Severing Ties

Pairing: Harm/Mac, Mac/Gunny

Rating: TV-14

Spoilers: Minor ones for A Tangled Webb and Boomerang

Disclaimer: DPB and CBS and Paramount own these characters, not me. Everything else is mine; don't touch it.

Feedback: Thanks to everyone who's sent me feedback, but like most starving artists, I'm greedy. Constructive criticism is the only way for me to improve my writing. Please, take time to tell me what I'm not doing right as well as to lavish me with praise. ;) I can't read minds, so send your comments, cares, and concerns to stacey2545@yahoo.com

Author's Note: My timeline is finally coming together. Until told otherwise, assume that everything through the end of Season 8 happened here too, only Gunny was shot in the shoulder in the arc at the end of the season. That should bring everything in line with No Strings. By the way, I'm looking for a more appropriate screencap for this part. Anyone with any ideas, please e-mail me.

There's a pall that hovers over the bullpen. Sound doesn't carry and everyone whispers. Everything but the phone seems dim and distant.

I jump every time the phone rings. After the first two calls my nerves just can't handle it any more. I'm desperate for news on Mac's condition and every time it's someone else… I've been letting Tiner answer it.

"I think they're ready."

"What?" I jump when I find Coates standing at my elbow.

She smiles wanly and points at the copier, a thick lawbook cradled against her chest. "Your copies. They're done."

I blink. "Right." I snatch the papers from the tray and move out of her way.

She shifts nervously as she sets her book down on the copier. "Umm, Gunny?" she says just as I start to walk off.

I turn around.

The petty officer casts a furtive glance around the office. Though apparently satisfied no one's listening in-the office is pretty much empty being as how it's… close to 1800. Jesus, when did it get so late?-Coates nevertheless takes a step closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. With big brown eyes that remind me of Mac and tight lines marking the worry in her face, she says, "Look, I may be out of line, but I know you and the colonel are-" She hesitates just a hair. "-close, and I just wanted to let you know that… Well, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

She manages a tight smile that fades quickly at my silence.

My jaw clenches at the emphasis she puts on 'close' and I force myself to unclench my fist. I know the rest of JAG has been quick to accept her-she did save Lieutenant Roberts' life-but I just haven't warmed up to her. She's being groomed to take over as the admiral's yeoman when Tiner leaves for OCS but… I never thought I'd say it, but I'm going to miss Tiner. I can rag him, but there's this line I just can't cross with Coates. Maybe it's because she's a woman; maybe because she's not nearly as naïve or slow on the uptake. I've heard a few rumors about how she ended up at JAG and I know she's not as innocent as those big brown eyes would have you think. I don't know why, but there's this stiff formality between us that I never had with Tiner. So out of all the people in this office, Petty Officer Coates is the last person I'd go to if I wanted to talk.

Her gaze skitters away and ends up somewhere around her shoes. I'd have to be on the deck to fall in her line of sight. That's when I realize how brittle around the edges she looks. Scuttlebutt has it she really flipped out when Mac and Rabb went missing down in Paraguay. Maybe her offer to talk is really more for her than for me.

And then Lieutenant Sims is there asking Coates if she wants a ride. Coates looks at me and then around the office. I can see how desperate she is to leave and if the Roberts are on their way out…

Sims sends me an apologetic look. "You don't mind closing up, do you, Gunny?"

I shake my head. "Not a problem ma'am. Call me if…" I can't finish the sentence.

"Of course. As soon as we have any word." The two women excuse themselves and I'm left at the copier.

I'm still at the office when the call comes through. My cell doesn't even have a chance to finish the first ring before I hit send and answer it. "Galindez."

"It's Rabb."

My stomach drops. This is the first we've heard since she got out of surgery two hours ago. "Any news on the colonel?"

No immediate answer.

"Sir?"

"She's …"

He hesitates on the other end and I start to panic. "How is she, sir?"

I hold the phone in a death grip, as if choking the phone is going to wring a response out of him.

"She's been asking for you," he croaks out at last, his voice thick. Thick with anger? Jealousy? Grief?

"I'll be right there." I flip the phone closed before he can say something to make me change my mind.

In my dash to Bethesda I remember all the reasons I despise DC traffic. Some asshole tries to cut me off and nearly causes an accident. Lucky for him he realizes my truck's bigger than his pansy ass Toyota and he swerves back into his own damn lane. By the time I find a spot in the parking garage, I'm ready to crawl out of my skin. I park in the handicapped spot. I could care less whether or not I get ticketed. There's no empty spots in the immediate vicinity and I sure as hell am not taking the time to hunt one down.

I run into the Roberts on their way out. Their faces are pinched and tight with exhaustion. I pause just long enough to find out where she's been moved; Lieutenant Roberts looks like he needs to get off his feet… foot… and I'm really not in the mood to chat with them right now, anyway. Roberts looks like he's about to say something, but his wife distracts him. I leave them there and head down the corridor to the elevator.

Why is it when you're in a hurry all the elevators seem to be broken? I wait for half a minute before saying to hell with it and heading for the stairs. I take them two at a time without pause until I get to the landing at her floor. Knuckles white, I grip the railing, slightly rusty with flaking paint. I need to slow down and catch my breath. Odds are good Rabb's not the only one still here and I really don't need to look like a concerned lover. Not when things are so uncertain between me and Mac. I mean, she's asking for me so things can't be too bad. But…

Time to get this over with. Straightening my spine, I take a deep breath, let it out, and push open the door.

Rabb's waiting for me in the lobby by the elevators, pacing back and forth. He catches sight of me just a moment after I spot him.

"How is she?" I ask, dodging a corpsman with a rack of medical supplies.

He sighs. "You might want to sit down for this, Gunny."

"Jesus." I let out the breath I've been holding. There're a couple black plastic chairs to our left and I collapse into the nearer one. Wiping a hand across my face, I whisper, "She lost the baby, didn't she?"

Rabb grabs the chair beside me and says gently, "There was nothing they could have done. It was the shock that did it. They were able to stop the hemorrhaging. It took surgery to set her arm, and she has a nasty bump on the head, but the doctors say she'll be just fine."

I try to convince myself that I'd known all along. As soon as I heard the word, "surgery" I knew. I mean, she was in a car accident, for Christ's sake. But I hadn't expected the words to hurt this damn much. My chest is all tight and I feel like I can't breathe. God damn it!

Something sharp digs into the heel of my palm and I suddenly realize I'm crushing my cover in my fist. Smoothing out the wrinkles, I choke back all the words that would make even this sailor blush. "When can I see her? You said she was asking for me."

He rubs the sweat from his palms on his summer whites. "She's been in and out. She's sleeping right now."

I shake my head, nibbling on my bottom lip until it bleeds. After a moment I say, "I don't care. I just… need to see she's all right, you know?"

"I understand."

I stand up only for him to grab my arm. He turns me to face him. Seeing something in my expression, he lets go and points at the chair I just vacated. "Before you do, there're a couple things you need to know."

"Such as?" Wary now, I stand there looking down at him, arms folded across my chest.

He doesn't look at me, apparently finding the specks in the tile more interesting than watching my face. "The admiral knows she miscarried. So do Bud and Harriet and Sturgis. And someone's probably mentioned it to Coates."

I bite back a curse, but all I say is, "It's not like they wouldn't have known she was pregnant eventually."

He nods absently, spinning his cover in his hand. Rabb finally looks up at me. There's a steel in his gaze that says don't mess with me. "But they've all assumed it was mine. And I've done nothing yet to correct them."

I stare at him in shock. The arrogant bastard! I take a step forward and come this close to actually punching him. But Mac's voice echoes in my ear. Something she said after Rabb and Brumby broke Roberts' jaw. God save me from the idiots. For all that she instigated the rivalry between the two, Mac isn't the kind of woman who appreciates having two men fight over her.

That and the fact I have no intention of getting thrown out of the hospital before I get to talk to her keep me from giving Rabb what his actions warrant. Instead, I snarl, "You goddamn, son of a bitch!"

"Remember who you're talking to, Gunnery Sergeant," he barks. A couple of nurses throw sidelong glances our way and he tempers his voice. "Look, I just didn't want her to have to deal with the questions."

Right! Like I believe that one! "And there won't be questions if they think it was your child?" I say snidely.

"Not as many. And there won't be the disapproval either."

I ache to hit him. Just once. A nice solid blow to his jaw. Make a nice bruise, maybe draw some blood. But, damn it! He has a point.

The admiral walks up, his posture carefully relaxed. So careful that it's obvious he knows we're close to blows. How much did he hear?

"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" he asks in a disapproving tone.

"No, Sir." With reluctance I discreetly drop my fist. "How's the colonel?"

Chegwidden gives me a knowing look and I suddenly feel like I'm facing an irate father after knocking up his daughter. "Awake. And asking for you."

Unable to wait any longer to see her, I hastily excuse myself and head down the hall to her room.

She turns toward me as I open the door to her room. Oh God. She's so pale, her hair limp around her face. There's a scratch dark and vivid against her cheek. Her left arm's in a cast.

It's obvious she's been crying. The tear trails still glisten faintly in the dim florescent light. Her eyes are red and swollen and she looks so vulnerable.

I clear my throat but my voice still comes out hoarse. "So, um, I hear you've been asking for me."

She nods and winces. Must be that knock on the head. She doesn't say anything, just watches me with those eyes so full of tears and I think of half a dozen occassions when I've seen her cry. I never want to see her cry again.

No, I realize as I sit down in the chair by her bed and take her hand, careful of the IV. It's not that I never want to see her cry. It's that I don't want her to cry. I don't want her to feel this hurt and vulnerable again.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers.

I grip her hand tightly. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Mac."

"But I-"

"There was nothing you could have done."

"I should have been paying more attention," she mutters fiercely with a healthy dose of self-disgust.

Maybe she would have if we hadn't gotten into an argument earlier. Jesus, why did I pick today to have that discussion? I could have waited, at least until I'd had a weekend away to clear my head.

I don't say a thing but my face must say it all.

"It wasn't your fault, Vic," she whispers. Her face crumples and she starts to sob. "Oh, God. How can you not hate me?"

I ease myself onto the bed and carefully pull her into my arms. I press a kiss on the top of her head and whisper though I'm not sure she hears, "I almost lost you."

I say that, but I already have lost her. Rabb is right. It'll be so much easier for her I just let everyone continue to believe what they've all assumed. No one has to find out about our affair. And I can forget that I was so ready to-so selfish to want to-marry a woman in love with another man. There's a part of me that's still that selfish, that is ready to walk into the office tomorrow, punch the first asshole who dares give Rabb his condolences on his loss, and declare the truth.

But the part of me that honestly loves her realizes that nothing's gained by doing that. The realistic part of me understands that she's in love with Rabb, even if she doesn't want to admit it. I mean, she's been trying to get over him ever since we started this fucked up relationship. Over two years and she still isn't over him. That's gotta hurt her pride.

Does she think I'll lose respect for her if she admits it? Does she think I don't know she was just using me for the sex? For Christ's sake, if we're being brutally honest, I used her too.

A gorgeous, sexy, incredible woman throws herself at me and begs me to fuck her until the pain goes away. What am I gonna do? Turn her away? Yeah, right. But I should have. She trusted me. I took advantage of that. I let it go so much farther than it ever should have.

So there. We're even. Now if she can just admit it and talk to him.

I run my fingers through her hair, murmuring ridiculous promises like, "You're gonna be fine," while she exhausts herself. She's going to need someone to get through this. Rabb'll be here. And I… As soon as she cries herself to sleep I'm gonna head home, pack a bag and get on the first flight to New Mexico. I'll call headquarters tomorrow, claim my injury's flared up. No one'll question it. I can keep calling in sick until Friday when my terminal leave kicks in. I doubt anyone'll even miss me.

I tighten my hold on her and press my cheek beside hers. Her tears, hot and wet, sear my skin. Her ragged breaths rasp in my ears. But I don't want to forget this moment. Sometime tonight I'll mourn. I'll cry my own tears for our baby. I'll cry for her. Later.

Right now I just want to hold her.