The telephone stopped ringing the exact second Harm found his keys. It figured. The whole day had been a wash. Literally. Apparently, whoever coined the expression "stick it where the sun don't shine" meant the East Coast and not some crude anatomical part. Dropping his umbrella in a wet heap on the floor, he headed into his kitchen for a much needed beer. His test flight had been cancelled due to the weather. After hours of pre-flight de-briefings, the good people of the Company had decided that they didn't want to risk a multi-million dollar aircraft and had sent him home.
He was mildly disgusted with everything. The weather, the day, the fact that he was working for the CIA, and the state of his life. This was not how he pictured his return from Paraguay. He, at least, thought he was finally going to get the girl. Rolling his shoulders, he glanced at the answering machine. The little red light blinked ominously. More than anything, he didn't want to push the play button and he was half-tempted to ignore the message altogether in favor of his quiet apartment and his guitar. But a little nagging voice kept whispering quietly in his ear. It wanted to know how much worse the day could get and, before he knew it, he was pushing play.
He nearly dropped his beer when Sarah Mackenzie's voice floated across his apartment. Even without the introduction and the sniffly quality of the voice, he knew it was her. The nagging voice exalted in its triumph.
They had not parted on good terms. After days of stewing, he began to realize that maybe she had been right. Maybe not so much in her words, but in her actions, certainly. They probably wouldn't have worked out. Not in the long run. He would have been willing to try, but maybe she had saved them the inevitable heartbreaks. By being a complete bitch. Thousands of miles. He flew thousands of miles and didn't even get a fucking thank you for his efforts.
He sighed as he realized that he had missed the whole message. Hitting rewind, he chastised himself to pay attention to it this time. "I never thanked you and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry you lost your job for me. So - thank you."
"Well there you go. A few weeks too late to count," he told the answering machine. He heard the carefully measured pause and smirked. Sarah Mackenzie had a flair for the dramatic.
"I love you."
The bottle slid from his loose grasp and landed on the floor in a loud crash. For a full minute, he did nothing but stare at the answering machine as the glass filled puddle at his feet soaked his shoes. His hand was shaky as it hit rewind again.
Had she just told him that she loved him over an answering machine? What kind of chicken shit stunt was that? Had she realized that he had almost freed himself from her sticky web and wanted to suck him back in?
He grabbed the phone and dialed her number before he could rethink his actions. He had held his tongue in Paraguay, but he didn't think he could do it anymore. She was a vampire that preyed upon his emotions and he needed her to stop. He had nothing left to give her.
Her machine answered. "Mac, I know you're there. Pick up. Pick up the damn phone now." He ground the words between his teeth and waited. When she didn't get on the phone, he clicked his phone off and dialed JAG.
"Colonel Mackenzie's office," a chipper voice answered.
"Bud," he said without preamble, "it's Harm."
"Sir! It's good to hear from you. How are you?"
"For the last time, call me Harm. I'm not in the Navy anymore, remember?"
Bud answered in a more subdued voice. "Yes, sir. Harm. Yes, Harm. We sure miss you around here. Especially the Colonel. I don't think she's doing all that well." Bud's voice dropped to a near whisper as he relayed the last piece of information. The staff had been scurrying to cover for the Colonel, hiding her mistakes from the Admiral, but it was getting harder to do as time wore on and the list of problems grew.
A small, mean part of him smiled. Serves her right, it hissed in his ear. "Listen, Bud, she's, ah, she's actually why I'm calling. Is she there?"
"No, sir, she called out sick. Harriet went over to her apartment to bring her some soup this afternoon. She just got back; she said the Colonel didn't look so good." As an afterthought, he added, "And she was acting weird, too."
"Acting weird?" Harm parroted. The small, mean part stopped smiling and vanished. "How weird?"
"Harriet didn't say. She just said she was worried. I have to drop files off that need her signature on the way home. Do you want me to give her a message?"
"No," he paused, "thanks, Bud. I'll try her at home. Take care and give my best to Harriet and AJ."
He hung up and lowered the phone. He told himself he was being paranoid. She wouldn't do anything stupid. Cursing silently, he dialed her number again.
The machine answered again. Just as he was about to hang up and head over to her apartment, a tired voice mumbled, "'Lo?"
"Mac?"
"Can't talk now. Sleepy."
"Mac?" he called out again.
"Go away. Just go away," the voice was cranky now. He heard a loud crash and assumed the receiver had fallen on the floor.
Grabbing his cell phone, he dialed 911. As he head out of his apartment, he said words he never thought he'd say. "I think my friend tried to kill herself."