From Night Into Day
HOME
Title: From Night Into Day
Author: WHRoseGarden (whrosegarden@netexpressway.com)
Rating: BV/DV
Spoilers: Salvation
Keywords: Harm/Mac
Summary: Dreams can greatly impact one's life.
Author's Notes: I don't own the characters of JAG, they are the exclusive property of CBS, Don Bellisario and TPTB. The song that is quoted is by the Cranberries, it is called "I Just Shot John Lennon." I am making no money from this, I'm just having fun. Oh yeah, and like all the rest of my stuff, it has not been beta-ed.
0526 Zulu
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown, MD
"HARM!!!" Mac screamed as she sat up in her bed. She sat there panting in fear for a moment before realizing where she was. Mic turned over, coiling the sheets away from her sweating body.
"Sarah? Wha . . .? You ok?" His voice and speech were fuzzy from sleep.
"Yeah, sorry I woke you, just a bad dream." Reassured, Mic turned back over and began to snore again. Mac rubbed her eyes and lay back down, but couldn't seem to banish the dread that something had happened. She shifted restlessly, trying to get comfortable until Mic woke again and complained. Knowing he had court in the morning, she excused herself and padded to the kitchen.
Fifteen minutes later, with her hands wrapped around a mug of herbal tea, she still couldn't forget the vicious tattoo of automatic weapon fire and the image of Harm falling under its barrage.
Glancing toward the cracked bedroom door, she picked up the phone and hit the first speed dial.
The phone rang five times before the answering machine picked up. She hung up in frustration. She punched the second speed dial and waited anxiously as it rang until the automated mailbox answered. Again, she hung up. She though briefly of calling Renee, but couldn't bring herself to risk the woman's ire for interrupting her beauty sleep.
She paced for a few moments, intermitantly picking up her tea and setting it back down without taking a sip. Finally, she seized the phone again and left messages when the machines picked up, asking her partner to call when he got in.
Mac considered returning to bed, but dismissed the thought out of hand. She was far too restless to try to sleep and she'd only disturb Mic. Instead, she went to the sofa and flicked on the TV. It blared to life and she quickly muted the sound, wondering why the volume had been set so loud. She browsed through the channels, hoping to find something that would distract her, but each station seemed intent on reminding her of her dream.
After a few minutes, she turned the TV off and went to the radio. Checking the volume dial before switching it on, she had to adjust it quite a bit. Perhaps Mic had been vacuuming.
"What a sad and sorry and sickening sight
What a sad and sorry and sickening night
What a sad and sorry and sickening sight
What a sad and sorry and sickening night
Bang - bang - bang - bang - bang!"
Mac jerked with each simulated gunshot and saw each bullet impacting Harm's chest, saw him jerk and try to bring his weapon to the fore, saw the dark stains appearing on his dark blue jacket, saw him fall as the life left his body.
Abruptly she punched the power off and pulled on some clothes from the hamper in the restroom. She grabbed her keys and left the apartment, the door slamming hollowly behind her. In the bed room, Mic rolled over but returned to his slumbers before he could realized that she'd left.
The drive from Georgetown to Union Station took Mac longer than normal despite the deserted streets. Every few blocks, her dream would invade her vision again and she'd pull over until she could see to continue. Pulling into one of the many spaces around Harm's building, she noted that his SUV was not present.
She took a few breaths. On one hand, she certainly wouldn't be interrupting he and Renee, but on the other, she had no idea where he might be. Hoping that he might return from wherever he currently was soon, she headed up to his apartment and let herself in. She settled on his couch to wait. Ten minutes later, she was asleep.
0914 Zulu
Harm's Apartment
North of Union Station
Harm was just on the verge of crashing from the adrenaline high of the arrest when he pulled in. He locked his car and walked up to his apartment on auto-pilot, wondering if he'd actually be able to wake up in three hours. He considered not going into JAG until after he'd dealt with everything over at Quantico and decided that he might be pushing the Admiral's good graces.
Those thoughts were abruptly abandoned when he opened his door and saw Mac sleeping on his couch. Alarm bells went off in his head. Had Palmer set up some other sort of torture for him and gone after Mac? Or had something else happened and driven Mac here? He dropped his cover on the table near the door and quietcrossed to the couch. He gently touched her shoulder and saw her eyes start open.
She sat up and enveloped him in a fierce hug, almost knocking him backwards. Immediately he felt her hands wander over his back and then his chest as if searching for wounds. Tentatively, he returned the hug. "Mac?"
After a few moments, she stopped her probe of his torso and collapsed against his chest, shaking. He pulled back slightly to look down at her and saw tears just beginning to seep from under her eyelids. "Mac," he repeated, "are you ok? Did something happen?" With her face still pressed against his chest, she shook her head.
"You're ok. Everything's fine. It was only a dream." Her mumbled response didn't make much sense to him, but he just shrugged and kept hugging her, sensing that that was what she needed right then. He couldn't help but like hugging her too, it had been a long time since they'd been physically affectionate with each other and he missed that closeness.
After several minutes she sat back, brushing any remaining tears from her eyes. She saw Harm looking at her and swallowed. She had no idea how she was going to explain her actions to him. "Sorry about your jacket." She touched the damp patch where her head had rested.
"Don't worry about it, I'm not. I am, however, worried about why you are here and why you are upset." He wondered if Brumby had done something, but didn't voice the question, knowing that it would offend her if it wasn't true.
She shrugged, carefully extracting herself from his arms. "It's nothing, really. I should probably be going. Mic will wonder where I am."
Harm nodded slowly. Pushing her to talk had worked in the past, but not since he'd returned to flying. Recently, it seemed to make her close up more than ever. "If that's what you want. Do you need a ride?" He stood and stripped his jacket off, hanging it by the door to be taken to the dry cleaner.
"Uh, no. I drove. I just had to . . ." She trailed off, deciding she really didn't want to disclose what had sent her running to his apartment in the middle of the night. She glanced at the window and realized that the sky had lightened considerably and that the sun would be up soon.
"Had to what?" Harm glanced over his shoulder as he looked for some coffee beans in the back of the freezer. He didn't want her to run because he pressured her, he just wanted to let her know he was listening if she wanted to talk. He sighed when she walked to the door. She was leaving.
"What happened last night?" Her quiet question stilled his movements for a moment. Grasping the bag, he turned to face her.
"Last night?"
"Yeah, when you went on the stakeout with Palmer and Sergeant Major Krohn. What happened with it?"
"Nothing. The stakeout was a bust."
"Then why did you get home so late?" Harm looked at her curiously as he poured the beans into the electric grinder.
"Palmer tried to set us up. The stakeout was a bust, but as we were driving to the airport, Palmer insisted that he saw the Padre. We followed his directions to a small farm. We caught his accomplices and returned Palmer and Krohn to Quantico. They'll be flown back to Leavenworth this evening." He raised his voice as the appliance buzzed noisily, reducing the shiny black beans to a coarse grind.
"Nothing else? How did you know it was a set up?"
"Nothing else. Krohn told me he saw the Padre just before we got to the farm, I called in the re-enforcements and we arrested the two men waiting there. Mac, why are you so curious, did you think something happened?" Measuring out the grounds, he set the coffee to percolate.
"No, I, uh . . . I just wondered."
"Mac," Harm knew it was thin ice to question her, but he was really curious as to what had brought his partner from her home to his.
"I . . . I had a dream that you were shot. It's ridiculous, you're here and you don't have a scratch. Just forget it." She turned to go. But he stopped her with his voice.
"We pulled in and a man with pale hair and a thin beard stepped into the headlights. Palmer dove for the floor of the van as the man opened fire with an assault rifle. He shot the driver and Father O'Rourke before I could get my weapon up. I got out so I could get a better shot. I barely got off two rounds before I was hit." Mac stood frozen by the front door, her face blanched. She was silent as he walked over to her. "Is that what you saw?"
Wordlessly, she nodded, touching the points on his chest where she'd dreamed the bullets hit. Her eyes followed her hands, avoiding his face. "How did you know?"
"Krohn. On the way back to Quantico, I asked what the Padre had said. He described that vision and asked if I believed in miracles."
"Do you? Believe in miracles?"
"Depends on the miracle. Palmer's being brought back to life? No, I know that was a fake. But I do still believe that something showed Krohn to his wife that night."
"What about visions?"
"You mean like your dream tonight? And the one that showed you where Chloe was? I don't know, but I believe you. That's good enough for me." He smiled down at her, still standing close. She gave a small smile in return.
"It's good enough for me, too."
Harm stepped back a step, glancing at the brightening windows. "Um, you want some coffee and breakfast before you go? I've got a couple Danishes and maybe half a coffeecake." Much as he was glad they'd managed to talk like the close friends they had been, much more and he was going to want to forget the ring on Mac's hand and do something that neither Mic nor Renee would appreciate. For her part, Mac looked a bit relieved as well when he retreated from her personal space.
"Wait a minute, Harmon Rabb has coffeecake and Danishes? What happened to bran muffins and fresh fruit?" She followed him back to the kitchen where he poured two cups of coffee and began to search the fridge for the promised victuals.
"Oh, I'll be eating a bran muffin and half a grapefruit. But I didn't think that would tempt your Marine stomach, so here is coffeecake and would you like an apple or a pineapple Danish?"
"Apple, please." Mac was glad Harm didn't bother to tell her that the pastries were the result of Renee's presence in his life, she didn't really want to think about the Video Princess eating breakfast with Harm.
They sat in a comfortable silence, sipping their coffee and munching on their respective breakfasts, until Mac realized that it was nearly 0630 and that she still had to get home and get ready before arriving at work at 0800. "Harm, I really have to go. I'll see you at the office." Harm nodded and walked her to the door.
"I'm glad you came over, Mac." He smiled somewhat wistfully as she backed out the door.
"Me, too, Harm. We'll have to do it again sometime - it's been ages since my meat lover's toppings have had to share the pizza with veggie deluxe." She gave one last smile and turned away down the hall.
"Be safe, Marine."
"You, too, Sailor."
Harm turned back into his apartment and began to clear the remains of breakfast. He wondered what it would be like to have breakfast with Mac every morning, teasing each other about their food choices and talking about anything but work. He thought about actually keeping meat in the meat and cheese drawer and putting beef in half the lasagna. He smiled to himself as he went to change uniforms - his friend was back, and maybe something more was not as lost as he'd assumed after a certain scene in the Sydney airport.
1124 Zulu
Mac's car
Mac smiled as she thought of how relaxing breakfast with Harm had been. She fingered the ring on her finger and wondered why it was there. Meals with Mic were never as relaxed as the one she'd just shared with Harm. With Mic there was always something lurking beneath the surface, needing to be dealt with but neither of them willing to disturb the fragile status quo. With Harm she didn't feel that. Her friend was back, and maybe he was ready to finally let go.
The End
I would appreciate any feedback you wish to send, both constructive criticism and simple 'good job.' If not, well, you probably didn't even get this far.'
HOME
Email: whrosegarden@netexpressway.com
