Are not all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something which you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year by year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it-tantalizing glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest-if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself-you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say, "Here at last is the thing I was made for." It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want…-C.S. Lewis

Human love is the child of poverty.-Plato

Chapter 13

The Child Of Poverty

A few days later

Gunny had mended nicely and insisted, in spite of his injuries, on returning to his duties. He would remain there for another few months. As for Mac, she was scheduled to go home via Navy transport that day. My own flight, courtesy of the CIA's dime, was scheduled for later that day, as well. I mustered up what strength I could after the activities of the past couple of weeks, and made my way to Mac's room. Upon reaching the door, I tapped lightly.

"Mac, have you got a minute?" I asked. I barely made out a tired voice from the other side reply,

"Yeah."

As I opened her door, and entered the room, I saw her sitting on her bed. She was placing something in her tightly packed bag.

"Almost done packing?" I questioned, as I walked over to her.

"Finishing up now." She zipped up her bag and stood looking at the floor. When I touched her arm, she glanced up at me. "I'm glad we're finally going home," she quietly stated. She paused for a moment, and then opened her mouth to say something more, but this time, I beat her to the punch,

"Mac, I need to talk to you about something."

"I'm sorry, Harm," uttered Mac, her tone genuinely apologetic, "I can't right now. My transport should be here any time."

"This is important, Mac. It can't wait."

Mac turned away from me and walked over to her bag.

"Mac?" At this point, I was praying that she was not going to shut me down, like before she left.

"I know," she whispered. She pulled out a sheet of paper from a side compartment in her bag, and handed it to me. "I think this belongs to you."

As I opened it, I noticed from the many creases in the tattered paper, that it had been folded and unfolded many times. The paper seemed to be stained with dark brown patches of what appeared to be blood and dirt. My eyes descended upon the first couple of smudged lines when the realization came crashing down on me that this was the letter I had never finished--the one from the plane.

"It fell out of your pocket in the woods. I found it lying next to you."

I was at a loss for words.

Just then, I heard a knock at the door. After one last look at me, she crossed the room to the door, and opened it. An enlisted Marine stood there.

"Ma'am, your transport is here."

"Thank you, Lance Corporal."

Gunny came to the doorway as the lance corporal left, and entered the room. As he did so, Mac went to the bed and grabbed her bag. Gunny walked up to stand before me, and Mac, who was standing at my side. He extended his hand to me.

"Nice working with you again, Sir." I grabbed his hand firmly and shook it, slapping him on the back fondly. He turned to Mac and shook her hand. "Ma'am."

"You too, Gunny," she replied, with a smile.

As they turned to leave, Mac turned her back to Gunny, facing me, and extended her hand. I grasped it, and we shook hands as she said to me, "See you back in the States, Harm." And then, she whispered, "You don't look old or tired to me, Sailor," My eyes widened as I realized she was repeating a rephrased line from my letter. She quirked her brow and grinned at me over her shoulder as she made her way out the door.

"Sir," Gunny respectfully nodded as he exited, following Mac. I walked out into the hallway, and stood there watching her as she disappeared around a corner to catch her transport.

Some time later

I'd been dreading this day. Yesterday Webb's body arrived from Paraguay for its internment. The arrival quite literally brought home the solemn fact that he was gone for good. I got into my door, threw my keys onto the counter and took off the jacket to my black suit. Trudging over to the couch, I plopped down heavily and kicked off my shoes. It had been a long day. One of those that leaves you impossibly tired, dejected, and questioning why life is what it is.

I had received exactly one day of rest after returning home. The days I had left on the books had dissipated quickly during my journey to rescue Mac; ending by the day before I was to return home. It was final. After 18 years, I was no longer in the Navy.

On my second day back, the CIA contacted me and informed me that I needed to begin training ASAP. And, so, dreading the hell I had let myself in for, I went. I've been training for over a week now.

During that time, I tried my best to find out what happened to Sadik. And finally, through a frustrating round of questions to many, I got it out of my direct superior. He was a man who appeared deceptively unassuming, by the name of Miller; medium build and coloring, no features that stood out from the ordinary guy on the street. But, from what I understood, he was on the fast track to promotion.

Sadik had escaped the blast that took out his men, and had relocated. His whereabouts had been discovered and another agent, well-suited for Sadik's new location and new circumstances, had been sent to handle him. That was all he would divulge.

I stared into the room as my thoughts wandered morosely. It was almost completely dark now. I hadn't turned on any lights when I entered, preferring the quiet solitude of the evening. I began thinking again about how much I missed JAG. The day-to-day bustle of my comrades in arms, the cases, the court-battles, and most of all, the comfortable familiarity of old friends. And then there was Mac. Things have just seemed sort of strange. Life has become a perfunctory mass of duties without her. I got to see her for the first time today, at Webb's funeral.

Earlier that day

I had picked Mac up at her house. Dressed in black, she barely had any make up on. An oppressive sadness hung heavily over us.

"Are you ready to go?" I asked her. She nodded and followed me out of her door, locking it behind us.

When we arrived at the church the Admiral was there, as well as Bud, Harriet and a few others from JAG that had known Webb. I sat next to Sturgis, and Mac sat between Harriet and I. I didn't know what to say to her, so I placed a hand over hers and squeezed it reassuringly.

Webb's mom had asked me earlier if I would mind saying a few words at the funeral, since I knew Webb better than most of his associates. I couldn't deny her request.

"Clayton was…what can I say, he had a way of doing things that was out there."

There were a few fond chuckles through tears at this.

"No matter how he may have couched his profession, Clayton Webb, was a spy. Such an occupation typically brings to mind persons of suspicious character and reckless endangerment of others. This was only partially true of Clayton Webb. Yes, he put those of us who assisted him in danger countless times, but he also worked to ensure that we returned from his operations." I paused for a moment, groping for words. "He also had a selfless streak of generosity, as evidenced by his work in bringing my brother here, safe from a POW camp, and providing information when he really didn't have to. As his friend, I will miss his presence. May God see fit to take him into His embrace."

Upon finishing, I went back to my seat and saw that Mac's eyes were red and swollen from crying. As hard as it was going to the funeral of a friend, it was almost beyond endurance having Mac next to me, watching her heart slowly crumble like a dry piece of clay-unable to do anything to stop it from doing so…

After the funeral, many groups of people sat in private little clusters, reminiscing in quiet voices. Tears streaked many of the faces there. I saw Mac approaching after giving her condolences to Webb's mother. Her face was solemn and I could see the strain of the day in her face. I opened my arms and she accepted my embrace, burying her face in my shoulder as she had done in the past.

"You gonna be alright?" I asked as I held her to me.

I heard a muffled sniff and she lifted her head only slightly to assure me that she would be fine, eventually.

My phone rang, drawing me back to the present, and I just sat there. I didn't really feel like chatting with anyone. My answering machine picked it up.

"Harm, it's Mac. I've been thinking about things and…"

Anyone except her. I bolted up from the couch and hit the coffee table with my shin.

"Damn it!" I muttered exasperatedly.

"I drove by your apartment a little while ago, but your lights were off. I guess you haven't made it home, yet…So, …"

I grabbed the phone, fumbling with it.

"Mac!"

Just as I ushered her name out into the phone, I heard the dial tone. Slamming the phone down, I cursed myself for not answering in time. I stood there for a moment wondering whether I should attempt to call her back. We really did need to talk about things, but not over an impersonal phone line. On the other hand, I was going to be so busy the next week, I didn't know when we'd have time to do so. So, I thought maybe I should invite her to lunch. I picked up the phone and dialed.

As it turned out I'd had an overwhelming amount of training to do that week, and I didn't get home until midnight many times. When I did get home, I often found that Mac had called. I made several attempts to call her back, but we always missed each other. And so, we had a rather limited, and frustrating conversation over answering machines for a while.

Finally, I got a day off and decided to ask her to lunch. I went to JAG HQ and had a nice chat with Bud, Harriet, Tiner, Sturgis, and several other good friends, while waiting for Mac to get out of session. Unfortunately, it took longer than I had expected, and I had another pressing appointment that day. Determined not to let this opportunity pass me by, I went into her office and scribbled out a little note asking her to have lunch the next day. Then, I left, bidding a few fond farewells and promising faithfully to try to make it to the next JAG get-together. I hated to leave.

So, the next day, I found myself sitting in a corner booth of a local restaurant, a favorite of ours, near JAG Headquarters waiting for Mac. I still had no idea whether or not she'd be able to make it. She'd called and left a message on my machine last night, telling me she would try her best, but that things were a little swamped at JAG. All I could do was wait. I looked at my watch and then back up to see a familiar smile, and those marine greens I had grown so used to seeing over the years. I stood up and walked over to her.

"Nice seeing you, Mac," I stated, with a wide grin, as I guided her to the table with my hand at the small of her back.

"Yes, it is, Harm."

It was nice hearing her voice say my name again. I hadn't been aware of how much I had missed something so simple. I concluded that I had become secretly dependent on Mac without realizing it. How amazing that someone like me, who's made a career out of appearing invincible, could need another person so much.

As we took our seats and picked up our menus, we began chatting.

"For a minute there, I was afraid you weren't going to be able to make it."

"How could I pass up lunch with my best friend?" she questioned, cheerfully. The waiter came and took our orders.

"Sorry, that things have been so hectic, lately. Would you believe I have to leave for Spain tomorrow, for an investigation?"

"Well, that's life in the military for you," I stated lightly.

Mac glanced at me for a moment and then questioned perceptively, "You miss it, don't you, Harm?"

I nodded, uncertain how exactly to elaborate on those feelings, not really wanting to, there in that restaurant.

"Harm, about the letter…I- I've been wanting to thank you for what you sacrificed for us--for saving us from that hell hole. Even now, I can barely wrap my mind around the enormity of what you did. Saying thank you seems--so inadequate. Did you even think about what would happen when you got back, or about the fact that you might not have found us?"

"I was focused on finding you. It never crossed my mind that I wouldn't."

"That's very typical of you, Harm. Loyalty's not a mere sentiment with you, and once you set your heart on something, you focus everything you have on it. This time at the expense of your career, of never flying a Tomcat again, of even your life. Those terrorists were playing for keeps. And now, you're working for the CIA. It hardly seems possible."

"It was the only way I was able to find out where you were. I had no choice."

"I owe you my life, Harm. That's a feeling of gratitude different than anything else."

"Mac, you've risked your life for me several times."

"As you have for me. But, this--this is different. You've risked your life for causes you've believed in before, for people you've cared about. This was a lose-lose situation: you could've died and if you didn't you still had to come home and face--this."

My heart racing from the rivalry of emotions that were being pulled dangerously close to the surface--emotions that I was unsure how exactly to reveal at this point, I mumbled a response and changed the subject to lighter topics.

The rest of our lunch together passed by too quickly, in a swift hour of banter that can only pass between two old, and very close friends.

Four months later

It wasn't easy, but we tried to stay in touch with each other. Mac had been in Spain for about two weeks working on her case. We were able to talk exactly one time during that period. When she got back we struggled to make more of an effort to see each other, and actually succeeded several times. Over these shared interludes, I found the last of my barriers decaying, and the acceptance of my true feelings for her increasing.

My next mission would be in about a month. I came to the conclusion that it was time to fulfill my promise to Webb. So, I called Mac and we agreed to meet up two nights from now.

Later

I looked at myself in the mirror, trying to straighten my damn tie, for the tenth time. My fingers trembled, my palms were sweaty, my stomach was churning. I was filled with a nervous energy that I didn't know how to expend. It felt like my first date, except infinitely more important. I finally gave up and went to the living room to pick up the roses that I had bought for her. We had a lot to talk about. Before I left, I gave one final glance around the apartment to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything, and then turned out the lights.

Later

On my way down the hall to her door, I thought back about how she had agreed to go out tonight. I'd told her to be ready by eight, and not to eat dinner. She wanted to know where we were going, but I refused to divulge that information, telling her I'd call her in the morning if plans were to change, and to wear something nice.

Finally, making it to her door, I rapped on it firmly.

"Who is it?"

"It's Harm."

"Be right there," she replied. As she opened her door and stood before me, I saw that she was wearing a long, simple black dress. "You're early. I'm not quite done yet." She turned around after opening the door and I saw it had a low back, revealing a glimpse of the tawny skin beneath. Needless to say, I was enjoying the view.

She finished putting on a small diamond ear ring. I presented the roses to her, and she looked at them in surprise, for a moment. Grasping them carefully, she placed the velvety red buds to her nose, and inhaled their fragrant scent.

"Thanks, Harm," she stated gratefully. She smiled prettily at me, sending a quick surge through my body.

We didn't say much on our way there. But, the silence between us was a comfortable one. When we made it to the deserted beach, I walked over to her side of the car and helped her out. Looking around she stated,

"I'm way over-dressed for this, Harm."

"You're breathtaking," I whispered under my breath, as I went to the back of my car to retrieve the blanket and basket I had brought along for this evening. I laid out the blanket I had carried, when we got to the spot I had in mind. Mac had carried her heels, and walked barefoot in the sand.

"I thought this would be the perfect spot to talk," I said, as I started smoothing out the blanket.

"Yeah, no one around to disturb us," she smiled.

After we'd finished eating, while catching up on the latest news at JAG, we sat there quietly for a bit, and looked up at the sea of stars that seemed so close you could almost reach up and dip your hand into them.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" I questioned. She nodded.

"I'm sorry that I made you worry about me, Harm," she declared.

"You're fine now-- that's all that matters," I assured her. "I know we have things to work on, especially me." I shook my head. "All the things that I held as true…"

"Like what, Harm?"

"Like relationships with people you work with. I'm so sorry that it took all of this to tell you how much you mean to me," I uttered despairingly.

"Harm, it's not all your fault. I shouldn't have left the way I did the night before I went on the mission with Webb. I've pushed you away, too."

"I remember when you first came into my life. I knew you were something special, but, I also firmly believed that if we got into a relationship, it had a strong chance to ruin our friendship. I've seen it happen so many times, Mac. I didn't want that to happen with us."

"Fear is never logical, Harm."

"Emotions rarely are."

We were both silent for a moment, soaking in all of these new revelations.

"I've never met anyone like you before, Mac. And I've met a lot of great people. I admire the way you overcame the incredibly hard and hurtful things in your past. You've learned to trust men, to try to give love a chance. You're stronger than me in that respect."

"I think you're pretty wonderful, too. You're brave, loyal, kind, honest. You're…you're every girl's dream man, Harm."

A soft breeze blew over us. I could smell traces of the sea and her shampoo.

"I don't want to lose you, Mac. I tried not to get too dependent on you being there. After losing so many people I've cared about…Hell, I spent over half of my life just searching for my father. After I found out what happened to him, I felt so empty. The closest I came to contentment was when I was near you. If I ever lost you..."

She placed a hand on my cheek, gently dragging me out of the pit of fear.

"I've already told you before, Harm, that's not going to happen. We'll always have each other," she stated, but I still saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

"Seems like we've had this conversation before."

"My engagement party. I left feeling more confused than I thought possible. You always seem to have that effect on me."

"Care to change the ending this time?"

She paused pensively and then I saw her shiver. I wasn't sure if it was because the thin straps of her gown afforded little protection from the salty air, or because of some secret rush of remembrance. I wrapped my arms around her body to shelter her from the chill.

"It's difficult enough making a relationship work in the military. But now, you're in the CIA, and I'm at JAG. You'll be traveling to God knows where, on dangerous assignments. I'll be traveling on investigations for JAG. We'll miss more than we hit."

"Mac…"

"And yet, I know I'll never get over you, Harm. Believe me, I've tried, it just won't work."

I moved my hand to her face and looked her in the eyes solemnly.

"If there's one thing I know now, more than ever, Mac, it's that we absolutely cannot waste what time we have left." She remained silent. "Do you want to see if it'll work? Whatever happens, happens, but we'll always be friends, Mac. No matter what."

She hesitated and then leaned in and brushed a soft kiss across my lips. I was surprised by her silent, but very welcome response. Then, she sighed and laid her head on my shoulder, and we sat there watching the ageless, foamy waves roll in and out. Lapping at the beach, as they had for others old and young alike, centuries before us, and would continue to for centuries after we were gone and forgotten.

The End