1A/N: Sorry for leaving the update for this long, but I updated TLWL in between – and believe me, if you read the story, that's BIG considering how I'm so bad with updates on it. Anyways, no excuses, should have been able to update earlier.
Major thanks to you guys that reviewed: MiDushiNoSushi, Syrae, Kelly, starryeyes10, JamieAKAaclassyone, BrittanyLS, alix33, JulieM, southernqt, Toplesslemon, Reni-Maniac, Kyrapura, prinnie, disneygirl1962, Radiorox, Mackenise Jackson, marineJAG, tizy, Ella, vhosek malacath, FoxyWombat, Upfire, Alex, froggy0319, TV Angel 711, Pissed Off Poet 1, fic chic, and dansingwolf!
Family First
1824
Hilldegard Marsdon Preschool
Clay's POV
Jacob Akheal Azhad Webb sat outside classroom 202 on a yellow plastic Fisher Price table, his small hands moving up and down the paper as he switched his crayon from blue to red. Behind him was a small white clock painted to look like the moon, and though he was only three and could not tell the time, Jake knew his father was late. Whether it was the annoyed scowl that his mother wore which he could see through the small window dividing room 202 from the hallway or the sinking feeling in his gut – the all-knowing gut that he'd inherited from his father – he knew that his dad was supposed to be here and was not.
I could see him through the corner of my eye as I ran down the hall, shaking his auburn curls as he reached for another crayon. My eyes flickered to the clock. Five minutes late. Vera was going to skin me.
"Hey, Jake," I whispered, waving to him quickly. "I'll see you in a moment."
Jake stood up quickly from the Fisher Price table. "But Daddy –"
"One minute," I said quickly, ruffling his hair. "I'm just going to talk to your teacher and then I'll be right out, okay? You sit and color."
Jake looked thoughtful for a second and then, "Okay."
I stole another quick glance at him before I opened up the door. He looked thinner to me than he had last time. He was dangerously close to being turned into a rake. I sighed discontentedly. I wondered what Vera fed him, she kept a similar weight.
"Sorry I'm late," I said apologetically, sitting down on the chair next to Vera across from Jake's teacher. I flashed a quick glance at Vera who promptly ignored it, shoving a stubborn strand of dark red hair behind her ear, her eyes captured shadows. It felt like the first time seeing her.
"Don't worry," Vera smiled caustically, "based on your schedule, you're early."
Her remark stings. "Well, when you have something to do tardiness is rather unavoidable." I meet her squarely with my eyes. "But of course, you wouldn't know anything about that."
Her chin juts out defiantly. "It's not my fault my director won't give me any real cases."
"Maybe if he thought you could handle them, he would," I snapped back acidly.
"If he knew me at all he'd know I could handle it," Vera's voice is a mere hiss.
For a second there, she'd caught me off guard. "I know you, Vera."
"You knew me, Clay," Vera whispered hollowly, turning away from me and focusing on Vera's teacher. "At the moment, you don't know anyone. Not even your own son."
I can't reply to that, I don't know how to. I know Jake, I know he loves basketball and I know he wants to be a fireman when he grows up and I know his favorite color's lime green. I know him. He's my son. I know him.
"Um, Mr. Webb, I don't think we've ever been introduced before," Jacob's teacher said, and I flinch as though just realizing she was there. She extends a hand to me, "I'm Mrs. Charla Davidson, Jake has told me a lot about you."
I smile and shake her hand quickly. "He's told me a lot about you too," I lied through my teeth. I couldn't remember the last time I'd asked him about school.
"Well now," Mrs. Davidson sighed. "I'd like to begin by saying that you've got a wonderful boy. He's grasped quite a handle when it comes to reading, he can solve basic addition problems using our eraser tray. He listens well and doesn't talk out of turn. In fact he's almost . . ." Mrs. Davidson struggles for words. "Almost unreal, if you know what I mean."
I frowned slightly. "I'm afraid I don't."
Mrs. Davidson leaned back a little in her seat. "I've been in this position for the last nine years," she said smiling slightly. "And every child has their own . . . light, I'd like to say. This sort of exuberance that fills them. Some children like to talk a lot, others would prefer to run around, some have a lot of friends, others like to stick together in pairs or triplets. But they open up to each other, they socialize, and Jake . . . well, he's different," Mrs. Davidson said bluntly. "And frankly, I'm a little worried."
It was Vera's turn to frown. "Different how?"
"Well, it's not that there's necessarily anything WRONG with him," Mrs. Davidson returned. "He just . . . comes into the classroom in the morning, he puts away his things, he does his silent reading, he works on Button Math, he sits for circle time, and he says barely three words."
"Well you must understand, Mrs. Davidson," I said rather defensively. "Jake's just a quiet kid."
"Yes, he's never really been a talker," Vera joined me in verbal retaliation. "That's just the way he is."
Mrs. Davidson smiled, "And I'm not saying there's anything wrong with being quiet, Ms. Azhad. But come recess time all the kids run off to the playground or the sandbox or out into the garden, and Jake sits against the wall and he watches them. He makes no move to join anyone in Tag or talk to anyone else. He just sits there until the thirty minutes are up."
I have nothing to say to this. I can't honestly believe I was ever that quiet when I was his age. "Maybe it's just a phase," I said hopefully. "He'll grow out of it, I'm sure."
Mrs. Davidson shrugged. "Well, I've had the delight of teaching Jacob for the last four months and what I can tell you is that he's very intelligent, he grasps things quickly, he's simply lovely. In terms of his social life, though, what I can say is that he's made a very good friend in Hunter Rabb, whom I think he carpools with, am I correct?"
Vera nodded, "Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday."
Mrs. Davidson nodded and leaned forward a little, her eyes masking importance. "Now, what I'm about to ask you I wish you not to take offense. I am just following procedure. Given Jake's lack of peer communication and his tendency for solitude, I must ask – are there any problems in the home?"
Her question comes crashing down on us. I feel this heat simmer from underneath my skin. I exhaled sharply. "First of all," I snapped sharply, "Jake does not have a tendency for solitude. He just prefers it. He is like me in that sense, I'd rather be by myself than caught in a crowd and there is nothing wrong with that. Second, Jake could communicate with people if he wanted to. And if he doesn't, well that's his decision. As you said before, Jake's a perfectly smart boy – if he has little to say that's not his fault."
"Of for God's sake, Clay," Vera rolled her eyes next to me. "The boy's as quiet as a mouse. Have you ever tried to have a conversation with him?"
"Sure, I have!" I exclaimed in sharp defiance. "And I've had them too. Maybe he doesn't talk to YOU, but he does to me."
"Oh really?" Vera asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And when was that? A month ago?"
Her voice cuts me to the core. "Two days ago, I talked to him on the phone."
Vera laughed sardonically. "Oh yes, I heard that conversation. 'Hi, Daddy. Fine, Daddy. Uh huh. Yup. Here's Mommy'."
"It's not my fault if there's nothing going on," I hissed. "He's three years old, he hasn't got much to say."
"Clay, you're not there when Hunter comes home!" I exclaimed. "I pick Jake up from Harm and Mac's house three days a week, and Hunter's always there rattling off to Mac about what he did that day, or what he learned, or who he played with and normally Mac just can't get him to shut up. Jake doesn't say one word. He WAVES."
"We can't compare Jake to Hunter!" I said, frustration seeping into my voice. "Hunter's inherited his father's mouth. Besides, he's older."
"By seven months," Vera said exasperatedly. "Face it, Clay, we've got a problem here."
"There is no problem."
"You're in denial!"
"If I were in denial that would mean there was a problem which I'm ignoring, and due to the fact that there is no problem, I am NOT in DENIAL."
Vera turned back to Mrs. Davidson who I'll admit is looking rather windblown. "You want to trace the root of Jake's problem?" She pointed a long finger at me. "Well, it all traces back to him."
"How could it trace back to me?" I defended loudly. "I'm not even there to affect him!"
"That's it!" Vera exclaimed. "That's just it, Clay! You're not even there! Your absence DOES affect him! If you knew your son just a little bit better . . ."
"I thought it was you I didn't know," I bit back sourly.
Vera's eyes narrowed. "You have a problem, Clay."
"Not nearly as many as . . ." I began but was interrupted by a not-so-obvious clearing of the throat on Mrs. Davidson's part.
She took a quick look at her watch. "Well, I'm really sorry to have to wrap this meeting up so quickly but I really must be on my way. I look forward to seeing you two again." The poor woman is practically running out the door as she says this. She turns swiftly to Jake, "And I'll see you, Jacob, at class on Monday."
Jake nodded. "Bye."
Mrs. Davidson eyed me and Vera for one more swift moment before she dawdled down the long hallway as fast as she could. I exhaled heavily, kneeling down beside Jake (a little to heavy to fit on the Fisher Price table).
"Hey, Buddy," I grinned at him.
Jake leaps into my arms, grinning brightly. "Daddy!"
I catch a quick glimpse of Vera, leaning against the doorframe, her dark eyes taking in our every moment. And in that second – that one second – this profound realization hits me. I can't read her. I have no clue what's going on in her mind, what she's thinking, what she's feeling. I'm lost. Maybe I don't know her as well as I thought I did. And the thought scares me.
"So what's up, kiddo?" I said, ruffling his hair a little as I scooped him up onto my shoulders. He weighed barely anything. "What's new at school?"
Jake shrugged. "Nuthin'."
"Oh come on, there must be something . . . a new toy, a new book, a new friend?"
Jake shook his head. "Nuthin'."
"A pretty girl?"
"No!"
I cast a quick look at Vera who was walking towards us now. She sighed tiredly, "Come on, Jake, we've got to go home and have dinner."
I felt my stomach drop. "But –" Jake began to protest but then faltered. He turned back to me. "Are you coming, Daddy?"
"Uh . . . no, Jake, um, Daddy's got to get back to work." Jake's face fell. "But I'll see you in a few days, how about that? And I'll take you to the park, and then a movie."
"Okay," was the sullen reply. It broke my heart.
I set him down on his two feet, holding his shoulders so that he looked at me straight in the eye. "I promise you I'll see you in a few days. It's just that this is a REALLY bad time for Daddy. There's a lot going on at his work and I'll do my best to see you before you go back to school on Monday, okay?"
Jake smiled but the grin never reached his eyes. He looked more like me than ever before. Serious, unreadable, his emotions undetectable against his grave exterior. "Okay."
"So, can I have a hug?" I asked, stretching my arms open for him. He nodded and then wrapped his arms around me quickly before releasing reluctantly.
Vera tugged on his arm. "Come on, Jake, we want to beat the traffic."
"Bye, Daddy," he whispered quietly, as Vera pulled on him firmly, already setting off down the hall. I just sort of stood there in place, rooted on the spot as I watched Jake walk farther and farther from me. Vera's back was to me, her hand grasping onto Jake's smaller one, but Jake continued to face me, walking down the hall backwards. He waved at me and I waved back. Vera tugged on him again, this time to turn around but he kept looking back over his shoulder. And it was at that moment that this sudden wash of sorrow overtook me. I should be there with him, for him. But while he would be having dinner with his mother, I'd be at the office drowning in paper. Life just didn't seem fair.
"Come on, Jake, we've got to go," Vera pressed, pulling him along again, but Jake's eyes were on me. I stood there unmoving. How had my life gone so terribly wrong? I was lucky if I saw my son three times a month, and for more than fifteen minutes. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the world for a brief moment. Vera tugged Jake once more, who was stumbling backwards as he watched me. She sighed heavily, turning around, "Clay, do you want to come for dinner?"
For a moment there, I'm caught off guard. "You mean it?"
Vera shrugged. "I mean, we'll probably just have pizza but . . ."
"Say yes, Daddy," Jake said quietly. His head tilted up so his misty grey eyes met mine. "Please."
And that was all I needed to give in. "Sure," I said, walking up the hall to where Vera and Jake were, holding his small hand in mine. And it suddenly struck me then, like a hard blow to the head, that this might be the last time I do this . . .
Some odd hours later
Rabb and Mackenzie House
Harm's POV
"What do you think about Leslie?" Mac asked, passing the soap soaked dish to me as I rinsed it off under the tap.
"Leslie Rabb," I said, pausing for consideration. "It's a pretty name. What should her middle name be?"
Mac turns around. "Who said Leslie was a girl's name?"
I pause in confusion. "You can't honestly want Leslie for a boy."
Mac grins. "I think it would be cute."
"We're not going for cute, Mac," I lectured. "If it's a boy we're going for something strong, something firm, something manly . . ."
"Oh, but if it's a girl it has to be something prissy and cute?" Mac's eyebrow shoots into oblivion. She rests her stomach on her unshowing stomach. "And besides, who says she or he will have Rabb as a surname?"
"Hunter had Mackenzie stuck as his last name for eight months," I grinned. "There WAS a reason we changed it to Rabb."
"And messed up my acronym," Mac stuck out her tongue.
"I'm thinking . . ." I said, closing my eyes and humming 'Om' loudly as I placed my hand on her stomach. "It's another boy."
Mac withdrew from me, throwing a wet dish cloth at me. "It's a girl."
"How would you know?" I challenged.
"She's inside me," Mac retaliated. "How would you know?"
"I'm psychic."
"No, you're psychotic."
I sighed, placing my hands heavily over my heart. "Oh, Mac, you hurt me to my very core."
Mac laughed. "You missed your calling, Harm . . . you're a born actor."
I grinned, "You think?"
Mac smiled back at me, passing me another dish. "You're a regular Johnny Depp."
My eyebrows furrowed, "Do I take that as a compliment?"
Mac laughed, "take it however you want it." She smiled at me, putting the last dish away in the cupboard and leaning over to kiss me on the cheek. "You'd make a cute Willy Wonka."
I'm more disturbed than ever, but then – "Hey, what about that name?"
"If we're calling him Wonka, he can be a Rabb."
"No, I mean like, Willy . . . William," I provided. "William Rabb."
Mac nodded, grinning playfully. "Prestigious."
"It is," I said. "Hunter and William Rabb."
"It's gonna be a girl, Harm . . ." Mac trailed.
I rolled my eyes. "Just humor me for a minute. If it's a boy, can we name him William?"
Mac sighed. "I don't know, Harm, I really like Jesse . . ."
"I thought it was Leslie!" I exclaimed.
"Well, now I like Jesse," Mac said, finality empowering her voice. "What's wrong with Jesse?"
"It's a GIRL'S name, Mac," I argued pitifully.
"Jesse Rabb," Mac stated stubbornly. "Here, I'll even give you the last name."
"Thanks," I replied sarcastically.
"Jesse William Rabb," Mac provided. "That sounds nice."
"William Jesse Rabb."
"You're kidding."
"It sounds fine!" I defended.
"It sucks dirt, Harm," Mac said. "It's either Jesse William Rabb or find another middle name."
"Well, maybe it won't be a boy at all!" I exclaimed loudly. "Maybe it'll be a girl and THEN you can name her Jesse!"
Mac grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."
And I sighed, having been truly well played once again. We'd had this argument a million times. "Hey, Mac, I gotta tell you something."
Mac looks over. "Yeah?"
I took a sharp breath in, pictures of Abbas flashing before my eyes. No, don't think about that . . . don't think about him. "I've got to go away for a few days."
Mac turned back to the washcloths she was hanging on the counter. "Okay."
She was used to me going away. Since I'd become an intelligence officer within the CIA I had to go away every so often for little more than a week, and seeing as I hadn't had to travel in a while, it probably seemed nothing out of the ordinary for me to go now. "I've got to leave tomorrow night, but I think I'll be back by Saturday."
Mac nodded. "Where are you going?"
I hesitated. "I'm not really sure yet." And that was the truth. I had no clue where I was going.
"Okay, well, you better start packing then," Mac said lightly. "And make sure you take your - "
"Mommy!"
Mac turned around, sighing heavily. "And that'll be Hunter."
Sure enough Hunter came sprinting out of his room, his dark hair falling over his face. "Mommy, I saw him again."
"You saw who again?" I asked.
"The Dark Man," Hunter whispered. "I saw him again, Mommy."
Mac rolled her eyes. "Hunter, there is no Dark Man."
"Yes, there is, Mommy!" Hunter pressed insistently. "He's in my room right now!"
Mac sighed, turning to me. "Do you want to do the Dark Man check?"
I lifted Hunter up onto my shoulders. "How long has it been since he invented the Dark Man?"
"I don't know," Mac frowned. "A week, maybe."
"That's pretty long for his imaginary friends," I said. "The others have only lasted two to three days."
Mac shrugged. "Face it, Harm, we've got a creative son."
I looked a little worried. "I don't remember AJ and Jimmy ever doing those things . . . and AJ's imagination was pretty active."
Mac sighed, "Lots of kids have imaginary friends, Harm. One week it'll be The Dark Man, then the next it'll be Elbert the Elephant, and next Marvin Chicklopski."
"Marvin who?" I asked as Hunter called from up on my shoulders, "Daddy, check for the Dark Man!"
"Chicklopski," Mac grinned. "He was my imaginary friend for the longest time."
"You must have been one pretty weird kid."
Mac smiled teasingly. "Who said I invented him when I was a kid?"
I swatted her lightly on the shoulder as I made my way to Hunter's room. I put him down on the bed, showed him that I was looking in his closet and under his bed and around his dresser. "See, Hunter, no Dark Man."
Hunter was already settling himself into the bed. "He was there," he mumbled sleepily as I pulled the covers around him. "I saw him."
"Night, Hunter," I whispered.
Hunter was still mumbling under his breath about the Dark Man as I exited his room softly, returning to the living room where Mac was curled up watching Law and Order: SVU. It at that moment struck me how wonderful my family was. I mean, I knew it already, but there was something about chasing away imaginary monsters for your son and then coming back to your perfectly contented wife that just gets you going. And maybe it's the fact that we have one more along the way that gives me this slightly satisfied feeling. And then there was Abbas. I closed my eyes for a brief moment. I wouldn't let him hurt Mac or Hunter or Jesse/William/Leslie/whatever-the-heck-HE'LL-be. Not over my dead body.
A/N: how terrible am I for leaving this for a week? I'm sorry for not updating so long (I'm sure you all know this speech by now). What can I say? Real life just happened to get in the way.
Alex: Okay, I intend to answer all of your various critically remarked questions with the most simplistic answers I can possibly write. So - here are your answer to the following. I hope you can decipher them well enough.
1. Why Mac was promoted over Harm - Harm was DEAD, he could not BE promoted.
2. How many years of Harm's life will he lose on this one? - hmm . . . jeez, I'm just coming up with a week here, but you can calculate that into fractions of a year if you want.
3. Has Harm always been a liar? - No, and he is not one. And if you want to review and complain to me that you've never lied in your life, I would laugh. I do not know you, but I would still laugh my socks off.
4. Does Mac need to be protected? - Hell, no, but can you honestly tell me that Harm would not jump at the chance to protect her? Harm has never struck me as the kind of guy that would sit back and relax while the safety of his family was put in jeopardy.
5. Harm did not miss the birth of his child. I know this was not a question, but I'm simply stating he was there right next to Mac while Hunter was born.
6. Why did I not kill Harm? - BECAUSE HE'S HARM!
7. Why I'm not sparing you on this story - DON'T READ IT IF YOU DON'T WANT TO.
Fic chic: yeah, he is, and he helped the group so much, it would be impossible to write this story if he hadn't been in the first one.
Dansingwolf: well, I thought about letting Harm return to the JAG Corps, and then I was like — well, that would cause some problems in the office because of him and Mac being married and all, and I didn't want Harm being transferred to a different office 'cause most likely it would be really far away. Plus it would be more exciting if Harm was in the CIA. An intelligence officer only. He's not in field ops, I didn't think Mac would really go for the idea. And I updated TLWL! Lol, I'm so proud of myself . . . it took me forever to write. Hmm . . . seems my reply is as long as your review!
Pissed Off Poet 1: Yeah, I am going to drag out the Clay and Vera story. It was just too good an opportunity to pass up. I mean, Harm and Mac are now "one" so I figured I had to have SOME kind of love story in here. Oh yeah, and another to come . . . but you're not supposed to know about that yet.
TV Angel 711: lol, yes, another Rabb kid! And now I have to face the battle of picking another name . . . omg, how do I get myself into these messes?
Froggy0319: aww, thanks . . . but I really gotta get this story rolling. I'll just die if it's as long as Full Throttle.
Upfire: thanks! And I'll definitely keep it up - I have a story to complete, after all . . .
FoxyWombat: lol, and I've got to read your next chapter! I was like just finishing typing this chapter up when I got your alert and I was like "should I stop and read, or keep writing?" and then I was like, "FoxyWombat would want me to keep writing . . ." So I went on and wrote and now I have to go read the next chapter!
Vhosek malacath: yeah, actually, it was kind of surprising how fast I got the sequel out. I was going to wait another week but hey, what the heck? Life was getting a little boring without it.
Ella: thanks! I was sad to see Full Throttle end too . . . that's kind of why I came up with this story. Too sad to see it go . . .
Tizy: stalk me relentlessly? Wow, that's kind of creepy. Lol, I actually like FT more than I do TLWL, I guess because it's more dramatic. I don't know, I never expected either of them to get so many reviews. Especially TLWL. I really don't see what people see in it . . . and I know I'm the self-critical kind, but seriously - like, what's the attraction?
MarineJAG: well, good luck with your New Year's resolution! I think I'd die if I reviewed every chapter I read. True, I don't read a lot A LOT, but I find a few good stories that I really like and then put them on story alert. Actually, I'm kind of sad that way. My friend, she has like over a hundred stories on story alert and like twenty on author alert, I keep everything as a top ten . . .
Mackenise Jackson: lol, thanks! I really can't wait to get properly into this story . . . I'm feeling kind of excited.
Starryeyes10: thanks!
MiDushiNoSushi: yeah, lol, all the FT readers just kind of transferred over here. I was seriously really surprised when I got as many reviews as I did on my first chapter - on FT's first chapter I didn't get half as much. I think I got like thirteen or something like that . . . it was just sort of shocking. And then I saw all the names and I'm like, "they're all back!" It was kind of funny.
Syrae: thanks! Believe me, loads to come. I'd give you a preview 'cept I'd probably rant on and give away the ending, which I really wouldn't want to do since the details are kind of fuzzy at the moment.
JamieAKAaclassyone: lol, well I'll see what I can do for you on the Pants-tragic-department-store-stampede thing. I never really thought about it, but that seems like a rather good idea . . . hmmm . . .
Kelly: Alright, I posted my second chapter - but you girls have yet to post your various stories! Don't worry about writer's block on OAO - I'm going through that same thing with TLWL, just wait it out, Kelly. And I'm not-so-patiently waiting for an update on The Letter, and if that doesn't come soon . . . why, who knows when the BH fluff will appear? Lol, Julie.
BrittanyLS: thanks! I'll try and uphold the standards FT's set.
Alix33: omg, I totally forgot about the lethal-injection-thingy! Where is my mind these days? Hm, okay, how about this - I'll do my best not to lose anyone this time around and if I do, I give you permission to stick Abb as with the lethal-injection-thingy.
JulieM: thanks! And there's even more to come . . . lol
southernqt: Yes, yes, that's right. Jake lost his memory, was helplessly wandering around Venice, gravely injured . . . where he was taken in by an old woman and her daughter. Together, over the years, they nursed him back to health while he suffered from incurable amnesia . . . until he meets the gang all over again. LOL, you have quite an imagination - GO INTO WRITING.
Toplesslemon: I know, that's all I can say on the subject. All my TATE dreams dashed with those two syllables . . . Twilight . . . lol, Abbas and Ari are one of the same, don't ya think? They both deserve to be shot upside the head. And I'd gladly be the one to do it.
Reni-Maniac: thanks!
Kyrapura: lol, thanks for letting me off the hook! You're too kind, but I'll try and get another chapter of TLWL out as soon as humanly possible.
Prinnie: Well, Hallie and Harmon Roberts are both four and a half, Hunter's nearly four, and Jake's just past three. And yeah, I meant preschool. Lol, it would be just a tad bit weird having them all in school at their age.
Disneygirl1962: thanks! And I'm a complete shipper as well, so it shouldn't be hard to fit in a few HM moments here and there. LOL
Radiorox: lmao, don't you just hate it when the technological world gangs up on you? Alright, I'll admit JAG's Webb sucks. JAG did not use Webb to the best of his capabilities. What DPB was thinking with Paraguay, I'll never know. But don't you like my Webb at least a LITTLE more than you like JAG's? See, mine has actually FEELINGS.
