Gratitude
Part Eight
You�re never going to learn, are you Sarah? she berated herself. This is the same thing that happened with Mic. Your relationship with Harm gets screwed up, some other man steps up and shows some interest, wants you to be his world and you go running. Hide yourself behind their attentions and let yourself get sucked in out of some warped sense of obligation and friendship and loneliness. Mic was right. You just can�t handle being alone. So you pick men who are completely wrong for you, who want to dominate you or control you or put you up on some stupid pedestal. And eventually you fail to live up to whatever image they have of you and leave. And you always end up alone anyway.
Her heart constricted at her next thought. You weren�t alone, though, were you? Harm was there, always there to pick up the pieces of your broken life. Even when it hurt him, when you hurt him, he came through for you in the end. But he won�t be there now, will he Sarah? You took care of that.
It�s not all my fault, a new voice protested. Harm has his own insecurities. His own demons. He�s done his part to screw up this relationship. I�ve been there for him, too. I tried to help him when he was hurting. I followed him to Russia; comforted him when he found out his father was dead. I held him when he cried on the Guadalcanal after Bud was hurt. Even when he�s done something to hurt me, leaving JAG, choosing Renee over me when Mic left, the comment before the Jagathon, keeping secret everything about Singer and Sergei, I�ve tried to understand. I�ve tried my best to be what he needed.
But your best isn�t good enough, Sarah, the first voice responded. You�ve never been good enough for him. That�s why you let him go, remember? Because he deserves someone better. Someone who won�t always fight him to be on top. Someone who won�t run away and hide. Someone who isn�t falling apart, hearing noises and seeing visions. Someone whose mind isn�t still trapped in a torture chamber in Paraguay. He deserves someone he can count on, someone stable, someone who isn�t you.
As if to prove the point of her instability, she could feel that familiar oppressive weight slam into her chest. It was always there, hiding in the back of her mind, reminding her that she wasn�t free, would never be free. It caused her breath to quicken and her chest to constrict. She tried to push her way past it. She left her head on the steering wheel; refusing to give into the desperate need to scan her surroundings, locate the monsters hiding in wait. The monsters that all wore the face of Saddiq Faad. There wouldn�t be anything there, there never was. And she would just feel foolish that she had let the paranoia get the best of her again. Not this time. She wouldn�t look. She wouldn�t.
But the pounding in her head got louder and her chest got tighter and it was getting so hard to breathe. Finally giving in, she tore her head away from the steering wheel and bolted from the car. She spun around, her eyes frantically scanning her surroundings for anything suspicious. There was no one in the alley that served as a parking lot for Harm�s building. Moving her gaze to the street, she could see half a dozen people walking by in one direction or the other. A young couple walking hand in hand stopped momentarily and looked over at her, as did an older gentleman passing them, before all three turned and went on their way. She made another sweep of the area and, finding nothing, dropped heavily back onto the seat of her �vette. She took deep, calming breaths until she could get herself back under control.
That�s it. This was a really stupid idea. You�re going home, Marine, before Harm sees you like this and calls to reserve you a nice padded cell. Once you�ve gotten over your latest attack of paranoia, you�ll call him and wish him luck over the phone. Better for both of you that way. Just as she had decided on a course of action, the shrill ring of her cell phone set her heart racing again. Grabbing it out of her purse, she checked the caller i.d. but the number was unfamiliar. Still feeling shaky, she pushed her emotions down and managed to answer calmly. �Mackenzie.�
�Are you going to come up, or were you planning to spend the night down there in your car?� came a blessedly familiar voice on the other end. Harm. She sighed inwardly. Thank God. Looking up to his apartment, she could see him staring at her from the window. All thought of leaving was washed away in the sheer relief of hearing his voice. But why hadn�t his phone registered? Both his home and his cell were programmed in her memory. She asked him in confusion, �Harm, where are you calling from?�
His response was teasing, but his tone was flat when he responded, �My apartment.�
'Bastard,' she thought idly, 'you know what I mean, Harm.' She repeated the thought aloud. �New cell phone,� he replied, then repeated his question, �So are you coming up? If you�re not, you should probably go home. Marine or not, that�s not exactly a safe place to hang out.�
She wished she could discern from his voice whether or not he wanted her to come up. It would make things a hell of a lot easier. But his voice was carefully neutral, no indication either way. She sighed. It didn�t really matter, nothing could make this easier. Her voice was barely more than a whisper, �I�ll be right up.�
Harm�s Apartment
She looks tired, he thought. A small stab of concern entered his mind. He had been watching her the whole time. He had heard a car pull up and looked idly out the window. He was not really surprised to see Mac. He had known somehow that she would come. She always did. When she didn�t immediately exit the car, he knew she was unsure of whether or not to come up. He didn�t blame her, he wasn�t sure if he wanted her to. Using her indecision to his advantage, he observed her from the window and tried to sort out his conflicting feelings. He was angry, the pain she had inflicted on him in Paraguay still fresh. He was hurt, why had it taken her so long to come to him? He was jealous, he knew why she hadn�t come; she was too busy playing devoted nurse to Clayton Webb. He was guilty, why should she come to see him when he had thrown his bitterness in her face at every opportunity.
None of these emotions surprised him; he had been shifting between them from the moment they had stepped into that stupid cab. As he watched her drop her head to the steering wheel another emotion slammed into him, searing his heart with its intensity. Longing, fierce and overwhelming, washed over him in waves. It consumed him, wrapping his heart in blinding heat and encasing his heart in a numbing cold. He missed her. He hadn�t let himself think about it, hadn�t let the ache for her settle into his soul, for fear of letting it take root. But now that he could see her, hair falling to cover her face and hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, he couldn�t deny it any longer. He missed her, more than he had ever missed anyone in his life. More than he had ever missed Diane, more even than he had missed his father all those lonely childhood years. It hurt to look at her, but he had to look because it hurt more to turn away. God, it hurt to breathe.
He was so wrapped up in his pain that he didn�t notice when she suddenly stiffened in her seat. He didn�t register anything was wrong until he saw her bolt from the car, spinning around slowly. He couldn�t see her expression from the window, but from the way she was moving, it was almost as though she was anticipating an attack. Looking from his higher vantage point, he scanned the area, but he didn�t see anything besides the usual pedestrian traffic. Still, he was about to grab his gun and go check it out just in case when she suddenly dropped back in the car. Even from where he was, he could see her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. He watched as she calmed herself, and then he saw her start to slide herself back into the car. Whatever had spooked her had been bad enough to scare her away from him. Panicked, he reacted without conscious thought. His cell phone was out and dialing hers before he recognized what he was doing. He stared at her as she grabbed it from her purse and stared at the screen. Realizing that she wouldn�t recognize the number when she saw it, he was about to hang up and move to his home phone when she answered.
She sounded so calm on the surface; very few people would�ve heard the slight tremor, the barest hint of apprehension. But Harm had been reading her for years. He could tell she was still on edge; he just needed to talk to her and find out why. With that in mind, he asked her if she was going to come up. Damn, did that come out as sarcastic as it sounded? He hadn�t meant for it to come out like that, but in the grand tradition of their relationship, what he meant to say bore very little resemblance to what he ended up saying. Fortunately, she didn�t seem to notice. She sounded confused when she asked him where he was calling from. �My apartment.� DAMN! What the hell was the matter with him? He knew what she meant. Are you trying to pick a fight with her before she even makes it out of her car? Jeez, Rabb, if you really want to see her, maybe you should try to act like it. That was the problem; he still wasn�t completely convinced that he did want to see her.
�You know what I mean, Harm,� he could practically hear her eyes rolling. O.K., Rabb, keep it short and simple.
�New cell phone.� Simple, but probably just a bit too short. He pushed ahead, repeating his original question. He wanted to sound more inviting, he really did. But if he did, and she still didn�t come up... Nope. She has to want to be here. I�m not going to make this easier for her. He heard her soft sigh and immediately started to close himself off. I don�t care. It doesn�t matter. She doesn�t... Did she just say she was coming up? Oh, God she did. Am I really ready for this?
Harm hung up his brand new, Agency issued cell phone and tossed it onto his desk. Turning back to the window, he watched Mac pull herself out of her car and head to the building. He waited until she was inside, and then slowly moved towards the door. He reached out to open it just as she had raised her hand to knock. Her arm dropped slowly to her side. They stood on opposite sides of the doorway, staring into eyes they had not seen in almost two weeks. Neither moved, neither spoke as they waited for something to break the stalemate between them.
A car backfired on the street below. Mac nearly jumped out of her skin and Harm almost yanked the door off the hinges. They broke eye contact as they both tried to regain their balance. Harm recovered first. Stepping to the side, he gestured wordlessly for her to enter. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders like she was preparing for battle, and stepped inside. A few feet in, she turned and looked back at him. Trying to brace himself for whatever was ahead, he closed the door and turned until he was standing face to face with Sarah Mackenzie.
�How are you doing?� She wasn�t sure if she was relieved or disappointed in which stupid remark came out. She was relieved, she guessed, telling him she loved him would be a bad way to start off at this point in their relationship. Although she definitely would have won the �Can�t you just be honest with me?� portion of the program once and for all. And rendering Harmon Rabb speechless was always a fun time. Oh well, too late now.
�I�m fine.� Well, that was a stupid response. Of course, it was a pretty stupid question. She must be nervous. Mac didn�t ask stupid questions unless she was nervous. He was definitely nervous. That was the only time he gave such stupid answers. That or standing on a ferry under a bridge in Sydney, Australia. He still kicked himself over that one. Destructive consequences to their relationship aside, he had passed up a chance to see Sarah Mackenzie�s naked breasts. Yep, ferries definitely made him stupid.
O.K., genius, now it�s your turn. Try to come up with something a little better than she did, huh?
�Why are you here, Mac?� It was now official, he was in hell.
Well, so much for the small talk portion of the program, Mac thought idly as she tried to come up with the perfect way to phrase her response. To hell with it. If he could be blunt, so could she. �Sturgis told me about your new job. Are you sure this is what you want?�
�No, but I�m pretty sure it�s the only thing I can have.� Harm decided that brutal honesty was the only way to go at this point. After all, their relationship was pretty much trashed already. It couldn�t really get any worse. A cynical little voice in the back of his head replied, 'It can always get worse.'
He was pretty sure that little voice was about to be proved right. Mac had drawn back defensively as she shot back, �And I suppose that�s my fault? Of course it is. Everything else is. Why not add this to the list?� She drew a deep breath, intending on blasting him further for his sarcasm and his accusations, when she suddenly stopped. Letting the breath out, she thought to herself, 'Why am I doing this? This isn�t why I came. This isn�t what I want. And it can�t be what he wants either.'
�It�s not.� Harm knew she didn�t mean to say that aloud. She was famous for blurting things out only to realize afterwards that she had actually said it for someone else to hear. It was one of her most endearing traits; mostly because it was one of the few times he understood what she was thinking. And it gave him a small bit of hope to know that she didn�t want to fight anymore, either. His face softened as he watched Mac try to fight the blush creeping up her face.
�I really have to stop doing that,� she sighed to herself. But at least it got Harm to admit that he wasn't happy with the way things were going, either. She looked down at the floor as she said quietly, �I mean it, Harm. I didn�t come to start a fight. That�s not why I�m here.�
Slowly, half-afraid that she would vanish if he touched her, he reached out a hand and slid it under her chin. For a moment they both simply stood there, reveling in the sensations produced by the simple physical contact. Raising her face until they were once again eye-to-eye, he gently asked again, �Why are you here, Mac?�
Oh, how she�d missed this. All of this, his gentle hand now caressing her cheek, the softly spoken words, his earnest attempt to see past the pain she�d caused him and find his friend. Her eyes filled and her throat grew tight with unshed tears. She forced herself to turn away from his touch, trying to find her voice. Regaining some of her balance, she turned back to him. Unable to quite look him in the eye, she choked out, �I came because Sturgis said you got a job flying for the C.I.A. and I wanted to make sure you were okay with that. I came because I feel guilty that I�m the reason you have to take this job. I came because I promised myself that I would never let you fly again without wishing you good luck. I came because I told myself we needed to say goodbye once and for all.� At this the tears spilled out. She tried to speak through them, �Most of all, I came because...� she trailed off, unable to continue until he once again lifted her face to his.
Harm�s own eyes were full, and an unbearable pain filled her as she watched a lone tear trail down his face. Reaching out, she brushed it from his cheek. She let her hand linger there, feeling absurdly happy when he turned and rubbed his face against it. �Because why, Mac?� he whispered.
�Because I miss you. God, Harm I miss you so much.�
At her heartfelt confession, he reached out and yanked her into his arms. Clinging to her in desperation, he buried his face in her hair. He repeated it back to her like it was his mantra, �I miss you, too. I miss you, too.� Again and again, rocking her back and forth, he cradled her in his embrace. Even as he stood there wrapped in her arms and her scent, praying that this longing would be enough, he knew his prayer would go unanswered. Too much had happened, too much pain inflicted on both sides for them to just shrug it off with a hug and a few honest words. There were so many more words to be afraid of, so many questions and hurts and unsolvable riddles. So he did what he did best, he ignored them. Like a child, he told himself that if he closed his eyes and held on tight, it would all just go away. So he did, squeezing his eyes tightly closed as he held a sobbing Mac in his arms.
It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurts.
Those two words were running together in her mind as she clung to Harm. Her hands clutched the back of his simple black t-shirt and her face burrowed into his chest as she tried to lose her fear in the strength of Harm�s embrace. But his arms just weren�t strong enough. They were weakened by his own fears, his own pain and despair. And even as she took comfort in him, she knew she wouldn�t stay. She would pull away from him, taking her pain with her before it added to his own. Before he collapsed under the combined weight. For too many years, she had depended on him to be her rock. She had relied on it. She told herself that it was all right to do so because she let herself be his rock in return. Equals in strength as well as pain. But they weren�t anywhere close to equal, not anymore. With or without Harm, she was collapsing under the strain of her life. And he couldn�t take the weight for both of them. She had to pull back, take her pain and lock it away from him. If he saw it, he would grab hold and never let go. No matter the cost, he would try to shoulder the burden for both of them. And he would fail, and she would have to suffer with the knowledge that she had destroyed them both. She wouldn�t let that happen.
Dragging herself off of him, she resisted his efforts to pull her back until he finally gave up and released her. Yes, Harm. Let go. Let me go. Please, just let me go. She quickly moved to the nearest kitchen stool, pulling herself onto it before her legs gave out. Dropping her head to the counter, she let its coolness envelop her. If she could just get it to wrap around her heart, she could find the courage to do what needed to be done.
Harm stood in the same spot, his back to her and his eyes focused on some random spot on the wall. He couldn�t do this; he just couldn�t do it anymore. How many more times could they do this? How many more wounds could this non-relationship of theirs cause before they both bled out? He was ready to concede to her, tell her that she was right and for the sake of their sanity, there could be no �us�. If they wanted to have any hope of salvaging their friendship, they had to let that particular dream die. He turned to tell her so when his eyes glanced at a picture on his bookshelf. Locking his gaze on it, he moved closer. Mac, standing with baby A.J. in her arms, gazing at her newborn godson with a look of pure love and adoration. And his arm wrapped around her shoulders, his eyes focused then, as now, on the beautiful picture before him. This was his dream, and he couldn�t walk away from it. Not yet, not when there was still a chance. Not when she had clung to him so tightly and brushed away his tears. Not when he knew that deep in his heart, this dream of his was her dream as well.
What if she has your looks and my brains?
Don�t make a promise you can�t keep.
I haven�t yet.
The words echoed in his head. He hadn�t broken that promise. He wouldn�t break it, not when he still had time left to change her mind. Resolve filled him and he spun around to face her, intent on convincing her not to give up on the idea of an �us� just yet.
Mac had lifted her head as Harm was gazing at the picture. She could see it as well. The day of A.J.�s christening, when she still believed that he would change his mind and stay with JAG, with her. The day when she could look at that beautiful baby and see her future and that future centered on Harm. But that was years ago, and that future had been replaced by one where every day was a struggle to get up, a struggle to get free. She had to let go of the future and focus on surviving the present. Even as she reaffirmed this in her mind, Harm turned to face her with that familiar look of steely determination.
No. Oh please, Harm, no. Don�t do this. It won�t work. It can�t. Please don�t do this. Don�t you see? Some dreams have to die. There�s no choice. Please, Harm, let it go. Please just let it go. Even as the thoughts raced through her mind, she knew it was useless. When had Harmon Rabb ever been able to let go?
Harm watched the fear fill her eyes. She started to shake her head no, and her mouth opened to give verbal confirmation. He couldn�t let that happen. He pleaded softly, �Please. Sarah, please.�
The words died on her lips. Sarah, please. Sarah. Her name, the name he only used when he was trying to convey some message that he couldn�t find words for. On his lips, her name had always seemed to be a caress, a plea. A prayer. It was all those now. All those words he didn�t know how to say wrapped up in those three syllables. Sarah, please. But it was too late for caresses and pleas. It was too late for prayers. It was just too late.
�It�s too late.� The words were a knife in his gut, the look of helpless despair in her eyes a sharp twist. He didn�t understand. He couldn�t understand. Why was she so certain this time? How was this time any different than all the others when it had seemed to be too late until they had decided they wouldn�t let it be? What was different? A sudden thought started his stomach churning. Swallowing hard, he forced the words past the rising bile in his throat. �Is it Webb? Is that why it�s too late?�
The wounded little boy look in his eyes tore at her. It would be easy to confirm his fears. Make him believe that she had moved on with Clay. Give him the chance to cut her out of his heart and move on with someone else. But she had promised she wouldn�t lie to him. She would conceal truths she didn�t want him to know, but she wouldn�t stand here and lie to his face. Shaking her head, she said with absolute conviction, �Clay�s gone. I don�t know where. I don�t particularly care at this point. I�d say it�s over, but it never started. And that�s for the best. I wasn�t what he needed. And he wasn�t what I wanted.�
His heart lightened a little at that. He believed her. If she said Webb wasn�t what she wanted, then it was the truth. If there was one thing that fiasco with Brumby taught him, it was not to let his jealousy run away with him until what he feared would come to pass finally did. But now he was more confused than ever. �If it�s not Webb, than what is it, Mac? What has you so convinced that it�s too late?�
Tell him! her mind screamed. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to so badly. She wanted to explain everything. Tell him how she had dreamed of him coming down to Paraguay to rescue her, like some fairytale prince. Explain to him that the dream is what kept the monsters at bay, kept her strong and able to survive, knowing he would come and banish her demons. Tell him how her heart had filled with love the moment he burst through that door and stopped the terrorists from their torture. How she had waited breathlessly, unable to question or to thank him as he reached her side and undid her restraints. Reveal to him that at the moment of his touch, when all the demons were supposed to vanish, that the oppressive weight that had been hovering in the back of her mind since her capture had slammed into her chest with the force of a missile. Tell him that instead of making everything better, his presence had somehow made everything worse.
No. He doesn�t deserve that. It�s not his fault. He can�t help your irrational reaction to what you experienced. You can�t blame him for that, no matter how many times you convinced yourself in Paraguay that you could. You can�t blame him, but he can blame himself. And he will. You know he will. You can�t let that happen. You can�t let him do that. You can�t hurt him like that. You can�t let it all be useless. Worthless. You just can�t.
�It�s just too late. That�s all, Harm. It just is.� She turned away from the disbelief in his eyes before adding, �I�m sorry, Harm. I�m so sorry.� Sliding off the stool, she picked keys up off the floor where she had dropped them. Taking a chance, she reached out and grabbed his forearm. �I have to go. You need to rest if you�re going to fly tomorrow.�
Harm grabbed her wrist and held tight. �What aren�t you saying, Mac? Why are you running? What are you hiding, Sarah? What are you hiding from?� Something was missing here, and Harm would be damned if he would give up before finding out what it was.
Mac didn�t answer. She couldn�t. She simply smiled sadly as she raised herself up. Pressing her lips to his cheek, she whispered, �Be safe, Harm. Good luck.� �It�s too late,� her eyes said again.
�Like hell. Like hell it is.� He stared at her, eyes hard with determination. �This isn�t over, Sarah. When I get back, I�m coming to see you. And then I�m going to get the real answers to my questions. I don�t care if I have to tie you to a chair; I�m not letting you go until I know what the hell is going on. That�s a promise, Marine. And I don�t make promises I can�t keep.�
Mac flinched at his words. She believed him. He would come back here and he would demand answers. But she wouldn�t give them. Her own spine stiffened with resolve. She had made her decision and she wasn�t going to back down. He could tie her to a chair for the next fifty years if he wanted. She met his determined gaze with one of her own. �Take care of yourself. Goodbye, Harm.�
He didn�t stop her as she walked out the door, closing it softly behind him. He knew it, even if she didn�t. It wasn�t goodbye, not this time. �Run while you can, Mac. I�m still going to catch you.�
North of Union Station
1935 EST
Mac had been sitting in her car for the past twenty-two minutes. Her resolve had faded on the seemingly endless drive to Harm�s apartment. She hadn�t seen him since the day he�d walked out of Clay�s hospital room. She�d realized almost immediately that he�d left, and started to get up to go after him when Clay had asked for her help getting a glass of water. Feeling guilty for disregarding Clay in favor of Harm, she had decided that Harm would have to wait. Looking back on the incident after Clay�s letter, she recognized the truth in what Sturgis had been saying. Webb might not have been faking injury, but he certainly wasn�t above using it, and her guilt over it, to his advantage. When she had calmed down and looked at it objectively, she could see any number of times when he had manipulated her feelings and her vulnerability. Usually right about the time Harm would make his way into her thoughts. Remembering it all again, she groaned and dropped her head to the steering wheel.
1948 EST
The silence was suffocating. Now that they were here, standing in front of each other for the first time in what seemed a lifetime, neither one had the first clue how to begin. Harm was afraid, afraid that he wouldn�t be able to speak without sounding sarcastic, accusatory, or bitter. Mac was too terrified to even open her mouth. She knew she would either open her mouth and say something inane, like �How are you doing?� or open her mouth and say something completely stupid, like �I love you, Harm.�