| Subject: Fortress, Part 2 |
Author:
lauraloo
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 13:25:29 07/31/02 Wed
In reply to:
lauraloo
's message, "Fortress, Part 1" on 13:21:02 07/31/02 Wed
1700 Local
Jag HQ
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Petty Officer Jason Tiner said, rapping lightly on the open office door.
“Yes, Tiner, come in” Mac replied, looking up from the stack of files on her desk.
“Ma’am, while you were meeting with your client, a Doctor Williams phoned. He said he was from the crime lab.” He placed the message slip on her desk.
Mac’s eyebrows shot up as she snatched the paper from the edge of her desk. “Tiner, why didn’t you interrupt me? Dammit. The lab just closed minutes ago.”
“I’m sorry, Colonel. I was under the impression that you didn’t want to be disturbed and…”
“Well, you assumed wrong. Dr. Williams has vital DNA test result information, pertinent to the appeal I’m filing. And not just for any client. It’s for the client who I just happened to have been meeting with five minutes ago! Dammit. I need those test results. Yesterday!” Her voice had risen with each word, peaking at a tone hovering precariously around a full-blown scream.
Still at attention, Tiner jumped slightly, quite surprised by the harshness of the Colonel’s response. It almost made the Admiral’s frequent abrasive remarks seem remarkably tame in comparison. “Again, Colonel, I apologize. It won’t happen again.”
Mac sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. Her face fell in defeat, the fire within her slowly dying out. What had she done? “Wait, Tiner, I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
“It’s okay, ma’am. You don’t have to apologize.”
Mac shook her head, finally in control. She spoke softly, gently. “Yes, I do. Look, I know that everyone in this office has been pulling double duty lately, with Lieutenant Roberts out and Lieutenant Sims still on extended leave. Things are just, well a little strained right now. But that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that. You couldn’t have known about the call.”
“Apology accepted, ma’am.”
“Dismissed, Tiner.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
Mac reached for her purse and briefcase. As she secured her office and disappeared down the hall, she didn’t notice Harm, standing in the corner near the copy machine.
He’d heard it all. He’d been practically trampled by the angry tidal wave of tension, of anxiety that had rushed from her office. From her. But it hadn’t just been today. This hadn’t been a solitary incident. She’d been irritable and on edge, snapping at the support staff, veiling herself from everyone, from him, for weeks now. But this was the last straw. He’d tried keeping his distance. Hell, he’d tried everything he could think of, short of direct confrontation. But now it was time. Time for answers.
He went to his office, gathering his briefcase and cover before rushing towards the elevator.
1745 Local
Mackenzie Residence
Sarah Mackenzie was not home ten minutes before she heard the knocking at her door. “Harm,” she muttered at the man standing in her doorway. She moved aside, allowing him to enter. “Jeez, did you follow me home or something? I haven’t even had a chance to change.”
“Something like that.”
“What’s going on?”
“Mac, why don’t you tell me?”
Mac crossed her arms at her chest. “Tell you what, Harm?”
He moved directly in front of her, staring her straight in the eyes. His voice was solid, unwavering “Mac, don‘t even start. Don’t even try to play games with me. You know full well what I’m referring to. It’s your whole attitude. You’ve been cold and distant, snapping at everyone around you. You’ve been avoiding me like the plague.” He noted the blackness clouding her face. He softened his tone, forming his words into an anguished plea. “Please, Mac. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. Let me in.”
She turned towards the window, knowing she had to say something. Her mind ran through countless phrases, endless combinations of words; anything that could satisfy this man. “I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard since Bud’s accident.”
He nodded in understanding. “Go on.”
Her heart wanted so badly to let go, to flood the room with her feelings. For a fleeting second, she indulged herself in the possibility of just running into his arms, telling him everything; the words of fear, the nightmares, the...God…she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. Not yet. But again, she had to say something. “I’m just trying to process everything and I don’t know where to start.”
Harm sighed deeply. She wasn’t offering much. He knew she was still holding back. He just didn’t know why. “Mac, all of us have been trying to deal with Bud in our own way. What happened was beyond terrible. But we can’t let it overcome us. We have to support Bud and Harriet and then we have to move on the best we can. Maybe even look for the good in the situation.”
She spun around rapidly, spitting out her words. “What the hell do you mean, ‘the good?’ Harm, he got his leg blown off by a goddamn land mine! He was there to witness the groundbreaking of a school and he got caught in minefield, inches from the road, just like…”
“Just like what, Mac?” He moved closer to her, waiting for her to finish. But she just stood there. Silent. Motionless. “You mean, just like us?”
His voice had been just above a whisper, but she exploded once again. “Yes, Harm! Yes. Just like us. Only we escaped, didn’t we? We got out with nothing more than a couple of scratches.” She began to pace the floor. “And do you remember exactly how we got out Harm? It was something I’d seen in a movie. Some entertainment-induced, Hollywood-generated escape ploy!”
“So, this is all about guilt?
“Yes, I feel guilty. Damn guilty. But that’s not all, it’s just that…” Her lips closed abruptly. She realized that her mouth had been running about ten paces ahead of her mind, trying desperately to break free of the hold her heart had placed on it.
Instead of pushing, Harm decided to try a different approach. “Mac, just like you, I feel guilty that Bud was the one who got hurt. But that’s something I had no control over. What makes me feel even more guilty is what this whole thing has shown me - all the time I’ve wasted. All the time we’ve wasted. Something I’ve had plenty of control over.”
At these words, at his emotion-drenched stare, Mac was rendered speechless. She knew all too well what he was talking about. God, he was saying it. He wasn’t running. He was actually saying the words; words she’d waited for years to hear. But this time, it was her that didn’t have the words in return. It was her that would be forced to run.
“Mac, when Bud came home, he came home to a loving wife, a family. What did we come home to? Don’t you think we’ve wasted too much time?”
“Harm…please. I can’t do this. Not right now. Just give me a little time.”
He averted his gaze, shaking his head in frustration. “Time? Mac, it’s been six years. Don’t you think that’s more than enough time?”
Tears threatening, she pleaded with him. “Please. I’m not…saying no. There’s just something I need to work through first. I know you want to help, but this is something I need to do on my own. I’m sorry. I’m just not capable of making you understand right now.”
There was nothing more he could do. She was asking him to wait, and though it killed him, he would wait. Unlike what had happened in Australia, there was no other woman. No one else to run to. There was only her. Without further words, he simply took her hands, squeezing them gently before walking out the door.
The feeling had returned. The frightening, powerless feeling of being outside her body. The hardened crust of herself stood with fortitude in the very center of her living room. She was all Marine determination, repeating the mantra over and over again.
This is the only way. You did the right thing.
But the inner core of her, the weightless, delicate bird of her, floated in elevation, flowing tears of protest. She wanted, so badly, to go after this man; this man, that after so long, had finally gone after her.
1400 Local
JAG HQ
Rear Admiral A.J. Chegwidden was not psychic. He didn’t possess any form of ESP or clairvoyant tendencies. But the wisdom of his years, of his experience, had provided him with a finely honed sense of observation. Simply stated, he knew when something was up. And today, as his two senior officers sat at attention before him, something was definitely up.
The room was completely off center. The sense of balance, disrupted somehow. It was his intention to run his office as a smooth, finely tuned machine. He moved his head slowly from side to side, wondering which one had done it this time. Which had set the other off line, throwing a kink in that machine today? Based on recent events, he had a hunch. But with these two, sometimes one would never know. It was just damn exhausting. And instead of donning his often-worn hat of staff psychologist, he decided instead to focus on the business at hand. “I’ve just been made aware of an alleged incident at North Island. I don’t have any details as of yet, except that Lieutenant Andrea Taylor has made a claim of sexual harassment against her CO,” he paused, perusing the file in front of him, “Captain Robert Gerrity. Formal charges haven’t yet been filed and I’m ordering an investigation as to whether or not they should be…”
“I’ll go, sir. I’ll do it.”
The eyes of both men fell immediately on Mac. If she’d spoken less than a millisecond before she had, she would’ve interrupted the Admiral.
“Colonel, I’m sensing a great deal of eagerness on your part. Any particular reason why?”
Harm pursed his lips tightly, tilting his head in snide anticipation of her answer. Although he was 99% sure of the real reason, he wanted to see what she’d come up with.
For a brief second, Mac fumbled inwardly for words, but her reply was quickly crafted and smoothly delivered. “Well, sir, I’ve had to delay my appeal on the Baxter case, and the weather in San Diego is lovely this time of year.”
“That it is, Colonel. All right, then. Your flight from Andrews leaves at 1900. Dismissed.”
Minutes later, Mac felt his presence behind her as she packed her briefcase. She spun around to find him standing just inside her doorway. “Harm. Don’t say anything.”
He moved closer. “About what?” He challenged sharply.
She sighed heavily. “About why I’m taking the investigation at North Island.”
“Hey, you wanna leave, that’s your business.”
She paused, letting out an impatient sigh. “Then what is it?”
Harm threw up his arms in frustration, spewing the comment into her face as he turned and left. “I just wanted to wish you a safe trip.”
Two Days Later
1100 Local
North Island Naval Air Station
Coronado, CA
“Colonel,” Admiral Chegwidden said into the phone. “I trust you have an update for me about Captain Gerrity.”
“Yes, sir. Gerrity checks out, sir. I’ve interviewed numerous officers under his command and they have nothing but praise for his leadership and professionalism.”
“And what about Lt. Taylor?”
“Before I even met with her, I checked out her service record. It’s overflowing with black marks, sir. It also turns out that she’s been passed over for promotion twice now.”
“You think it’s all a fabrication?”
“At first sir, but now I’m sure of it. Captain Gerrity likes to entertain; monthly barbeques, pool parties for his staff. The others say it’s helped with office moral, created a more relaxed and friendly atmosphere.”
The Admiral snorted. “Let me guess, Taylor decided to play off of Gerrity’s friendliness and generosity, fabricating the claim as retribution for denial of promotion.”
“Correct, sir. Her statement had enough holes to rival a slice of Swiss cheese. I’m recommending that no formal charges be filed.”
“Very well, then. So, Colonel, how’s the weather there?”
“Seventy five degrees, not a trace of humidity, sir.”
The Admiral scrunched up his face in envy. “Good, because you’re staying a few more days.”
Mac tilted her head. “Sir, is there another matter here that requires my attention?”
“Not the attention of your professional skills, Colonel.” His voice shifted into the steady, almost paternal tone he took with a select few of his staff. “I’d like you to stay for yourself, Mac.”
“Sir?”
“Look, it’s Thursday. Stay through the weekend, enjoy the scenery. Take some time for yourself. We both know you need this right now.”
She could’ve voiced a thousand and one arguments against his offer. She could’ve, but she didn’t. Instead, she replied softly, “All right, then. Thank you, sir. I’ll be in first thing Morning.”
The gruff voice was back. “I’ll count on it, Colonel.”
***
1230 Local
Coronado Bay Bridge
Coronado, CA
Sarah Mackenzie took the interchange from the bridge to interstate 5 north, the events of the previous week still fresh in her mind. She wasn’t proud of the way she’d left Harm at the office. She’d been rude and overly-sensitive, but this realization had only come in hindsight, after the self-reflection session the monotony of a five hour flight in a military transport had deemed virtually inevitable. Was this her fate now? Was she doomed to react blindly and emotionally to everything, without prior consideration of consequence? She prayed in hope that it wouldn’t be so. She prayed in thanks that the Admiral had given her this time, knowing full well that she’d never ask for it herself.
But it still seemed so strange. It wasn’t like she was running from something. More like, she was running to something. And again, the unexplainable force, perhaps destiny itself, continued to draw her towards this place.
Traffic was light at this hour. Her car blew through the twenty miles it took to reach the long, downward-spiraling road that led west into La Jolla. As she waited at a stoplight, she was faced with a postcard view that took her breath away. The blue-green waters of the Pacific Ocean formed the background, and at either side of her, multi-million dollar estates protruded out from the surrounding hillside. How Harm had endured the transformation from this place, where he’d spent his teenage years, to the rat hole of a neighborhood he lived in now was beyond her.
After pulling over to consult her Thomas Guide map book, she was familiar with the jumbled maze of twists and turns that led to her destination. Her heart raced as she made the last turn onto a majestic street, still unsure of her motivation. She slowed the car, inching along the asphalt as she beheld the sights. Each home she passed seemed to be more grand than the previous. They were simply enormous, in varying architectural styles, some with security gates, but all with perfectly manicured gardens.
She’d intended only to drive by once, well, maybe twice. Maybe she’d even park the car and stroll up the street for a few minutes. But under no circumstances was she prepared to show herself, to knock on the door. Perhaps she’d been mistaken. Maybe there was no real reason for her to come here, no strange force, or will of fate. Because she suddenly felt an amazing and refreshing sense of serenity. She continued on, glancing at the curb-painted addresses. But that serene feeling vanished as quickly as it had come, because as Sarah Mackenzie finally located the correct home, she looked up to see that she was face to face with its owner.
Normally, Patricia Rabb Burnett would’ve never taken particular interest in an ordinary blue sedan moving past her house. But for a Navy-issue base sedan to be in her neighborhood; its rolled-down driver’s side window revealing a woman wearing a Marine uniform cover, well, that was not an ordinary occurrence. Even though she’d never met her, she’d seen enough pictures of this particular Marine officer to immediately know her identity. But why was she here? A feeling of uneasiness came over Trish as she feared that this woman might have come bearing news that something had happened to her son.
Mac’s stomach was currently resting somewhere between the brake and the gas pedal. Had all of her recon training simply vanished into thin air? Now what was she gonna do? She could get out of the car and introduce herself. But she’d look foolish, having no real reason for being there. Conversely, she could speed up and forget the whole thing. But the look on Harm’s mother’s face suggested that she recognized her right away. If she left now, she’d look even more foolish and it would probably make its way back to Harm. She decided on the lesser of the two fool-morphing experiences and stopped the car.
Mac walked slowly across the street. Patricia Rabb Burnett was the epitome of La Jolla chic, dressed in sky blue linen capri pants and a matching blouse. A straw basket was looped over one arm as she proceeded to take cuttings from one of the many rose trees that lined the pathway to her front door. Her sandy colored hair was expertly coiffed in a chin-length style. She placed her clippers in the basket along with the rainbow assortment of roses and walked toward her.
“Ma’am, I’m Sarah Mackenzie,” Mac said with a soft smile, offering her hand. As Trish shook it, Mac couldn’t help but notice the look of nervousness on the older woman’s face.
“Is it Harm? Has something happened?” Trish implored, eyes wide with worry.
At last, Mac understood. She shook her head rapidly, “Oh, no ma’am. Harm’s fine. I’m so sorry to have scared you.” Immediately, Mac saw Trish’s expression undergo an amazing transformation. Her stance became relaxed, eyes brightened and she flashed the most beautiful smile, brimming with warmth and friendliness.
“So you’re Mac! You can’t know how long I’ve been waiting to meet you. Harm’s told me all about you but every time I’ve been to D.C. you’ve seemed to be off gallivanting somewhere around the globe.”
Mac laughed, “Yeah, that sounds about right. Mrs. Burnett, I’m really sorry about showing up here like this,” she added quietly. “My investigation wrapped up early and, well, I thought I’d take a drive and see where Harm spent his teenage years. I guess I was just curious.”
“First of all, you must call me Trish. And secondly, don’t think for a minute that this is all you are going to see of the house, or of me.” She glanced at her watch. “I was just about to have my lunch on the patio. I insist that you join me.”
“Oh, well, thank you ma’…uh Trish. I’d love to.”
Mac was quickly ushered in the door of what must be a ten million dollar mansion.
“Mac, I’m just going to run and tell my staff that there will be one more person for lunch. Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll show you the rest later.” Trish disappeared down a long corridor.
Mac looked around, completely in awe of her surroundings. Every detail of the interior had been elegantly crafted and meticulously appointed. French country antiques filled the grand hall and adjoining great room. Floor to ceiling windows lined the exterior walls, topped with authentic French provincial fabrics in hues of red, gold, and green. And the view. Nearly every window provided a clear view of the sparkling ocean.
The two women, who’d only previously known each other from photos, chatted like old friends at the umbrella covered patio table. They dined on arugula salad, topped with grilled prawns with freshly baked kalamata olive bread. And as she sipped her raspberry iced tea, warmed by the gentle rays of the sun, Mac, slowly felt the life, the health seep back into her body. She still sensed fragments of the fear and anxiety deep within her, but she felt shielded somehow, by this place. By this woman. Was this what having a loving, attentive mother really felt like?
She found it odd that she should feel so comfortable, so at peace with the woman who’d given birth to the man whose words had the power to completely send her world into a chaotic frenzy; whose touch had the effect of fire to her flesh.
Trish looked up from her plate, “Tell me. What’s Harm been up to lately? I haven’t talked to him in more than two weeks.”
Mac shifted nervously. “I haven’t seen him much lately, either.” The small, whispering voice was back, urging her to go on. And she listened, continuing in a feather-weight tone. “To tell you the truth, we didn’t part on very good terms.”
Trish patted Mac’s hand, shaking her head. “Oh, for goodness sakes. What has that stubborn man done this time?”
Again, Mac heard it. “Trish, this time it was me…”
Mac’s words, her thoughts were interrupted as a small, dark-haired woman cleared their plates.
Trish nodded silently in thanks to her maid, turning her attention back to Mac. Just the mention of Harm’s name had enacted a noticeable shift in the demeanor of this lovely young woman. There was a story here. And something told her, this was a story that needed telling. “Mac,” she asked gently.
“Yes.”
“You love him. Don’t you?”
1630 Local
JAG HQ
“Pardon me, sir.”
Harm looked up from his computer screen, smiling at the welcome visitor. “Lieutenant Sims! That’s right, I forgot today was your first day back. Trust me, this place has been a wreck without you.”
Harriet blushed. “Thank you, sir. I came by earlier, but you were in court. I just wanted to say thanks again for watching A.J. last weekend.”
“It was my pleasure. Hey, how’s Bud?” Harm inquired.
“He’s adjusting well to the new prosthetic, sir. He’s still using his crutches, but he should be able to do without them when he returns to work next month.”
“Do you think he’ll be ready?”
Harriet snorted, “Definitely, sir. He’s going out of his mind. Bud’s one that needs to stay busy. And I think coming back to work will do him a world of good. Plus, he misses all of you guys.”
“Speaking of which, would tonight be a good night to come by and visit?”
Harriet smiled. “He’d love it. And so would little A.J. All the way home he kept babbling on and on about this story you told him. But he fell asleep before hearing the ending.”
“Well, I’ll make sure to finish it for him.” The mention of the story made him immediately think of Mac. And well before he thought better of it, the words just came out. “Ah…Harriet,” he mumbled, causing her to turn back around.
“Yes, sir, was there something else?”
Harm spoke with hesitation. “Well, it’s something of a personal nature.”
“All right, sir.”
“See that coat hook by the door?” At her perplexed nod he continued. “Hang your protocol on it and grab a chair.”
1330 Local
Burnett Residence
La Jolla, CA
Mac nearly spit out her iced tea at Trish’s question. Nothing was lost on this woman.
Trish let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Mac shook her head. “No, it’s okay. It’s just…it’s complicated.”
“If I know Harm, he’s exactly like his father and his grandfather before him. The Rabb men make it awfully difficult to love them sometimes.” Trish looked at Mac expectantly.
And Mac responded, a half-smile peeking out from the corner of her mouth.
“But Mac,” she continued, voice drenched with maternal grace and wisdom, “they make not loving them even more difficult. Virtually impossible, I’d say.”
At the painful accuracy of that statement, Mac came up with hundreds of reasons to set this conversation on an entirely new course. Trish was leading her straight into a virtual monsoon. Could her heart, her soul bear it? Could she withstand the agony of it? And what would happen if she laid everything out on the table, just let it out? The answer rose within her, burning, frightening…real. If she said it, she could no longer hide behind it. She’d have to stand up to the fear. And she’d have to live with the consequences, whatever they may be.
But, at least she’d know. And maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to stop hurting those around her. Maybe she’d stop hurting herself.
Mac finally made her decision, looking up at Harm’s mother, realizing that if anyone in the world could understand, this woman could. And for the first time since this dark and brooding creature had taken shelter in the depths of her body, she gave it a voice.
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 