Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no
copyright infringement is intended.
---
- USS Seahawk, later that night
The silence was chilly at best when Webb returned to the cabin almost an hour later. Harm watched as he just grabbed his washbag and walked back out without even a glance.
It wasn't better when he reappeared after his evening routine. Webb simply sat, opened his laptop and checked his work. The time crept along and its weight rested heavy on the room. Harm was lying motionless on his back with his arms crossed over his chest, very aware of his own breathing. He held his gaze fixed to the bed above him but from time to time he shot quick glances at the other man.
Finally Webb seemed to be satisfied. He closed the computer and zipped it up in its bag. Harm still didn't move. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Webb undress, straighten his suit and hang it up like he himself had done hours before. And suddenly a slightly reddish scar on Webb's thigh caught his gaze. He turned his head.
He knew where that scar came from. He had been frightened by the blood on Webb's leg and also by the sweat and pain on his face when he'd found him. In fact Palmer had come near to killing Webb twice: Once the night before and then again as Harm led him involuntarily to Clayton's hiding place. And sometimes he could still feel the point where Palmer's bullet had grazed his own temple, knocking him down to the ground.
Webb pulled up a pair of sweatpants and tugged his shirt in. Then he noticed that Harm was staring at him. And he noticed the direction of his gaze. For a moment he just stood there until Harm looked up and their eyes met.
Quickly both men turned away - surprised to feel a sudden sting of sadness and not sure how to handle it.
Harm rolled onto his side, facing once more the wall. The bed frame shook as Webb climbed up to the upper bed. Then the metal holding the mattress creaked while he searched for a comfortable position. Finally he reached out and turned off the light. The darkness was unexpected complete.
The myriad sounds of a ship at sea filled the silence without breaking it. Both men stared into the black nothing, their thoughts still lost in memories.
"Have I ever been anything else than a source of information?" Webb's quiet question seemed to hang in the air.
Harm looked up to where he knew the upper bed had to be. He didn't answer at first. Then he sighed.
"Does it matter any more?"
It was Webb's turn to think about that.
"I guess not," he said finally.
The seconds ticked by, forming to minutes.
"You have been," Harm stated calmly. Webb didn't respond. "Even though you've been absolutely impossible at times."
"You've never understood what sacrifices I have to make in my line of work. You still don't."
"Well, you clearly enjoyed making these sacrifices too much!"
"God, you never even tried to understand me, did you? For you everything is personal. Black or white, good or bad, Harmon Rabb junior or the rest of the world. Hello, earth to Harm! Life isn't that easy! Sometimes you have to compromise, even if it hurts," Webb snapped.
"Some things don't work with a compromise. Like the integrity of people."
"Sometimes you have to sacrifice even that."
"You're one arrogant bastard! How do you live with yourself?"
"As if you are such a bunch of flowers to deal with!"
Silence again.
Harm stared into the darkness. He tried to get his emotions back in check. There was no use in talking with Webb. There had never been a use in talking with Webb. There was always an ulterior motive, always a quid pro quo, always - always... He forced himself to stop his mental ranting. He couldn't stand where it was leading to. He couldn't stand the thought that... But at the same time he needed to know.
"Why did you rescue Sergei and bring him to the States?"
A long time came no answer to his question. Webb didn't move. In the end Harm wasn't sure if the other man was even breathing.
"Maybe because it's possible that I have a brother somewhere out there too," Webb whispered suddenly. "Maybe because it was what I wish someone would do for me if I had."
Harm's eyes grew wide. He had to gulp down a lump in his throat. But yes, somehow it made sense. Strange, but he always tended to forget that Webb's father had disappeared too.
"Have you... Have you ever ... tried to find out?"
"I don't have your freedom to do that," Webb sounded a little bit tired.
Harm frowned. "My *freedom*? What's that supposed to mean?"
Webb snorted. "The Agency doesn't like employees with a crusade. I wondered what that paper was for that I had to sign when I joint the CIA. I thought it was standard procedure. To prevent anybody from using the sources there for private intentions. When I found out it had been modified due to the special circumstances ... it was too late."
"I - I don't understand." Harm kept glancing up into the darkness. "I thought you were following in your father's footsteps ... like I did."
Webb smiled bitterly. Something of that showed in his voice. "Come on, Harm, we're talking about the CIA. You really think I grew up knowing what my father did for a living? Please. I could have blown his cover. A lot of wives didn't know the business of their husbands back then and children are still not allowed to know in our days. It's too dangerous. Too complicated. Or in other words: A matter of National Security."
And then the realization hit Harm.
"You were talking about yourself. In front of the stars at Langley," Harm choked at the words, "The Angle Shark incident. You were talking about yourself!"
"Go to sleep, Harm." Webb turned to his side. He had underestimated the pain he felt again.
"Does your father have a star on this wall? Or don't you know even that?"
"Go to sleep."
"Clay, you can't leave it like that. Why did you never tell me-"
"Tell you what, Harm? That I miss my father like you do? That I'm goddamned jealous because you finally found out the truth about what had happened to him? Would you have listened? Would you have cared? We aren't friends, remember?" Webb hissed angrily.
"Not when you're acting like a jerk - like you do right know! Like you did when it came to Mac!" Harm felt his own anger boiling again.
"Why the heck was I acting like a jerk when I finally admitted to myself that I *have* feelings for her?!"
"What about *her* feelings? She already had one man dying in her arms! Or isn't this about Mac but because I didn't *care* enough in your opinion? Is this your reason to make a competition out of this?!"
"If you really think that then you're a bigger idiot than I've already thought you to be! I want Mac because she *is* Mac. You only want her because you can't stand seeing her with another man!"
"Oh, shut up, Webb!"
The bed frame shook and groaned as both men rolled forcefully over and pulled their blankets higher. Then any sound died again. A long time passed.
"Mac is worth a fight," Harm whispered suddenly, more to himself.
"Yes," murmured Webb, "She is."
None of them broke the following silence.
---
- USS Seahawk, later that night
The silence was chilly at best when Webb returned to the cabin almost an hour later. Harm watched as he just grabbed his washbag and walked back out without even a glance.
It wasn't better when he reappeared after his evening routine. Webb simply sat, opened his laptop and checked his work. The time crept along and its weight rested heavy on the room. Harm was lying motionless on his back with his arms crossed over his chest, very aware of his own breathing. He held his gaze fixed to the bed above him but from time to time he shot quick glances at the other man.
Finally Webb seemed to be satisfied. He closed the computer and zipped it up in its bag. Harm still didn't move. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Webb undress, straighten his suit and hang it up like he himself had done hours before. And suddenly a slightly reddish scar on Webb's thigh caught his gaze. He turned his head.
He knew where that scar came from. He had been frightened by the blood on Webb's leg and also by the sweat and pain on his face when he'd found him. In fact Palmer had come near to killing Webb twice: Once the night before and then again as Harm led him involuntarily to Clayton's hiding place. And sometimes he could still feel the point where Palmer's bullet had grazed his own temple, knocking him down to the ground.
Webb pulled up a pair of sweatpants and tugged his shirt in. Then he noticed that Harm was staring at him. And he noticed the direction of his gaze. For a moment he just stood there until Harm looked up and their eyes met.
Quickly both men turned away - surprised to feel a sudden sting of sadness and not sure how to handle it.
Harm rolled onto his side, facing once more the wall. The bed frame shook as Webb climbed up to the upper bed. Then the metal holding the mattress creaked while he searched for a comfortable position. Finally he reached out and turned off the light. The darkness was unexpected complete.
The myriad sounds of a ship at sea filled the silence without breaking it. Both men stared into the black nothing, their thoughts still lost in memories.
"Have I ever been anything else than a source of information?" Webb's quiet question seemed to hang in the air.
Harm looked up to where he knew the upper bed had to be. He didn't answer at first. Then he sighed.
"Does it matter any more?"
It was Webb's turn to think about that.
"I guess not," he said finally.
The seconds ticked by, forming to minutes.
"You have been," Harm stated calmly. Webb didn't respond. "Even though you've been absolutely impossible at times."
"You've never understood what sacrifices I have to make in my line of work. You still don't."
"Well, you clearly enjoyed making these sacrifices too much!"
"God, you never even tried to understand me, did you? For you everything is personal. Black or white, good or bad, Harmon Rabb junior or the rest of the world. Hello, earth to Harm! Life isn't that easy! Sometimes you have to compromise, even if it hurts," Webb snapped.
"Some things don't work with a compromise. Like the integrity of people."
"Sometimes you have to sacrifice even that."
"You're one arrogant bastard! How do you live with yourself?"
"As if you are such a bunch of flowers to deal with!"
Silence again.
Harm stared into the darkness. He tried to get his emotions back in check. There was no use in talking with Webb. There had never been a use in talking with Webb. There was always an ulterior motive, always a quid pro quo, always - always... He forced himself to stop his mental ranting. He couldn't stand where it was leading to. He couldn't stand the thought that... But at the same time he needed to know.
"Why did you rescue Sergei and bring him to the States?"
A long time came no answer to his question. Webb didn't move. In the end Harm wasn't sure if the other man was even breathing.
"Maybe because it's possible that I have a brother somewhere out there too," Webb whispered suddenly. "Maybe because it was what I wish someone would do for me if I had."
Harm's eyes grew wide. He had to gulp down a lump in his throat. But yes, somehow it made sense. Strange, but he always tended to forget that Webb's father had disappeared too.
"Have you... Have you ever ... tried to find out?"
"I don't have your freedom to do that," Webb sounded a little bit tired.
Harm frowned. "My *freedom*? What's that supposed to mean?"
Webb snorted. "The Agency doesn't like employees with a crusade. I wondered what that paper was for that I had to sign when I joint the CIA. I thought it was standard procedure. To prevent anybody from using the sources there for private intentions. When I found out it had been modified due to the special circumstances ... it was too late."
"I - I don't understand." Harm kept glancing up into the darkness. "I thought you were following in your father's footsteps ... like I did."
Webb smiled bitterly. Something of that showed in his voice. "Come on, Harm, we're talking about the CIA. You really think I grew up knowing what my father did for a living? Please. I could have blown his cover. A lot of wives didn't know the business of their husbands back then and children are still not allowed to know in our days. It's too dangerous. Too complicated. Or in other words: A matter of National Security."
And then the realization hit Harm.
"You were talking about yourself. In front of the stars at Langley," Harm choked at the words, "The Angle Shark incident. You were talking about yourself!"
"Go to sleep, Harm." Webb turned to his side. He had underestimated the pain he felt again.
"Does your father have a star on this wall? Or don't you know even that?"
"Go to sleep."
"Clay, you can't leave it like that. Why did you never tell me-"
"Tell you what, Harm? That I miss my father like you do? That I'm goddamned jealous because you finally found out the truth about what had happened to him? Would you have listened? Would you have cared? We aren't friends, remember?" Webb hissed angrily.
"Not when you're acting like a jerk - like you do right know! Like you did when it came to Mac!" Harm felt his own anger boiling again.
"Why the heck was I acting like a jerk when I finally admitted to myself that I *have* feelings for her?!"
"What about *her* feelings? She already had one man dying in her arms! Or isn't this about Mac but because I didn't *care* enough in your opinion? Is this your reason to make a competition out of this?!"
"If you really think that then you're a bigger idiot than I've already thought you to be! I want Mac because she *is* Mac. You only want her because you can't stand seeing her with another man!"
"Oh, shut up, Webb!"
The bed frame shook and groaned as both men rolled forcefully over and pulled their blankets higher. Then any sound died again. A long time passed.
"Mac is worth a fight," Harm whispered suddenly, more to himself.
"Yes," murmured Webb, "She is."
None of them broke the following silence.