A/N: Another Speak Now story. This one is perhaps a little sad, somewhat dark, but it's what I do when I'm feeling a little sad, a little dark. At this moment I'm actually feeling pretty good, but this last week has been difficult regarding work, but I'll win this one because there is no other way it can be. Until then, I will write.

The Speak Now Chronicles

Two: Castles Crumbling

I didn't lock the door. I should get up, get up and lock it, get up off this bathroom floor and lock my front door to keep out the burglars, the robbers, the rapists, and the murderers…but I don't care. Not really. Not since…

I don't want to think about it. I want to block it all out, from the moment Harm was arrested until the admiral threw him out of JAG. The former wasn't my fault, but everything beyond that was and is.

Everything is wrong. Dark. It's like a year ago I had an empire, and everything was golden, but then somehow, I slipped off my pedestal. I had the respect of everyone in the office and then just like that, I fell from grace.

I don't know what else I could have done differently. It was my duty to go to Paraguay, wasn't it? For a while I wondered if I did it to get back at Harm for leaving me in the dark about Singer, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew I wouldn't have let that make me so angry I'd accept a dangerous mission to get away from him.

I'd have tried to be stand-offish, but then my worry for him would have overridden any indignation on my part and I'd be at his apartment. He wouldn't talk to me at first, but he wouldn't kick me out either, and then eventually he'd set a bowl of pasta in front of me and sit down, creeping closer until our shoulders touched. He'd ask me why I never visited him in the brig, knowing full well Chegwidden ordered us not to. I'd cry and apologize, and he would understand when I told him the consequences for disobeying that particular order would have been grave for both of us. We'd hold each other and be friends again, friends working toward something more.

But no, that damn mission with Webb came up, and I guess I felt flattered he thought I was the best one for the job. Admiral Chegwidden apparently thought so too, for though he said I could refuse, it was halfhearted at best.

So, I went…and ruined so many lives.

There was Clay…I insisted we go back for Gunny, which of course got us caught by Sadik's men. He let himself be tortured so they wouldn't torture me.

Then there were the missionaries…the woman thought by exposing me, they'd be let go for "helping." Instead, Sadik found that sort of behavior distasteful, dishonorable, betraying a fellow prisoner like that. He had them shot right in front of me.

And finally, Harm. What can I say about Harm? He gave up his career and nearly his life to save me, and instead of being grateful, I behaved deplorably. I sniped at him mercilessly, I insulted him, and then I didn't even thank him. True, I was nearly out of my mind from all the stress of the previous few weeks, had my own set of injuries and trauma, and multiple threats of rape from men who didn't realize I could understand them. I've never told anyone, (because who was there to tell?), but the man who was going to start torturing me before Harm burst in planned to rape me first. So yes, I was a little crazy, but not so crazy that I couldn't have thanked someone for saving my life.

To my credit, I did try calling Harm to thank him, to tell him I was sorry for what Chegwidden said to him, for causing him to lose his job, but he didn't call me back. He's never called me back. I've now left seventeen messages on his answering machine, and each one Harm has ignored.

I don't blame him. What has knowing me ever done for him but drag him down?

I avoid everyone at work now. The day Harm walked out of JAG for the last time, I felt the angry stares from everyone in the room. They knew why this was happening. They knew whose fault it was. It's been so painful going to work every day. Each time they knock on my office door, the door I now keep closed, I dread telling them to enter. In the beginning, they were short, borderline rude and disrespectful, but now they're just cold. I don't know which is worse.

So, what has brought me to this point today? What caused me to run out of JAG, Bud and Harriet calling after me?

The day started out as any day has since the initial shock of Paraguay and Harm's departure wore off. I completed my early morning run, pushing myself to run an extra two miles to burn off the anxiety I feel every Monday morning nowadays. I then showered, dressed, and made it to JAG just before Admiral Chegwidden. There was morning staff call, and then I met briefly with Sturgis to discuss the case we were assigned together. Incidentally, Sturgis is now my favorite person here. He's never been a warm fuzzy and his behavior has not really changed.

The day went south only an hour later when I was called into Admiral Chegwidden's office. My marine façade in place, I was directed in by Petty Officer Coates, only to find Sturgis, Bud, and Harriet waiting for me there as well.

To my great embarrassment, my eyes filled with tears, and though I tried to hold them back, they slid down my cheeks.

I can't describe Admiral Chegwidden's expression. He looked angry, disappointed, and I thought, this is it. This is where I get brought up on charges for…something, but then his phone rang. The SECNAV. He had to dismiss us.

And I ran.

Harriet tried to reach for me, but I dodged her. I ran to my office, grabbed my keys only, and then kept running, burning all my bridges at JAG behind me. As I fled the building, I turned slightly and I swear I saw it crumbling—my former castle, tumbling down, brick by brick.

So, here I sit alone, regretting everything I've ever done, but most of all, regretting the faith my friends had in me until I pushed it too far and destroyed it.

At this moment, despite my time sense, I have no idea how long I've sat here on my bathroom floor, leaning against the tub. I know I'm shivering, my head in my hands, and I know I've been crying. I've heard my phone ringing and the voices on the machine remind me of old horror movies where people with torches and pitchforks gather at the palace front gates and scream out their hatred. The phone is ringing again, and I know it's the admiral. He's yelling. I put my hands over my ears and sob.

"Mac."

"Go 'way," I mumble. I don't want to wake up because then I'll have to remember why I'm sleeping sitting up against the tub. I know it's not a good reason.

"Mac, honey, wake up for me. You shouldn't be sleeping on the floor. It's cold in here."

"What do you care," I say grumpily. The voice is familiar enough that I know there's animosity between us, but I'm not awake enough to identify it.

"Oh, sweetheart, I do care. We all do, and we're all so, so sorry."

"Why? I deserve this." An arm goes around my shoulders, and I'm pulled against a strong male body. I know it's Harm's, but I half wonder if I'm hallucinating so I remain stiff and scared.

"No, you don't. You don't. We're so worried."

Suddenly I'm completely awake. Awake, and mad. I pull away from Harm and nearly topple over, but I manage to catch myself.

"I deserve all of this, I do, but don't lie to me! If you were worried, you would have answered my messages. If—If—they hate me. They should hate me. I got you fired. JAG has been awful and it's all my fault."

Harm scoots closer again and wraps his arms around me. He pulls me into his lap and though I try to fight him, I really can't. I'm too weak. It hits me that I can't remember when I last ate. I can't remember when I last slept through the night. My head hurts. I feel sick and dizzy.

"Oh, Mac…" Harm sighs, and he sounds so sad. "You're so thin." He rocks me a bit. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." I start to shiver. I know I'm not well. "Harriet!" Harm calls out, and seconds later, the blonde lieutenant appears in the doorway. "Can you bring me a blanket?"

"Of course, sir," she replies, and it only takes a minute for her to return with the fleece blanket from my bed. Harm wraps it around me and then I hear Harriet filling a glass with water. She kneels down and hands it to Harm, who holds to my lips. I drink, and the coolness of water soothes my dry throat. I'm beginning to wonder how long I've been sitting here.

"How are you here?" I whisper.

"The admiral called. Had me pulled from the field."

"But why? And how?"

"The why…he was worried. Scared for you. You were just…fading away. The how? Let's just say AJ Chegwidden can be very threatening, even to the CIA."

"But why would you come? You hate me. I-I never wanted you to hate me, but you do."

Harm sighs. "No, I don't. I was angry. Hurt. But I don't hate you. Quite the opposite actually. I lo—"

"Don't. Don't say that."

"But I do, Mac. That's why I came for you."

I don't believe him. How can I after everything? The months of silence? The scorn before he walked out of my life?

"I know you don't believe me, but I plan to show you and tell you until you do, and in case you didn't know it, there's a whole room of people out there who love and care for you too. Bud, Harriet. Sturgis. Admiral Chegwidden. Jen."

I shake my head against Harm's chest. "No. No. They were so angry. They won't talk to me. They—"

"Honey, they've been trying. You've been so closed off. They were in shock in the beginning. They thought we'd come back together, in love, I'd have my job back, and when it didn't happen that way, they didn't know what to think or how to talk to you. When things calmed down, they could see you were hurting. They tried to reach you, but you withdrew, and it started to scare them so much they called me over and over and planned a, what's it called, an intervention this morning. The SECNAV calling ruined that, but as soon as I got back into town, we all came over. Sweetheart, you left the door wide open. I was afraid we'd find you…that we'd find you…" He sounds like he's near tears and I briefly lift my head. Sure enough, his eyes are wet. I lift my hand to rest on his cheek.

"I'm okay, Harm." I'm really not, but for the first time in a long time, I want to be.

"Okay, sweetie, let's get you into bed. Harriet's making a casserole—"

"Harm, I don't think I can eat. I feel a little sick."

"Probably because you haven't eaten in a while. Just a few bites, marine. Drink a little water, some ginger ale, then sleep. The admiral says you're off work for the next week."

"Why are you being so nice, Harm? How can you want to know me now? I'll just let you down." I know I will. I won't try to, but it's just what I do.

"Sarah, honey, you didn't let me down. I let you down. Look, we'll talk about it tomorrow. Eat, then sleep, okay?"

"Okay." I want to argue, but I'm just too tired. Harm slides me off his lap and stands. I expect him to help me to stand as well, but instead, he slides one arm under my shoulders, the other under my knees, and lifts me easily. He carries me to my bedroom and sets me down, and I'm surprised to see Harriet and Jen waiting for me.

"Ma'am, is it okay if we help you out of your uniform?" Jen asks, and I shake my head. Surely, I can undress myself.

"Mac, you look like hell. Let us help." My eyes widen at Harriet's words, on the surface disrespectful, but said so lovingly I find myself nodding.

Once they have me in my old cowboy pajamas that now fit so loose on my too-thin frame, they tuck me in. Harm brings me a tray with a small amount of Harriet's casserole, more water, and a small glass of ginger ale to settle my stomach. I still can only eat about half of it, but it's more than I've eaten in days. I had no idea I'd gotten so bad.

Once he moves the tray away, my coworkers take turns visiting me. Harm sits next to me on the bed and holds my hand as they each tell me how worried they've been and how much they care. I can't help but cry a little; I don't entirely trust them even though they sound sincere. I guess maybe it's more that I don't trust myself. The last one to visit is the admiral. He sits down on the bed opposite Harm and takes my other hand gently in his.

"Mac, I'm sorry."

"Sir, you don't—"

"Yes, I do. I should never have let you go on that damn mission in the first place, but when things went south, I should have gone after you myself."

"Oh, I, well, thank you, sir."

He lets go of my hand and stands up. "Now get some rest. You have the week off, but I'll come by on Friday and if I don't feel you're up to it, you're not coming back the next week either."

"Okay, sir." I wonder how I can be so agreeable to his heavy-handed ways, to his implications that I can't handle my job.

I must be doing worse than I thought.

I can no longer lie to myself. I've been doing horribly. I don't eat or sleep properly. I have some nightmares, but mostly I feel so alone, so utterly crushed by everything that's happened. I don't know me anymore. It's like I went from this invincible marine to a scared little girl hiding in her closet again. I lean back against the pillows, my eyes filling with tears that Harm brushes aside.

The admiral nods and walks to the door, turning around again just before he crosses the threshold. "Harm, can I speak to you for a moment?"

Harm looks down at me, his eyes asking permission to go, and I nod. The two men leave my bedroom, and I snuggle down into my pillows and close my eyes. I'm instantly asleep, and I don't know anything else until I awaken the next morning, Harm stretched out beside me.

Harm stirs when I roll up on my side. He follows suit, and I feel a sense of déjà vu. I remember lying like this in the hotel in Paraguay, and thoughts of that time make me want to roll away and hide.

"Mac?" Harm whispers. "What are you thinking?"

I find I can't lie. "About Paraguay. The hotel."

"Me too."

He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. "We didn't handle that all that well, did we," he says, and I shake my head.

"No."

"You know how there are some moments you wish you could go back and do over?"

"Yes." Of course, I do. I have a million of them.

"Well, I'd like to do that one over. I wouldn't have said things like, 'I think you know why.' I would have just told you it was because I love you."

I'm shaking my head, not knowing what to do with an "honest" Harm, an open Harm, mainly because I can't bring myself to believe him after all these months.

Isn't that funny…me, who has always wanted the words, can't believe them when I hear them.

"You don't believe me, do you," Harm laments, and I roll over onto my back, almost instantly feeling the tears flow toward my ears.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"It's okay, Mac. I don't blame you."

"You should blame me. Not about…about that, but about everything else." I sniffle and swipe the back of my hands across my eyes. "I-I left you alone after Singer. I went with Webb when you asked me not to. I got you fired—"

"Mac. Mac, why do you keep saying that? That you got me fired? I quit. I quit to save you, and I'd do it again."

"But—" No, he's right. It's just hard to accept that he, that anyone, would do something like that for me. "I'm sorry, Harm."

"For what?"

"For-for everything. For being so horrible to you after you found me. For telling you the navy was all you had. I don't even know why I said that. For not thanking you. For telling you we'd never work out. For not defending you enough to the admiral. For—"

"Okay, okay. Well, I'm sorry for being such ass about Webb. I'm sorry for not answering any of your messages, and most of all, I'm sorry I didn't fight you on your never."

"I didn't really mean it, you know. I mean, I did, but…or maybe…"

"You mean it now?"

There's a hitch in Harm's voice, and it pains me to admit that he might be right. Oh, I know I love him still, but I'm so messed up. I mean, the neighbor's dog, Brutus, adores me, but lately I've started distrusting even that.

"I-I don't know, Harm. The way you found me—clearly, I'm not exactly…myself."

"I know, Mac. Would it help you know I'm not either?"

I sit up abruptly. "No! No, it wouldn't! God, I've made such a mess. How could you think that?!" I dissolve into more tears and Harm shifts beside me. Soon he's sitting up beside me and pulling me into his arms. I'd fight him, but I'm still tired, and the larger truth is I don't want to. He holds me until I finally stop my mostly silent tears, and then I finally draw away from him.

"Harm?" I ask, my voice tentative.

"Yeah, hon?"

"Why aren't you…yourself?

Harm's eyes darken and he looks away. My heart pounds, for I know he's still mad at me. "I'm sorry," I whisper, scooting farther away from him, so far I almost fall off the bed. He catches me and pulls me back.

"Mac, no. None of this is your fault."

"But—"

"Dammit, Mac!" Harm shouts so loud I jump, but he doesn't let me go. "This isn't your fault! I made my choices! I'll never regret quitting the navy to save you, but I never should have joined the company!"

"You didn't just fly, did you," I say with conviction. I knew the moment Webb welcomed him into the CIA he'd never just be a pilot for them. He's too talented, too smart. He'd be an excellent field agent, except for one thing: he's too good. Too honorable. It would kill his soul, and by the look in his eyes now, perhaps it already has.

Harm shakes his head. "No, I didn't, and what I did instead will take a while to forget."

"Oh, Harm," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."

"Well, I didn't have to accept the job."

"I didn't have to accept the mission."

Harm smiles ruefully. "I guess we both made some pretty bad choices."

"Yeah," I say, turning my head away. Harm's gentle fingers bring it back. "You're still blaming yourself, aren't you." I nod. "Please don't, Mac. What can I say to make you stop thinking this is all your fault?"

"You can't, Harm," I reply sadly. I see that he wants to protest again, so I place my fingers over his mouth. "Harm, I know you mean it. It's just something I'm going to have to work through. I probably need help, more help than you, the admiral, and everyone else at JAG can give me."

"Me too," Harm sighs.

We sit there in silence for a few heartbeats, and I can tell by the way Harm starts to squirm he has something else on his mind.

"Harm, what is it?

He runs his hand over his face and looks decidedly uncomfortable.

"Harm?"

"Mac," he says, taking my hand in his. I study the contrast in the size of our hands until I'm about to admonish him to tell me what the hell is going on, but then he speaks. It comes out in a rush, and to say I'm surprised is an understatement.

"The admiral asked me back."

"What?"

Admiral Chegwidden. He wants me to come back to JAG." He sounds almost disappointed.

"And you don't want to?"

"No, I-I do, it's just that…well, do you…would you be okay with me coming back?

My forehead wrinkles in confusion. "Why wouldn't I be okay with it?"

"Well…okay, maybe I…Mac, if I'm there, we can't…we can't…"

I think I know what he's saying, and I have to admit I'm a little frightened. I don't know if I'm ready for this. "Harm, I—"

"I know, Mac. I know. It's too soon. I love you, but my behavior…if you ever loved me, how could you still?"

My eyes tear up once again, and with all the crying I've done today and last night, they burn and hurt.

"I'm sorry, Harm."

"It's okay, Mac." His eyes are wet too, and he subtly shifts away from me.

"No, Harm. You don't understand. I-I do love you. I always have, but after the last few months, you being away, me being…not well, I'm not ready. We were friends once, and I've missed that so much. I want that back. I need that back, so, please, come back to JAG. Be my friend. Be happy to see me again. Answer me when I call— "

"Mac, I'm sorry about that."

I pat his hand, sad that half our words to each other today have had to be our sorries. "I know, Harm. So, can you do that?"

He thinks for a moment. "I can. So, are we starting at the beginning again?"

I smile slightly at his reference to the one and only JAGathon we had, just after I returned from the Guadalcanal, then shake my head. "That's impossible, Harm, and I don't want to. We didn't know then what it was like to be so completely broken and now we do, and that's one thing I truly never want to forget. I don't want to repeat the mistakes that got us here, okay?"

Harm studies me for a moment then wraps his arm around me.

"Okay, Mac."

I ended up taking three weeks off, and while I'm not perfectly healthy yet, I am so much better. Friendships have been renewed, and Harm…what can I say about Harm? He's been so attentive. Understanding. He even gives me space when I need it. He doesn't push, though I know he wants to. He's trying so hard, and I love him for it.

This is my first day back after my little break. I'm a bit nervous, even though I was nothing but excited as I prepared my uniform last night. I suppose it's just hitting me that I'm coming back to work after a mental breakdown? What will people think? Will my subordinates respect me? No, they wouldn't even know about me. The elevator is almost to my floor. I don't know if I can do this.

The elevator opens and I slowly walk toward the bullpen. I take a deep breath and pull open the door to my former castle.

Everyone is there; Bud, Harriet, Sturgis, but I don't see them. I can only see Harm, his brilliant smile welcoming me back, and the sight of him back in his uniform nearly makes me cry.

There's something else I see in his eyes. He's not just happy to see me, he's overjoyed, and in this moment, I know everything is going to work out between us. It's going to take a bit, but one day, I'm going to invite him into my apartment, and he won't leave at the end of the night. For now, though, I let my feet carry me to his side and he reaches out to briefly touch my shoulder.

"Welcome back, Mac."

"You too, Harm."

And just like that, this castle that had been crumbling around me weeks ago starts to rebuild itself into something stronger, better-more solid than ever before.

End Two