the Light
Chapter 3
JAG Headquarters.
"Going somewhere, Sailor?" A familiar clear voice interrupted his almost headlong rush out of the Admiral's office, and Harm stopped abruptly, only now becoming aware of his surroundings and of the petite figure in marine uniform that stood in his path. Sarah.
For the first time today he felt the tension surrounding him lift a little at the sight of a bright, genuine smile on her lovely face. A
smile devoid of apprehension or hidden guilt. A smile directed solely at him.
She stood perfectly still, her head cocked slightly to the side; hands on her hips.
"A few more steps, Sailor, and you would have knocked me flat on my back," she noted with mocked indignation. "Care to tell me what's got you wound up so tight you can't even see where you're going?"
He managed a small smile, afraid to let her see just how much of a relief he felt upon seeing her at that moment. For a brief instant he
wondered how it were possible that a simple sight of somebody's smile can lighten some of the day's worst troubles, making them seem almost... insignificant. "No, not just somebody's," he mentally corrected himself. "Hers."
"Wanna join me for lunch?" he offered aloud.
Her brow arched slightly in response. "As long as you're buying, Flyboy."
Good old Mac. He faked a frown of annoyance. "Agreed."
***
Fifteen minutes later they were sitting outside a small French caf� in a beautiful sunlit courtyard, reveling in the soft caress of a gentle
afternoon breeze. The day seemed so carefree and perfect that Harm felt a tinge of anger at the smiling faces of the people around him; the lighthearted chatter of their simple conversations about everyday things; even at the sun itself that shone with the tenderness and warmth, so unlike the merciless smoldering heat of its desert counterpart. None of that calm, carefree atmosphere fit with the inner turmoil that threatened to tear him apart every second.
"Look, if you're not going to open your mouth to talk to me, at least you could open it long enough to finish your drink before it goes stale."
He looked up at these words to find his partner staring at him, her dark chocolate eyes betraying the concern she tried to conceal behind the light teasing in her voice.
"I'm sorry, Mac," he began, absently reaching for his glass.
"Don't be sorry, Harm," she interrupted, shaking her head. "Talk to me."
He sighed in resignation and was about to say something when a movement off to the side caught his eye. "I think our lunch is here," he mumbled instead, wincing at the look of disappointment that flashed in her eyes.
"Really nothing to tell, Mac," he continued, once their plates were set on the white cloth-covered table before them and their waiter had walked out of the earshot. "Bud is as awkward around me as a schoolboy on a first date. Harriet still can't bear to look me in the eye." He paused, collecting his thoughts; a small wrinkle creasing his brow. What he was going to talk about next had bothered him more than he cared to admit, and saying it out loud would make it so much more salient, more real. Putting on as impassive an expression as he could manage, Harm went on. "And finally the Attorney General wants me to testify against Ali Akhbar in court." His lips twisted into a bitter crooked smile, and he added, looking her straight in the eyes, "Just another day at the office."
"Akhbar? The man that was captured in Afghanistan?" she gasped, searching his eyes for any indication of how he felt.
The muscles in his jaw tightened. "You knew," he stated blankly. "You knew, and you also chose not to tell me."
"Knew what?" The concern in her voice was growing.
"That a man who spent the last three months using my body as a freaking voodoo doll is here in the States," he snapped and was about to add something else, but stopped abruptly when he felt her hand touch his.
The unexpectedness of the gesture made him jump at the contact, as if instead of the soothing warmth of her hand he had just touched a pile of red-hot coals. But he didn't pull away. Instead, glancing down at the small lightly tanned hand that covered his, Harm suddenly felt ashamed for his earlier outburst, berating himself for having raised his voice at her.
"And what would you have done if you knew about this while you were in the hospital?" Sarah asked quietly after a moment of silence. "Would it have made your recovery easier? Given you something to look forward to once you got out?"
He shook his head, avoiding her eyes. She was right - it wouldn't have made any difference. In all fairness, it could have made things worse for him. But, at least, he would have had more time to come to terms with the idea of testifying against that man. "And," another voice chimed in inside his head, "Sarah would have been there with you when you got the news and maybe, just maybe, you could have gotten through this." Truth be told, he had absolutely no reason to lash out at Mac. The only person he should be angry at is himself. At his own weakness and at his damned pride that prevented him from admitting to that weakness. It was that pride which forced him to decline Mac's offer to postpone leaving for her investigation and to stay with him after his release from the hospital. He told her then that he'd be fine on his own. FINE!
That same night he woke up screaming at the top of his lungs, drenched in cold sweat. The nightmare that had stopped plaguing his dream during his final days at the hospital came back with the vengeance and was so vivid that he couldn't force himself to go back to sleep. He lay awake for hours, staring at the white ceiling above his bed and seeing instead the dark moist ceiling of the cave. And the nightmare didn't stop the next night or the night after that, no matter how much he tried to convince himself the following morning that he'd been through the worst of it. It became so that he actually began to dread the coming of the night; to fear closing his eyes just to find himself lost again in the world of pure darkness. And after what he's learned today, Harm was really not looking forward to going home.
He felt her fingers squeeze his hand gently, breaking his train of thought.
"Harm?"
He lifted his head, resting his eyes upon the soft curves of her face, mesmerized by the warmth that radiated from the two large pools of chocolate brown that gazed at him; by the way the gentle breeze played softly with her hair. GOD, how he needed her!
He took a deep breath, tuning out the nagging voice in his head that kept insisting that he ask her ... no, BEG her to stay with him, and
forced what he hoped to be a smile of reassurance on his lips.
"You're right, Mac," he admitted, "it wouldn't have mattered." His voice came down to almost a whisper when he added, "I just need to make sure I get that bastard in court."
She watched him silently for a few minutes, her gaze hard and insistent, as if she were trying to see behind the fa�ade of indifference that he had put up.
"You will," she asserted finally, and Harm bit back a sigh of relief - she bought it. "Just don't shut me out, Squid. Okay?"
"Sure," he nodded; the same fake smile pasted on his face. Tonight was going to be tough.