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copyright infringement is intended.
---
HARM
---
I step into my apartment and close the door, shut out the world out there. So many things have happened lately I don't know what to think.
I know it was right to nudge Mattie towards her father but I didn't expect it to hurt that much. Things have been difficult sometimes - heck, most of the time - but somehow I can't imagine a life without her face any more.
And the Admiral has retired. Retired! The Admiral! How can that be? Whatever anger I felt at him when I had lost the Navy for a while because of his stubbornness - my stubbornness... I can't imagine JAG headquarters without his gruff voice and sensitive advice.
I can't imagine JAG without Harriet too but at the same time I'm so happy for her and Bud...
And I am sorry for Mac. The reason for her backache nearly knocked me down. But I'll be there for her. I've promised that to myself. Often - too often - I wasn't in the past. I will be now.
I walk over and flop down on the couch and my gaze falls on the letter laying there on the table. Now I won't have to explain to Sergei why I'd prefer him not to consider inviting Webb to his oh-so-often-postponed wedding.
I stop. Literally and figuratively. Just stop. Not moving, not thinking.
Clayton Webb, the man who rescued my brother, the man who saved my life once, is dead. Dead.
Somehow, with all that happened, I have never realized this little fact completely.
No more verbal duels over "need to know" things. No more secret information for my cases. No more hair-raising missions for the CIA.
Missions? I swallow very dryly as I think about it. When was the last time Clayton Webb came and asked me to do something for him? Asked ME to DO something for him? Oh, we got into each others way more than once; we more or less stumbled into working with each other - or against each other - a lot... But for the life of me I can't remember a real MISSION since I saved his life on that freighter in Baltimore. Before that there had been plenty. Afterwards ... none?
He just asked Mac. And took her away from me.
I feel the old anger boiling again. I was finally - all right, yes, FINALLY, I'm not perfect, damn it - ready to give up everything and run screaming after her ... and he took her away from me. He trapped her in her DARN gratitude like so many men before.
And he didn't stop there: Not only I'd lost the Navy but he got me fired from the Agency too. If Chegwidden hadn't taken me back I don't know what would have happened. And STILL Mac was out of my reach. And my pride forbade me to grovel for her.
At least I had Mattie ... who I'd have never met if Webb hadn't got me fired.
The thought is disturbing. Really disturbing.
Having Mattie in my life has taught me a lot. About responsibility. About understanding. About the fact that it was maybe time to grow up. About the fact that despite my temporary hatred I am still in love with Mac.
It can't be I OWE Webb for that, can it?
Whatever effects his actions had it wasn't intended. He never spared one thought for my feelings, not more than I did... Except when he came and informed me that Sergei was missing, except when he bought him out from this prisoner's camp with two boxcars of wheat...
With wheat who had paid for? And the flight to DC?
I must admit, I never gave that question much attention, I mean ... it had sounded all so logical. Oh, Webb had marched in there in the deepest winter and oh, he had had some wheat standing around... I mean, he traded favors and Sergei was important because ... he had an American father? A fact that was an embarrassment to the Russian Government and the US Government was careful not to endanger their relations and rub it in? Somehow I never asked.
Webb walked away that night before I'd regained my senses and afterwards there were so many things to do, to think of, to arrange and Clayton was out of the country again... I mean, he did me a favor, no doubt, but on the other hand I had just proven he consciously and intentionally destroyed the reputation of a close friend of mine and it is STILL destroyed for the eyes of the public because Webb won that round and kept it classified...
I jump to my feet and practically run to the fridge and for something cold to drink.
It can't be I owed Webb despite the fact that he took Mac away from me.
But how many times I actually acknowledged that I did ... up to the next millennium? I remember quite a few occasions. Oh, God, when was the last time I did him a favor? I - uhm -almost got him fired because I more or less talked him into giving me the tape of the Angel Shark. But it was his decision to take that risk.
I saved his life in Paraguay together with Mac's - I did! And I could not have cared less about his injuries...
I press the cold can against my forehead.
I - I can't be such a monster, can I? I mean, he dragged the woman he later declared to be in love with - that I was ... am, AM in love with into danger and almost got her killed ... and on top of that took her gratitude away from me - I wasn't thinking that, was I?
I didn't do it to get Mac's gratitude. I did it to get Mac. And although I might have sometimes been green with envy over the past year and sometimes my hurt pride really got the better of me I still want Mac. I - I want to be there for her.
Webb had no right to step between us. Not after eight years. Darn it, we weren't friends but I always thought we respected each other if nothing else.
Slowly I put the can down.
Eight years? Sometimes it's so easy to forget that I've known Webb as long as Mac... And again I would have never met her if he hadn't arranged her transfer to JAG headquarters.
This - this is so weird. Two of the best things in my life ... and somehow Clay was responsible for both. Nevertheless, we - we weren't friends.
But if we weren't friends then why did your betrayal hurt that much? Why did it hurt that much that I paid two - forced - visits to your hospital room and avoided any further contact since? That I never even tried to hear your part of the story? God, I know best how easy it is to fall in love with Mac if you want it or not... Why did it hurt that much that I almost - almost wished you were dead?
Darn it, Webb, if we weren't friends then why did you do the things you did? Like rescuing Sergei? Like giving information to me despite the risks? Like never again putting my life on the line?
Kind of late for these questions, Harm, isn't it? The time for questions has passed. Clayton is dead. You will never get answers. Not anymore.
Something is tickling my cheek and as I reach up I'm surprised to feel the moisture on my fingertips. I can't be crying, can I?
But right now I would do everything - EVERYTHING - for a possibility to talk to Clayton just one last time and to ask the questions I all too late have started thinking about.
For heaven's sake, I never wanted him DEAD! Not really. I just wanted ... Mac.
But it's too late for regret.
Now, all I can do, Clayton, is to cry about you.
---
HARM
---
I step into my apartment and close the door, shut out the world out there. So many things have happened lately I don't know what to think.
I know it was right to nudge Mattie towards her father but I didn't expect it to hurt that much. Things have been difficult sometimes - heck, most of the time - but somehow I can't imagine a life without her face any more.
And the Admiral has retired. Retired! The Admiral! How can that be? Whatever anger I felt at him when I had lost the Navy for a while because of his stubbornness - my stubbornness... I can't imagine JAG headquarters without his gruff voice and sensitive advice.
I can't imagine JAG without Harriet too but at the same time I'm so happy for her and Bud...
And I am sorry for Mac. The reason for her backache nearly knocked me down. But I'll be there for her. I've promised that to myself. Often - too often - I wasn't in the past. I will be now.
I walk over and flop down on the couch and my gaze falls on the letter laying there on the table. Now I won't have to explain to Sergei why I'd prefer him not to consider inviting Webb to his oh-so-often-postponed wedding.
I stop. Literally and figuratively. Just stop. Not moving, not thinking.
Clayton Webb, the man who rescued my brother, the man who saved my life once, is dead. Dead.
Somehow, with all that happened, I have never realized this little fact completely.
No more verbal duels over "need to know" things. No more secret information for my cases. No more hair-raising missions for the CIA.
Missions? I swallow very dryly as I think about it. When was the last time Clayton Webb came and asked me to do something for him? Asked ME to DO something for him? Oh, we got into each others way more than once; we more or less stumbled into working with each other - or against each other - a lot... But for the life of me I can't remember a real MISSION since I saved his life on that freighter in Baltimore. Before that there had been plenty. Afterwards ... none?
He just asked Mac. And took her away from me.
I feel the old anger boiling again. I was finally - all right, yes, FINALLY, I'm not perfect, damn it - ready to give up everything and run screaming after her ... and he took her away from me. He trapped her in her DARN gratitude like so many men before.
And he didn't stop there: Not only I'd lost the Navy but he got me fired from the Agency too. If Chegwidden hadn't taken me back I don't know what would have happened. And STILL Mac was out of my reach. And my pride forbade me to grovel for her.
At least I had Mattie ... who I'd have never met if Webb hadn't got me fired.
The thought is disturbing. Really disturbing.
Having Mattie in my life has taught me a lot. About responsibility. About understanding. About the fact that it was maybe time to grow up. About the fact that despite my temporary hatred I am still in love with Mac.
It can't be I OWE Webb for that, can it?
Whatever effects his actions had it wasn't intended. He never spared one thought for my feelings, not more than I did... Except when he came and informed me that Sergei was missing, except when he bought him out from this prisoner's camp with two boxcars of wheat...
With wheat who had paid for? And the flight to DC?
I must admit, I never gave that question much attention, I mean ... it had sounded all so logical. Oh, Webb had marched in there in the deepest winter and oh, he had had some wheat standing around... I mean, he traded favors and Sergei was important because ... he had an American father? A fact that was an embarrassment to the Russian Government and the US Government was careful not to endanger their relations and rub it in? Somehow I never asked.
Webb walked away that night before I'd regained my senses and afterwards there were so many things to do, to think of, to arrange and Clayton was out of the country again... I mean, he did me a favor, no doubt, but on the other hand I had just proven he consciously and intentionally destroyed the reputation of a close friend of mine and it is STILL destroyed for the eyes of the public because Webb won that round and kept it classified...
I jump to my feet and practically run to the fridge and for something cold to drink.
It can't be I owed Webb despite the fact that he took Mac away from me.
But how many times I actually acknowledged that I did ... up to the next millennium? I remember quite a few occasions. Oh, God, when was the last time I did him a favor? I - uhm -almost got him fired because I more or less talked him into giving me the tape of the Angel Shark. But it was his decision to take that risk.
I saved his life in Paraguay together with Mac's - I did! And I could not have cared less about his injuries...
I press the cold can against my forehead.
I - I can't be such a monster, can I? I mean, he dragged the woman he later declared to be in love with - that I was ... am, AM in love with into danger and almost got her killed ... and on top of that took her gratitude away from me - I wasn't thinking that, was I?
I didn't do it to get Mac's gratitude. I did it to get Mac. And although I might have sometimes been green with envy over the past year and sometimes my hurt pride really got the better of me I still want Mac. I - I want to be there for her.
Webb had no right to step between us. Not after eight years. Darn it, we weren't friends but I always thought we respected each other if nothing else.
Slowly I put the can down.
Eight years? Sometimes it's so easy to forget that I've known Webb as long as Mac... And again I would have never met her if he hadn't arranged her transfer to JAG headquarters.
This - this is so weird. Two of the best things in my life ... and somehow Clay was responsible for both. Nevertheless, we - we weren't friends.
But if we weren't friends then why did your betrayal hurt that much? Why did it hurt that much that I paid two - forced - visits to your hospital room and avoided any further contact since? That I never even tried to hear your part of the story? God, I know best how easy it is to fall in love with Mac if you want it or not... Why did it hurt that much that I almost - almost wished you were dead?
Darn it, Webb, if we weren't friends then why did you do the things you did? Like rescuing Sergei? Like giving information to me despite the risks? Like never again putting my life on the line?
Kind of late for these questions, Harm, isn't it? The time for questions has passed. Clayton is dead. You will never get answers. Not anymore.
Something is tickling my cheek and as I reach up I'm surprised to feel the moisture on my fingertips. I can't be crying, can I?
But right now I would do everything - EVERYTHING - for a possibility to talk to Clayton just one last time and to ask the questions I all too late have started thinking about.
For heaven's sake, I never wanted him DEAD! Not really. I just wanted ... Mac.
But it's too late for regret.
Now, all I can do, Clayton, is to cry about you.