Chapter 15 - Clean
When I was little, I hated the dark and the scary shadows it created on the walls of my bedroom. It was like monsters were attacking me from all angles and the only way to hide was by cowering under the covers, praying for a savior that wouldn't come.
I was too afraid to scream and so terrified to ask for help until the monsters came so close I'd beg my parents to save me. My father always did. That was one of those redeeming qualities I loved about Joe MacKenzie before the drinking turned him into another monster I feared.
Funny how I'm not scared of the dark anymore nor the shadows that still cast monsters on my walls. I'm happiest here, sitting on my couch without a single light illuminating any corner of this space.
The dark hides my unkempt apartment, one that I haven't cleaned in days. Inky blackness won't remind me of the clothing strewn to and fro or the dirty plates left in the sink. I can barely make out the row of coffee cups, some half empty with liquid that has begun to smell putrid.
No lights mean I don't have to see my bed, the bare mattress devoid of sheets that lay somewhere on the floor. I stripped them after waking from a particularly terrifying nightmare two nights prior and other than to dress for work, I haven't been in my room since.
Work. I snort at the thought of JAG's hallowed halls no longer feeling like a safe haven for me. Ever since Paraguay I'm jumpy in the office, scared and anxiously awaiting the nervous breakdown that haunts the very edges of my mind.
JAG was supposed to be my other home, a place to hide away from the monsters but it's become increasingly difficult to keep my composure.
Today, I finally snapped.
Not even a week back and I'd taken a rather hard stance on a case I was prosecuting and Sturgis was defending. Maybe I'm a little biased but a sailor attempting to sell State secrets deserves the highest form of punishment. Opposing council did not agree and the words I spewed at the Bubblehead had him rushing out of my office and straight to Chegwidden.
I called him a sanctimonious prick and a bible thumping little bitch (amongst other colorful terms) which had me standing before my CO like a kid at the principal's office. I was taken off the case, placed on desk duty - a reprimand I hadn't realized til now was a sign kindness.
Harm had been in Norfolk since his return, another blessing because having to face him only spiked my anxiety. I knew a fight was looming between us and that it would be like a volcanic eruption leaving nothing in its wake. I was spared from having to deal with that sailor but another one stepped right into my crosshairs.
Losing an incoming fax was no reason to attack Bud but I did anyway. I jabbed my finger into his chest, yelled so many hurtful words that Chegwidden had no choice but to send me on leave and order I see a therapist.
"I don't need time off, sir. It would be better if-"
"Lock it up, Marine. You will take time off and you will go see someone… anyone! If not, your little green Marine six will be shipped off to parts unknown, am I clear?"
There wasn't much to argue and I was too tired to fight. What hurt the most was the disappointment from a man I sometimes saw as a father figure. Then came the looks, the stares and the whispers as I crossed the bullpen and secured for the day.
I felt each member of our staff glaring and as I gathered my belongings and walked through the double glass doors. I knew I'd lost the respect of each and every one of them. Their Chief of Staff was broken.
Unfortunately, it was still light out when I got home. I was able to see the mess; my pristine apartment was so disheveled that anger raged until I focused my very being on the act of destruction.
The dinosaur model was first. A piece I'd often spent hours admiring was smashed to pieces with the use of a small mallet. Then came
some of the equipment I paid a small fortune to procure. All destroyed with a sweep of my hand that sent it crashing to the ground.
My anger changed tack and focused on the pictures on my mantel, all images of happier days I knew were gone forever. I took special interest in the two of me and Harm which were hurled against the wall when I decided to enjoy the sound of breaking glass.
The sofa did not survive the carnage. Its cushions and pillows were tossed anywhere my manic mind saw fit. Something stopped me from ripping the fabric itself and instead my uniform was the final victim.
I yanked the medals off the jacket, tossed them into the unlit fireplace and then pulled at the tie that was now suffocating. Blouse, skirt, stockings, all articles of clothing became a pile until I collapsed onto the sofa wearing nothing but underwear.
And then I cried.
Ugly cried, grabbed a cushion and muffled a howling scream until my voice cracked and exhaustion sent me to a dreamless world. I don't know how long I was out but when I came to the darkness had finally come. I couldn't see my mess anymore. Inky blackness was my friend
I just wasn't alone.
A jolt of adrenaline forced me to wake but when I reached for the gun on my side table, the room was suddenly bathed in a warm light.
"Mac." Harm's voice is soft when he says my name, calm even. I'm squinting to see him but I do catch a glimpse of his expression and it's heavy with disgust. I know he sees the mess, his eyes can't seem to stop surveying the damage that lays all around me. "Oh, Mac."
"Not very Marine-like is it?" I try to joke but my voice is thick and without any kind of mirth. "Go home, Harm. Leave me alone."
"I can't." He won't and I start to hate him all over again. "I can't leave you like this."
"What are you doing?"
"Helping you get cleaned up."
"Harm, don't." He shouldn't be carrying me but even as Harm lifts me into his arms, I am too exhausted to fight him.
"It's okay, I got you." It actually feels good to feel him so close and when he steps into my bathroom, I realize he's drawn a bath. When the hell did he have time to do that? Did I fall asleep again? Or was I so preoccupied with my dark thoughts to realize he'd spent enough time in my room to even place fresh linens on my bed.
Gingerly, he brings me to my feet and keeps his eyes on mine as he removes whatever is left of my clothing. He's trying to be a gentleman and would have had the edges of his vision not caught the contusions.
His eyes drop and widen. A gasp escaped his lips as he realized I no longer have a flawless body. Bruises stretch across my abdomen. My breasts bear black and blue marks as well. I did my damndest to hide the marks on my face and neck but makeup could only do so much.
"Oh Mac." Harm's hand shakes when his fingers trace each mark. The warmth of his skin feels like a balm that magically heals the physical pain and damn if his touch doesn't make me cry a little. He's gentle, reverent and only the set of his jaw betrays his wild emotions. If Sadik weren't already dead, I know Harm would kill him himself.
His eyes focus on my breasts where Sadik's handprints still mark my flesh and I see him swallow hard before he asks a tough question. "Did he?"
Harm's voice cracks a little and when his eyes meet mine again, I see them, the unshed tears that lay with his veiled emotions. His irises are so blue and rich. I've only ever seen them like this in the Appalachian mountains when I stabbed a deranged poacher.
"No. He wanted to…He tried but no."
"Thank you God." A woosh of air rushes out of his lungs and a second later he's pulling me into his arms holding me like both our lives depend on it.
Harm's sitting on my bathroom floor, leaning against the tub. My muscles are grateful for the hot bath and epsom salts he poured as it filled. We're quiet, the silence is awkward but not too uncomfortable although I can practically hear the wheels turning in his head.
I've hurt him badly, far more than he's ever hurt me and I don't know how to heal that wound. "Why are you here?"
"I asked myself the same thing."
"What's your answer?"
"Sturgis called. Chegwidden did too." He shifted a little so that he could look at me. "They both said you'd gone mad and I didn't want to believe it until Harriet called…You were abominable to Bud, you know?"
I knew I'd said some awful things but I can't remember a damned word. "What did I say?"
"Inept, useless, unfit to be an officer… All with a slew of curse words you'd never use in public, much less the middle of the bullpen."
"Oh God." I dip a little lower into the water as if the warmth will dissolve how mortified I am. Bud has always been like a little brother that I'd vehemently defend until I take my last breath. He'll hate me for this and it breaks my heart to think I've lost the respect of such a decent man. "Harm, I-"
He turns to face the door and the silence stretches out again. I see him toying with the edge of my towel, using it to find the confidence to speak. "Know why I came here?"
"No." Not after how I treated him, how I acted like a…God, I can't say the word because I don't want Harm to think of me that way.
"I was pissed and I came to pick a fight. Sturgis and Chegwidden might deserve your wrath. Hell, you could lob my head off if you want but not Bud. He's come to his own and still worships the ground you walk on."
But he didn't yell or scream or fight. He's barely spoken louder than his normal voice. If anything, Harm's been soft spoken, almost sweet and it's a side of him I didn't realize I needed. I don't want him to yell at me, I don't want him to be angry and I don't want to fight.
When I reach out and run my damp fingers through his hair, he stiffens and it stings like hell. For several months touching one another was normal and now it's gone. I've ruined it for us.
"Didn't expect to find you half naked sitting in the dark." His voice is only slightly above a whisper like he's embarrassed to be here. "Except for your abhorrent filing methods, you're squared away, neat to a fault. Things are never out of place."
I touch him again and hear him sigh heavily when I knead the taught muscles of his neck. He feels like he's been carrying the weight "Seeing you like this…It ran all the anger right outta me."
"I'm sorry." It's probably too late for apologies when the damage was already done. But, when he leaves tonight I want it to be with the knowledge that I never meant to hurt him. "I'm so sorry for…for everything. I guess I'm no better than my father." Only my brand of pain was with words not fists.
Harm reaches up and grabs my hand, stopping me from working on the tight muscles. He doesn't let me go like I thought he would and for several long minutes his fingers toy with mine.
"The other night, when you came to my place you said you'd go to Webb…did you?"
"No."
"Did you want to?"
The thought crossed my mind for a millisecond before common sense overrode my feral heart. I don't love Webb and I never would, which was why, despite his best efforts, I could never date the man. "God no. I'd rather go home with some stranger from a seedy bar than go anywhere near that man."
Harm turns to face me and the hand that's holding mine tightens its grip. I know what he's thinking - his brain is likely playing out a scenario of a drunk Sarah MacKenzie running off with the first half decent man she spots in a bar. Shadows are cast across his face and I smirk at his expression. "I didn't do that either."
"I know you didn't. You're not that kind of girl."
"What kind of girl am I?"
My questions furl his brow and I wonder if I've reached too far too quickly. "You're a girl I don't know anymore."
"I don't know her either." It's sad to have lost myself especially when I don't know how it happened. Paraguay took more from me than I could ever imagine but what it took the most was the good man I hoped would love me someday.
Harm brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. It's a bittersweet feeling, a farewell and a breath later he's walking out the bathroom door.