Disclaimer: I don't own JAG. If I did, I'd blow off the MCATs to make an alternate season 7. The title is courtesy of Dwight Yokam.
I sit in the break room, a quickly cooling cup of coffee in my hand, utterly disgusted with and disappointed in the whole world. This has been a horrible day so far and I can't see it getting any better. After my farce of a DDO Article 32 hearing this morning, in which I was absolutely crucified by Mattoni, the day degenerated into a series of small mishaps and accidents. I misplaced my car keys, I was late for the afternoon staff meeting and got chewed out again, my cell phone battery died in the middle of a call to my mother, I spilled coffee on my uniform and had to spend my lunch hour going home to change, and when my computer crashed I lost a brief I'd just spent the better part of three hours writing. Finally I ended up in here, certain that some deviant god has it in for me.
The door swings open behind me, and I don't need to look to know it's Mac. I always know when she's around. She walks over to me, resting a hand on my shoulder.
"Drowning your sorrows in your coffee cup, flyboy?" she asks. I give her a martyred look, but secretly I'm glad she's here. She's the only person I've ever met whose mere presence can improve the worst day of my life. She's the best listener I know, she cares about me, and she knows how to make me smile. When she tightens her grip on my shoulder and crouches down to come face-to-face with me, I can feel the tension in my overworked body start to drain away.
"This has to be up there with the top ten worst days of my life," I respond bitterly. She starts to rub my shoulder, resting her free hand on my knee. If she keeps this up, this day will be re-designated as a really good one despite the events of its first ten hours. I love it when she finds an excuse to touch me.
Her fingers are gentle, and I lean into her caress. This woman is the reason I muddle through days like this. She's my silver lining, more than a best friend or a lover could ever be, and I send up an apology to that god I was insulting earlier. If he gave me Sarah Mackenzie, he must know what he's doing. Even if he does think it's funny to beat up on me occasionally.
"You're really hurting," she says, reading me as easily as she always does. I nod. She's right; I'm miserable. I just want this day to be over so I can go home and hide under the covers. Being with Mac has the same effect as crawling under my comforter; I feel warm and safe, no matter what's going on outside.
She gives me a speculative look, still rubbing my shoulder absently, and before I can ask what she's thinking she leans in and presses her lips to mine.
We've kissed a few times before, but never for no particular reason and never like this. This kiss is pure comfort, a gentle touch and a reminder that she's here for me. As I reach up to tangle a hand in her hair, I do my best to commit this sensation, this moment, to memory. This kiss is my Sarah, supporting me every step of the way, helping me up when I stumble and cheering me on when I cross the finish line. I realize again just how lucky I am to have her in my life, caring about me, and then she pulls away.
I don't ask her for an explanation and she doesn't offer me one. We both know that she gave me that kiss because I needed it. She doesn't need any better reason. Besides, I can't think of a better reward for surviving this day. This is the best part of our relationship by far; we are willing to give and take as needed.
"Thanks, Mac," I murmur, and she smiles at me.
"Anytime, Harm."