CHAPTER 6 - Eyes Of A Stranger
"And I raise my head and stare
Into the eyes of a stranger
I've always known that the mirror never lies
People always turn away
From the eyes of a stranger
Afraid to know what
Lies behind the stare."
Queensryche - "Eyes Of A Stranger"
"That was a shit show." Mac said, sitting across from her partner in a small Italian restaurant in Toronto.
Ever since fully recovering from her ordeal with the Mikhailov she had been on the move. First, she'd been placed on assignment in Spain trying to apprehend a money launderer with ties to a terrorist cell. The mission was completed flawlessly in less than a week with no casualties. The team she was on worked well together.
Then there had been the two weeks in Russia as part of another team trying to extract six agents that were cut off and hiding in Moscow. They had gotten them all out safely due to Mac's military skills and intuition. She had put herself on the line as she killed and assassin that would have shot two of the agents.
In just a few months she'd risen up the ranks of the agency, surprising everyone who doubted. She was trusted enough to run her own operation and found herself partnered with none other than Jack Keeter who had shifted his status to field agent.
It had surprised Mac at first and, naturally, brought forth thoughts about Harm which she squashed quickly. "We don't talk anymore." She had simply told Keeter by way of explanation and her tone of voice told him not to pry further.
Normally he would have forced her to remember and dwell on her feelings for him. This time, she used her training to remain impassive and uncaring. It worked so well that even Keeter seemed bothered by her about face. She wasn't the woman he had met years prior - there was barely a shred of her left. Out in the desert some years earlier, she couldn't seem to stop talking about Harm. Now she wanted nothing to do with him. "Bring the Commander up one more time and we're through, Jack. I'll have your ass rotated Stateside in a heartbeat." She had warned and he had complied.
For her current assignment, Mac had been tasked with infiltrating the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS) and the correlation to terrorist threats that had come from within the country. She was pretending to work as a computer analyst where, by the use of a mini USB drive hidden in a compartment of her briefcase, she would extract information from within - something that would keep her in Canada for several months to several years.
She wasn't sure when she'd return home and, frankly, she didn't care. Any contact with her friends from JAG ceased completely. Mac had stopped calling and compartmentalized the love for her friends in a neat little package that she buried deep inside. There was no point in keeping that contact alive as it brought up unnecessary emotions. Emotions would get her killed.
Even with Keeter she had tried to get him reassigned and away from her. It hadn't worked, the man was as stubborn as a mule and was very good at taking orders. Besides, she needed him as a partner to head back into the States and give the intel to their contact in Buffalo. For the agency, this was something of a black op, communique would be hand delivered for fear that someone at CSIS would discover Mac's infiltration and damage relations between the US, Canada and England.
"INTERPOL is always trying to cock block the agency. Get used to it once they smell blood they keep coming. We made a few enemies today." Jack offered on a sigh. Before partnering with Mac, he had been working side by side with an INTERPOL officer that the CIA knew was using their contacts to help an arms dealer transport weapons. The dealer had escaped justice due to a US Senator named Martin Evans that he had in his back pocket.
That same Senator was due to speak at a summit in Toronto. Much to Mac and Keeter's chagrin, they were tasked to provide security while INTERPOL had designs to take him into custody. It resulted in something of a standoff with Mac using her body to shield Evans when an INTERPOL officer was authorized to shoot. They managed to get him out and onto the private jet which waited for him at a small airport outside of Toronto.
"Fuck them. Evans might be slime but, there's no way in hell they were taking him in. INTERPOL can kiss my ass." She was still seething over the days events and prayed it wouldn't blow her cover at CSIS.
Keeter grinned, he did have to admire her work ethic. "Well, we did our job, let's celebrate." He had ordered a bottle of red wine, hoping to unwind some. It was needed after they day they had and the days to come. He poured her a glass and then filled his own, raising in a toast. "To us."
"I don't…" Mac trailed off, eyeing her glass with interest. She couldn't remember the last time a drop of wine had passed her lips and barely recalled what it tasted like. Was it sweet? Bitter? Smooth? Considering the control she had over herself these days did it sobriety matter anymore?
She was able to control her emotions flawlessly, didn't that afford her a drink or two? It wasn't vodka, her liquor of choice - one she vowed never to touch again. Wine was lighter, easier on her system, she convinced herself. It wasn't as addictive - she wasn't an alcoholic anymore.
Mac wrapped her hand around the glass and controlled the light shaking of her hand. She shoved down the one voice that warned her to stop and clinked glasses with Keeter before taking a sip. She moaned softly when the dark liquid hit the tip of her tongue assaulting her taste buds. It was slightly euphoric. She swished the wine back and forth before swallowing.
Closing her eyes she enjoyed the way it slid down her throat with ease. She welcomed the warmth of this old friend and took a bigger sip. "Mmmm… Been a while since I had wine." Mac smiled at Jack who was eyeing her curiously. He didn't know about her alcoholism - she would never tell him.
Before long, she felt the warmth coursing through her veins and a tingling in her arms.
Mac was relaxing, easing off the constant vigilance and alertness that the agency had instilled in her. It felt good, so she let Jack refill her glass.
One glass turned to three and eventually they'd gone through two bottles.
They did nothing more than talk shop, laughing at a few mishaps that were comical in nature. Keeter recounted a few stories on the Farm and how his class had pranked the instructor.
It had been ages since she last laughed and the feelings of the alcohol induced euphoria made her glow.
"You're so damned beautiful." Keeter said and when he leaned across the table and kissed her, Mac wanted to resist but, didn't. She welcomed the other man's affections. It would hammer the final nail into the coffin that was Harmon Rabb Jr if she gave herself willingly to another man.
In her inebriated state, sex with Keeter made sense. It would be good to indulge in her carnal desires and feel like a woman who was desired and wanted. Not to say that she necessarily wanted Jack in that fashion (she thought of him more of a big brother) but, she needed the release of having her body ravaged. At least, with Keeter, she felt safe and he was probably a good lay, too.
Which is why it was easy to sensually run her hand up and down his thigh on the way to her apartment. Easy to make out with him once he slammed the car into park. She had lost all inhibitions on the elevator up when she pressed his hand to her breast. So damned easy to straddle him and kiss him with fervor when they fell onto her sofa. It was easy to lose yourself in someone you didn't really desire when alcohol was running through your veins.
Keeter had ripped open her blouse, sending buttons flying everywhere as he pressed sloppy kisses to the center of Mac's chest. As he went to cover her breast with his mouth, he heard Mac call out a name effectively ceasing all activity on his part.
"Harm..." Mac didn't catch how easily she'd called his name or how her mind made her believe it was Harm's hands sliding up her thighs and under the skirt she wore. It was soft and breathy, similar to the way her voice sounded eons ago when she would fantasize about him.
Keeter had heard it tough, loud and clear and it sobered him up almost instantly. Any alcohol induced haze was gone as if he'd never had a drpp. He stopped the woman kissing him despite the desire he had to sleep with her and the ache in the lower part of his anatomy. "Mac, stop it." He halted the movements of her hands on his chest and stood abruptly, causing her to slide off him, her butt hitting the floor.
Mac laughed at her predicament and stared up in bewilderment. Navy men were so predictable. Either that or she was like some sort of repellant that no good man ever wanted. "You flyboys are all the same, all talk no action."
"If you didn't love Harm there would be plenty of action." Keeter said, buttoning his shirt and tucking it back into his pants. He was annoyed at himself and angry at her for letting things go so far. Mac didn't want him that way, he knew it and wouldn't sleep with her just to satisfy a carnal desire.
"I don't love the Commander." Mac stood and began moving towards him with hungry eyes.
When she made to reach out for him, Keeter grabbed her arms and kept her at a distance, holding her at bay. "Bullshit, when I mentioned him I saw the look in your eyes. It's the same look you gave me back in the desert when all you did was talk about him. You're in love with Harm."
'There will never be an us.'
"I don't love the Commander." She insisted and tried to release herself from his grasp but, Keeter was much stronger.
"You're drunk."
"I know what I want."
Keeter could see something in her, a war she was battling within. He understood what she really wanted and it saddened him. "To use me to forget him? Don't do this, Mac. Don't go down that rabbit hole, you're gonna hate yourself once you come out at the other end." If it were another place, another time - if his oldest friend hadn't been in her life… Keeter just couldn't hurt Harm that way. He wouldn't let Mac either. "Sleep it off… if, in the morning, you still want me, let me know." And with that he was gone.
Mac laughed sardonically once Keeter left her apartment - yes, they were all the same - only interested in her when she wasn't available. The Commander was like that, holding his feelings at bay, playing that stupid, self-righteous, arrogant, asshole, jet jock persona for all it was worth. 'You're not just a drunk. You're a mean drunk.'
"Fuck him." She spat out and dragged herself towards the bathroom, her body wavering on the brink of passing out. Mac managed to hold it together long enough to reach the bathroom and use her hands on the sink to steady herself. She glanced up and took a long look at the mirror - something that she had refused to do since her sessions with EDT. The woman staring back at her was almost unrecognizable and all of the weakness that was in Sarah MacKenzie before her training was nearly gone.
True, her eyes were bloodshot and hazy from her drunken state but, they were also devoid of emotion - unfeeling. "There will never be an us." She stated her mantra, shaking as a familiar ache drummed at her temple, a pain that told her the training hadn't been broken. The Commander would never hurt her again. He was dead and buried along with everything else she'd compartmentalized. She didn't need or want him. "There will never be an us."
Mac's mouth began to water and she held herself together long enough to raise the seat of the toilet and throw up every last drop of alcohol she had consumed. She dropped to the floor, dizziness overwhelming her, making her current beliefs begin to waver. Her mind raced back to several minutes earlier and Jack's mouth pressed against her skin, a touch that she'd fantasized about with another man. She often wondered what kind of lover Harm would be; how his hands on her skin would….
"No, goddamnit, no!" One good cry, that was all she would afford herself - nothing more and nothing less. One good cry and then tonight would be compartmentalized as well - she was getting good at that. She curled up into a ball and began to cry, gripped with an anguished despair that Mac couldn't quite quantify. What had she done to herself? What would he think if he saw what she'd become? He'd blame himself - the man had a nasty penchant for playing the martyr.
Heavy sobs shook her body and when Mac was sure no tears were left, she collected herself, leaning her back up against the tub. She quickly ignored the thoughts of heading out into the night and finding someone to satisfy the need inside her. Any man that would share her bed and she could kick out in the morning without fear of attachment, feelings or emotions. The idea died when her headache began and the room spun. She tried to stop herself from blacking out but, it was of no use - before long Mac lay on the tiled surface of her bathroom passed out.
'There will never be an us.'
JAG HEADQUARTERS
"Objection your honor, Commander Rabb is badgering the witness!" Sturgis stood, glaring at his friend in exasperation at the lengths he would take to drill someone on the stand. It had been a year and a half since they'd last seen Mac and since then, Harm seemed to be a wreck with his emotions. They ebbed and flowed like the tides - laying somewhere between hating his former partner and anguished that they'd been apart for so long.
Sturgis knew that the crux of it all landed on one piece of information that Harm had let slip a few months ago while they'd gone drinking at McMurphy's. "I love her, Sturgis." He'd said sloppily when a few rounds of beers had progressed to several shots of whiskey. Sturgis had taken Harm home that night and found a shoebox perched on the kitchen bar that contained several pictures of he and Mac. In each one they were smiling, enjoying their time together. They seemed happy and Sturgis wondered how the hell everything between them just fell apart when they loved each other.
"Sustained… Counselors approach!" Judge Seabring glared down at Harm - finally growing tired of the man's tantrums in court. There were times where the Commander did his job with icy professionalism and others where he seemed out of control. If Sebring didn't know better, he would have figured that Harm was drunk. "Commander Rabb, what the hell are you trying to prove?"
"That the seaman was culpable, your honor. The prosecution has reason to believe that Seaman Nichols was having an affair with Ensign McNamera. He knows more than what he's saying."
"You are out of your mind. Why would an Ensign fresh out of the academy blow her career away?" Sturgis asked, shocked by information that was clearly new to him. If finally made sense why his friend had been acting so strangely. If the new information was true, they were in the middle of prosecuting a love triangle.
"It's not the first time that love has made someone do stupid things." Harm snorted, "I would know."
"Commander, I suggest you find another line of questioning."
"Understood your honor."
The men dispersed from their position in front of the bench and Harm began a slow walk towards the members. He knew he was walking a thin line but, didn't care. The next question came out without much thought. "Seaman Nichols, what spot on the carrier did you find to have a sexual encounter with the Ensign?"
"Your honor!" Sturgis stood and was waved off the moment he did.
"Mr. Rabb, I've warned you time and time again. This time, my complaint is going to your CO. I am requesting you be removed as prosecutor and demanding you seek a psych eval. I will no longer allow you to act like a cowboy in MY courtroom. Am I clear?"
"No, your honor. I am trying to get to the truth."
"And acting like a petulant child in the process." And just like that, Judge Seabring brought and end to the proceedings.
Sturgis waited for the courtroom to clear and then crossed over to his friend. "Harm, stop doing this to yourself." He made to place a hand on his friend's shoulder but, it was brushed off in anger.
"Don't… just don't."
Harm excited the courtroom and heading out to the bullpen. He stood there, dumbly looking around as if seeing it for the first time. Turning, he glanced into Mac's former office. No trace of a Marine officer lay inside merely the knick knacks of a certain submariner. Sturgis hadn't wanted to move in but, Chegwidden insisted.
Each day Harm would glance into the office hoping he'd find Mac there. At first, he tried to hate her, when calls to her cellphone and house phone were met with her answering machine. He'd gone to her apartment only to find that she'd changed the locks - his key no longer worked. Some days he would park outside of the building but, it seemed she would never go home.
After his last conversation with Webb several months ago, he decided to erase her from his life and move on. Any and all memories of Sarah MacKenzie were tossed in a shoe box and placed on the top shelf of his closet. Pictures, gifts, mementos all put aside with the intention that, someday, he would throw them away.
Except for one picture of the two of them in Afghanistan. It sat thumb nailed with a group of other JAG staff pictures on a small cork board in the break room. He'd tried to remove it but, Bud had stopped him as Mac had always been a mentor to him. Every time he went to get a cup of coffee, that damned pictures would stop him. He tried to bury it behind other messages and bulletins but, someone always moved it back up. It was just damned impossible to forget Sarah MacKenzie.
Afghanistan, he smiled sadly at the memory. They were on the same wavelength then, oceans controlled by the pull of each other. Shared dinners were common. Weekends were spent together. In a way, they were dating without dating - waiting for someone to make a move. The timing was just never right.
When he'd finally had the guts to ask her on a date, the whole debacle with Singer had happened and he wouldn't get Mac involved. And then Paraguay…. 'There will never be an us.'
Maybe the judge was right? He needed to see a shrink, get his head examined and get Mac out of his system.
As he was stuck in his reverie, Harriet had come up to him, taping Harm gently on his shoulder to get his attention. "Sir, the Admiral wants to see you ASAP."
"Thank you, Harriet." He was going to get reamed and he knew it. "Could you put these in my office?" He handed over his briefcase and cover and then headed across the bullpen waiting to face the music. This had been the third time in a month that he'd been called into Chegwidden's office for hs irate actions.
"Harm, take a seat." Rather that get the dressing down that he richly deserved, Chegwidden was taking a personal approach, calling him by his first name. That was never a good sing and Harm felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. "Is Mac…"
"Clayton Webb's been killed. He was on assignment somewhere in the Gulf on a frigate that was attacked. Mr. Webb is one of five men that drowned at sea."
"The one on CNN." It had been all over the news since the story broke overnight.
"Yes."
"How do we know this is real, Admiral? He's faked his death before."
Chegwidden took a breath. Giving bad news was never easy especially when it came down to one of their own. He often wondered if he could have done more for his staff - led them on a different path. With Gunny it was no different, he was a good man. "Galindez was with him."
"Gunny? Is he…." At the look in Chegwidden's eyes, Harm got all of the confirmation he needed. It made him feel sick to his stomach. The man was a friend and a damned good Marine - someone he would miss. "Oh no. Victor was..."
"Part of our family. Which is why I'm sending you to the Henry to bring back his remains… Webb was CIA, Gunny was not, he was on loan to them. I put in a formal request to the SECNAV to take care of our own." It was all he could to do make sure the Galindez family would find closure and heal.
Harm took a breath and swallowed down the lump on his throat. He could see unshed tears in Chegwidden's eyes that matched the same in his. Suddenly his anger towards Mac and the chaos that had become his life didn't matter anymore. He would be a man with a purpose, a guardian for a fallen comrade. "It would be an honor sir."
"Go home and pack, Commander. You leave in a few hours."
He remained silent for a while, hoping more information would come to the surface. What if Mac had been on the frigate? He would know if something happened to her, wouldn't he? Or did the last year sever whatever connection they had. "Sir, any news on the Colonel?"
"I'm assured that she's alive and working outside of the States." It was one of the first questions he'd asked the CIA once news of Webb's death had reached him. "Bring our man back, Commander. Dismissed."
"Aye aye sir." Harm came to attention and then turned on his heal to exit. When he did a n uneasy feeling came over him so he slowly turned back to his commanding officer, hoping to clarify something. "Admiral, how sure are they that Clay is dead?
"They already tacked a star to that damned wall of theirs. It's real, Commander. Porter Webb, his mother, is en-route to claim his remains." It was real, alright. Clayton Webb was dead and with him the only connection Harm and to Mac. Despite his differences with the spy, Clay was a friend - someone that had come through for them much to the detriment of his career. Harm would miss him.