M McDonald - March Into Hell

“Jim! He needs some help in there. We should get the nurse.”

“What he needs is a little time to get himself together.” Jim crossed his arms and leaned one hip against a window ledge, half-sitting. “Couldn’t you tell that Mark was about to lose it in there?”

She wore a puzzled expression and tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced back down the hallway towards Mark’s door. “I thought he was in pain…”

Jim gazed down at his foot resting on the floor, tapping it against the tiles as he tried to think of a way to explain his theory to Jessica without causing further embarrassment to Taylor. At first, Jim had been as mystified as Jessica at Mark’s sudden change in demeanor, but he thought back over the conversation and realized what had hit Mark so hard.

Jim had done enough interrogations and had seen subjects display similar reactions, especially if the interrogator threatened to show videos of the questioning to the subject's family. They were often terrified of loved ones seeing them like that. The feeling of helplessness and of being a victim was almost as hard for some to handle as the actual attack. It didn't matter that Taylor wasn't new to…interrogations, this was different. Jim refused to think of his own past questioning of Taylor as torture, it wasn't even close to what these animals had done. Taylor had been the victim of a brutal beating, torture and attempted murder, that went beyond anything the government had done to him.

“Jessica, you’ve worked as a cop long enough to recognize that Mark is acting like most other victims. He doesn’t want people he cares about to see him as vulnerable or helpless.”

At first she looked confused, but then her face colored as she understood Jim’s implication. "He doesn't want me to see him like this, but, I'm investigating the case. How am I going to find out anything if he won't speak to me?”

“Dan is investigating the case -you’re off it, from what I understand.”

“Well, technically, sure, I know that.” She shrugged one shoulder and crossed her arms, turning away. “I wanted to see how he was doing and I thought he would welcome a friendly face asking him the questions instead of-”

“My mean ugly mug?” Jim teased gently and stepped around Jessie, making her face him. He looked her in the eye. “I’m going to go back and talk to him, if he’ll let me. As crazy as it sounds, he's familiar with me seeing him like this. I might not be as threatening. Why don’t you wait here for now?”

“Yeah, I guess, “ she said and sank down onto one of the easy chairs.

“Taylor? Can I come in for a minute?”

Mark thought about ignoring the request, but he already felt like a fool for the way he had behaved. He cracked his eyes and saw it was only Jim and he wondered where Jessie was and if she was out in the hall.

Jim must have seen the question in Mark’s eyes and shook his head. “It’s just me.”

Still not quite able to meet Jim’s eyes, Mark nodded and said, “Yeah, come on in.” He raised the head of the bed and straightened the covers. “Sorry about tossing you out…I…I just-”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Jim said, cutting Mark’s apology short. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.” He ambled into the room, stopped and crossed his arms.

Mark took a sip of water, not quite sure what Jim was getting at. He set the cup down and flexed his right hand several times. It was still painful, but he was beginning to have more strength in it. Fidgeting, he adjusted the strap on his sling.

“I had hoped to get some information from you, but I can see this probably isn’t a good time. That’s okay though. One more day isn’t going to make a whole lot of difference.” Jim pulled up a chair and sat down with a sigh.

Mark looked out the window. It was almost dark and the orange sunset slashed across the horizon. Neither man spoke, and the silence hung in the air like a thick heavy fog. Mark felt Jim’s gaze boring into him. Unable to resist any longer, he turned to look at him. What he saw in the other man’s eyes surprised him. He expected to see pity but what he saw instead was anger.

Jim leaned forward, his arms resting across his knees. “Mark, you know that what happened to you wasn’t your fault, don’t you?”

Mark looked away, his eyes on the wall beyond the foot of the bed, but his focus was inward. It was his choice to respond to the first assault on Judy Medea. Then, he had invited her to the studio for an interview. He was sure she had taken the keys then. How could he have been so gullible? Why hadn’t he checked his loft for the keys after Lily had reported them missing? Stupid! His biggest regret was in not getting away. Lily had a point about how many people had been there, but still, he should have thought of a way of getting free.

“It doesn’t really matter what I think, does it, Jim? The fact is, I let them do that to me. Things I did or…or…didn’t do, contributed to what happened.” Mark clenched his fist, ignoring the pain. Narrowing his eyes, he turned to Jim. “I could have made them end it sooner.” His voice was low and harsh as he continued, “I begged him to shoot me, but I should have forced him to do it.” Mark’s breathing became ragged as he thought back and tried to think of ways he could have prevented the crucifixion.

“Maybe he didn’t have a gun…but he had a knife. I should have attacked Kern. Either I would have succeeded in getting away, or I'd have died trying.” He almost forgot Jim sitting beside him as he imagined different plans of action. “Anything would have been better than what happened.”

“Whoa, Mark, hold up. Are you saying you wanted to die in there?”

Mark clamped his mouth shut, his jaw muscles twitching. The thought had crossed his mind. He looked down at the fingers of his left hand poking out of the sling and picked at the bandage circling his palm.

When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, “It’s not that I wanted to die. I thought I was going to die anyway and I just didn’t want to die-” He broke off; that wasn’t quite right. His face burned as he dropped his gaze, his eyes roaming the hills and valleys of the bedspread covering his lap. “I didn’t want to be found…like…like that.”

Jim sighed and stood. Mark risked a glance at him. The CIA officer had his hands in his pockets and wandered to the window. He glanced at a few of the cards lined up on the ledge like soldiers at attention and picked up a couple. He was quiet for a minute or so then turned, his eyes drilling through Mark with their intensity. “You know, there’s no shame in surviving.”

“So, I take it he spoke to you?” Jessica stood as Jim approached. He could tell she was trying to keep her expression professional, but he could feel the anxiety thrumming just beneath her calm exterior.

Stopping a few paces in front of her, he sighed and said, “Yes, he did.” How much should he reveal? That Mark thought it was his fault? That he had wanted to die fighting rather than be found like he was? Before he could decide, he spotted Taylor’s doctor walking towards the nurses’ station. Mark’s frame of mind was precarious enough that Jim felt the doctor should be made aware of it. His own experience with Mark in the brig had given him some insight into the other man's psyche, and right now, Taylor was as low as he'd ever seen him.

“Dr. Jenkins!” Jim walked briskly, catching up to the man. “Could I speak with you a moment?”

The doctor set a chart down and stepped around the desk. He nodded to Jessica then turned his gaze to Jim. “Sure. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes, perhaps. I was just in talking to Mark Taylor.” Jim paused, wanting to word this carefully. “He seems rather depressed. I just wondered if you were aware of how he’s handling things. Mentally, that is.”