AN: Yes, I know it's been awhile (ok, a really long time) since I updated this story. I actually had no intention of adding another chapter, but as I was trying to come up with another chapter for my story What About Now? this popped into my head. So, here's chapter 3 from Mac's POV.
Facing Each Other
He doesn't know I'm here. I had to interview a potential witness at the Pentagon. I knew he was sent to the Hill today, so I thought I'd meet him for lunch. When I tried to call his cell, I discovered it was off. There's only one place he goes where he turns his cell phone off.
So here I am, standing about 100 yards away from him, watching him stare at the wall. He's never taken me here before, and I've never asked. This spot is intensely personal for him, and I'd never want to intrude on that. That's not to say I haven't been here; I have. For some reason, I feel a connection with my best friend's father. I feel an odd sense of comfort when I'm here.
If you didn't know Harm as well as I do, you wouldn't think it was him here. He gets this way whenever his father is on his mind. The eloquent lawyer stumbles over words, if he can get them out at all. The arrogant flyboy becomes self-conscious and withdrawn. It's ironic that those who are closest to him are those who fell the most shut out. I think my partner has finally come to terms with the past though. Before, he had an odd way of avoiding everything related to his father while being completely obsessed with it at the same time. Now, I won't go as far to say he embraces the past, but he wouldn't be here now if he was still consumed in his quest for answers.
Crap. He noticed the little boy and his mother. For Harm, seeing them here must be like rubbing salt in an open wound. I really want to go over to him now and comfort him, but I know that he doesn't want me to see his pain. It's too late though, Harm. Your pain is obvious, although probably not completely understood. Maybe not even by me. Although it's becoming clearer as I watch you now. I want to help you, but I know that the only way I can do that for you is to silently be there when you want me to be. I've learned not to pressure you about your father. You'll share when you want to. You reach out and touch his name again, saying something as you do. It's probably goodbye. On second thought, it's probably not. Goodbye is just not in your vocabulary.
