Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

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THE PRESENT

I run my fingers through my hair and sit down. This argument with Harm just resolved my determination not to tell him about our child. Once more he had tried to order me around ... to decide for me. I was angry. And I was scared. Why couldn't I understand Harm anymore? But it had to be a minor problem at this moment. This moment was about Clay. So I forced myself to wander slowly through the rooms, suddenly realizing that it was the first time I ever entered his house. It was amazing. I could feel something that had to be Porter Webb's presence in the tasteful furnishings. I regretted I had never known her in person. Our phone-conversations hadn't been ... very pleasant. As the guests started to leave, I watched Clay's lonely frame, still standing in front of the windows, and waited for somebody of his family to come forward, for any good friend to offer comfort ... I was ready to go as soon as it'd have happened. But nobody came. The dusk had already begun as I took the first steps in Clayton's direction - and was blocked by the man with the calm face, Harrison...

***

FLASHBACK

- Webb residence

"Colonel ... Mackenzie?"

Mac nodded slightly, preparing herself for his questions. "Yes, Mister Harrison?"

Instead of a direct answer the man looked over to Webb, his stony expression revealed nothing. Then he considered her again and his gaze reminded her of Chegwidden's cold and probing 'Admiral-stare'. Finally he came to a decision. Drawing in a deep breath, he held her gaze.

"Mrs. Webb was a precious part of his life. As she was for all of us. He's a strong man but he can't stand much more of this. Maybe you can get to him ... but I really hope, you know what you're doing and don't hurt him any further."

Mac swallowed hard, speechless for a moment. The seriousness and concern in the man's eyes were overwhelming. Harrison gave her one last look and walked away. She stared after him. The concern of an old and trusted employee? Or did he know? Did he know what had happened in Paraguay? Did he know about the kiss? What else could be the meaning of his words?

Looking to Clayton she pulled herself together. She wouldn't hurt him. Nobody would if she could help it. Webb watched her cross the room and stand in front of him. Her worry rose as she eyed him carefully. The day was taking its toll: Hints of his exhaustion were visible in his empty eyes but still the mask he wore for the world was firmly in place. It just showed the first cracks. He searched her gaze.

"Sarah?"

"You rather want me to go?" she whispered back. Webb picked up his glass and looked at it, just holding it in his hand. Setting it down again, he shook his head.

"Stay," he begged nearly inaudible.

She just nodded. Taking a deep breath he slowly walked out of the room and Mac followed. Side by side they walked in silence. Mac watched him lift his hand once or twice as if he wanted to touch a piece of the furniture. But he never ended the gesture. She followed his somewhat aimless wandering through the house to a rather small office-room where Webb settled down behind a large massive desk. He motioned her to sit too.

"Excuse me, I have to look these things through."

Mac chose a deep leather armchair and searched for a comfortable position. Webb started to work through the stacks of paper piling up on the smooth wooden surface of the desk - condolences-cards, letters and all sorts of papers needed to run such a big property.

A long time there wasn't a sound besides the shoveling of paper and sometimes voices from outside as the catering service left the house. Then even that faded away. After a while Webb got up, walked to a small cabinet and was about to pour himself a scotch but stopped in the middle of the motion. He gave her a sideways glance and put the bottle back down.

"I don't mind seeing you drink," Mac said quietly.

He considered her carefully before pouring the scotch and gulping it down fast. Then he settled back in the expensive leather desk chair and continued his silent work.

He didn't look up when Harrison walked in short before midnight, carrying a tray with a glass of water. The butler noticed the empty scotch glass and raised a questioning brow towards Mac. She mouthed ONE and he nodded almost invisible, putting the tray down on the edge of the desk. It was then she saw the pill besides the glass. Harrison looked at her once more in a silent question and she lowered her eyelashes once to signal her readiness. He bowed his head slightly and left the room.

After another twenty minutes Mac couldn't stand it any longer. The sight of Webb, aimlessly sorting papers from one end of the desk to the other, was too much. Quietly she stood and walked over to him. Standing at Clay's side she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

He stopped.

For an eternity he just stared blankly in the air. And when he finally turned to her, her heart ached at the deep grief she saw in his eyes. He made a small, helpless gesture with his hand.

"She ... she was always there."

And that was - in the opinion of Sarah Mackenzie - the shortest and most accurate description of a good mother she had ever heard. She felt him shiver and gently pulled him towards her. First he resisted but then he buried his face in her uniform, his body shaking in desperate sobs...

***

THE PRESENT

I look down at my tightly clasped hands. It had almost been a relief to see Clayton break down after his words. He had been so far away the whole evening, so lonely and out of reach. I cradled him in my arms as he cried and the way he clung to me was so ... innocent. So elementary - born out of grief and despair so deep that it was beyond anything bearable. Much later I persuaded him to take the sleeping pill and held him some more until he got slightly limp in my arms. We barely made the stairs up to his room. It was long after midnight and so I was glad to accept the bedroom somebody had prepared for me. The following morning I wasn't so sure if it had been such a good decision...

***

FLASHBACK

- Webb residence, the next morning

Mac slowly sipped her second cup of coffee and tried not to think too much about the last night. She hadn't slept well, pondering questions without finding answers. Sometimes she wasn't even sure about the questions. Why had life to be so difficult? Sighing she put the cup down. She had to go soon. She needed to change her uniform and go to work - and face Harm again. But she didn't want to go without having seen Clay. She hadn't dared to look into his room after she had gotten up. It had seemed to be a ... too intimate gesture.

A movement at the door caught her attention. She looked up and he was standing there, wearing black trousers and a blue shirt. He was unshaved and ran a hand through his tangled hair after staring at her for some heartbeats.

"Well," he said finally, "It seems, that part of the evening wasn't a dream, now was it?"

Mac had to gulp twice before she trusted her voice enough to say something.

"How are you?"

Webb shrugged. "Tired, empty - I don't know." He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. "Alone, I guess." The hand fell to his side. "I'll get over it, sometime, I guess."

Mac didn't know what to answer. There seemed to be so much to say - but she wasn't able to find the words. So she pushed the cup away and stood.

"I - I've got to go."

"Yes, of course. I'll ... show you out."

They walked to the front door. Webb opened it and they stood in silence for a few minutes. Neither of them dared to look into the other one's eyes, so they looked everywhere but it the face of the other. Finally Mac took a deep breath.

"Look ... Clay ... if there's something I can do ... if you need something ... anything -" She wasn't able to finish her sentence. Webb suddenly reached out and jerked her towards him. She found herself trapped in his embrace, entangled in a kiss. For a moment she saw stars sparkling - feeling so much grief and need and hunger in this kiss - and just as her body was about to respond - as her *soul* was about to respond ... she was pushed back. Clayton's fingers dug into her shoulders. He was panting hard as was she - his grip almost painful in its tightness.

"No," Webb whispered, fighting for control, shaking his head furiously, "No, not like that. Not like that."

Mac stared at him. She was confused, dazed and upset all at the same time. And she felt painfully rejected. Webb shook his head once more - and as he opened his eyes again she cringed inwardly at the pain she saw there.

"I'm sorry, Sarah. I'm so sorry. But you must understand. You *have to* understand ... for me ... this is real." He swallowed hard but held her gaze steadily. "I want this to be real," he continued softly, "I don't want this to be pity. And I don't want to be a substitute." He was holding her hands now, gripping them hard. He didn't move but nevertheless he seemed to drift away from her. "Sarah ... thank you so much for staying last night. But ... until you can give me an honest 'no' to both questions - I want you to go. Please go. Please."

She felt his hands slip away and the emptiness after his touch was terrible. But how could she answer honestly without knowing what *was* true? She was still in love with Harm. She *believed* to be still in love with Harm. She was carrying his child. And that was all she knew right now.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking away. "I'm so sorry too."

And with that she turned and left.