Chapter 16 - Help
"You're still here." It's not a question, more of a shocking statement. I really can't tell how long I've been in the tub but by the time I dried my hair and dressed, he's managed to straighten up my living room.
The coffee cups are gone and likely in the dishwasher along with plates and utensils. My clothing is stacked in two small color coated piles and by the sound coming from the washer/dryer combo in the kitchen, my whites are currently being laundered.
Uniforms are draped over the armchair and I notice the fruit salad I'd tossed into an unlit fireplace sits neatly on the coffee table along with the pictures of us that I destroyed. Harm's currently squatting over the broken glass, using a dustpan to pick up the shards left behind.
"I thought you left."
He carefully plucks a larger piece and then dumps the glass into a small wicker wastebasket I keep in my living room. "I almost did…Guess I just needed a moment."
"That's fair."
Harm stands and wipes his hands on his jeans. He glances at me for a moment with an unreadable expression. He looks like he wants to say something else but when he doesn't, the silence between us begins again.
The tension between us is intense like a tripwire set to destroy everything in its path. He shakes his head and motions to the uniforms. "Do you still use Rick's place?"
"For dry cleaning? Yes."
"I'll take them tomorrow."
"You don't need to do that."
"I want to." His words are clipped and the tone a bit harsh. Harm takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Just, let me do that for you."
I don't want him treating me like a damsel but something tells me he needs this so I say nothing else on the matter simply cross the living room and kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you."
If it were a different time I'd tease him for blushing but, I don't. Instead I let his arms wrap around me just as I let his lips place a kiss on the crown of my head. "Everything will be okay." For now, I might believe it.
Chinese take out cartons litter my coffee table
It's the kind of comfort food that both of us wolfed down with equal exuberance. I hadn't eaten much in the past few days and by the way Harm polished off his noodles and veggies, it looked like he suffered the same malady.
When he offers me a fortune cookie I reluctantly crack it open. He knows I hate them and have always found the silly tradition a little ridiculous. But the words on this particular tiny piece of paper makes me think about this last week.
"Your unspoken desire is the road not taken…Take it." I hold the paper between my thumb and index finger scrutinizing it for all it was worth.
Harm flinches a little and when he cracks his cookie open. "Your unspoken desire is the road not taken…Take it." He holds the paper up for me to see and then squints when he tries to read the lottery numbers in the back. "We also have the same lotto numbers."
"Hah. Don't think I'm lucky enough to win. Even if I did, I wouldn't leave the Corps so easily."
He tilts his head to the side and then reaches for one of the three pieces of honey chicken still in its carton. He pops one whole piece in his mouth and chews thoughtfully, his mouth is still full when he speaks. "Have you ever thought of the road not taken?"
"No, other than my foray in Dalton's firm, no. Once I joined the Corps I had an idea, a plan, and the motivation." That all got shaken the second our SUV was blown up in the Chaco. Maybe it was shaken up before then? "And you?"
Harm shrugs, unlike me his life was set from a very young age. He wanted to join Anapolis and become a Navy pilot just like his father and grandfather before him. There was no other plan, no other road to take and I'll bet he'd be the CAG of a squadron had life not taken such a hard turn for him. "I sometimes wonder who I'd be without the Navy. Maybe I would have fallen in love with the law anyway. Or maybe I'd be a firefighter."
"I can't see you as anything but a Navy man. The job suits you. You were born to be an officer. Harm. You're good at it."
"So are you. When you're not yelling at subordinates that is." He smirks and it actually makes me smile a little. Treating Bud how I did isn't a laughing matter but any levity feels good at the moment. "Bud will forgive you."
"Maybe." But he'll always remember me that way and it's sickening. "I need help." The words spill from my lips even before I can stop myself from saying them. Chegwifden's assessment wasn't wrong. I do need to see someone. I do need to talk or give penance, whatever can fix the Hell I've forced myself to live in. "I want help, but I don't know where to go or how to start."
"Start with a therapist. Bethesda has a few counselors that meet with men and women with PTSD."
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Fuck. I'm already being labeled and I only just asked for help. This is how it starts, isn't it? The designation of being broken and unfixable. The looks I'm sure to get because the Colonel is clinically insane.
What I hate the most is that he's the first one setting the tag. "Is that your professional assessment, doc?" My tone is harsh and I feel myself trying to goad him into an argument I suddenly want to have. "Because, last I checked, you're a mess in the emotional department, Commander."
Harm shakes his head and keeps his tone light. "No, Colonel. It's not a professional opinion, it's my personal one." He sighs and pushes himself off the armchair and then drops onto the sofa next to me. Our shoulders touch and it feels like both a burden and a comfort. "I was treated for PTSD before they ever knew what it was."
"You? When?"
He's quiet for a long moment and I imagine the big event playing from the depths of his mind. Harm frowns and his voice is so low when he says, "After the ramp strike."
God, I'd forgotten about that piece of his history when the Navy's golden boy crashed an F-14 into an aircraft carrier. To be fair, Harm never spoke about the incident in depth and besides a casual mention and my own sleuthing into his personal file, there hadn't been much information.
"I remember the carrier seemed hazy, warped. I couldn't focus on the meatball and by the time the LSO ordered me to add power, it was too late. I was too damned low."
He tells me about the explosion, an ejection he barely remembers and then blacking out before his body hit the deck. Harm suffered physically, broken ribs, one broken leg and a slight fracture of his lower spine I now realize is the reason for the heating pad in his office.
It was the mental toll that eventually sent him to counseling; the grief of being responsible for his RIO's death. "I couldn't figure out how to walk again and maybe part of me didn't want to. I hated myself. I blamed myself and if it wasn't for the headshrinker I saw, I would have left the Navy and probably gotten into a boatload of trouble."
"You? I can't believe that."
"Believe it. The doc set me on the path which led to me rebuilding Sarah while I healed. I'm not sure what turn my life would have taken if I hadn't taken her advice."
That saddens me because I can't see him ever being anything but this - a good man with an exceptional career. He's an actual hero, a complete package that's sitting next to a woman who has completely lost herself. "Did it help?"
Harm grinned and given how we both feel about mental health specialists, I'm surprised to hear his answer, "Yeah. It did. I stopped blaming myself. Stopped caring what the squadron thought. It helped me find a new road to go down and if it hadn't been for JAG, I'd never have gotten my wings back."
His RIO's family had sued and it was a young Navy Lieutenant who cleared Harm of any wrongdoing. Mace's family tried to pin the crash on 'go pills' and illegal alcohol that was made by certain sailors while on the cruise, neither of which Harm ingested. His lawyer fought hard to find the truth and saved his career.
"Therapy isn't so bad, Mac. You sit there, talk a lot, listen. You know I hate shrinks but sometimes it actually helps."
The concept seems a little like confession and some of my sins are not ready to be forgiven. Besides, not everyone gets better. What if I'm that one person it does nothing for? "I'm scared."
"I was too."
"Will you take me to the appointments?"
For some reason my request makes his eyes glow the loveliest shade of aquamarine. He looks hopeful, like I've healed some part of him just because I asked for his help. "Do you really want me to?"
"I think I do… At first." Or maybe forever because I know I won't go on my own.
"Okay, I'll take you. I'll make sure you keep your appointments." And the determined look in his eye means he'd move Heaven and Earth to make it so. His eyes change color again, this time a darkening I hadn't seen of late. Harm's eyes focus on my lips that I instinctively lick. He follows the motion of my tongue and just when I think he'd kiss me, he doesn't.
Instead he turns away from me and stares at the empty boxes of food. "I ah… I should go. It's getting late."
I can't check the time because my internal clock still isn't working properly. It's odd to miss such a quirk but its absence is a little jarring. When I don't say anything, Harm stands and begins to gather the empty containers.
He's efficient in his clean up, mentions something about leftovers he's placed in my fridge before turning his attention to the uniforms. They're in his arms a second later and although he's speaking I can't hear the words coming from his mouth.
My racing heartbeat muffles his words and by the shallow breaths and the pain in my chest, I know I'm having some sort of panic attack.
He's leaving. He's leaving me but I don't want him to go. My limbs suddenly stop working and so do my lips who refuse to let even a gasp pass through them. Stop him, Mac! You need to stop him now!
Harm's already undoing the locks, opening the door. I don't remember him putting his jacket or shoes on but he's in the hall before I manage to break the spell that had me immobilized. "Wait!"
In a flash my heartbeat slows a bit. It still gallops but I'm able to hear more than just the thundering claps. I'm able to hear him, still slightly muffled but clearer than before. "What's wrong?"
I stand and meet him halfway finding a courage I didn't have moments ago. "Stay. Stay with me tonight."
Our relationship has always been plagued by misunderstandings and verbal flubs. Tonight is no different and by the expression on his face, my request may have been a proposition. His eyes cloud over, his jaw sets and before he has a chance to reject me, I allow myself to be vulnerable in front of him. "If you go, I'll wind up sitting here in the dark again, watching the monsters on the walls."
No one except my father knew about those particular monsters and while I might not hide beneath the covers anymore, I'm embarrassed that they still scare me.
"Shadows?"
"Yeah. Shadows."
Harm offers a lopsided smile. "I've seen them too, especially when you left with Webb and I couldn't sleep. Kept having nightmares that he'd fucked up so bad and gotten you killed. I had to go find you. I had to try." I realize then that this burden I've carried has been shared by us, all of us.
He steps back into my living room, dropping the uniforms on an armchair before closing the door and coming to me. "Damnit Mac, I'm still madder than hell with you. This makes me feel like I'm running a gauntlet."
"That's fair. My actions of late have been abhorrent…Maybe you should go? I'm a big girl and-" I don't expect him to touch me but he does. It's a gentle caress, his hand fluttering up the side of my arm until he cups my cheek.
"I can't stop wanting you." He says with a voice that is slightly shy of the bedroom variety. Harm shakes when he speaks and I imagine the vestiges of control wanting so badly to slide out of place. "You don't know how badly I want to carry you into that bedroom and spend the next few hours kissing away every single bruise that bastard left on your body."
He's staring at me with such intensity it's a little worrisome. "I want to be inside you again. I want to make love to you and erase everything bad that's happened between us."
God, I want that too and not the frantic way our bodies have come together since this started. I don't want to be used by him and I don't want to use him either. I don't want those awkward silent moments because neither of us can find the words to say. I want him to love me as I've loved him for years. And yes, I still love him. I love him more than I'll ever love anyone else and it scares the hell out of me.
I don't have the words to do this, to make him stay. I imagine flashes of our first tryst running through his mind as they're running through mine. That wasn't us but some warped version that never should have happened. "Harm-"
His hand drops from my cheek and I can feel the control slipping perfectly into place. "We can't. I can't. How we started was pretty fucked up and a zillion appologies won't make up for it."
"That's my fault, I goaded you… I was goading you the other night too."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to feel something…I felt you needed to...to punish me, I guess." I'd ruined his career, tarnished his good name all because I didn't stay behind when he warned me too. Paraguay was an excuse to run away from Washington and the man who I thought trusted me enough to help find the paternity of Singer's child.
I was hurt, deceived into believing we were so close that there were no secrets between us. I wanted to rattle Harm a little and show him how easily I could slip through his fingers. Well, I got so much more than I bargained for.
"I don't want to punish you and we can't keep on how things were."
Despite myself, I smile at his comment. Sex was actually the last night on my mind. "I don't want you to sleep with me…I just want you to stay."
He sighs again and I can tell his decision even before the words leave his mouth. "Okay, Mac. I'll stay."