Life Is a Curious Thing

Summary: Mac hosts Friday night dinner for the JAG gang and learns some startling news. Takes place in the future. Pretend the last season and a half never happened. Mac POV

Disclaimer: All I own is Ryleigh. CBS & DB own everyone else.

==

It's Friday night and the gang's all here. Well, almost all here. Bud and Harriet are chatting with Sturgis and his wife while AJ checks the grill. I wipe my sweaty palms on a dish towel as the doorbell rings and curse myself for being so nervous. It's just another one of our weekly "family" dinners, I should be used to it by now. But I'm not. Even after two years it still hurts.

'Will she or won't she? Will she or won't she?' is my silent mantra as I move towards the door and peer through the peephole, even though I already know who will be outside. For the past month she's been absent from our get-togethers. She claims she's always busiest this time of year, but I can't help but wonder if that's her true reason for skipping out. She's here.

I open the door and find that it's not too difficult to paste a smile on my face as I welcome Harm and his wife Ryleigh into my home. Harm offers me a friendly greeting as he passes me to venture further inside.

Ryleigh's own greeting is a little strained and out of character. I pause for a moment to give my friend the once over. Yes, I said friend. The diminutive redhead in front of me is brilliant, witty and one of the best friends I've ever had. We're like sisters. It's not her fault she's married to the man I love. I never told her, hell I never told anyone. Not even him. Sure I dropped subtle and not-so-subtle hints, but I never came out and said, 'Harm, I love you.' Now I never will.

Instead of the usual affectionate hug I get from my psuedo-sister, all she does is awkwardly pat my shoulder. Now I'm intrigued. Dark shadows mar the delicate skin beneath her red-rimmed emerald eyes and she seems to be much thinner than I last remember. She reminds me of the girls on the Lifetime Channel. The ones with the eating disorders. What's happened to the energetic, vibrant woman I used to know?

I walk with her back to where the others are waiting and watch as she hugs AJ, Bud, and Harriet then offers a smile to Sturgis and Velma. It seems that I am the only one she is alienating. To my amazement, Harm puts his arm around her shoulder and she casually shrugs it off. Maybe I'm not the only one.

"Something smells good in here," Harm comments, seemingly unfazed by his wife's actions.

Harm's comment reminds AJ of his work outside and the four men quickly rush to hover around the grill. I offer to get Ryleigh a drink but she shakes her head and says that she'll get it herself. I nod my head, still trying to figure out what I said or did to upset her. She emerges from the kitchen a few minutes later with a large glass of what appears to be iced tea. Harriet asks her what her plans are for the summer. A history professor at the Naval Academy, she uses her summer vacation to lecture at various colleges and special events. Her eyes light up as she discusses her schedule and I put aside my worry for the moment.

Half and hour later, the men triumphantly emerge from the porch with a tray full of steaming food. Velma helps me set the table while Harriet and Ryleigh bring out the food from the kitchen. Seconds later everyone is seated around the table. I inwardly smile in relief that there is an even number. I hate being the odd man out. AJ and I are the only singles at the table, though it hasn't always been that way. For several months he brought a date to dinner. On those nights I invited Clayton Webb to even things out. I used to fool myself by believing there was a hint of jealousy in Harm's eyes when he saw Clay sitting next to me, but it was just my imagination.

In the confusion of choosing seats and rearranging dishes, Ryleigh's glass was switched with Harm's. By the time she realizes this, he's already lifting the glass to his lips. She reaches out a hand to stop him but it's too late. He takes a large sip, sputters and stares at the glass curiously. I briefly wonder if I made the tea too strong. Without a word he hands the glass to his wife and picks up his own drink. She flushes and averts her eyes. Curiouser and curiouser.

The dinner conversation is light and comfortable. No JAG-related discussion is allowed on Friday nights. Harriet catches us up on young AJ's school acheivement and Velma brags about her own son. I hear the faint ticking of my biological clock and ignore it. With all the godsons and honorary nieces and nephews I have, it should be enough. AJ starts a debate on whether or not the softball team he coaches will make it to the finals. I believe it will. With a coach as wonderful and dedicated as AJ, how could they not?

Noticing that her glass is empty, Ryleigh pushes back her chair and not-so- gracefully gets to her feet. Harm grabs her arm to steady her, but she yanks free of his grip. Plastic smile firmly in place, she asks if anyone else would like a refill. Bud is the only one to speak up. I catch Harm's worried gaze and silently ask him what the problem is. He shakes his head. He's as much in the dark as I am.

My guests still actively involved in the debate, I excuse myself from the table and join my friend in the kitchen. When she hears my footsteps on the ceramic tile, she quickly stuffs a small bottle back into the pocket of her loose jeans. She turns around with both drinks in hand. "Sorry Mac, was just on my way back in," she apologizes, her voice slightly warmer than it had been.

I intentionally bump into her, sloshing the contents of her glass over the rim and onto my hand. She mumbles another apology and retreats to the dining room. I sniff the liquid on my hand and take a small taste. The overpowering scent and taste of whiskey fills my nostrils and burns my tastebuds. Ryleigh was never much a drinker. Why the sudden change?

When I return to the dining room, the topic has switched to Ryleigh's book. Six months ago she started writing a history of the JAG Corps and we've all volunteered to help in any way possible. Seeing how animated she is when discussing her work, I decide to put off mentioning the drink to Harm.

Once dinner is over, everyone helps carry dishes back to the kitchen. Harriet and Velma shoo me away, intent on cleaning up by themselves. I leave them to it, knowing that it gives them a chance to freely discuss the trials and tribulations of parenthood without risk of upsetting the "childless." I spot AJ, Bud, Harm and Sturgis chatting in the living room but Ryleigh is no where to be found. Following my intutition, I slip out onto the backporch and give my eyes a second to adjust to the dark.

She is curled up in a corner of the porch swing Harm hung for me when I first bought the house. Her eyes are closed and I can see the faint trail of tears down her pale cheeks. I sit next to her and wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders. A heavy, shuddering sigh has her whole body shaking and she leans into my embrace.

"Sorry," she whispers, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I know I shouldn't be drinking around you."

I'm touched. Despite whatever misery she's going through, she's still mindful of my alcoholism. "It's okay, Rye. You want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head slowly and roughly wipes away at the tears filling trickling down her cheeks. "He's still in love with you."

Now that's a shock. There's no doubt as to who "he" is. In love with me? Not likely. Anyone with half a brain could see the devotion and adoration so evident in Harm's eyes whenever someone so much as mentions his wife.

"You're crazy, kiddo. He loves you." It hurts me to say those words, but right now is not about me. It's about comforting the miserable young woman in my arms, no matter the pain it causes me. As I've said, we're sisters.

She pauses for a moment before speaking again. "He says your name... sometimes... when we're..." She breaks off, unable to keep her emotions in check. "Why did he marry me if he's in love with you? Why would he?"

I pull her closer and rub her back soothingly, torn between my anger at Harm for hurting my friend and some perverse joy that all is not well with the Rabbs. The joy only fuels my anger because I know that it is wrong.

"Have you tried talking to him about it?" I query gently. For me, communicating with Harmon Rabb has never been easy. I wonder if it's the same for her.

She laughs, a harsh bitter sound that tears at my heart. "So he can just tell me that it's a jealousy-driven nightmare? He doesn't realize he's doing it and wouldn't believe me if I told him."

Ryleigh and I talk for several minutes until Harm interrupts our conversation to retrieve his wife. She hesitates before accepting the hand he holds out to her. I pat her on the back encouragingly and she turns to give me a grateful smile. I have already elicited a promise from her to try and discuss things with Harm. I hope she does.

Once they are gone, I slowly push myself back and forth on the swing, reflecting on the night's events. Hello, I'm Sarah McKenzie, marriage counselor to the wife of the man I'm in love with. Life's funny like that, I guess. Give me one of Bud's jokes any day. At least those make me laugh.