Dangling Over the Edge by doc
AN:This story was written in response to a challenge. It takes place sometime in the future, long after the series finale, 'Fair Winds and Following Seas.' It begs to answer the question…Is there really such a thing as 'happily ever after'?
The challenge lines are from the episode "Goodbyes': "Hell, when do they have time to be happy?" … "They don't have to find time. They just are." … "Don't you really want that?"
Clearly my last story wasn't most folk's 'cup of tea.' I understand; I knew I was taking a risk. Webb isn't a favorite character of most, but I thought I'd delve a little deeper into his psyche, while giving everyone else an outsider's view of Harm and Mac's bliss. For those who reviewed, thank you for your kind words. (Psssst, Teacup, I'm sorry to use your name and Webb's in the same sentence. Trust me, I meant no harm! Or maybe I should give you Harm, for such a horrendous faux pas.)
Anyway…
I keep trying to come up with new angles to enjoy reading and writing about JAG. Since new plots from the show aren't likely, dang-it, I have to improvise and build on the ones we've already got. I didn't want to fall back on the revamping an old episode so close to the last, so here's another shot at something new. Good idea or hideous 'seek witness protection' mistake? Who knows? You tell me.
By the way, this crumbling limb I'm hanging from is looking more and more precarious…maybe it's that infestation of spyders and webbs. Or perhaps, Dutch Elm Disease (no slight to my Dutch ancestors)? Either way I'm off to my favorite garden center to purchase some 'Rid-EX Insect and Spy' repellant. It's purported to be effective against spyders, bugmes, neurotic annies, and the occasional large primate. I'm hoping it will break my fall. Smile…
xxxxx
Disclaimer: I don't own JAG or any of the characters. I just take them out and play with them on occasion before replacing them safe and sound back on the shelf.
Please excuse the omissions, misspellings and errors. The mistakes are all mine. Mom had no part in the proofing of this tale. Credits for quotes are noted in the text, except for the one by John Lennon. Thanks for reading.
Dangling Over the Edge – Part 1a
"Then we sat on the edge of the earth, with our feet dangling over the side, and marveled that we had found each other." – Erik Dillard
June 2027
Officers Club
United States Naval Academy
Annapolis, Maryland
I steal a glance across the room following the slow intimate movements of the dancing couple. Comfortable, content, at ease…captivated. Descriptors flit through my mind one by one in perfect time to the amorous rhythm of their feet. They move as one, worshiping each other with their eyes, loving one another with their touch. Their passion is almost palpable. It drifts around them like smoke, oozing from their pores, filling the room with a heady scent. Their love is intoxicating and addicting, yet they're oblivious to their pull. Dancing here in room full of people, they're alone in a world apart from the rest.
A smile of wonder plays at my lips as I stare enthralled by the devotion of this pair. How is it possible? Does anyone have a right to that much happiness? She smiles at him with adoring eyes. He winks back at her. Do they suspect it could all be over tomorrow? After all, no one's guaranteed a happy ending. It takes an enormous amount of hard work and more than a little luck.
I flash them an embarrassed smile when I'm caught and my eyes quickly dart away. Sighing heavily with pent up emotion, memories of my own past filter through my mind. I never thought my life would turn out like this. It certainly wasn't what we'd planned. When we flipped that coin all those years ago, I was prepared to give up my career. The loss of a career seemed a mere pittance compared to the bliss I'd hoped to attain. I can still feel her wrapped in my arms, body plastered against mine, both our faces turned upwards in rapt attention as the coin spun end over end above our heads. Even now, I can sense her trembling with excitement over the anticipated end. End. What a small word to carry such tremendous weight. It guarantees nothing but finality. It doesn't speak of the journey, only the outcome. The End. Happy, sad…fulfilled, empty…together, alone. It guarantees none of these things. A coin toss, I shake my head at the irony. It seemed like such a simple solution. Heads or Tails. Could anything be more effortless or fair? The memories of that night hang about my neck, pressing into my shoulders and curling around my soul. Funny how neither of us saw it coming, and certainly no one could've anticipated the outcome in the end.
I smile politely at the waiter as he drifts by peddling glasses of amber colored liqueur. Wishing to maintain my faculties at sharpest wit, I decline his offer of my favorite drink. Although… A sly smile returns, some might argue that I lost my rational mind long ago. I gaze about the room once more. It's full of people in formal attire. Most of them are friends and colleagues, some recent, others long past. We're here to celebrate a retirement. Yet another end.
I lose myself in the music of the string quartet. The violin's melody, light and happy, is interspersed with the sad melancholy timbre of the base. A perfect musical commemoration of a life's journey, the violins provide the sweet enchanting rhythm celebrating the spectacular highs, while the slow deep pitch of the base reminds me of the sad and forlorn as the end draws nigh.
My gaze drifts back to the couple once more, and I'm lost in the revolutions of their dance. Their gentle relaxed turns are in juxtaposition to my memories of that night. As my lids drift shut, I can see the light reflecting off the ridges on the rim of the coin as if it were yesterday. My eyes follow the descent, round and round, end over end, heads or tails…Navy or Marines. Then just as the coin drops to level view and I fear I can't take the suspense a moment longer, I search out her eyes, craving the stabilizing force that has been my refuge for almost a decade. The love I find in the depths of her gaze steals my breath away and calms all my insecurities and fears. I tighten my hold around her waist anchoring myself to her. She fists her hands in my sleeves and leans further into my embrace. Lost in each other's eyes, we're buttressed against the outside world. Our lips drift together as one. So immersed in our personal haze of emotion, we miss the final spin of the coin.
Someone once said, "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." That phrase never held more meaning for me than it did in that single life-altering moment. Your entire life can quite literally change in the span of a breath, the blink of eye, the beat of a heart…or the flick of a wrist.
The general snatched the coin of promise right out of the air and quite literally crushed our future with an ironclad fist. He flashed us a constipated glare of barely contained fury at our insolent disregard for military decorum. I only caught bits and pieces of his angry diatribe after that. The words "disappointment…leaders…service…country…SACRIFICE," hung heavily in the viscous air. I was too busy picking up the pieces of my shattered dream to pay much attention. My first instinct was to grab Mac and run, anywhere…anywhere but there. She reached for my hand and mumbled out a barely intelligible, "Yes Sir," laden with the tears of emotional loss. Her response filtered through the haze of my dejected mind, and somehow, all that ingrained military training finally kicked-in. We fell in line like the perfect sailor and marine we were expected to be, and love took second stage…again.
A little voice in the back of my mind kept telling me it would never work out. We blew our last chance. It snidely summarized the evidence, counting off our offense…too much time, wasted opportunity, cavalier disregard, insurmountable distance. I argued back with the tried and true, "love is eternal…it conquers all…absence makes the heart grow fonder." "Ah yes," the voice mocked back with a sneer, "…absence does make the heart grow fonder…of someone closer at hand."
With a parting shot of, "You will both report to duty stations as ordered…do I make myself clear, Captain, Colonel?!" the general stormed out the door. Our friends muttered mundane pleasantries while avoiding all eye contact, "So sorry…gotta run…keep in touch," then fled the scene in horror hoping to escape the charred carcass of the fiery crash.
Mac and I were left standing alone on what should've been the happiest day of our lives. Neither of us uttered a word, much less ventured a glance. Her head hung low in shattered disbelief, quiet sniffles and shuddering breaths fought valiantly to gain control over the falling tears. I shook my head at the sorrow of it all. This was Sydney, my crash, and Paraguay, all rolled into one, only so much worse. My hand clutched at the black velvet pouch buried in my pocket, until the diamond imprinted its brand on my palm. This was not how I envisioned the evening playing out. I had hoped to have a 'happily ever after' bedtime tale to share with my kids. Legends of distant places and times of yore. Romantic adventures of a beautiful queen and a heroic knight. Wild escapades of battles waged, dragons slain, victories won. And above all else, love would reign true.
I sighed in self-loathing disgust, so what if reality tarnished the tale, the kids never needed to be troubled with the actual facts. Truth be told, the courageous knight had only conquered his own insecurities and fears masquerading as dragons, and the beautiful maiden had come searching for him. But we still rescued each other…well, almost. I exiled the fairytale fantasy to that forbidden place at the outskirts of my sanity where secret dreams and beloved memories live in perpetuity never to be retold.
By the time Mac and I had collected ourselves enough to be on our way, it was already well past midnight. I had an early flight to London and neither one of us felt much like celebrating, what was the point. I offered to see her home, but she reminded me we'd come in separate cars. I walked out and my heart lurched when I discovered our vehicles parked on opposite sides of the lot. Fate, it seemed, had a vindictive streak and reveled in having the last malicious laugh. I reached for her hand and we stumbled blinding toward her car. My right hand remained fixed in my pocket clutching the now useless ring; tonight hardly seemed the poetic moment for fairytale proposals and forever dreams.
Arriving at our physical destination, our hearts mourned the insurmountable distance to our desired goal. My gaze was transfixed in the highlights of her hair, while hers studied the gravel at our feet. My hand rose slowly to trail through the soft locks framing her face and I cautiously lifted her chin to meet my eyes. Even in the dim light of the moon, her tears sparkled brilliantly against the soft blush of her cheeks. I lovingly caressed away each drop only to have another descend in its place. My lips followed the movements charted by my thumb, as I tried to kiss away the trembling sobs she fought to hide. She slipped into my embrace, and held me so tightly in her arms; I feared I might never draw another breath. We stood entwined for minutes, hours, days? Time stood still, or so I begged on soft whispers of anguished prayer. I pled with God to turn back the clock…to a shunned visit in a Blacksburg hospital, the Christmas past, the admiral's retirement, seventeen unanswered phone calls, an insult-riddled Paraguayan bed, a cold Afghan desert ablaze in fireworks, a rainy night soaked through in unwelcome responsibility, a purloined kiss ripped from the heartbreak of goodbye on a moonlit porch, a ferry ride of miscommunication, the unfulfilled promise of a child created from our love…so many missed opportunities, misunderstandings, and chances now lost.
Neither one of us wanted to let go fearing we might never find the other again. Finally, the time of my departure loomed near and I cursed the hand of fate, which groomed us as experts in the art of goodbye, rather than liberating us to a joyous rapture as one. As I attempted to pull back, she clasped her hands against my back tightening her hold, melting her body into mine. She buried her face in my neck, and the warmth of her breath shuddered as her lips found my skin. The dampness of her tears soaked through to my soul.
My heart craved a keepsake to hold in her stead, nay a multitude of precious memories to assuage the loneliness and fear. My lips began a desperate journey of discovery seeking to unearth all the treasures I held dear. The delicate silk of her hair as it moved against my chin. The velvety softness of her shoulder as it beckoned me near…enticing, tempting, demanding. My mouth latched on to trace a line over the graceful terrain as I fed upon her skin. Her aroma intoxicated me luring me closer like an addict to his fix. That unique scent all hers, an ill-defined mishmash of delicious, desire and want; all built upon a firm foundation of strength, loyalty and love…and just the hint of something more. That elusive mystery which always remained just ever out of grasp…beauty, mischief, sadness? I shook away the distracting thought refusing to be detoured from my task. My fingertips tripped and danced over the slope of her neck gently lifting her chin.
And then I lost myself in her.
Capturing her lips with mine, I struggled desperately to commune as one. I dug deeper, reached further, asking for more still. I wagered battle to transcend space and time, and forever meld myself to the center of her core. That mystical place of inner strength and beauty that defines and unites both Mac and Sarah…the very essence of her soul. It is there I finally surrendered to the intense pull and love that has owned me from the start.
Her kiss was at first tentative and shy, as if she feared I'd melt away into the shadows of her dream. I answered back with assurance and need. She groped with gentle tenderness fueled by barely contained desire. And when she finally opened to my questing tongue, I explored her with a thoroughness not to be outdone. I memorized each crevice and space imprinting them on my heart. I reveled in her taste and texture…sweet, irresistible, decadent…CONSUMING. Necessary as air, required as food, essential as life. I delved further still, claiming her as my own, offering the whole of myself in return. She overwhelmed and engulfed me accepting the gift of my love, and gave all of herself just the same.
When we pulled back panting and thoroughly spent, she burrowed seeking strength in the solace of my chest. Falling backwards against the car, I gladly accepted her weight and the minutes ticked on.
Knowing we were finally out of time, I succumbed to the pain of heartbreak and gently pushed her away. Creating but a breath of space between us, I whispered her name, "Sarah, I'm sorry, but I have to go."
"I know…I just," she swiped at her tears unable to control the quiver in her voice, "…I can't…"
I reached up to caress her cheek, "Sweetheart, we'll make this work…you'll see, it'll be great. Phone call, letters, e-mails, clandestine meetings," I sought desperately to persuade us both, "…lover's trysts and rendezvous," my eyes twinkled with mirth.
She ducked her head, "I know…we'll try…"
I lifted her face back to mine and settled my lips against the soft skin of her brow. Kissing her with tenderness and warmth, I tried to reassure, mumbling against her skin. "Not try…WILL make it work. Trust me, failure's not an option I can survive."
She closed her eyes tightly and nodded her head.
"Sarah?"
When she met my eyes, her gaze was intense and filled with love. She gifted me with a soft smile, the special one she saved only for me. Although it lacked some of its luster, it was beautiful and sweet, and touched my heart all the same.
She ran her fingers over my cheek and caressed my lips with her thumb. Tears welled within her bottomless eyes, as she whispered, "Semper fidelis."
I nodded back, "Faithful…forever," then engulfed her in my arms.
"I love you, sweetheart," my arms refused my brains order to let go.
She pulled back just enough to place her lips on mine. "I love you, too," was breathed into my mouth on the soft air of the tenderest kiss I shall ever receive in this lifetime or the next.
With one more kiss stolen from the Hand of God, I gently settled her into the car. Assuring the seat belt was tightly clasped; I made her promise to drive safe and slow, for she carried the most precious cargo of my life in her hand. Then I watched her drive out of sight. It nearly killed me to watch to the end, but still seemed only fair, for in the past, she'd done the same for me.
In the ensuing months we followed through as planned…well, almost. Clandestine meetings and rendezvous were scheduled. Phones calls were exchanged at a fast and furious pace. But as the responsibilities of our commands began to take their toll, we missed more than hit. Lovers' tryst never happened…meetings always intervened. Most times our days ended with the cold companionship of voice mail or the mechanical discomfort of the answering machine. Whispers of love and sweet words of comfort, soon gave way to brief salutations in haste.
"Hey…sorry, I missed you. Hope everything's going well…catch you next time," was the order of the day.
Followed by, "Hi, don't have much time. I talked to Bud…he said you had the flu. Hope you're feeling better. Give me a call when you have a chance."
"Returning yours…heading out the door."
"Your turn…"
"Missed ya again…"
"Tag…you're it…"
"Damn…"
"Couldn't have said it better myself…"
"Back at ya…"
"Oh hell, I give up…"
That last call was the worst. My heart died as I uttered those words. We didn't see each other after that catastrophic night at McMurphy's. None of our planned vacations or visits materialized. Mac missed the first, when a case fell apart, forcing her to cancel her trip abroad. I understood that obligation came first, but it didn't hurt any less as I cancelled a romantic dinner at the best restaurant in London and placed the velvet pouch back in my drawer. The next 'get-away' fell victim to me, a last-minute summons to Washington from political muckity-mucks, insistent on discussing the war in Iraq over a break in Congress. A joint meeting of top JAG personnel in D.C was our next bet. I arrived early with ring in-tow; Mac was delayed by a high-profile murder case and bad weather over the Midwest states. Turns out, we missed each other by mere minutes in the airport, as I urgently boarded a plane for the return trip to London…apparently, ambassadors are unimpressed with personal commitments and love.
The last clandestine rendezvous was planned weeks in advance. I booked a small villa in southern Italy just outside Naples. Seven beautiful days and eight glorious nights overlooking the Mediterranean Sea…just the two of us…no phones, no faxes, no interruptions of any kind. A honeymooners' retreat. This was to be it…the perfect moment in time. I tenaciously refused to acknowledge any delays or excuses. I had the ring. I bought her dress. I arranged a small romantic service in a quaint chapel at the outskirts of town. I planned to sweep her off her feet. No chance to say 'no', backpedal or postpone. I decided this was to be fate's 'final hoorah.' She was to meet me in London then travel together to Italy.
The call came just as I folded the last of my attire into a small leather satchel. Granted, my garment preparation was light, but who needed a suitcase full of clothing which you never intended to wear? I closed my eyes and offered a prayer of supplication as the number flashed on Caller ID. You guessed it…she had to cancel. A summons from the SecNav and General Cresswell aborted her flight beyond D.C. A major project, great rewards, a possible promotion…an influential senator requested only her. I listened as she chattered on with excitement, not really hearing another word. My gaze was transfixed across the room, as I watched a rainbow a colors dance over the wall. The diamond shone brilliantly in the afternoon sun. I nodded in silence and mumbled a few indiscriminate "uh-huh's" as my wedding plans turned to dust. Then as if in an omen of portent, fate reared up its vindictive head of spite. Cloud-cover tuned the sky to gray, and the heavens opened up in a torrent of mocking rain. The brilliant sparkle of the diamond rainbow was snuffed out in a moment of dark…and in the span of a breath the dream died. I couldn't withstand the disappointment one minute more. The knife of love cut too deep and sliced too wide. This was the exact reason I had been afraid to let go lo those many years…my lifeline snapped, my body twitched, my heart plunged to its death.
I tried to explain over her gut-wrenching tears and pleas for more time…another chance. "No," was the final proclamation ripped my heart, "…it was all too hard and fraught with disappointment. The loss cut too deep. I had survived the separation of flying, Brumby, the Paraguay mess and my exile to the dark side, but this… this was too much. I'd given my soul to her on that night, and now, there was no way left to survive." I hang up the phone, then noticed with detached fascination the blood spilling over my palm. As I swiped the sticky red substance from the wound, I marveled at the perfect circle branded in my palm and cast the diamond solitaire aside.
"Harm?"
The sound of a voice barely penetrates the haze of my memories.
"Admiral Rabb?!"
I register the quizzical laugh in her voice just a moment before the zinging warmth of her touch. Even after all these years, the mere glance of her finger still ignites a blazing flame across my skin.
"Hey Sailor, you still with us? You look like your mind is half a world away."
I rapidly blink my eyes to clear the fog as her words register through the dazed memories of my past. She has no idea the truth she speaks, or even more that she's decades too late. I shift my attention to the beautiful woman grinning before me, decked out in formal military attire adorned with gold stars proclaiming her rank. I flash her an apologetic smile, as my gaze settles on hers. And somehow, I'm lost the fathomless warmth of those deep brown eyes once more. How is it possible after all these years that she can still mesmerize me?
I must have zoned out once again, because now her chuckle has grown to a full-fledged laugh. I roll my eyes while attempting hide the blush of my cheeks behind a well-placed hand.
"Sorry Mac, I guess the events of tonight are causing me to get lost among old memories."
"All of them good, I hope?" she cocks her head and flashes a smile in that flirting way which always made my heart sing.
"Mostly," I remain a bit circumspect.
"You're okay with this, right?" her face exudes concern. "Didn't you really want all this?" her hand gestures around the ornately decorated room. "I know the pomp and circumstance is a bit over the top, but Jen thought…"
"It's fine, Mac," I try to put her at ease. When the shadow of worry deepens to form lines her brow, I toss a distraction in her path, "Hey, how are the kids?"
Her frown softens to a smile, "They're great! Probably eating me out of house and home even as we speak, and don't get me started on their path of destruction."
I breathe a sigh of relief as the diversion works, "That's good to hear. At least, they're no longer upset over being left out of tonight's festivities. Although," a grimace puckers my mouth, "I'd be a little worried about the insurance on the house."
She chuckles nervously at the prospect, "By the way, Mandie asked me to give Uncle Harm her love."
I smile at my conjured-up image of the 10-year old whirlwind of terror. She certainly takes after her mother. "She'll be asleep by the time you get home." An expression of relief floats across Mac's face. "You'll have to give her a kiss from her Uncle Harm in the morning."
"I will…" her voice trails off when she realizes I'm lost in thought again.
"Harm?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Mmmm," my eyes are riveted back on the intriguing couple across the room.
Her hand drifts up arm and begins to straighten the shoulder board fastened there. Task complete, her fingers lightly brush away some imaginary lint as they glide over my golden stars and JAG insignia. Did I mention, this was never how I thought my life would turn out?
"Harm, you're starting to worry me. What's so fascinating across the room, or am I just unwelcome company tonight?"
I can hear the tone of disappointment in her voice. I give my mind a mental shake, and focus my attention back on her. If she only knew…how wrong she was.
"If I only knew what?"
That snaps my concentration back full force. Did I actually say that out loud? "Nothing…it's ah…nothing," I stutter over my words.
"Come on, Flyboy…SPILL!"
I sigh with resignation knowing there's no chance for escape. And everyone thought I was the tenacious one! Give her a bone, and well…let's just say, she's been known to growl and bare teeth. Is it any wonder the marine mascot is a bulldog? Probably best not to mention that thought right now.
"Harm!"
"Sorry," my eyes dart away, "…it's just that…"
"Just what?" her eyes are soft with concern.
"Look at that couple across the room."
"What?"
"Over there," I gesture subtly with my head toward the far wall, indicating with my eyes the enchanting pair locked in each other's arms.
"What about them?" her eyes reflect bemused confusion.
"Just watch'em." In a rapid motion, her eyes flick toward the couple before settling back on mine. A smile plays at the corner of mouth and I realize she doesn't understand. Or maybe she thinks I've finally lost my mind.
"Don't you see it?" I whisper in a conspiratorially voice. Her eyebrow quirks in that, 'I'm a Marine…Don't' Mess with Me,' challenge sort of way. The expression tells me; she's giving me just enough rope to hang myself. I swallow hard trying to figure out how best to broach the subject and explain my fascination.
"Sailor?"
Whoooa, I didn't know her eyebrow could climb that high. "Mac, look at 'em!" I utter in a stage whisper. "When did they have time to be that happy?"
"'They'," she emphasizes the word on my behalf, "…didn't have to find time. They just are."
I duck my face from her questioning view, and run a finger over my lower lip deep in thought. I'm not sure I want to get into the lunacy of all this with her.
"Harm?" her voice drops lower with worry. "I thought this was what you wanted? Your retirement…stepping aside…trying something new?" She drops her hand to my arm in encouragement, "Come on, talk to me…I'm still your best friend. You can be honest with me…I promise to try and understand."
I shrug, maybe I am a bit uncertain of what tomorrow holds. "A lot of things in my life are about to change, Mac. Maybe, you're right…I do need to confide in my best friend."
"I'm here for you," the worry lines melt into a supportive smile. "Now, tell me what's wrong? Is this about the retirement? Or…" her smile turns mischievous, "…are you afraid you'll get under foot and drive your poor wife crazy?"
"I have it on good authority that my wife enjoys having me around," I counter back, flashing a cocky flyboy.
"Okaaaay…is it because your youngest is about to fly the coup for the Academy next week?"
"Noooo," I throw my head back in laughter, "…Jocie will be just fine. It's the Naval Academy I'm worried about…they won't know what hit them when the youngest member of the Rabb clan descends on their door. Her brother and sister are near saints compared to my youngest little hellion."
"So, if it's not your retirement or the prospect of an empty nest…what's wrong?" Her shoulders are weighted in uncertainty and her eyes drop to the floor, "Is it your wife?"
xxxxx
Continued in Part 1b