Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.
- Inside a car, Friday evening
'Ridiculous, this is so ridiculous!' The sentence went on and on in Mac's head. She couldn't believe it. How did she get herself into this situation? For heaven's sake, she was sitting here in the car of her neighbor, wearing civvies and was observing a gym! She bumped her head against the steering wheel. How did Harriet ever persuade her to do this? How did- She remembered the not-so-good phone call around noon and sighed. 'Oh, well, never mind.'
The door on the passenger side was jerked open and Mac lifted her head. Harriet maneuvered carefully inside, settled Jimmy's seat in her lap and shut the door again. Her face was slightly flushed.
"Sorry, Ma'am, I'm late," she whispered out of breath, "But Jimmy slept all afternoon and somehow I fell asleep too."
"So the medicine is working?" Mac gave her friend a quick once over. Yes, Harriet looked definitely better than this morning. Still exhausted but no longer so terribly pale. And she looked definitely calmer too.
"I really hope so. This is heaven!" Harriet smiled down at her son, rocking him gently. Mac felt her own lips curl up at this sight. Harriet glanced at her. "I asked the mother of AJ's friend to take care of him again. For the boys it couldn't be better." She paused and her gaze wandered outside. Her face suddenly darkened. "Have you ... have you seen anything yet?"
Mac sighed. "No, no Bud so far. Harriet, do you really think this is such a good idea?"
The petite blonde pressed her lips together. "He lied to me. And he's still lying to me. I have a right to know why."
"Maybe asking is the better way to find out."
"Are you always asking what you want to know? And do you always get an answer to your questions?" Harriet knew she sounded stubborn.
Mac looked away. That was a good point, especially now with Clayton. She muttered her words more to herself. "Asking - most of the time. Getting an answer..."
It was Harriet's turn to consider her closely. She hesitated but then decided to go a step further. "Difficulties with Mister Webb?" she asked softly.
Mac didn't answer. She kept looking out of the window. Difficulties? She wasn't sure if it wasn't more. If it wasn't something deeper.
"Mister Webb is not an easy man to understand." Harriet spoke to her son but her words were directed at the woman beside her.
"Sometimes I don't think I'll ever understand him at all," admitted Mac after some minutes of silence. "It seems the only time we are close is when one of us is in danger. But this isn't enough to build a relationship on. Maybe - maybe we have nothing in common."
Harriet looked at her. For years she had watched Commander Rabb and Colonel Mackenzie dance around each other. For years she hadn't known Mister Webb at all. Then the two people who had seemed to be so close just walked away from each other. And she had learned more about Mister Webb than anyone else at JAG ever did.
"Maybe we have only so much in common with another person as we are willing to find out."
Mac groaned and hit the steering wheel with her fist. "To find out. Do you know how frustrating it is, trying to find out anything about Clayton Webb? It's not only his job! He's blocking any question about himself! Last Monday, for example. All I was asking was if he had ever considered having children. And what did I get in return? A sarcastic comment!"
Too occupied with her own thoughts Mac missed Harriet cringe. She knew exactly why it had been the wrong question. But had she the right to tell her? If Webb wasn't ready to share this part of his life - had she the right to decide for him? On the other hand, the Colonel was her friend. And she was clearly frustrated and on the brink of ending this relationship before it could even start... Maybe a roundabout way would do.
"I never told Bud that I had been pregnant before I met him." She gulped. "You would think it's something you should tell your husband. But somehow I never ... found the right moment."
"That's something different, Harriet. I can understand why you didn't want to think about it. Bud understood too." Mac rested a reassuring hand on Harriet's arm. She had quite some experience with ... not wanting to think about something. Considering Chris...
"All I want to say is that there are sometimes things which ... hurt too much to share them when ... the time isn't right."
"Well, I really don't think -" Mac interrupted herself and eyed her friend suspiciously. And what she saw in Harriet's face let her heart skip. "Harriet ... you know something."
"Ma'am -" Oh, she had known it was a bad idea. "Ask Mister Webb."
"What is it, Harriet? What is it he told you and not me?" There was anger and pain in her voice, Mac couldn't help it.
Harriet shook her head. "Ask Mister Webb," she repeated.
"What -"
"Mac, please! I - I can't. It wouldn't be right."
Mac sat back in her seat. It happened seldom that Harriet used her first name. But still she felt this disturbing sting of jealousy. She looked down at her hands and clenched them into fists to fight this emotion.
"Ma'am?" Harriet had a quite funny expression on her face. Mac followed her gaze and gasped. A familiar figure was entering the building.
"Clay?" she muttered stunned. She had never thought he would go into a facility like this. It wasn't his level. Then a new thought hit her. She looked at Harriet and saw the same question in her eyes.
"You - you don't think Mister Webb has talked Buddy into 'doing him a favor'?" Harriet's voice trembled.
"If he did he'll wish soon he never had!" Mac growled dangerously low. She gritted her teeth. Playing this game with her or Harm had been acceptable. But bringing Bud in such a situation was absolutely inexcusable. The man had a family! And just to think of what Harriet went through since yesterday... She reached for the door handle.
"Ma'am!" Harriet's fingers dug into her arm.
Bud was hurrying along the pavement, paused in front of the house and carefully looked around. Involuntarily both women slid deeper in their seats. Bud finished checking his surroundings and disappeared through the door.
Mac and Harriet scrambled up until they were sitting upright again. They exchanged a look. Their suspicion seemed to be true. There was something going on.
"Harriet, you'll stay here. Don't argue! I'll handle this." Mac nailed the younger woman with a stern glare and waited until she received a hesitant nod. Then she climbed out of the car, looked both ways and crossed the street. Harriet watched her go and bit her lower lip, rocking her son softly. An expression of worry on her face.
- Inside the building, first floor
Taking a deep breath Mac prepared herself to open the door. On the short way up the stairs - the first floor wasn't on ground level but about six stairs up - she had worked herself into a rage. How could he dare pulling Bud into his dirty little spy-games? How could he dare risking his life? Too many of his operations had gone south already... He knew exactly through how much Bud and Harriet had been in the last years! And damn it, why hadn't he asked her!
Mac pushed the heavy iron door open and stormed inside the gym. Where she immediately slowed down and looked around. Wow, crowded was no expression. If it was just a set-up it was really well done. She started to circle the room and searched for a face she knew.
"Hello, sweetie, you're new here? I don't think I've seen you around before."
The voice behind her back brought she to a sudden stop. Sweetie? Mac spun around, ready to spat out a sharp reply... She looked up, then looked up a little bit more...
'Oh my God - Hulk himself!'
- Outside, in the car
Harriet was shifting uncomfortably in the seat. The Colonel seemed to be gone an awfully long time. She caressed Jimmy's cheek. The boy slept so peacefully now, he didn't seem to be the same child. Well, for sure she wasn't complaining! Sleeping three hours in a row this afternoon had been heavenly.
Again she took a worried look at the building. What was going on there? All kind of possibilities tumbled through her head. She saw the Colonel fighting again Russian Agents, crouching with Buddy in the cover of a corner to avoid flying bullets ... or chewing Mister Webb out, probably including not only the threat of physical harm. Oh, what would the Admiral say?
Harriet bit her fingernails and suddenly wasn't able to stand it any more. She reached over to the driver's side, pulled out the key and flung her door open. After locking the car properly she lifted Jimmy's seat higher on her hip and hurried across the street.
- Inside the building, first floor
"No, Alan, thank you again but I don't think it's the right thing for me. No, really. Yes, it was really nice to meet you. Bye, Alan. No, I can't stay for a drink. Thanks for showing me around. Bye, Alan. Yes ... No ... Bye."
Mac slumped against the wall in the stairway and breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God, the heavy door was closed finally. Hulk had been ... rather strenuous. Friendly, but ... strenuous.
"Ma'am? Did you find him?" The whisper nearly caused Mac to jump out of her skin.
"Jesus, Harriet!" She pressed a hand against her pounding heart. "I told you to wait in the car!"
"He's my husband."
That argument settled any further discussion before it could start at all. Mac sighed deeply and motioned the younger woman to follow her upstairs. They looked at the tasteful sign beside the door then at each other. Both shook their head but anyway, Mac reached for the handle with a shrug. Carefully she poked her head inside then opened the door completely and held it for Harriet.
They stepped into a not very big but nicely furnished foyer. A small bar was built along the wall across from the entrance and to both sides were doors with small windows. The soft pastel colors of the walls were welcoming and each smooth surface was polished and caught the dimmed electrical light. Somewhere was playing music.
"Hello, can I help you?"
Both women jumped because of the unexpected voice.
"Oh, sorry, I haven't meant to scare you." The man was in his late fifties or early sixties, with dark grey hair and lively blue eyes. He had the fluid and graceful movements of an athlete - or of a dancer. His smile was professional but also honest.
"I'm Frank Polston, my wife and I own this place." His gaze fell on Jimmy. "Oh, usually we don't have such young visitors. My, what a little darling and sleeping so peacefully. Boy or girl?"
"B-Boy, my little Jimmy," Harriet stuttered after a second. The man smiled even wider.
"We've got three but all girls. Now, this is your first visit here? Maybe you want to start practicing again after your pregnancy? Together with your friends?"
"Ah, yes, so to say," Mac cut in, "We're looking around for the best ... place to go."
"Well, that's always a good thing to do. As you see, we've got plenty of rooms here. The 'big ballroom' over there and four smaller rooms on the other side." Frank pointed at the doors and walked over to the bar while talking. "The neighborhood has changed a bit since we've established our dancing school but usually we get along quite well. What level are you?"
Mac and Harriet exchanged a look.
"Ah - beginners..."
"Middle I'd say..."
Again they looked at each other. Frank chuckled. But before he could say something the door of what he had called the big ballroom opened. A woman with silver hair took a step outside and smiled.
"Excuse me. Frank? I need a demonstration object for the Vienna Waltz. Could you come as soon as you're done with our guests?"
"Sure, Karen." The man turned back to Mac and Harriet. "My wife, Karen. You'll find us in most of the lessons except for some special dances with part-time employees. The timetable and prices are all in this flyer. Why don't you have a look around now and see if you like it here. For any further questions I'll be back in a few minutes."
"Yes, thank you, that's a good idea." Mac took the flyer. "We'll just look around a bit."
With a last nod Frank left them and entered the 'big ballroom'. Mac and Harriet followed him to the door and peered inside. Surrounded by a group of teenagers the couple did a short demonstration of the Vienna Waltz.
"They're good!" whispered Harriet. She sighed wistfully. The couple had stopped and the woman, Karen, was talking fast, bringing broad grins on the faces of the teens.
Mac stepped back and turned away. "A nice place sure enough but I don't think we'll find our men here. Let's have a short look around and then try the upper floor."
They crossed the foyer. The first three rooms were empty so they aimed for the fourth. Just as they were about to take the last steps the door handle moved down, the door was jerked open a few inches and Bud's head appeared in the small window.
"... some ice or an ice pack? Or maybe a wet towel?"
Mac and Harriet stood rigid. Bud was looking in the other direction and hadn't seen them yet but there was no way to get away without drawing his attention to them. Besides, they were too shocked to move anyway.
Inside was muffled response.
"No? Really? But maybe a wet towel would -"
"Oh, Bud, please! Just shut up!" The angry groan was unmistakably Webb's voice. "And close the damned door!"
Bud obeyed the order and stepped away without turning around. The women dared to breathe again. After a second they moved carefully to the door- window and gazed inside.
The room wasn't big but the mirror wall on the right side created the impression of space. Bud was standing in the middle of the polished floor, gesturing with his hands and obviously worried. The object of his worry was standing on one foot, bracing himself against the wall with one hand and cupping his left foot in his other. Webb's face was hidden behind his arm.
Mac reached out and managed to open the door a tiny bit without making a sound. Bud was in the middle of an apology.
"... and I wanted to start with the left foot, you said to start with the left foot, and I know I wanted to start with it..."
"Bud."
"... but somehow it turned out to be the right one and I realized it too late and..."
"Bud!"
"... I couldn't stop and I'm so sorry..."
"Goddamn Bud, stop ranting!"
Bud's mouth snapped shut. Webb drew a deep breath. He shook his head and rubbed his foot gently. "With that habit it's a miracle that you're still alive and died neither for lack of oxygen nor because someone's shot you!"
But his anger was fading already. Unfortunately not the pain. He sighed. "Look, Bud. I told you not to worry about stepping on my feet. To tell the truth, that's what I'm here for. You better not step on Karen's foot when I ask her to dance with you again. She's got a show this weekend and better be intact or Frank will have us both for breakfast." Webb gingerly put his foot down and grimaced. "And you better not step on Harriet's foot tomorrow or your little surprise will backfire badly." He winced at the first steps. "So as long as you're just practicing on my feet don't worry about it. But you could be ... less enthusiastic about doing it!"
Bud was wise enough to swallow any reply he might have had. Instead he watched with a crushed expression as the other man limped carefully back and forth. Webb caught a look on his face and groaned, rubbing his temples.
"And stop looking like that for heaven's sake!" He reined his temper in. Somehow Bud always had this effect on him: Either to feel the need to console him or to blow up because he was feeling the need to console him. "What has gotten into you anyway? You did much better yesterday, so pull yourself together and try to concentrate."
Bud grimaced. Concentrate with a suspicious Colonel Mackenzie breathing down his neck? He had barley managed to avoid her for the rest of the day. But maybe it was better not to mention this towards his reluctant teacher. Webb hadn't said much but it seemed their relationship was a bit difficult at the moment. Better not add fuel to the fire.
Webb was walking better meanwhile. He paused at the CD player and chose another piece of music. After testing his foot again he turned to the room.
"All right, come here. We don't have all day."
Dutifully Bud walked over and was stopped at arms length. Webb raised a brow.
"And you start with...?"
Bud closed his eyes and rattled off. "Two steps forward, side-step to the left, two steps backwards, side-step, two steps forward and so on. I'll swing a little in the side-steps so we're moving on a zigzag line. I'll -"
"I've meant with which foot." Webb sighed.
"Oh." Bud looked embarrassed. "Left."
"Fine. And left is..." Webb tilted his head. Bud blushed and pointed.
"Very good. Now, position." Webb frowned. "I don't think my shoulder blade is that low."
Bud's right hand shot up from the middle of his back to its correct position. Webb nodded.
"Good. Listen to the music. I'll count you in one last time." He paused a second and picked up the pace. "Five - six; five, six, seven, eight! Yes, like that. Open a little bit more in the side-steps. Good. Remember the right-hand-turn? Two steps forward and then. Ready? Now. Not that bad, just more the next time. No, no, continue, don't stop! There, you've felt how I've corrected our direction? That's your part on the dance floor. O.k., again - right-hand-turn... Better, Bud. Much better!"
Mac used both hands to close the door quietly. For a heartbeat the two women were just staring at each other, both with tears shining in their eyes. Then they silently walked out of the dancing school and down the stairs.