Author's Note:  This is a collab fic between RurouniAngel27 and Katma.  It started as a challenge to Katma but developed into this.  This is a slight AU, taking place after 'A Tangled Webb'.  For the purposes of this fic, Mic has recently died and Mac has found out.

Disclaimer:  We own nothing.  Nadda, zip, zilch.  If we did own JAG and its actors, we certainly would be too busy doing other things than writing fanfics.  Please don't sue; we are but poor college students procrastinating from our papers.

Bring Me To Life

Chapter 2:  6ft from the Edge

There was something important in Mac's words, Clay thought fuzzily over the pounding in his head.  But he really couldn't focus enough to figure out what it was.

"Ouch," he groaned, forcing himself to sit up.  His hand moved to the back of his head and felt the small knot that was beginning to form.  Then he glanced at Mac.

The Marine lawyer was watching him, eyes wide and scared.  She was rocking back and forth slightly, hands absentmindedly rubbing her arms. 

"I'm sorry," she blurted.  "Are you ok?  I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I'm fine."  Clay ignored his headache.  He'd had worse.  "How are you?"

"Fine," she muttered, not looking him in the eye.  She was of two minds at the moment.  One was admonishing her for trying to hurt the agent who had saved her life in Paraguay.  The other was chiding her for letting Clay get the best of her in a fight.  I must be slipping.  She began absently scratching her arms.  Feels like something is under my skin.  Damn it!  I need to get that bag.  She stood up and began looking around for the bag Clay had dropped.

"What are you looking for?" Clay asked from the ground.

"None of your business," Mac snapped.

"Don't you think you made it my business?" Clay asked, standing up and unobtrusively grabbing the bag from the street.  Mac was still searching the ground, looking slightly frantic.  Clay reached a hand out and touched her shoulder gently.  Mac startled at the touch and whirled around, punching Clay in the jaw as she did so.  He reeled backwards and cupped his jaw protectively.

"Shit, Mac, what was that for?"

Mac just gave him a look.  "Where did the bag go?"

"What does it matter?" Clay asked.  "Do you really need it that badly?"

"Would I be here talking to you if I didn't?" she snapped back.  "Now just give me the goddamned bag, and we can go back to our lives, ok?"

The agent gave Mac an incredulous look.  "What is with you?

When she refused to answer, Clay's aching jaw reminded that now was not the time for sympathy.  Now was the time for answers.  He gave her a smirk and rocked back on his heels.  "No answers, no bag."

Mac took a step forward.  "Do I need to remind you I know twelve different ways to kill a man and make it look like an accident?  Where's the bag, Webb?"

Clay's smirk intensified.  He waved both hands in the air.  "Dead men tell no tales, Colonel."

"But they're easier to search," she snarled.

Clay dropped the smirk.  "For God's sake, Mac.  Listen to yourself.  We used to be friends.  Now you're willing to kill me?  What has happened to you?"

For just a moment, something flashed over Mac's face, a softening, but it was gone all too quickly.  Mac returned to staring coolly at Clay.

"Things change.  And Clay, being willing to kill you isn't so rare.  All people really have to do is spend a few moments in your presence, and that feeling just kinda... appears."

Clay winced inwardly, but kept his face impassive.  That hurt, badly.

"Well, if being near me is such a burden, I'll just remove myself from your presence."

"Leave the bag."

Clay ignored her and brushed past.  He only made it a few steps before he was slammed back against the alley wall, Mac's arm an iron bar across his throat.  His head knocked back into the wall, causing the bump to throb even worse than before.

"Give.  Me.  The.  Bag," she hissed.

"God damn it, Mac," he yelled suddenly, grabbing her arm and twisting.  This time he shoved her face first against the wall.

"That bag doesn't have what you think it does in it, ok?  Are you happy now?"

Mac struggled to get free, and Clay couldn't resist shoving her a little harder into the wall.  His head hurt, damn it.

"Let me go!" she demanded.

"Well, since you've threatened to kill me, that option isn't very appealing, now is it?"  He twisted her arm a little more, to emphasize the point. 

Pain lanced through her arm.  Any more pressure and her elbow would be strained, if not broken.  Mac quit struggling, hoping to catch the agent off guard.  However, Clay had been caught off guard one too many times.  He twisted her arm a little more and was satisfied to hear her stifled moan of pain. 

"Hurts like hell, doesn't it?" he spat.  "Kinda like my head."

"Shouldn't be too bad," Mac replied into the wall.  "After Paraguay, I thought you enjoyed pain, especially since you elected to stay in that torture chamber."

A flame of rage temporarily engulfed his body and mind.  One more twist, that's all it would take.  Here you are trying to help and this is how she's treating you!  You saved her life and now she's calling you a masochist!  One more twist--she deserves it. 

"Well, if I'm a masochist, you must be too, choosing to go in after me.  Now you're filling your body with this shit.  You're a better masochist than I."  Mac heard the sound of cloth on cloth and then suddenly, the cold barrel of a gun was pressed against her spine.  "Now, I'm going to let go of your arm, and you are going to tell me what the hell you are doing down here.  I'm sick of having my head banged against something and I won't hurt you anymore than you're hurting yourself."  As an afterthought, he added, "If I can help it."

Mac swallowed hard, but obediently let her hands fall when Clay let go.  There wasn't much she could do to argue with a gun.  She'd just have to wait for the opportune moment to get away.

"Can I at least turn around?" she asked quietly.

"Fine," Clay said.  "But don't try anything.  I won't hesitate to shoot."

"Yeah, you're real brave, Clay.  Shooting an unarmed woman."  Mac glared at him as she turned around to face him.

Clay shrugged at her.  "Stupidity is all too often mistaken for bravery.  Think of it as a compliment, Mac.  You're such a fucking loose cannon that I have to be worried about shooting you.  Not something you can say for every JAG lawyer."

"I hate you."  Mac's whole body vibrated with anger.  Her eyes were narrowed and hands curled into fists.  Clay blinked, surprised.  He'd never figured Sarah Mackenzie could ever look quite as frightening as she did there.

"I don't care if you hate me.  You're going to tell me what you're doing down here, and then you're going to go home, even if I have to take you there myself.  Got it?"

"Oh, you've made yourself perfectly clear, Mr. Webb," Mac said, mock sweetly.

"Good.  Glad to know that Marine JAG's can pick up on those obvious points.  Now," he said, taking the safety off.  "Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, why are you in downtown Washington, D.C. at 2 o'clock in the morning?"

"I was out for a walk." she replied sarcastically.

"The truth, Ms. Mackenzie.  And just remember, in case you think I won't shoot you, I am CIA.  I will have absolutely no trouble getting rid of your body."

"Don't call me, Ms. Mackenzie.  I am a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marine Corps."

"Right now you're acting like a jackass who's not worthy of the Marine Corps uniform.  I wouldn't be too worried with what I call you, Ms. Mackenzie."

If it were possible to hate Clay anymore than she did five minutes ago, Mac would hate him that much more.  As it was, she saw no way out for the moment.  She raised her chin defiantly. 

"I was looking to buy illegal drugs.  There, happy?" Her eyes flashed daggers.

"No.  That much is obvious.  Why are you buying illegal drugs?"

Mac just looked at him for a moment, mouth set.  "Why do you think I'd be looking to buy illegal drugs, Webb?"

"This isn't about what I think."

"No, of course not.  Because that wouldn't be humiliating enough, right, Clay?"

"Just answer the question, Mackenzie."

"Yes, sir," Mac said in a parody of respect.  "I'm down here buying illegal drugs because I need them."

"This isn't a JAGman investigation?" Clay asked, trying not to let his surprise show.  Although it truly hadn't seemed like one, he hadn't been able to imagine any other reason for Mac to be down here.

"No, it's not.  And now that you know, it's unlikely I'll ever be on another investigation."  Mac's chin was high, but there was a slight tremble to her lips.

"And no one at work has noticed this?" Clay couldn't believe that.

"Give me a little credit, at least.  I'm careful.  Or I was, until tonight and you."  She glared at him again.

"What brought this on?" Clay asked.

"I'd rather die than tell you that," Mac said, voice suddenly dark.  "You're not going to get the satisfaction of humiliating me any more than I already am."

Clay sighed but he did not lower his weapon.  "So, a Marine Lieutenant Colonel is found in Washington, D.C. buying drugs.  All the reporters and your attorney are going to want to know why.  And every reason they publish is going to be more scandalous than the next."  Clay paused, gauging Mac's reaction.  Beneath the fury smoldering at the surface, he could see fear.  He wanted to get beyond the fury but Mac was proving to be difficult with that part.  "That is, if I were to tell anyone at JAG what happened tonight."

Mac's eyes lit up momentarily with hope.  However, it was soon replaced with bitter wariness.  "What's the catch, Webb?"

"First, you have to tell me why you are doing drugs.  And don't give me that crap about me humiliating you.  You brought this on yourself.  I've been beaten and my life has been threatened.  I will find out why, one way or another.  Two, you will promise not to physically harm me anymore for the rest of the night, at which point I will lower my weapon and we won't have to worry about death and beating each others brains out.  And three-"

Mac's death glare had returned.  "You want me to sleep with you.  Why not?  I offered to earlier.  Why shouldn't I offer myself to you now?  It would save my career."

Mac's self-deprecating tone shocked Clay but tonight had been full of surprises and he wasn't about to let this latest one show on his face.  "And three, you will let me take you home.  We are at the bargaining table now, counselor.  This is my offer."

"Then here's my counter offer, Mr. Webb.  I will promise not to hurt you anymore... you definitely have a distinct advantage over me.  I will also let you take me home.  But I will not tell you my reasons behind this.  If you want to go to the reporters and the Admiral, fine.  I can't stop you.  But I refuse to give you any fodder for the rumor mill."

"Mac..."

"That's all I'm offering.  Take it or leave it."

Clay stared at her.  She was doing a very good job of acting unconcerned, but he could see the worry there in her expressive brown eyes.  Angry as he was at her, he didn't want to hurt her.  This was the woman he'd risked his life for, and he didn't want to have to regret doing that.

"Offer accepted, counselor."  Clay slowly holstered his gun, hoping Mac would keep her word.  So far she seemed willing to, hands hanging loosely at her side.  He straightened and the two stared at each other for a moment.  Mac bit her lower lip and looked away first.

"Shall we go?" Clay asked, making a sweeping gesture with his hand.  Mac nodded and walked a pace behind him.  Clay could feel the back of his neck prickling, so he slowed down.

"Scared, Webb?" she asked, a surprisingly devilish smile on her face.  Clay shook himself before he could become captivated with her expression.

"Don't you wish," he answered nonchalantly.  "Just always aware of my surroundings."

Mac snorted in reply.  But she didn't try anything as they made their way to Webb's car.  Mac looked around for his sporty red car, but only saw a beat up jalopy around the corner. 

"Is that your car?"  Her voice was a mixture of incredulity and amusement.

Clay shrugged.  "Company car."  He opened the passenger door for her.  Mac ignored him completely as she slid into the vehicle.  She surveyed her surroundings as the agent climbed in on the other side of the car.  No radio and it looked like heat would be sketchy.  Definitely no air conditioning. 

"If this is a company car, no wonder Harm quit the CIA so quickly."

Clay ignored her and started the car.  After two tries, the engine finally turned over and they were on their way. 

Silence reigned in the vehicle.  Mac was scratching her arms again and rocking back and forth in her seat.  It's been two days, and I'm already a basket case.  I've got to get something.  Her mind flashed back to the petty officer she was defending who gave her the first bag of methacathinone she'd ever had.  Well, he didn't give it to her.  More like he dropped it when he left the room and it disappeared.  And now he's in Leavenworth for that stunt.  Of course he had never asked where his bag of stuff went because, as Mac had advised him, any attempts to recover any drug paraphernalia would make him seem even guiltier.  Guilt.  She was guilty too.  Guilty of . . . guilty of what had driven her to drugs.  Suddenly, it was hard to breathe.  The car was closing in on her.  She was suffocating, drowning. 

"Webb!" came the hysterical cry.

"What?"  He glanced over at her, then did a double-take.  "Mac, are you alright?"

"Stop the car," she panted, trying desperately to get enough air as a black wave of panic hit her.  Her vision grayed around the edges as her concentration turned inwards, towards the eerie sensation of falling into nothingness. 

Clay jerked the wheel, and the car squealed over to the side.  He shoved the car into park, then reached out a hand to Mac.

"Mac?"

She jerked away from his touch reflexively, hand on the door handle.  The door opened and she tumbled out, the pain of hitting the ground anchoring her back into the real world.  Mac curled up, her arms around her knees and her head cradled on them, sucking in deep breaths of air and trying to calm down.

Clay just watched the huddled form on the ground, watched as Mac shook with every breath she took.  He wanted to help her, but the last two times he'd tried she'd pulled away.  And he definitely didn't want to set her off into one of those attacks again.  That had to have been one of the scariest things he'd ever witnessed.

"Mac?" he asked again, hesitantly.

She turned to look at him, her eyes shining with tears and pupils dilated. "Bugs.  Everywhere." she muttered.  She started scratching her arms harder.  Pink lines were becoming red.  "They won't go away!"  Faint lines of blood began to appear.  "Ow!  Stop it!"  She began slapping her arms and her legs.  "Damn bugs.  They're crawling up my arms!  Stop it!"  She began slapping her upper arms and shoulders.  "Stop them, stop them."  She was panicking.  "They're . . . they're crawling up my neck!  Make them stop!  Make them stop!!" she was screaming now.  She stood up, shaking and slapping.

Clay had to stop her before she injured herself.  Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, placed both hands on Mac's shoulders and gave her a violent shake. 

"Sarah!"

She suddenly went limp in his arms.  Clay breathed a sigh of relief and said, "We need to get you to a hospital."

 She looked at him again, this time her eyes alight with indignation.  "No.  No hospitals.  You promised to take me home, not to a hospital.  If you take me to a hospital, you go renege on our agreement and I will kill you."

Clay's eyes just about popped out of his head.  From hallucinating to lucid in 2 seconds.  What was she coming down from?  And how could he leave her in the state she was in?

"Mac... you need to go to a hospital."

"Are you going to turn me in?" she asked.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question.  Are you going to turn me in?"

Clay studied her for a moment.  "No, I won't turn you in.  You'll self-destruct on this without my help."

Mac rolled her eyes at his last comment, but chose to ignore it.  "Now, if you're not going to turn me in, what exactly do you think going to a hospital for drug rehab is going to do, hmm?"

Clay opened his mouth, but closed it again.

"Exactly," Mac said with some satisfaction.  "Now take me home."

"I'll take you home," he said, getting into the car and starting the engine.  "But you really need help, Mac."

Mac shrugged.  "I dried out without the help of a doctor, I can get through this without one, too."

"Yeah, but you had help." Clay replied as he pulled out onto the freeway.

"Well, it's not my fault he's not here right now.  You've had your way and he's in Leavenworth."  Mac stared out the window, not wanting to look at Clay.  He had seen her in one of her weakest moments.  How he must despise her.  Not that I care, her mind added, though without any conviction. 

"You still need some sort of help.  What if something happens to you during another hallucination?"

"I'll do it myself," she growled. 

Clay bit his tongue.  Scathing retorts were not going to work now.  "Look at your arms, Mac.  What are you going to do if you slit your throat trying to kill those bugs?"

Mac wrapped her arms around herself.  She was still shaking but the car was fairly warm.  "Unless you're offering to spring my uncle, you don't have a dog in this fight, Webb.  Just drop it."

"I can help you," he offered. Then he blinked in surprise. Did I actually just say that?

Did he actually just say that? Mac thought, confused. She stared at him for a moment, touched. Then she realized what she was feeling, and for whom, and scowled darkly at him.

"I don't think you'd make much of a replacement for my uncle."

Clay rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to help."

"Haven't you gotten it yet?" Mac asked. "I don't want your help. I don't need it. So quit offering it, ok?"

"You're damn good at pushing people away, Mackenzie."

"Yeah, well... everybody has to have a talent. That just happens to be mine." She pointed out the window at a sign. "That's my exit. Don't miss it."

"Don't worry, I don't want to be in this car for any longer than I have to be."

Mac glared at him again. "The feeling's mutual. But just remember whose absolutely brilliant idea this was in the first place."

"Wow," Clay remarked in a sarcastic voice.  "You, Sarah Mackenzie, have found the only CIA agent with a heart.  What are you going to do now?"

Mac glared at him but didn't respond.  Finally, she turned her attention back to the road to make sure Clay was going the right way.  Much to her surprise, they were almost there.

"How did you know?"

"I'm paid to know these things.  Harm's, yours, the Roberts', even the Admiral's.  Since we seem to work together so much, its important I can get to you at a moment's notice."

"For the sake of national security," Mac said in a dry, tired voice.

"Among other things, yes."  Clay turned the corner and they were at Mac's apartment.  He parked the car and killed the engine.  "So are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?"