Title: Superheroes and Friends
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm not making any money.
Warnings: I am definitely not a Harm/Mac shipper. I am, however, a Webbie. Consequently, certain biases should be expected. But this story does not revolve around a Webb/Mac romance. Rather, this is a story about the friendship between Harm and Clay. My apologies about the dorky title.
*****
"Look, Mom. I'll try to call more. No, I'm not just saying that. Bye."
Letting out a breath, I place the receiver back into the cradle. It's been a rotten week. First, I get into it with Mac; now, my mom is upset with me. Granted, I haven't kept in touch with my mom lately. But I've been busy.
And I'm about to get busier. I have to figure out living arrangements for Mattie and me, now that I have custody.
That's something else my mom was ticked off about. I didn't tell her I was trying to get appointed as Mattie's guardian until a few minutes ago.
Mac was upset about that, too. Accused me of shutting her out of my life.
I hear a knock at my door, so I haul myself off my perfectly comfortable couch and drag myself across the room. Exhaling, I swing open the door.
"Webb," I say to the man in the hall. "What do you want?"
Webb doesn't say anything. He just stands there looking dazed.
"Hey, Webb."
He looks at me like he's just noticed I'm there. "What?"
"What are you doing here?"
Webb still looks out of it, so I take a step backward and open the door wider. "You going to come in, or just stand there."
He wanders in to my apartment and stops in the middle of my living room. "Is your kid here?" He asks.
I sigh. "You mean Mattie?" Mac must have told him about her. "No, she's still at her mother's house. We haven't figured out living arrangements."
"Do you plan to knock out another wall?" He walks over and sits down at the table.
I lean against the door. I'm not in the mood for Webb right now. "Heard you had a Christmas date with Mac." I say bitterly.
He nods. "Yes, I did."
"Come here to gloat?"
"About what?"
"Your budding romance with Mac."
He exhales. "Rabb—"
"Did she get you something nice for Christmas?"
He stands up abruptly, sending a chair tumbling backward. "Rabb, I came to you because I needed someone to talk to. I needed a friend." He wraps his arms around himself.
I walk across the room and pick up the fallen chair. When I glance up, I find Webb watching me.
He smoothes out the arms of his shirt, and starts to pace. "Rabb, I waited years for you to make a move. You never did. So, don't make me feel like I did something wrong because I told Sarah how I feel about her."
"How you feel?" I laugh. "This is a game to you."
He glares at me. "Rabb, I don't play with the emotions of the people I love."
"Oh, now we're to love."
He stops pacing. "Look, I know I needled you when we were in Paraguay. And I'm sorry." He crosses his arms again. "But I'm not sorry I told Sarah how I felt. Maybe she and I will just be close friends. Maybe we'll be more someday. I don't know. But either way, that's between Sarah and me."
I stare down at the floor. I don't know if Webb loves Mac, or if she loves him. I'm not even sure if I'm really in love with Mac. Maybe I just love the possibility of her. Webb's right about one thing, though. I had lots of time to make a move, but I never did.
I take a step toward Webb and place a hand on his shoulder. "You said you needed someone to talk to."
"Forget it." He shakes off my hand. Webb can be melodramatic when he's upset.
"Tell me what's wrong."
Webb narrows his eyes at me. "I shouldn't have come here."
"Come on. I just had a fight with my mom. I was in a bad mood when you got here."
Webb drops himself onto my couch. I can tell he's going to need some coaxing to talk to me, so I lower myself onto the cushion beside him.
"You know," I say. "You came all this way. You might as well talk about it."
Webb pulls a book off the coffee table and starts thumbing through it. Finally, he says, "We've known each other for nearly a decade, you know that?"
"Yeah."
"I don't have a lot of friends."
"Look, Clay." I place a hand on his shoulder. This time he doesn't knock it off. "If it had been you in Paraguay—just you—I still would have come after you."
He nods. "I know that. I know if I'm ever trapped in the jungle or lying bloody on a battlefield, you'll come for me." He furrows his brow. "But right now, I just need someone to talk to."
"Well, you got me."
He lets out a long breath and leans his head back. "The Agency found some remains a while ago. We tested them. The results came back today." He tugs at his bottom lip. "The remains belong to my dad."
I stare at him. That was the last thing I expected him to say. My mind races, trying to come up with some words of…what? Comfort? "Where did they find him?" I ask.
"Classified," he sighs.
For a minute, I think he's being flippant, but I know he's not. "Well, what now?"
He frowns. "What do you mean?"
"Well, do you have any leads or anything? Do you want me to help you look into it?"
He almost smiles. "Thanks Harm. But no. I don't need a superhero right now."
I don't get him sometimes. "I was just offering to help."
"I know," he says, cocking his head at me. "And it means a lot that you would do that. But I don't want to go off hunting for a killer. I just want to bury my dad."
I don't know what to do, or what to say.
Almost as if he can read my mind, Webb says, "Harm, I came to you with this because out of all the people I know, you're the one person who understands what this feels like. And I need to talk to someone who understands."
I gaze out the window. Webb and I don't have the most typical of friendships, and we don't always express it the way other people do, but I have absolutely no doubts that we are friends.
A few years ago, Webb faked his own death. When the Admiral gave Mac and me the news, it hurt. I felt an incredible sense of loss. So, I dealt with my grief the only way I knew how. I tried to find his killer.
And Webb. He's done a lot for me, if I'm being honest. He spent Christmas a couple of years ago getting my brother out of a prison in Chechnya.
But as for the touchy feely stuff. That we're not so good at.
Pulling Webb out a camp full of terrorists I can do. And even talking about surface-level emotions I can do. But talking to him about private pains? That's out of my area of expertise. I'd rather do the superhero thing.
I gaze at him. But like he said…he needs a friend right now, not a superhero.
Finally, I stand up. "Come on."
"Where are we going?" He asks.
"Let's hit the pizza place down the street. We can get a bite to eat and talk. You can tell me about your dad."
He cocks his head at me. "Is there going to be any tofu on this pizza?"
I grin as we walk out the door. "I'll try to control myself, Clay."