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

- Arlington cemetery, Saturday evening

"I'm still wondering how you do these things. Two phone calls and we're walking through Arlington hours after they've closed up." Mac glanced around. She hadn't seen that coming. In fact she had thought he was joking when he'd told her where to drive to. But it hadn't been a joke. Instinctively she wrapped the summer coat tighter around her body. There was enough light left although the sun had set so it wasn't eerie ... but still, it was a cemetery.

"Connections," Webb answered seriously. "You can't live and work in Washington without connections. And Dan is used to it. I prefer coming here when it's ... quiet."

They were walking fast. Mac tried to remember if he had ever mentioned a family grave at Arlington. Maybe his father? No, his father was missing. She looked up and slowed down, finally stopped completely.

Webb was two steps ahead before he noticed and turned. "Sarah?"

Mac gestured with her hand. "Over there... There's Little Sarah's grave. Bud's and Harriet's daughter."

Webb's eyes were sad. "I know."

Mac looked at him but he said nothing more. So she walked up to him and they continued on their way. Five minutes later Webb left the path and led her between the gravestones. He was still walking fast, absolutely sure of where he was going. When he stopped she almost ran into him.

Feeling uneasy she waited for him to explain why they where here. But he was just looking down at one of the gravestones. Hesitantly Mac followed his gaze. She read the letters once then twice.

Michael Hardcastle-Webb. July 22, 1989.

Mac frowned. She didn't understand.

"He was my son."

Mac's jaw dropped. It took her breath away and all she could do was stare at him then back at the gravestone and again at the man beside her, looking so unwaveringly down at the grave.

"Harriet," she murmured finally, "Harriet... She knows."

Webb took a deep breath. "She knows that. But not how." His gaze was still glued to the grave. "Pat and I... We had known each other since childhood. The same background. The same ... social events to go, the same course of education ... more or less." Webb paused. "Pat was... it was easy to talk to her. It was ... a suitable match. I think we were in love."

Mac tried to control her ragged breathing. Webb was lost in his memory.

"We were engaged for quite a while. We had just set a date for the wedding when we discovered that we ... had jumped the gun a little: she was pregnant. We got some raised eyebrows because of that but to us ... it didn't seem to matter. It had been difficult enough to find an appropriate date and there was enough time left from there to the calculated date of birth and so we ... decided to let things run."

Webb paused again. Mac could see how much it took out of him to tell her this. She didn't dare to interrupt. She wasn't sure he'd have heard her if she had.

"Two weeks before the wedding Patricia got an infection. First we didn't realize it but then she got contractions and we ended up in the hospital and..." Webb shut his eyes for a second but quickly opened them again as if he couldn't bear the pictures he was seeing in his mind. "They tried to ... to stop the contractions but in the end they asked permission to do a Caesarean. They said there was at least a tiny chance for the child and otherwise both would certainly die."

He turned away from Mac. But not before she got a glimpse at the pain on his face. When she thought he wouldn't continue he spoke again.

"It was too early. Much too early. The 27th week. They did everything they could but ... it was too early. He lived just a few hours."

The despair and fear of that day came back and clenched like a fist around his throat. How he had run back and forth between the bed of his fiancée, unconscious and fighting for her own life, and the incubator of his son. He had been allowed to touch him and he still remembered his surprise at how tiny he had been - how he had almost been able to cup his body in one hand.

"Just a few hours," he whispered again.

Mac swallowed her tears. Now she understood why he had reacted so harsh to her question. But how should she have known? How could she have known?

Webb looked up to the darkening sky. He breathed deeply.

"Pat wanted Arlington. She's in the Army, a long family tradition, and so it had to be Arlington. I couldn't deny her that." He kept glancing around, looking everywhere but not at Mac. "We were not able to work it out. Pat recovered completely but ... between the two of us ... it wasn't what it had been before. We canceled the wedding of course. And somehow we blamed each other for what had happened. I blamed her for getting the infection ... and she blamed me for signing the papers and allowing the Caesarean." He shook his head very slowly. "And after half a year of picking on and hurting each other ... we decided to go separate ways, at least for a while. It turned out to be forever."

Mac stared at the grave. She felt shabby to ask but she had to. She just had to.

"And now?"

Webb smiled ironically. "Now?" He shrugged. "Now Pat is happily married, has two lively children and we are able to smile at each other when we meet at the Pentagon from time to time." He glanced at her but looked away quickly. "In fact you've seen her. Today."

"Oh." And suddenly the last piece fell into place. "Oh," Mac whispered again, "The woman at the ball."

"The woman at the ball," Webb confirmed quietly. He looked at the grave and shoved his hands a little bit deeper into his pockets.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He had feared this question because there was no easy answer to it. At least none that wouldn't hurt. Him ... or her.

"I wasn't sure if I could trust you." Spoken aloud the words sounded terribly wrong and so he tried again. "Maybe trust is the wrong expression. I just wasn't sure... I barely ever talk about my son. And I ... wasn't ready to share this memory as long as ... I wasn't sure where this - this between us - is going." That didn't sound much better and so he went for a more simple truth. "I thought you were still angry with me because of the file. That you ... wanted to take it slow because you..." This time he trailed off to silence.

Mac looked like she had just received a cold shower. But his last sentence confused her the most. "What file?" Then it dawned on her. "Oh God, Clayton. Why should I be angry with you because of the file?"

He shot her an insecure glance. "You lost your case."

"Because of my own stupidity! Clayton, I was never angry. I asked for information and you gave it to me. It wasn't what I expected but that wasn't your fault." She gathered her thoughts. "And about the rest of your little speech... I asked you to take it slow because I wanted to know you better before ... anything. Can't you understand that?"

"I..." Webb's gaze wandered over the ocean of gravestones. "I've learnt long ago not to talk about these things. Personal things. I'm - I'm trying but it's hard... And especially when I don't know ... what to expect."

Mac drew in a deep breath. "I don't know what to expect too, Clayton. I - I've known you for years and whenever we meet I realize I don't know you at all. It's hard enough to deal with your job but I can't deal with being pushed out of your personal life too."

"It's not like a coat, Mac." Webb gritted his teeth. He felt Mac's confused stare.

"I know some of us are able to just shrug it off as soon as they leave in the evening and live a normal life but ... I've never been able to do that. And I don't want to. The people I'm responsible for, the decisions I once took and are taking every day and the effect they have on people all over the world ... it wouldn't be right to just ... shrug it off." For the first time since they had come to this place he looked her straight in the eyes. "I'm not talking about things like ... like my son. Maybe ... maybe I can learn to open up there as I've learnt to bottle up. But there are other things. Things important to what I am, part of my life ... that I will never be able to share with you. Sometimes I can't divide up into a personal and a working life. It's all mixed up and woven together and -" He came up for air. "There'll always be secrets. And if you ... if you can't deal with that then ... then maybe we better stop here before ... before it's too late."

When Mac didn't answer his heart sank. A cold lump formed in his chest. His gaze fell back down on the gravestone. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to get away from here, back to the safety of his apartment, back to the safety of his loneliness. He had revealed too much of his soul already.

"We better go now." He turned and they walked back to the path. In silence, a gap between their bodies and the hands shoved deeply into their pockets.

Mac gazed at her feet. All that had happened this evening was running through her head again and again. So many of Clayton's words had hurt - her feelings, her pride, her soul. And there was so much truth in his words. As much as he was willing to try - as much as he was willing to let her into his very being ... she would never be a part of his whole and entire life. The question was: Wanted she to be?

She had been angry when Mic had tried to make her a part of his life by showing her around as 'his beautiful fiancée'. She had felt like a trophy ... and had never realized that his pride in her had been rather a compliment. She had wanted their relationship on her conditions and only on hers. She was still ashamed of how she had treated him. How she had hurt him by encouraging his hope only to drop him at the last and most painful moment. She understood his anger and his decision to leave much better now. There was this saying about first walking some miles in the other one's shoes ... or moccasins? She had always thought everything would be better with Harm ... but she had never fully understood Harm's wish to fly. Or his hesitation to talk to her. She had never been able to deal with this part of his personality - to really deal with it - and it had all added to the large pool of things that had kept them apart.

She didn't know if she was able to live with Clay's secrets. But on the other hand ... was she ready to throw away his love? Was she able to throw away ... her love? Was she in love with him? She liked him. She even had been jealous of Harriet, of all things! And yes, she wanted to find out why it felt so good to be in his company. Maybe ... maybe it was time not only to take but also to give.

'Maybe Harriet has been right. Maybe we have really only so much in common with another person as we are willing to find out. Or as we are willing not to find out.'

"You know there's one good thing," she said quietly. Still not looking at him.

Webb glanced at her but said nothing.

"Whenever I'll get mad at you... Whenever I'll want to kick you out of my sight and my life..." Mac chose her words carefully. "I can always remember that somewhere underneath this annoying shell of 'classified' and 'need to know' ... is the lovable man who taught Bud to dance with Harriet. And that will always be a good reason to think twice."

This time Webb's glance was longer. She met his eyes. And then he started slowly to smile.

"By the way, I'm deeply impressed," Mac continued in a light tone. "I could never dance the man's part, and you not only did the woman's one but also found the time to talk and correct Bud."

Mac inched a little bit closer to him until they walked shoulder to shoulder.

"Well, to share another secret," Webb imitated her light tone, "Karen and Frank who own this dancing school are good friends of my mother. And when Karen was pregnant with their first child I, well, helped out as an instructor during college vacation."

"No - you? A dancing instructor?" Mac laughed out loud.

Webb shook his head. "Why is everybody laughing at that thought? Can you explain this to me?" But he was still smiling.

"I will," Mac promised, "Someday."

She reached out. She had intended to slip her hand through his arm but his hand met hers before she even touched his wrist. Their fingers entwined.

"All right," Webb agreed softly, "Someday."

The end.

Author's note:

Thank you very much for the reviews and sorry it has taken me so long to post this story. I hope you've enjoyed it anyway.