Chapter 20 - Landslide

"Are you alright?"

"I would be if you stop asking me that." Harm's asked the same question five times and it's apparent that he hasn't been satisfied with any of my answers.

"Then give me an answer that works."

I can't help the anger that runs through my veins like a steam roller. Nor can I stop my petulant reaction that has me grabbing my plate, standing up from the table and tossing the contents of what smells like a delicious pasta dinner, into his garbage can. "Take me home."

"You threw away your food?" He's eyeing me like I'm some sort of maniac.

"I'm not hungry." I stand with my arms folded across my chest daring Harm to challenge me.

"Maybe you need a new therapist?"

That's it? That's all he can come up with? The man who used to fight me on every single point I've tried to make is…is.. well, I don't know what he is nor do I know why I'm so angry.

"Maybe you need to mind your own fucking business, Rabb." I pass by him quickly and hurry up the steps where my overnight bag sits on the end of his bed. Of course he follows. Of course he tries to calm the manic behavior and when his hands touch my shoulders, I nearly break. Nearly - because I don't want to be weak anymore.

It's been six days since I was released from the hospital and four of those have been spent getting my head shrunk. I'd like to say it's helping, that I've come to some cosmic conclusion as to why I am how I am. But, all Dr. McCool has done is open Old Wounds into gaping holes.

I don't feel better about a damned thing. In fact, I realize just how horrible of a person I've been although I've tried so damned hard not to be. It's likely the MacKenzie curse, a designation my grandmother assigned when I was a young girl. Cursed to hurt others. Cursed to live a life full of ghosts and flaws. Cursed to be alone. The weight is so damned heavy that I want to cry except my pride won't let me shatter in front of Harm.

"Mac, you've been different… You've not been you. Talk to me."

I want to but, instead I shrug his hands off and grab the bag. "I don't need you. I'll just take a cab."

Pushing past him was like trying to pass through a brick wall - impossible. He stood his ground, blocked my path and pulled me into his arms. I only break when he tells me that he loves me. I can't hold back the tears I've been so tired of crying.

It's never been easy for me to cry in front of someone and sobbing in front of my therapist made me feel so insignificant. She says it's a natural way to relieve the stress I've carried forever and that more is to be expected but, that's not the kind of breakthrough I thought I'd have.

"I love you, Mac. But, it's exhausting tiptoeing over eggshells around you. I'm not your enemy."

"I know…"

"But?"

"This isn't what I expected. I'm not getting better." And I know why that is. "Don't tell me I need a new therapist, she isn't the problem. It's me."

I'm an intelligent woman that knows McCool's qualifications far exceed all other therapists in Bethesda but her junior rank forces me to hesitate. Me, the one who has always championed women in the military. Me, the officer who has never bilitted anyone based on rank has become a hypocrite of the worst kind. Harm's right, I am different and I really don't want to be.

McCool immediately saw past my bullshit, threaded to scuttle my career and then gave me "homework" I dare say I'm too scared to complete. "I don't treat her well because she's a lower rank. It's not right but when she hits a nerve, I can't help it. What's wrong with me? Or am I just a bad person?"

"No, you're not. But, and I'm gonna be blunt here." Harm lets me go and leans against his dresser. "Stop throwing a pity party for yourself."

"I'm…what?"

"You've worked hard all your life. You've busted your ass and things were never just given to you. You've never been the kind to mope. Don't start now. Look, I've been at my own rock bottom and had to crawl out. You've been through worse and if you need help-"

"I don't want to lean on you. That'll get old eventually…You'll…I'm afraid you'll tire of me."

"Yeah, I sometimes feel the same…That barb Chegwidden laid on me about having a Peter Pan complex, I doubt it'll just go away. Women I've dated have gotten tired of it."

I drop onto the bed like I'm falling into a pool. The mattress jostled and complained from the sudden movement but as I lay on my back I felt a weight shift beside me. When I turn my head those dazzling blue eyes stare intently at me. "You're my homework."

"What?"

I sigh as his fingers trace my lips. "Homework. That's what McCool calls these assignments I'm given. You come up a lot in our sessions. Too much maybe. Kinda scared you're my crutch."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I want to stand on my own, be your equal. Your partner." And maybe his everything but, that's homework for another time. I sit up, rifle through my bag and pull out two small spiral notebooks. His is blue, mine is red and while Harm's pages are completely empty, mine are full of random statements, thoughts and even lyrics. "There's no deadline but, read through this and write down how you feel. The test is that I can't read what you wrote, simply hand it to Commander McCool once ready."

Harm stares at both notebooks. "What should I write?"

"Whatever comes to mind but only after you read what I wrote. It's not a lot, maybe ten pages."

He thumbs through the pages, traces his fingers over one of the sentences, a favorite lyric that caught his eye. "Well, I've been afraid of changing cause I've built my life around you. But time makes you bolder even children get older and I'm getting older, too."

"Landslide by Fleetwood Mac, beautiful song. Sad."

I nod slowly, "Always loved that song. My father used to play it over and over when I was a kid. The lyrics never made sense until it played on the radio when I was on a trip to Red Rock Mesa with Uncle Matt…I was done with my first tour and about to start OCS, the words made sense then."

Harm takes both notebooks and places them on his nightstand next to a copy of 'Murder on the Orient Express' that he's been re-reading. "I'll start tonight." He promises and then motions towards the dining room. "How about we finish dinner? I'll take you home a little later if you still want that."

"I don't."

"Good because I like it when you're here." Yeah, I like it too and when he helps me stand, the very next second I'm in his arms. He's strong and warm and loving. 'I can have this,' I tell myself. 'I can have him because he loves me enough to stay.'

And that's when I realize why therapy hasn't begun to click. I have to be okay with needing help. I have to accept that I'm no longer alone. "Men seem to always pass through my life, except for you…Will you always be there?"

"Yes."