Title: Burden Lifted
Author: Tulip
Category: V, very angsty [Mac/Webb conversation]
Rating: PG-13 for language
Spoilers: Up through "Valor" - this is a post-episode
piece
Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, I'm not making a profit,
I have no money and should probably be finding better
things to do with my time....
Feedback: Sure
Archive: Please tell me where
Notes: This is really angsty, and, as per usual, Harm
was pissing me off in Valor, and Mac knew he was wrong
and didn't say anything. And, then I started to
think, well, "Lifeline" was sort of the "rosy" picture
of their relationship, but Mac needed some sense
knocked into her about the other parts of their
relationship. So, I've had Webb be the catalyst for
making her think. Plus, I love breaking her and
Brumby up. I did initially continue this story beyond
what you've read here, but it just wasn't working,
because it was too much like some of the other stuff
I've written. In other words, sorry, but no sequel! 
Be not concerned, though, I have ideas for other
stuff... With smut in it. I had intended for smut to
be in this one, but, like I said, it just wasn't
working.

*Mac*
After Webb told Harm that it looked as though Sergeant
Joan Steele had detonated the bomb to prevent an
attack on American students, Harm walked away. I
turned to walk off as well.

"Why do you always follow him around like a puppy?" 
Webb asked after I had taken about three steps away. 
His tone of voice was very mild, and it seemed almost
as if he really was curious about my answer. 

I turn around. I wonder what he's getting at. "What
the hell is that supposed to mean?" His eyes are
betraying his tone of voice. He looks pissed.

"Well, you've been following in Rabb's footsteps, no
matter what, even though he was potentially
jeopardizing her mission. And I'll bet you're about
to go after him again."

"Screw you, Webb," I say, stalking off away from both
of them. Sanctimonious son of a bitch! 

I don't talk to either of them for the rest of the
day. I go back to my quarters and stew about the
whole thing. I'm really not happy with either Harm or
Webb. When I get back to my room, there is a terse
message from Mic asking where the hell I am since it's
the middle of the night here in Bahrain. I wonder if
I could get together with some other women and buy an
island or something. Men are only allowed on for sex,
and even then they can't talk. They'll have to leave
when we're done with them, and only come back when we
get horny. I think I could find some investors for
this little plan. As I lay on the bed wondering how
much such an island would cost, I realize that I've
pretty much taken a swan dive off the deep end.

This forces me to think about what Webb said. Damn
him for that. I consider my relationship with Harm,
and I reluctantly realize that Webb has a point about
my behavior these past few days. Although Harm and I
disagreed about Steele, and I was concerned about
Webb's plan for using her, ultimately, I believe that,
given the circumstances, it was the best course of
action. I also feel kind of bad for not being more
vocal when Harm was disagreeing with - okay, actively
disregarding -- Webb's instructions during the time
Steele was sitting in the café. When I think back on
it, Harm was really trying to get his way. He didn't
think Steele should agree to the mission, I know he
tried to talk her out of it, and he just plain didn't
want Webb to be right. Although his instincts that
something had gone wrong were correct, there was, I'm
sure, a more subtle way of finding out where she had
gone when she disappeared from our sight. I know that
Webb was pissed that Harm wouldn't listen. 

When I think about some of the things Harm said
afterwards, while I remained silent, I actually cringe
a little. Webb pulled out all the stops to try to
locate Steele, and one of his own people was
compromised in doing so. Harm made some sarcastic
comment about Webb protecting his people at Steele's
expense. I should have spoken up, I realize now. 
Webb was doing everything possible, and, frankly, he
should be concerned about his own people. For some
reason, Harm had designated himself as Steele's
protector and, while of course I wanted her to come
back in one piece, she had a death wish and went off
the reservation when she dumped her belt. That's one
thing I feel pretty certain of - that she took matters
into her own hands. And for Harm to accuse Webb of
doing less than he ought to was really inexcusable. 
Harm would have been just as reluctant if he was
sending Naval personnel out on a mission to find a
missing CIA agent.

I am so disgusted with Harm, and with myself, right
now. I guess that my getting in the middle of Harm
and Webb would have probably done more harm than good,
but I feel like I should have at least said something.


While I'm thinking about all this, the phone rings. 
It's Mic, and he immediately starts giving me the
third degree. He actually asks me if I'm having an
affair with Harm. I tell him I can't tell him where I
was because it's classified, and he accuses me of
lying. I'm about to tell him to check with Webb, when
I stop myself. My God, what am I doing? He knows
about my job, and he knows damn well I can't tell him
everything. When did I give so much control over to
Mic that I have to tell him to check with Webb about
my whereabouts? I can't marry him! I open my mouth
to say something, but I stop myself. It's really not
fair to do this over the phone, with me thousands of
miles away. Instead, I simply say, "We need to talk
when I get back. I have to go now, I'll call you when
I get in." I hang up after that and promptly burst
into tears. 

I don't know how my life ended up in such a shambles. 
Actually, I do. I've been ceding control to the men
in it. I dry my tears and decide to take back my
life, starting now. I will not allow Mic to rule my
life, and I'm kicking him out of it when I get back, I
don't care how charming he tries to be. I should have
done this long ago. He's been making decisions for
me, without asking, since he decided to move to the
States without telling me, and I need to make my own
choices. 

And as for Harm, I realize I need to let go. I think
I've always figured that he'd come around eventually,
and maybe Mic senses this, even though I really was
trying to make it work. Now, though, I hope Harm
doesn't come around. He just doesn't respect other
people where he thinks he's right, no matter what. I
mean, he showed no respect to Webb over the course of
this operation, and, Webb was right, we were working
for him. If Harm couldn't handle that, he should've
stayed behind. And when I think of all the times he's
kept me out of the loop or laughed at me because he
thought that I was biased or that I wasn't seeing
things clearly, I could just scream. I guess I've
never taken the global perspective of Mic and Harm
before. 

And, come to think of it, Harm has done nothing but
ridicule me when it comes to my taste in men. He
accused me of going out with Dalton because of his
money and position in the legal community. He's been
really mean about Mic. He can make me feel so small,
and I have to wonder why I'm putting up with it. I
really don't have to. Not like when I lived at home
and was dependent on my father for a roof over my
head.

God, I feel like the biggest idiot! I pretend to be
this strong independent woman who has control over my
life, but I really don't have any right now. I don't
know what happened. I think maybe I was so lonely
that I felt that being with someone was better than
being alone, but I was so very wrong about that. I
know I need to think about this a little more, but I
decide to do it while I'm on the treadmill. Even
though I got no sleep last night, I'm too wired to go
to bed now, and I know if I do, I'll just dwell on all
this stuff.

*Webb*
I knew from the beginning that having Steele try to
recontact the terrorists was really risky. Mac was
uncomfortable enough with Steele's motivations to give
me a little pause, but, with the time crunch we were
facing and the threat of imminent danger, I felt that
it was the best way and I took the risk. I swear,
Steele had some kind of a death wish. And Rabb just
made things so much more difficult. He tried to
undermine her decision, which was hers to make in the
first place. Then he tried to thwart me at every
possible opportunity. If he couldn't, or wouldn't,
take orders from me, he should have damn well stayed
behind. And Mac didn't help, following him around
like a goddamn puppy. I mean, she's an intelligent
woman, and she just went along with him even thought I
know she knew better.

Then, when we found out that she had disappeared - and
I'm convinced she alone decided to get rid of that
belt - I had everybody possible out looking for her. 
One of my people got compromised, and the
sanctimonious son of a bitch implies that it's okay if
my people get killed looking for his client,
apparently because she's military, never mind the fact
that she's off the reservation, possibly in aid of the
terrorist plot I'm trying my damndest to prevent. 
What makes his people more valuable than mine? I am
so sick of his shit!! 

The last straw was when he stalked off after I told
him and Mac that it appeared as though Steele had, in
fact, thwarted the attack by setting off the
explosives. He sauntered off in his sanctimonious "I
told you so" way. Hey, I never said she wasn't brave
or that she wasn't telling the truth all along. But
Mr. Perfect decided that she was mentally unbalanced,
so it must be so. As if he wouldn't have done the
same damn thing if it was the last resort. And then,
when Mac turned and started walking after him, I took
all my irritation out on her, asking, "Why do you
always follow him around like a puppy?" She
essentially told me to fuck off.

I guess I deserved it, but she knows when he's full of
shit. She just won't admit it, because it will
destroy this little fantasy she seems to have that
someday he'll come to his senses, get down on one knee
to propose, and they'll live happily every after. The
very thought of it makes me snort with laughter. 
Putting aside the fact that she is currently engaged
to one of the smarmiest people I've ever known,
another man who is controlling her life, the thought
of Rabb getting his head out of his ass long enough to
realize that life might be better with a partner is
laughable. He's too damn selfish to make that kind of
commitment to anyone, least of all Sarah MacKenzie. 
He's been stringing her along for years, like it's
some kind of game to see when she cracks. 

Okay, I'm overexaggerating a little, but I can't
understand how someone like her can just give control
of her life away like she's done. She deserves so
much better, yet she has Rabb playing this godawful
game with her, pulling her close and pushing her away,
all the while he waits to make sure something better
isn't out there for him. And she has Brumby, who
seems to just do whatever the hell he wants, bulldozes
his way through life, the consequences to himself and
to her be damned. I mean, he picked up and moved here
with telling her? I can't believe she didn't get
scared off by that. And the other things I've heard
haven't been all that flattering. 

I don't even know why I'm spending all of this time
thinking about this. It's not like Mac and I are
involved, or are even that friendly. I guess I do
think of her as a friend, though, and I don't like to
see my friends as unhappy as she seems to always be,
even though she masks it. Not that she'll ever speak
to me again after what I said to her. Like I said, I
was taking my anger at Rabb out on her. I shouldn't
have done that, but what I said was true. In fact, I
wonder why I even continue to go to JAG. It never
seems to work out. 

I know I need to sleep, because I've been up for
almost 72 straight hours, but I'm way too wired. 
Also, I don't need to be worrying about Mac's life. 
It's not my problem, but now that I've started
thinking about it, I'm afraid I'll keep puzzling over
it if I try to go to sleep now. I decide to work off
some energy in the gym, and I hope Rabb isn't there. 
I just don't want to deal with him right now. I'm
unhappy that Steele died, too, it's not something I
wanted. I feel guilty enough about what happened
without his sanctimonious self rubbing my face in it. 
I change clothes and head to the gym.

I'm the only one there, so I get on one of the
treadmills and start running. I really wish I had my
Walkman, but I don't, so I'll just have to deal. I
start thinking about the chain of events of the last
few days, and how I'm going to rectify the things that
went wrong, like our agent being compromised. Once I
start thinking, I focus only on that.

*Mac*
Shit. Webb is here. He seems totally oblivious
though. I wonder if I should just run outside. But
that's probably a really bad idea, me being a woman in
a foreign land and all. There's no need to provoke
the locals. I get on the treadmill furthest from him
and start running. The pounding of my feet makes me
feel better, and, as I run farther and farther, I feel
better and better about the decisions I made earlier. 
I'm not looking forward to talking to Mic, but I sort
of wonder whether it's going to crush him as much as I
would have thought. I have always suspected that part
of his wish to get involved with me stemmed from a
desire to show up Harm. Well, I'm no longer a pawn in
this game. I'm taking my own piece off the board. I
deserve better. I do. I just have to keep repeating
it to myself, so I remember.

I glance over at Webb. I don't think he even knows
anyone else is in the room. I wonder what he's
thinking about, and it occurs to me that he may be in
here for some of the same reasons I am. Well, I doubt
he has the same problems with women that I do with
Harm and Mic. Anyway, even though this operation
ended without a terrorist attack, there were some
things that happened that need to be made right. 
Steele's death was ultimately her own choice, but the
death of one of his operatives was the catalyst for
this whole thing, and another man was compromised
searching for Steele, so I'm sure he has a lot on his
mind. 

I start feeling kind of bad again for being so wrapped
up in myself that I didn't even think of what Webb
might be going through. Although, come to think of
it, I never have thought about his point of view
before. Our - meaning Harm, the Admiral's, Bud's and
my - opinion has always been to not only question what
Webb is doing but to try to thwart him. I'm ashamed
to say that this is the first time I have considered
the fact that our goals are really the same even
though our methods are different. I know that Harm
has no use for his methods, but I think the Admiral
realizes that, sometimes, they're necessary. He was a
SEaL. Neither he nor I see the world in terms of
black and white like Harm does. Of course, Harm will
see shades of gray when it suits him and on his terms.
He's willing to "do what it takes," the rules be
damned, when it suits him. He and Webb are more alike
than Harm would like to admit. 

*Webb*
By the time I'm through outlining my report in my head
and making a mental list of things I need to do before
I leave here to make sure that no one else has been
compromised, I've run almost ten kilometers. I hadn't
really intended to run that far, particularly since
I've had no sleep, but I decide to finish the 10K. 
When I finally focus back on the room, I realize that
Mac is in here running too, and by the looks of her,
she's been here awhile. I can't believe I didn't
notice anyone else was in here. That is not good. I
assume she knows I'm here, but she seems really lost
in thought now. 

I run for another few minutes, then start walking to
cool down as I reach my goal. I wonder if I can sneak
out of here. I have a lot to do, including arranging
for transportation out of here. They're probably
going to want me to come back with Rabb and Mac,
because it will be cheaper, but I am seriously
considering spending my own money on a commercial
flight. I know I'll have to work with them again, but
that doesn't mean I need to spend time with them, even
if it is technically Company time. 

I make my way along the wall farthest from Mac and am
somewhat relieved when I'm out of her line of sight,
although she's still pretty oblivious to everything
but whatever's going on in her head. As I grab for
the door handle, it suddenly slams open, right into
me. 

The last thing I hear is, "I've been looking
everywhere..." When I open my eyes, I see Rabb and
Mac staring down at me. I sit up, but my head is
pounding. 

"You should lay down," Mac says, breathing hard. 
Well, she appears to have just gotten off the
treadmill, which probably means I wasn't out for long.
That's a good thing.

"How long was I out?" I ask as I start to get up. 
Rabb reaches down to help me, but I shake him off. 

"Only a few seconds."

"Thanks," I say, going to leave.

"Webb, I'm really ..."

"Save it," I say tersely before I leave.

"What the hell is wrong with him," I hear Harm ask as
the door closes. I'm actually interested in what she
has to say, so I stop to listen, pressing my head up
against the wall.

"You've been acting like an ass ever since he came
into the court that day, and you just slammed in here
and knocked him out. How do you expect him to act?" 
I smile a little. I head towards the shower, and I
see from the rapid swelling that the door must have
opened into the right side of my face. At least he
didn't break my nose.

I get clean and get dressed, search out some ice, and
make some calls. It doesn't appear as though anyone
else has been compromised, and another agent is
handling our informant and his family, who are
currently in a safehouse. The informant is pretty
beat up, but we found him before he ended up dead. As
I suspected, Langley wants me on the transport, which
is leaving in ninety minutes. I want to get back as
soon as possible, but I still make a call to see about
commercial flights. There's no availability until
late in the day tomorrow, and I'll only get reimbursed
for whatever they end up paying for the transport. I
decide not to spend the money. I can suck it up and
ignore Rabb and Mac. I get my stuff packed up and
head out to the airfield. I hang back so that I don't
have to talk to anyone before I get in the plane.

*Mac*
I can't believe that Harm came barging in like he did.
He must have pushed that door open with every ounce
of energy he had, because Webb went flying to the
ground. I hopped off the treadmill as I hit the stop
button and went running over. Webb practically jumped
up and left us both there. He wouldn't let Harm
apologize.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Harm asks, before
the door is even closed. He could at least wait until
he knows Webb can't hear him. For God's sake, he just
knocked him out. 

I'm still a little p.o.'ed at Harm and also feeling
really bad that I didn't speak up earlier, so I say,
"You've been acting like an ass ever since he came to
court, and you just slammed in here and knocked him
out. How do you expect him to act?"

"I can't believe you're defending him!"

"What!!?? You just cold cocked him by slamming in
here. What did you want anyway?"

"We have a transport in three hours." 

"Fine." I walk out myself and stretch in my room
before I shower. It's very tempting to take a nap,
but I get my stuff together and then read for a little
bit before it's time to head to the tarmac. I don't
bother to wait for Harm even though I can hear him in
his room. I wonder if Webb is coming with us. I have
a feeling the CIA is going to want him to come back on
the transport because it ends up being a lot cheaper. 
I kind of hope not, because I don't want to deal with
the testosterone that seems to be flying between him
and Harm. I feel like I owe Webb an apology, and I'd
like to talk to him, but not under these
circumstances.

I get settled in and close my eyes. With any luck,
Harm will leave me alone. I need to rest anyway. I
start to doze off fairly quickly, but I sense it when
people come in and sit down. I relax fully when we're
airborne and the pilot tells us we should have a
pretty smooth flight. We'll land in Rome for
refueling and then go on to DC. I sleep most of the
way.

I wake up during our descent, and look around me. 
Harm is sulking, and Webb is tapping away at his
laptop. He has quite a shiner, and he looks really,
really tired. I'm starving. I don't really know how
long we'll be here, but I'd love to be able to get out
of the airport and go to a little trattoria. I sigh,
doubting that my little fantasy will come true. When
we land, I let Harm get off first. I don't
particularly want to talk to him. I check my voice
mail when I get off the plane, and Mic has left
another message for me. He's trying to threaten me by
saying he's going to leave if he doesn't get the truth
from me. I decide that I need to resolve this now,
even if it would be better to do it face to face.

I make sure Harm is nowhere around and prepare to make
a very unpleasant and expensive phone call, on a pay
phone, no less. I briefly consider calling collect,
but I whip out my phone card instead. I know it's
kind of early in the morning, but I dial anyway. Mic
answers after a few rings and is very curt with me.

"Mic, I got your message, and I know I said we needed
to talk when I get back, but I changed my mind." I
take a really deep breath. "I can't marry you, and I
don't want to see you again." There's complete
silence. I see Webb walk by, and I can see that he's
heard every word I just said, but he keeps going.

Finally, he says, "And this is all you have to say to
me?"

"What do you want me to say? You think I spent the
night with Harm rather than working. You know that I
can't talk about some of what I do. This is one of
those times, and if you can't trust me, then I don't
want to be with you."

"Sarah, you know how it looks...."

"I don't want to be with Harm. He tries to run my
life as much as you do. Well, starting a few hours
ago, I'm running my own life. You keep making huge
decisions without consulting me, and you make me feel
bad about myself, and then I end up apologizing for
it. Well, I deserve better. So, I'll have your stuff
to you the day after I get back. Goodbye, Mic."

"Sarah, can't we talk about this?"

"It's too late."

"Now who's making major decisions without
consultation?"

"That's a bit rich, Mic, considering that you
indicated in your last message that you might up and
leave before I got back. That's why I called instead
of doing this face to face. I was going to wait. 
Listen, I have to go." I just hang up.

*Webb*
I know I should have slept on the way to Italy, but I
really wanted to get my report done. I ignored Harm
on my way to my seat, and, to his credit, he actually
got the message, even though I didn't have to get up
into his face and shout like a drill instructor, which
I would normally have to do. I manage to get my
report drafted, and I finish right before we touch
down. It takes me a few minutes to get my things
together, and I take my time so that Harm can be out
of my sight. Now that I'm not concentrating, I
realize how much my head is throbbing. What the hell
was he doing, shoving the door open like that?? It's
not like the transport was about to leave without her.
I'm pondering this as I walk into the terminal. 
We're in a private gate area, with very limited
seating.

I hear Mac talking on the phone, clearly breaking up
with Mic. Whoah!! I really don't want to hear this. 
She catches my eye as I walk by, and I just know that
she can tell I heard every word of what she just said.
I keep moving though, because the last thing I want
is for her to think that I was deliberately
eavesdropping. I'm glad she's kicking that guy to the
curb, but I'm a little puzzled by the whole thing.
Then again, understanding women has never been my
strong suit, as the last few days have amply
demonstrated. 

I walk out of earshot and find out how long we're
going to be here and where to search out something to
eat and some aspirin. Before I head out to the
terminal, I call my voice mail and all of that stuff. 
Thankfully, I can dispose of the issues from my voice
mail with two brief return phone calls. When I'm done
with all of that, Mac comes wandering through. She
looks really upset, but she comes up to ask how long
we're going to be here. 

"Another ninety minutes." I pause for a second. She
looks truly miserable. I take a breath and ask, "I
was going to find some food. Do you want me to bring
you something back?" 

She nods her head yes and sits down. "I don't want to
see Harm right now," she manages to get out.

"All right, I'll try to keep him away, if I see him. 
Will you watch my stuff?" She nods again, and I pull
out my handkerchief and give it to her before I walk
off towards where I was told food is. I realize that
I really have no idea what Mac likes, although I've
heard Rabb tease her about Beltway burgers. I buy
some aspirin first and swallow them dry. I find a
place with some pizza, and I figure most people like
pizza, so I get some slices with meat on them as well
as a couple of Cokes. I spot Rabb, and he's flirting
with some blonde across the way. This may be mean,
but I hope he gets distracted and misses the flight
home. It would serve him right. 

I make my way back to private gate area, and the guard
lets me through. I hand Mac the pizza and Coke, and
she thanks me. She's not crying any more, but she
looks pretty miserable. I start to sit down, but then
I think better of it. "Do you want me to sit
someplace else?" I ask her.

"No, that's okay. You have quite a shiner," she says,
looking down at her pizza.

"Yeah, my head hurts. Listen, I didn't know what you
liked, so if you pick the toppings off, I won't be
insulted."

"No, it's fine. Thanks for going to get it. What do
I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it. You seem to be having a bad
day. It's my treat."

"Well, your day hasn't been so great, either," she
says. 

I feel like I need to apologize for what I said to her
earlier. "Listen," we both say at the same time. She
motions for me to go first.

"I'm sorry I asked you why you always follow Rabb
around like a puppy. It wasn't necessary, and it was
mean."

"I deserved it, Webb. I wanted to apologize to you
for not backing you up more. Rabb was wrong, and I
should have called him on it. Particularly when he
accused you of sacrificing Steele in favor of your own
people. He would have done the same thing if we were
helping you find a missing CIA agent." That didn't
come out right. "If we were looking for a civilian of
any kind. I mean, he would be covert, not go in with
guns blazing, and he would not needlessly jeopardize
personnel."

"I appreciate that, Mac. I mean, I appreciate that
you realize I care about what I do and the people I
work with. I'm not completely heartless, you know."

"I know," she says quietly. Oh, crap, she's crying
again. 

"Please, don't cry..."

"I'm sorry, I'm just...never mind."

I think for a second, then take a deep breath and say,
"You can talk to me, you know. I can keep secrets." 
This makes her laugh. I am serious though. She just
seems so miserable, and I feel the need to make it
better.

"I think I want to eat first," she says taking a bite
of her pizza.

*Mac*
Webb really surprised me. I knew he was still in the
gate area, but he was far enough away that I don't
think he heard most of my conversation with Mic. When
I was done, I realized that I don't even know how long
we're going to be here. I decided to just ask Webb. 
He offered to go get dinner, but didn't ask me what's
wrong or try to pressure me into talking to him. He
merely asked me to watch his stuff and handed me his
handkerchief. I did ask him to keep Harm away from
me, although I suspect my partner is flirting with
some beautiful Italian woman in the terminal.

After Webb leaves, I sit in the gate area, crying
quietly, wishing that we could just leave now. Webb
comes back in twenty-two minutes with pizza and Coke. 
He tells me it's his treat, and to feel free to pick
the toppings off. He's being very solicitous of me,
and he's content to leave me alone. I feel the need
to apologize for my behavior, but we start speaking at
the same time. I have him go first, and he apologizes
for asking me if I always followed Harm around like a
puppy.

I was surprised that he said he was sorry, but I also
apologized. He was surprised as well, and he thanks
me for realizing that he isn't just some heartless
bureaucrat. He then offers to listen to whatever's
bothering me. I decide to think about it, but I need
to eat something. I'm starved, and I can't remember
the last time I ate. As I eat my pizza, I think about
Webb's offer. As Webb said, he's good at keeping
secrets, but I'm not really sure I want to expose
myself to him in the way that I would have to if I
talked to him about what's on my mind. On the other
hand, there's really no one else I can talk to. 

People inside JAG don't need all of this information
about me, and I don't want to put anyone in the middle
of Harm and me. As for my friends outside JAG, I'm
not on good enough terms with any of them anymore to
talk about this kind of thing. It would entail a lot
of listening, and I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to
return the favor when someone needed it. I'm away so
much that it's very hard to keep up friendships that
allow for this kind of conversation. Which is another
thing I need to work on. I need friends outside of
JAG that I can go to with stuff like this. I also
ponder going to a counselor, but, like so many of our
clients have pointed out, seeking help is not
necessarily a good career move. I'd like to make full
Colonel, but if it seems like I can't handle my
personal problems, aka stress, I doubt that's going to
happen. 

And, I'm well aware that these problems have been
ongoing and recurrent in my life. They're not the
sort of problems that are interfering enough with my
career to take the risk with counseling. I am pretty
good at compartmentalizing when I need to. And I know
when I need to.

When I'm done eating, I turn to Webb and say, "I think
I would like to take you up on your offer. Can we
talk on the plane, though, after we take off? Away
from Harm?"

"Sure. Of course. You know, we can get back on
anytime we want to."

"Okay. Let me clean up."

"Yeah. I'll meet you back here, okay?"

*Webb*
I could tell Mac spent a long time thinking about my
offer. She was concentrating the whole time she was
eating, and when she was done, she said she wanted to
talk. I hope it doesn't end up making things awkward
between us. I get the impression, although I'm not
positive, that she doesn't really have anyone to talk
to. I don't know why I think this, actually, except
that I don't know why she'd talk to me otherwise. Or
maybe I'm just extrapolating from my own life. My
friends have turned into acquaintances because I'm
gone so much, and I don't, and won't, share too much
with people at work. Mac and I have similar careers,
in terms of travel and that sort of thing. Anyway, I
also know that seeing a counselor can sound the death
knell for a career, even one that's more
administrative, like Mac's. It could certainly be
detrimental to mine. Although, they give us so much
psych testing and re-testing that it sometimes feels
like therapy. I guess I do have my mother, but there
are some things I can't talk to her about.

I ponder this as I wash up in the bathroom. I really
do have a shiner, my head hurts like hell. Judging
from the way I ache all over, I probably also have
whiplash. I decide to change into comfortable
clothes. In fact, I wonder why I even put on a suit
after my shower earlier. And, come to think of it,
why I didn't just leave my garment bag on the plane,
although I'm glad I didn't, now. I change quickly
into sweatpants and not so quickly into a sweater,
since it kind of hurts to raise my arms, then go to
meet Mac. 

"I was wondering what happened to you!" She says.

"Sorry, I'm not feeling all that great, and I wanted
to be comfortable. I don't know why I didn't put
comfortable clothes on earlier. I guess it was just a
habit to pull out a suit. Harm come back yet?" 

"No. If he misses the plane, it's his problem."

"Shall we?" I ask, motioning for her to go on ahead. 
I wait for her to choose a seat and I put my things
across the aisle. She gives me a puzzled look. "If
it's all the same to you, I'll move over when Rabb
gets on, and then I'll move back. I'd rather not have
some big dramatic confrontation over why I'm talking
to you when I'm not worthy to worship the ground you
walk on."

"So, how do you really feel?" She says, laughing. 
It's nice to hear her laugh, actually. 

We sit down across from each other, and I decide to
ease into the conversation with her, particularly
since she wants to wait until after we take off to
tell me what's on her mind. I ask her about music and
movies that she likes. We actually have a lot in
common, it turns out, in that arena. She doesn't like
opera all that much, but she's never been. I almost
tell her I'll take her some time, but I stop myself. 
I don't want her to think I'm doing this to get a date
with her. I'm thinking she doesn't need another man
in her life with romantic designs on her. Which I
don't right now. The last think I need right now is a
woman in my life. It's far too complicated as it is. 
Terrorists are getting more bold, not less, and I just
have a bad feeling about it.

Rabb jumps on the plane right before the door closes. 
He's out of breath. Mac rolls her eyes. I think she
knows instinctively that he was trying to get into
some woman's pants. He sinks down into a seat in the
front of the plane, which is good. We take off about
fifteen minutes later, as Mac and I are listing our
favorite old movies. It's getting hard to hear with
the noise in the plane, as we debate whether the best
Hitchcock movie staring Cary Grant is North by
Northwest, Notorious, or To Catch a Thief. As soon as
we can move around, she moves over to the window, and
motions for me to move. I sneak a look at Rabb when I
stand up, and he looks like he's asleep. He also
seems to have some red lipstick on his chin. I don't
know if I'd like to be the sort of man to be able to
pick up a woman in an airport terminal. I think I'd
rather have something meaningful, actually.

When I do, we're both silent for a moment, and I say,
"Rabb appears to be sleeping. Just so you know. But
if you see him coming this way, let me know so I can
get out of the way."

Mac chuckles a little and then gets serious. "Listen,
I appreciate your willingness to listen to me. I
don't have that many people to talk to outside of
work."

"I know exactly what you mean, Mac. Sarah." I say. 
If we're going to have this kind of conversation, I
think we need to be on a first name basis.

*Mac*
Webb and I were making light conversation, and we have
more in common than I would have thought. It makes me
feel better about my decision to talk to him. He
makes me even more comfortable by letting me know that
he doesn't have too many people to confide in. He
also subtly puts us on a first name basis. I'm
suddenly feeling a little tongue-tied, because I don't
really know where to start with my story. Webb, I
mean, Clay, sits there and waits patiently for me to
begin. I glance over and realize how tired he looks.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather sleep?" I ask.

"Are you procrastinating?" He shoots back. "But if
you've changed your mind, that's fine, too."

"I haven't changed my mind. I just don't know quite
where to start. And I'm not that comfortable exposing
myself like I'm about to."

"Well, I may be requesting some quid pro quo from you
in the future. I will tell you that I probably know
some of what you're going through. I don't feel all
that great about how this operation got started or
ended up. Two people are dead and one got beaten to
within an inch of his life, after all," he says
softly.

"All right." I take a deep breath. "I know, I mean I
know in my head that I don't give myself enough
credit. That I deserve to be happy and that I
shouldn't let other people control my life. But
sometimes I don't always know it in my heart, I
guess."

"Why is that?" Clay asks softly. "What happened to
you?"

"Well, I'm sure you know some of it."

He interrupts me. "I know broad strokes, but not
specifics. Like you do about me. Although I've read
your clearance documents, for obvious reasons."

"Okay," I say, taking another deep breath. "I had a
very rough time growing up. My mom left when I was
young, because she was tired of my father drinking,
screaming at her all the time, and beating her. He
didn't stop drinking and screaming, and he made me
feel so small, all the time. I eventually turned to
alcohol myself. I guess I figured if he hated me that
much, there must be a reason why. I could forget
about it while I was drunk. Then, when I was 18, I
had to go and marry a guy that made me feel like my
father did. Out of the frying pan and into the fire,
I guess." I can't even bring myself to raise my head.
Clay doesn't say anything, but he gives my arm a
little squeeze so that I know he's listening.

"The, one night, I got really drunk with my friend
Eddie, and we got into his car. He crashed it, and I
sat there, helpless to do anything, while he died. 
After that, my Uncle Matt came and got me from the
hospital. He took me to Arizona, you know, where we
found him after he stole the Declaration, and he dried
me out. But, you know, the feelings that drove me to
drink in the first place have never really gone away. 
As much as I try to tamp them down, and even though I
know I've come a really long way, it's still hard. 
You know?"

"I know," Clay says softly. 

"My father, and then Chris, my husband, had so much
control over my life because they had control over my
emotions. And then, even though I think the Marine
Corps is the best thing that's ever happened to me,
they have control as well. Over what I wear, where I
work and live, and what to do. I like that order and
discipline, and, honestly, it helps me maintain
command over my own life. That means trying to be the
best at what I do, and not letting anyone else make
decisions for me, at least emotionally, like my father
and like Chris. I don't usually ask for advice. It's
not always a good thing, because I don't always share
what I'm feeling, mostly because I'm afraid of seeming
weak. When I have to make a decision, though, I
always try to puzzle it out on my own. Somewhere along
the line, though, I think I must have forgotten about
maintaining control over my life. "

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that, somehow, today I realized that I've been
under the spell of both Harm and Mic. I need to
preface this by saying that Harm is one of my closest
friends, faults and all, and I think we probably know
more about each other than anybody else. He's seen me
at my absolute worst and hasn't run away. And I've
seen him at his absolute worst and stuck with him. 
But sometimes, he just has this hold over me, and I
need to figure out how to handle it better. I don't
know how to explain it really, but Harm has ways of
manipulating me, like sort of forcing me to take sides
over this Sergeant Steele business. He never asked me
to take sides, but there's always this unspoken thing
there, and I know he would have seen it as a betrayal
if I had spoken up. He would have made our trip back
really unpleasant, and made me feel guilty, so I kept
my mouth shut, even though I shouldn't have."

"Sarah, it's okay..."

"No, it's not. I was giving in to his behavior. He
was acting like a petulant child and I should have
said something. Anyway, he knows exactly what buttons
to push. He knows how to make me feel really small,
and guilty for not going along with him. For some
reason, I keep going back for more, probably because
he's been a friend for a long time. He expects
everyone to drop everything when he's in trouble, yet
when I need to talk - and I have hardly ever asked for
him to help me, with anything personal anyway - he's
always too busy, usually trying to get someone into
bed."

"Yeah, I've been on the receiving end of that," Clay
says wryly.

"And he's always telling me what 'my problem' is. I'm
not being objective, I'm looking at something through
the lens of my experience, whatever it is at the
moment. I know I have faults, believe me. I know
better than anyone, and I try to work on them every
day. My experiences do color the way I see things,
but I know that about myself. But he's the exact same
way. He's not immune to viewing a case through the
lens of his experiences, whether it's as a pilot or
because of his father. If I ever thought I couldn't
be objective, or my past would be detrimental to
something I'm working on, I'd recuse myself. And I
know friends can say that sort of stuff to each other,
but sometimes you need to know when to shut the hell
up.

The worst part of it is the way I've let him control
so much of my emotions, especially lately. Do you
know about Dalton Lowne?"

"I saw the name in your file, and that he's dead, but,
other than that, not really."

"I dated him, and I worked for his firm for a short
time. Another example of Harm's behavior. He, and
the Admiral, were both really pissed at me for even
considering leaving the Corps, but, really, their
attitude sort of pushed me away."

"Wait. You were working there when that whole debacle
with the Russian documents occurred, right?"

"Yeah, although I have to say that, even though Harm
had been really pissy about the whole thing - I mean,
me leaving, being with Dalton, who wasn't in the
military -- he did come through for me. Let me back
up. Dalton, who was on the other side of a case as
me, had looked at some confidential information at my
apartment while I went to get dressed. Naturally, I
kicked his butt out of my life, but he wasn't really
taking no for an answer. At some point during all of
this, a police detective got obsessed with me, and
killed Dalton, which I didn't know at the time. When
Dalton died, he died in my arms. I felt really bad
about the whole thing, and I fell of the wagon. For a
day. Harm realized what was going on, and he never
said anything to anybody, and he hasn't brought it up
again. And he did come find me when the insane cop
kidnapped me. After all of this transpired, I swore
off men for a while, and Mic came into the picture.

About that time, Chris Ragle came back into my life,
and immediately started manipulating me. I went to
Harm about it, but he pushed me away. He was trying
to get Bobbi Latham into bed. Of course, he felt
guilty about it after what happened, which I'm sure
you know," Clay nods, "and came through for me again. 
Mic, of course, was trying to lay the blame for the
whole thing on me because he was representing John
Farrow.

Anyway, after that whole debacle was over, Mic started
a full court press immediately, and then it was like
he and Harm were in some kind of bizarre competition
for me, even though Harm had never shown any interest
in me, romantically, up to that point. I mean, we had
flirted a little, but I started to think maybe
something else was there. But, like I said, I had
sworn off men. I guess I can say this with hindsight,
and I don't think it was intentional, but I swear, the
two of them really had me convinced to make a choice
between them." I take a deep breath.

"I had developed feelings for Harm. So, when we were
in Australia, I let him know that. He asked me to
wait, although I couldn't really tell if it was
because he wasn't ready for a real, I mean romantic,
relationship with me, or if he didn't feel the same
way and was letting me down gently." 

*Webb*
"What?!" I say, kind of loudly. "Sorry. Go on." 
I'm totally riveted by her story, actually. I have
been curious about some of this for a while, but I had
also wondered why such a strong woman lets herself be
manipulated the way she sometimes does.

"Obviously, it was completely humiliating. It still
is, and I've never told anyone about it until now. I
felt kind of like Harm had tricked me into exposing
myself to him, just to see if I would. When I had
dinner with Mic during that trip, he said he loved me
and asked me to marry him. I think I agreed to wear
his ring on my right hand for a number of reasons. I
was tired of being alone, I wanted Harm to know I
wouldn't wait around forever, I wanted a family. I
don't know. But, I've been letting him control my
life too, even though I really didn't realize it until
today."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters, Mic moved to the U.S. without
telling me. You remember when Mike Roberts was
accused of almost killing those Marines? You came to
the ship, because you thought he was in cahoots with
the Cubans?" She starts giggling a little. "Sorry,"
she says, not at all apologetically.

"Well, it seemed a little far-fetched at the time too.
It wasn't really my idea to go there, to tell you the
truth."

"You'd never know it from that interrogation posture
you took."

"I'm well trained."

"Right. Well, after we left there, the four of us,
well, five, including the SecNav, went straight to the
Surface Warfare Ball. Mic just showed up, out of the
blue. I was so stunned, I didn't know what to say. I
mean, I really hate surprises, which I told him. But
he keeps doing it! He quit his job. He started his
own firm. He kept showing up at the office for cases
without telling me, making me look like a complete
idiot. And, thinking back on it, he pretty much
threatened me into moving the ring over. He also has
ways of making me feel small, like guilting me into
doing things that he wants to do but make me really
uncomfortable. Like the time he paraded me around a
firm picnic as his damn Barbie doll. As if I wasn't a
successful trial lawyer in my own right. Not to
mention, a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marine Corps. 
But, I thought I was in love with him. I know it's
really needy and girly, but I like having someone
around. He's just the wrong someone." Oh, shit,
she's crying again. 

"Hang on a second," I creep past Rabb to the little
galley they have and grab some water for both of us
and some napkins. I manage to make it back past him
without waking him. With my luck today, I would have
dropped a bottle of water right on his head. 
Thankfully, that didn't happen.

When I get back, Sarah says, "Thank you, Clay," as she
takes the water and the napkins. She's stopped
crying. "I hate crying. It makes me feel so weak."

"Everybody cries, Sarah."

"I just feel like the biggest idiot anyway. I guess
it just hit me that, when I do something or act in a
way either Harm or Mic doesn't like or makes them
uncomfortable, they turn it back on me like it's some
failing I have. Never mind that neither of them ever
thinks they do anything wrong or act in a way that
makes me uncomfortable. Even when I tell them. If I
get really upset, they apologize, but I think they're
doing it just to placate me. Neither of them ever
thinks they're wrong." She pauses here and takes a
drink as I ponder how similar Rabb and Brumby seem to
be. "Oh my God, they're so alike! I wonder if that's
why...now I feel even dumber," she says. I don't know
if I've heard anyone sound more miserable than Sarah
MacKenzie does right now.

"You're not an idiot, you're not weak. You're not
staying with Mic, are you?" She shakes her head no. 
"So, you recognized the problem and you're doing
something about it. A weak person would stick around
because she didn't want to be alone or she didn't want
to hurt his feelings. A strong person sticks up for
herself. But I have ask this. If you were in love
with Br..Mic, what's changed? Was there something
else other than these revelations you had today? 
Because, those seemed to be more about Rabb than about
Mic."

"You're right. There was a message from Mic after we
got back from the blast site, asking where the hell I
had been. I called him and explained that I had been
working all night, but I couldn't tell him why. He
got really upset and accused me of sleeping with Harm.
I opened my mouth to tell him to call you, but then I
realized that if he couldn't take my word for it, when
he knows, maybe better than anyone else I've dated,
about my job and that some of it is classified, I
realized I couldn't be with him anymore. I'm so tired
of the macho bullshit. I know it's a by-product of
being in the military, and because I have to work with
the Harm, and Admiral Chegwidden, I put up with it. 
But I don't need it at home, too. Mic had a similar
reaction during our last trip to Russia, when I went
to Chechnya. He thought that was because of some
deep-seated desire to be with Harm. It was from a
desire to save Harm's ass, actually. You know how
subtle he is, I knew he'd probably get himself
killed."

"True enough. So, you got over whatever romantic
feelings you had for Rabb?"

"Not entirely, although I've known for a long time it
could never work between us, but he's a good looking
guy. I don't know that he has enough to give to any
woman, unless she's willing to completely subordinate
her life to his. He's been playing a game with me
ever since Mic moved here, though, that I should have
stopped a long time ago, when I decided to make a go
of it with Mic. He keeps giving me hints that he has
feelings for me, and then he withdraws, all the while
stringing Renee along. Renee has never been my
favorite person - she was so obnoxious and overbearing
during that whole commercial filming thing - but I
feel kind of bad for her. I know this is probably why
Mic is jealous. 

But part of it is that Harm and I are very close. 
Like I said, we've seen each other at our worst, and
we know a lot about each other. Actually our
relationship isn't always so close. There are times
we can barely stand to be in the same room with each
other, but we always manage to get through it. I
think Mic sees that as some kind of commitment that
only romantic partners have. But that's what friends
do. Even if we're fighting like cats and dogs, if
either of us got into trouble the other would drop it
and help. I guess he's like family that way, in a
way. I just need to figure out how to make him stop
this push and pull he keeps doing with my emotions. I
need to get over whatever feelings I have for him. I
just don't know how to do that and still remain
friends with him, because that's important to me."

I'm thinking she doesn't really want an answer to
that, so I remain silent, but I squeeze her hand. 

"I know I'm totally babbling and those whole story
seems disconnected. And I know that ultimately, I'll
need to figure out what to do, lay some ground rules
or something, but it's been nice to at least tell
someone about it. I can't say these things to people
at JAG. I don't really want them to know this much
about me, or put anybody in the middle of me and Harm.
I don't have another friend I can confide in the way I
usually can with Harm. Which is another issue
entirely, I guess."

"Can I make an observation?" I hope I don't piss her
off. 

"Sure," she says.

"You guys do have a bit of an unusual relationship for
a man and a woman who aren't sexually involved. Not
all men could handle it, and Mic doesn't appear to
have been able to. You have an intimacy, like
family, like you said, on one level without having it
on another, and I think it's probably only natural to
maybe want to bring it to another realm. But, and I
hope you don't take this the wrong way, can you point
out Rabb's faults to him without him blowing up? Can
you say the same things to him that he says to you?"

"You mean, does the intimacy only run one way?" Sarah
asks.

"Yeah, that's another way to put it."

She's silent for a while, and I see Rabb get up and
stretch. He starts to walk back, and I just close my
eyes and wish I could quickly move back across the
aisle. He sees us and gives me a really dirty look
but doesn't stop. Sarah tenses up as soon as she sees
him. When he passes, she says, "Not entirely. Not
always. But no, I can't say those same things to him
as the mood strikes me, because he gets so upset, and
then I feel guilty. But then sometimes it just all
builds up and I end up being really bitchy, sometimes
over something really trivial, and he can't figure out
why. I don't know if his total lack of
self-perception is because he's a man or because he's
Harmon Rabb."

"Maybe a little of both. Don't hit me, but some women
do like to test the men in their lives by sending
psychic signals or something, and then they get mad
when you don't know what they want but they won't tell
you."

"Speaking from experience?" She asks with a raised
eyebrow.

"Yeah. Being with me is not easy, I know, but, you
know, if you want a particular meal at dinner, just
tell me what it is, don't tell me to 'just order' and
then get mad when I choose the wrong thing. And
that's just one example."

"I think you're maybe being played with 'The Rules.'"

"What are you talking about?"

"This book on how to catch a man. You are supposed to
play games and get him hooked on how intriguing you
are, then move in for the kill. Meaning, an
engagement ring." 

I can't believe this. "Women read books like that?"

"Oh yeah," she assures me. "And I would imagine that
you would be one of the men who would attract women
like that, since you seem to have a lot of money."

"But you'd never do that, I hope," I say.

"Clayton Webb! Of course not," she says, punching me
on the arm. 

"Ow. Hey! I meant it as a joke!" I do the most
annoying thing I can think of and stick my finger in
my mouth and then in her ear. She shrieks, and the
next thing you know, Harm is standing over us.

*Mac*
I cannot believe Clayton Webb just gave me a wet
willy. I hate that! But I feel much better getting
all of this off my chest, and he hasn't even told me
what I should do or how I should act. He just
listened, which is really all I needed. Oh crap, Harm
is standing there, looking at us. 

"You two look awfully cozy," he says.

"We're bored. What's your point?" Clay asks. I
think maybe I will let him handle this. He's a good
liar. I can't believe I just thought that, it's kind
of bitchy. If he doesn't speak up, though, I will. 

"What the hell is your problem, Webb?" Uh-oh. Clay
stands up.

"My problem? You have second-guessed everything I
have done the past few days, you actively tried to
undermine my operation, you refused to follow orders
even though it was your choice to participate, you
accused me of not doing enough to find Sergeant Steele
and apparently wanted me to compromise all of my
people to find your client, who was TOTALLY off the
reservation at the time, as if my people are less
valuable than yours, and, then, today, you opened a
damn door in my face, because you can't bothered to
pay attention to anything besides yourself and
whatever you want at that moment. THAT is my
problem."

Harm is standing there, completely speechless. He
turns and walks away, and I'm glad. Clay looked like
he was about to snap, and I wouldn't really want to
see what would happen if Harm started really pushing
his buttons. Clay sits back down, gingerly.

"I should have kept my mouth shut," he mutters. 
"Losing control in front of him is a really bad idea."

"Seriously, it's about time someone stood up to him. 
I need to start doing that. Although I made a
conscious decision to let you handle that particular
situation. But you see how he acts. Because we're
sitting here, goofing around, he automatically jumps
to conclusions, even though, as far as he knows, I'm
still engaged to Mic. Speaking of which," I say,
taking my ring off. I don't really know what to do
with it, so I put it in my shirt pocket. 

"Wow, when you make a decision, you really make a
decision," he says.

"Yeah, well, I know sometimes the things I do appear
to come out of left field, but I usually think about
it long and hard before I make a decision. And once
I've decided something, I'll usually stick to it." 

I decide maybe it's time for me to stop talking. I
don't want to seem like the only topic of conversation
I have is myself. And something Clay said did make me
curious. "So," I say, "how do relationships work with
you? Do you have to maintain your State Department
cover all the time?"

*Webb*
I look over at Sarah, only half hearing what she just
said. She looks much more content than she did
earlier. I guess all she needed was to vent to
someone, and I'm more than sympathetic to her
complaints about Rabb. Her observation that he is
more than willing to let everyone risk their necks for
him and then not be all that grateful about it, is
totally on the money. He never hesitates to call me
when he needs help, but God forbid I would ask for
assistance. And I admit, my ops don't usually go as
planned, but you just can't anticipate some things. 
The fact that he won't actually follow the plan is
usually not helpful, either. It occurs to me that she
just asked me a question.

"I'm sorry, Sarah, could you repeat that? I zoned out
for a second."

"You do look kind of tired. I asked how relationships
work with you, if you have to always maintain your
State Department cover. But if you want to sleep,
that's fine, just tell me."

"Oh, I'm exhausted, but I'm not sure I want to sleep
if Rabb's still around," I say, only half-joking. 
"But, seriously, relationships. Well, yeah, since I'm
in covert ops, I've got to maintain my cover, which
means I'm lying all the time. And, to be honest, it's
apparently not believable that I'd have to go out of
town as often as I do or for the extended periods of
time that I do, since I'm supposed to essentially be
pushing papers. I've been accused of sleeping around
on more than one occasion. Like I'd have time for
that. But, to answer the question you're not asking,
I pretty much have to lie all the time. Anyway, I knew
all this coming in, so I guess I can't really complain
about it too much, although it does kind of suck."

"I would imagine it does," she says, wryly. "But
surely there's some instances where you could be
up-front."

"If I dated Loren Singer? Sure." I start laughing a
little hysterically. She is probably the last person
on earth I'd date. Sarah stares at me at first, not
knowing if I'm serious, but when she realizes I'm not,
she starts laughing as well.

"Her reputation precedes her," she says.

"It sure does. Seriously, though, most of those women
are at Langley, and most of them aren't my type, but
even if they were, they're off limits. I do really
live two separate lives, but I haven't been seeing
anyone in quite a while. It's too exhausting, all the
lying, and all the drama when I'm out of town all the
time. The last woman I dated deliberately broke up
with me over voice mail because she said the only time
she heard my voice was on her answering machine." I
don't really know why I'm telling her all this. I do
try to keep my two "lives" very separate. 

"Oh, Clay, that was kind of rude of her," she says.

"Believe me, I understood the irony. And, really, she
wasn't wrong. In my defense, I'm usually pretty up
front about the nature of my job. Maybe you're right
though, maybe they smell money. I don't know. Is
there a way to tell?"

She laughs, "Unfortunately, not. I think I'm with you
though, no more men for me for a while. But, I should
really shut up and let you rest. You are looking more
and more beat by the second. I mean, tired." 

I get her unintended pun and smile, but I'm actually
kind of grateful she said that. I'm starting to fade
kind of fast. "Well, beat up, too, I'm sure. No one
is going to believe how I got this bruise. But, if
you won't be too insulted, I'm going to slide back
across the aisle so I can stretch out a little."

"No problem. Thanks again for listening to me."

"Sarah, anytime you want to talk, you can call me."

"And you do the same. But, really, thanks." She
kisses me on the cheek, and I squeeze her hand and get
up and move back across the aisle. I stretch out and
fall asleep almost immediately. 

*Mac*
I didn't really realize how tired Clay was, but he
must have been totally exhausted, because he seemed to
fall asleep almost immediately. I wish he had said
something to me while I was babbling away about
myself. I stretch out and watch him for a little bit,
thinking about how he's not such a bad guy, until I
drift off myself. 

I wake later when I feel someone jiggling my foot. I
open my eyes and it's Harm. "We're about 30 minutes
from landing," he whispers. 

"Thanks," I say. He looks at me, but I get up and go
back to the bathroom so I can wash up before we land. 
I decide to wake Clay, who I noticed was still
sleeping. I move into the row of seats behind him and
reach down and gently shake his shoulder. He starts
awake and grabs my wrist.

"Clay," I say. He looks up and immediately lets go.

"Sorry, you startled me."

"It's okay. We're going to be landing in like 25
minutes, I thought you might want a little warning."

"Um. Yeah. Thanks." He gets up really, really
slowly.

"Are you okay?"

He shakes his head no and says, "whiplash," and I
wonder how he's going to get home. We're landing at
Andrews, and I know Harm's and my cars are there, but
I have no idea how he came to be in Bahrain. He walks
slowly down towards the bathroom. He comes back
finally as we're starting to descend. "You don't have
any aspirin, do you?" He asks.

"I do, but it's buried deep inside my bag. It's going
to take a minute." I drag the bag from under the seat
up beside me and start rooting through it. "Listen,
do you have a way home? I'm thinking your car
probably isn't at Andrews."

"Shit," he says quietly.

"No, I'll drive you. You probably shouldn't be
driving with your whiplash, anyway."

"I guess you're right. I'd really appreciate it."

"Ah-ha!" I found the aspirin. I toss the bottle over
along with a bottle of water. He just nods and takes
them. We land at 2302.

Clay can't really carry his garment bag, although he
can handle his laptop and briefcase, so I struggle out
of the plane with both of our bags, until a Master
Sergeant, also on the flight, notices my dilemma. I
give him my bag, which is smaller. Harm is far ahead
of us, and I finally call his name. This poor Master
Sergeant should not be schlepping my bag when Harm's
the cause of the need for schlepping in the first
place. He turns around, and I tell him to wait up.

"What do you need? I want to get home."

"You gave Webb whiplash, so you need to carry his bag,
because he can't," I say, shoving the garment bag at
him. He grabs it and stalks off. I roll my eyes at
Clay. "Harm, don't walk so fast, you're going to have
to wait for us."

He slows his pace and says, "How are you getting home,
anyway, Webb?"

"I'm giving him a lift," I say. Clay's had enough of
Harm's attitude over the past few days, so I decide to
run interference.

"Oh, well, I can do it," Harm says, hesitantly. I
know that's the last thing both of them want right
now.

"Harm, don't be ridiculous. Alexandria is far closer
for me than it is for you."

He agrees, and we make it to the car. I open the
passenger door, figuring it might take Clay a while to
get in, since my car is so low to the ground. I get
our stuff situated in the trunk, and we take off. I'd
really like to get home too, so I drive kind of fast.

"You have a lead foot, Sarah," Clay says, sounding
surprised. 

"Well, I figure between the two of us, we can get me
out of any speeding tickets."

I get off the Beltway where Clay tells me to, and we
get to his place in fairly short order. I make a
mental note to get directions to get back to my place.
I'm surprised at the size of his house when we get
there, and I get out of the car to grab his bag even
though he protests. I point out that he couldn't
carry it through the airport terminal, and he
acquiesces. We go inside, and I stop dead in my
tracks for a second. His place is really nice. I
shake out of my amazement, and ask him where the
bedroom is so I can dump the bag.

He tells me to go ahead, because he's moving a little
slowly. I'm similarly in awe of his bedroom. He has
very good taste and apparently is also into antiques. 
I set the bag down on the floor and wait for him to
come up. He does as I'm looking at the pictures on
the wall. He's also into old posters, and they all
seem to be original. He must have a lot of money.

"You like them?" Clay asks.

"Yeah, very nice. They're originals, aren't they?" 

"Yes. I got them in France. I didn't realize that
you were into that sort of thing."

"Actually, I am. I like antiques, but particularly
from that period. Anyway, can I get anything for you,
something to eat, clean clothes or anything? I know
you probably can't bend over." He walks over to a
drawer and tries to bend over.

"Well, I guess I could use some help, if you'd pull
something out of that drawer for me," he says,
motioning to the bottom dresser drawer, which I find
contains pajamas. I fish some out and hand them to
him. "Actually, Sarah, I'm kind of hungry, and I bet
you are too. I know there's cheese and crackers
downstairs in the kitchen, and maybe something in the
freezer, I don't really know. The next room over is
actually a little sitting room with a table. Listen,
Sarah, I really appreciate this. If you don't mind,
I'm going to grab a quick shower while you're in the
kitchen."

"It's not a problem. Do you want clean sheets on your
bed or anything? I know I always feel much better
with clean linens."

He smiles. "I changed them before I left home - I
always like to come back to that." He smiles again
and turns to go into the bathroom. I put the garment
bag on a chest at the end of the bed and unzip it and
hang up the suits in there, then go downstairs. I
figure it's going to take him a little while to get
cleaned up, so I walk around the downstairs a little. 
'Wow' is all I can think of every time I look at
something new. I realize it's been about 15 minutes,
so I make my way to the kitchen, find a snack, and put
it on a tray along with two glasses and a large bottle
of water from the refrigerator. I make my way back up
the stairs into the sitting room, which is also very
nice. The walls are lined with bookshelves, and I
look at Clay's collection while I wait for him.

*Webb*
It took me a while to get my sweater and t-shirt over
my head, but the hot water felt really good on my
back. I can move around a little better when I get
out of the shower. I had forgotten Sarah was still
here for a couple of minutes, and I tried to move a
little faster. I know I'm keeping her from getting
home. I pull on the pajamas she pulled out of the
drawer, and now I wish I had directed her to actual
clothing. It doesn't really matter, I tell myself,
just go into the next room and eat so she can leave. 
I leave my hair wet and go over there. She's looking
at my books. 

"See anything you want to borrow?" She jumps. "I'm
sorry." She looks really tired. "Shall we eat?" She
nods, and we snack on the cheese and crackers she
brought up. 

She puts some Muenster on a cracker and says, "You
know, it's just so strange that something that smells
so bad tastes so good."

I laugh. "Yeah. But with cheese, smelly is not
necessarily a bad thing."

She starts giggling, and I'm not really sure why. It
wasn't that funny. "Sorry," she says, still laughing.

"Don't be. I didn't realize it was so funny."

"Well, I was sort of thinking of those cheese
commercials. That might not be such a great slogan." 


I start laughing too. "Maybe I won't copyright it
then." She shakes her head now. We quiet down after
a few minutes.

"Do you feel any better?" She asks.

"A little, the heat helped. It should go away pretty
quickly though. The whiplash, I mean. I think this
bruise is going to take longer." I touch it. That
hurts.

"He never really apologized, did he?"

"I didn't really give him a chance, I guess."

"That's no excuse. You know, he's a real jerk to you,
especially considering all the trouble you're taking,
have taken, over Sergei. And all the other times he's
dragged you into his problems."

"Yeah. Well. I do ask for help from time to time,
too."

"That's true. Hey, that's how we got into this mess!"
She starts laughing. She must really be tired if she
forgot that.

I eat some more cheese and realize I'm no longer
hungry, and I glance at the clock. "Sarah, it's
12:15. I'm really sorry I kept you this late. I'll
take care of this. Or there's an extra bedroom, if
you want to crash here." 

She seems to consider that. "No, it's not that far to
Georgetown, and there shouldn't be any traffic. I'll
be okay. And I'll take this stuff back downstairs, if
you're done." We both stand.

"I'm done. Listen, thank you for sticking around
here. I really appreciate it."

"I hung your suits up. I hope you don't mind that I
went into your suitcase, but I didn't think you'd want
them to get wrinkled. I didn't look at anything
else." She raises her eyebrow.

"Thanks for even thinking of that." 

"Okay, then, I'll see you whenever I see you." 

"Seriously. Call me anytime you need to talk or vent.
I certainly sympathize about Rabb."

"And you do likewise. I can listen, even though all
evidence was to the contrary today."

She picks up the tray, and I follow her to the stairs.
"I will." She starts downstairs. "I need to let you
out. I'll meet you downstairs." I think I left my
keys in the bedroom. It takes me a minute to find
them, and I locate them on my bathroom sink. I am
really out of it. Sarah's still in the kitchen when I
get downstairs, and I wander back there. "I can
finish that up. I'm not trying to kick you out, but
you look really tired. I don't want to keep you any
further."

She gives me a grateful look, and I show her out. We
say our goodbyes and she gives me a little wave. I
finish cleaning up and collapse into bed, going
straight to sleep.

*Mac*
I manage to get home in 15 minutes, which is probably
way too fast, thinking the entire way about finding
friendship in the strangest places. Now that I know I
have someone to talk to, I feel like I'm going to be
better able to handle this whole situation. 

I get into my apartment and shower the airplane off of
myself. I went to bed without bothering to dry my
hair, thinking about that last line from Casablanca,
"This could be the beginning of a beautiful
friendship." I sleep better than I have for a long,
long time.

    Source: geocities.com/webbmacfic