Hanging
Rock Diner
1930 Local
After the call to Harm, Mac had shut her cell phone off and put it away in her purse. Then she just sat, staring at the cup of coffee in front of her. Despite her assurances to Harm, she was far from ‘over it’. All she could see were the girl’s tormented eyes as she was relating her story. And all she could remember was how it felt to be…to be…Damn it! She couldn’t even think the word, much less say it.
The aimless driving had been a kind of torture, where scenes of her own experience flashed over and over in her head, only interrupted by the girl’s tearful face, the sound of her voice as she described the scene.
With a start she realized how late it was. She’d been sitting there for almost 2 hours. It was time to head for home, hopefully to actually sleep. She got up, paid the bill, and headed for the parking lot.
Back in her car, she eased the corvette gently onto the interstate, the road stretching out before her, dark and inviting. There was little traffic on the road, and she unleashed the corvette, enjoying the feeling of power under her hands. If Harm ever found out that she loved the speed, the teasing would be merciless. As well as the accompanying lecture on safety and the wonder at her queasiness on tomcats.
‘The difference’, she thought to herself, ‘is I’m in control here; it’s my hands on the steering wheel, my foot on the accelerator. I’m not relying on someone else’s reflexes and knowledge. I know what I’m doing and where I am. Here the control is mine.’
She shifted into fifth gear, feeling the powerful engine rev and take off in a burst of speed. The dotted white line was mesmerizing as it flew by, an endless path before her, fading into the darkness behind her. A path to follow, to a known destination. The speedometer swung over to 110 mph, the danger pumping up her adrenaline. The car hugged the curves, dark scenery flashing by in an unseen blur.
Despite the velocity of the car, her mind drifted to Harm…damn him. She knew he was going to pull his ‘big brother’ routine, insisting that she talk to him. Somehow, someway, she was going to have to get it together and handle this case like the professional she was. Just because it was a…a…she forced herself to at least think the word…rape case, didn’t mean she couldn’t handle it. She’d handled them in the past, and she’d handle this one. Yes, her feelings had gotten away from her, but she’d make sure it didn’t happen again.
A sharp turn came up, demanding she pay attention to her driving. The corvette skidded a little, fishtailing, but held true. Once around the curve, she pushed the accelerator back to the floor.
Maybe she should tell him. Everything. Just get it over with. Intellectually she knew there was no shame in being a victim, but that’s not how she felt. Inside, she was ashamed, disgusted, humiliated, and even blaming herself on some level. How could she tell him? She couldn’t even think about it herself, much less talk to him…or anyone… about it.
It was something best kept locked in her soul; down as deep as she could bury it.
There was a rumble as the corvette veered onto the shoulder. Desperately she wrestled with the steering wheel, stepping on the brakes to slow it down. There was the sound of screeching tires and the sensation of spinning…and the car finally came to a stop.
Shaken, she unclamped her fingers from the steering wheel, not surprised to find them trembling. She was turned around the wrong way, and off the shoulder in the grass. The engine was still purring, and she managed to shut it off. Getting out of the car, she stood on unsteady legs, leaning on the door and drawing deep breaths. That had been a close one.
The crisp autumnal air should have been bracing, a relief to the fever of her scare, but a shiver ran through her. For once there was no sound of traffic, only the rustle of trees in the wind. She glanced up at the full moon, its bright illumination partly obscured by clouds. It looked like a storm was brewing.
For a moment all she wanted to do was cry, and she actually felt the tears well in her eyes, but she choked them back. Once again it was rage that washed over her. She thanked God for it; it helped make her strong.
For a long time, anger was the driving force in her life. Anger at her parents…at Eddie, for dying…at herself…and at life itself. With Harm’s help, and the rest of JAG which she had come to regard as family, she had been able to let go of that anger and reach for a happier life. One based on the idea that good things could happen, that she didn’t have to protect herself from everything and everyone.
It had only taken one incident to realize she’d been mistaken. Nothing in life is safe; the reality was she couldn’t let down her guard for an instant. The anger was back, stronger than ever. It was once again the anger of the helpless, doomed by whatever fate threw at them.
She
drew some comfort from the fact that she had protected the helpless
in this case. But the price…the price had been so high.
Again she wanted to cry, but she resolutely stomped on the tears. There
was nothing to be gained by them. She closed her trembling hands into
fists and took a deep breath, willing control back into her body. She
would be strong. And she would be silent. No one would know the price
she’d paid.
She got back into her car, turned the car around and headed for home. She kept the speed under 80 this time.
Harm’s
Apartment
North of Union Station
2045 Local
The events of the day had overwhelmed him. He sat, exhausted, on his
couch with a full beer in his hand. At this very moment, he was numb.
After his discovery of the time difference on the tape, he had contacted Casey, the young girl that had been caught up in the robbery with Mac. He’d need some kind of corroboration if he was going to confront Mac with his suspicions. In fact, he’d need solid evidence. Casey was the only one who could give him that.
Initially reluctant, she’d finally agreed to see him after school tomorrow. He’d explained who he was and that this was not an official inquiry, but that Mac was his friend. He was to meet her at the park next to her school at 3:15.
After that, he’d alternated between bouts of rage and bouts of guilt. The feeling of nausea had never left him; hence the full beer in his hand.
Rage. A four letter word. A small word. It didn’t begin to encompass the feeling. Wrath…ire…fury. None of them described it. There really wasn’t a word that could begin to express exactly what he was feeling.
God knows she’d been through enough in her life. Alcoholic father, abandonment by her mother. Her own alcoholism, Dalton, Coster, Brumby. The list went on and on. Shamefacedly he added his own name to the list.
Son of a bitch. It was lucky that lousy fucking asshole was already dead, or he’d kill him with his bare hands. It took all his strength to put the beer down on the coffee table and not heave it across the room at the wall.
That stinking bastard had dared to touch Mac. His Mac. And she was HIS Mac, even if they hadn’t actually acknowledged it. God damn it…he wanted the satisfaction of slowly strangling the motherfucker to death, only after he’d beaten him to an inch of his life. And cut off his balls with a dull rusty knife.
He stood up and paced around the apartment, restless with anxiety and rage. What could he do about it now? There was no one to kill, or maim.
And where the hell was Mac now? She should have been home by now. She should have called him. He desperately wanted to know she was all right. At least, that she was home safe. She wouldn’t be all right, would she?
Abruptly, guilt kicked in. He should have been there. Somehow, someway, he should have prevented this; he just fucking well should have been there. Yes, he’d been away on a case. But he damn well should have been there for Mac.
And he hadn’t been. There was no denying it. He hadn’t been there for her. Just like he hadn’t been there for her after Bugme left, or when Chris Ragle showed up. He’d been busy, just like always.
Sitting back down on the couch, he rested his head in his hands. How was he going to face her? Knowing that it was his fault. He was never there when she needed him.
And God damn it, there was no way to “fix” this. It had already happened. Nothing he could say or do would make it all better, would soothe her wounds, remove her scars. Nothing.
And he’d waited too long to make his move. He’d been stalling, telling himself they needed time to be friends again, before they moved into a real relationship. Sure, they’d been taking baby-steps, dinners together, movies, etc. But he hadn’t told her how he felt about her. He hadn’t even kissed her.
She hadn’t even told him about it. She’d kept all the hurt…the pain…all to herself. Not sharing it with him…or anyone.
And now. He drew a shaky breath, rubbing his eyes. Now, he was going to have to be the bad guy. He was going to have to confront her. Make her deal with it.
Hopefully, she’d be able to put it behind her, lead a normal life, even after the rape.
And she would probably hate him for the rest of his life.
His heart ached. It more than ached, it was torn in half by his knowledge. He choked back a sob. “Mac,” he said aloud, “Mac, I’m so sorry, so terribly terribly sorry.”
The phone rang. Wiping his eyes, he reached for it, trying to compose himself.
“Harm? I just wanted to let you know I’m home.” It was Mac. Thank you God.
“Are you all right?” He knew she wasn’t, but he had to ask.
“I’m fine. But you sound…strange. Are YOU all right?” God, she was asking him? Pure love washed through him for this woman. Whether she knew it or not, or whether he acknowledged it or not, she was everything to him.
“I’m fine, Mac. I’m just glad you’re home.”
There was an awkward silence as the conversation lapsed, each one keeping their secrets.
Finally he broke the stalemate. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Get some sleep.”
“I will. And you too. You don’t sound good, Flyboy.”
His heart tore a little more at her concern.
“Mac?” He tried to catch her before she hung up.
“Yes?”
“I…I…” He wanted to tell her he loved her, that he’d figured out what happened, that he needed her to be happy. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t the right time or place for any of that. “Just take care of yourself.”
“Harm, is everything all right? You’re worrying me.”
He
laughed at the irony of all this. “Yeah. I’ll see you in
the morning.”