calls."
"They pity me and I wish like hell I could tell them the truth." But, she couldn't and wouldn't put any of their friends in danger. Her confidante was Admiral Chegwidden, a man who vowed to keep their secret and exhausted every means in effort to find information about Webb. "The Admiral was pissed at first and now he's worried."
To say that he was upset to learn of their deception was an understatement but he also knew Harm's outburst was far too out of character to be real.
They spoke at length about Catherine Gail's assumptions and Harm's assignments that grew increasingly deadly. He promised to help in every way beginning with the secret he was entrusted to. "He's on board with whatever we need. Chegwidden had a contact in the NSA quietly making the rounds and it turns out some information about Webb sprung up."
The spy was allowed back into the fold but in a position of power that could lead to political aspirations if he so desired. That kind of strength was meant to be feared and Mac could imagine a vindictive Webb doing what he pleased and that included killing Harm. "You need to be careful, Harm. You need to stay safe. Safe at all costs, do you hear me?"
"I will." He was fully dressed now, just missing the hat that made up his disguise. It was hell to leave her this way, wrapped in a tangle of bedsheets, the soft glow of the bathroom light shining over her skin. He looked out at the dark ocean and imagined another time where they might have walked down the beach and he might have dropped on one knee and proposed.
That was a dream and it would have to wait indefinitely. "Mac, I-"
Harm hesitated. He always hesitated whenever the desire to say the words was warranted. He loved her, it was a truth that was evident for so long and yet the verbal expression always fell short. That was the one thing he couldn't let go of - the fear of saying too much, feeling too much and losing her. "Sarah, I…"
"I know...You don't have to say it. I know-" Mac came to her knees and held her arms open so that she cradled him once Harm stepped into her embrace. And then, he was gone. She wouldn't see Harm again for a year.