Chapter Two

20:35 ZULU

SURGERY WAITING AREA
KRESGE MEDICAL CENTER

PIMMIT HILLS, VA

            They had been in surgery for over an hour. Sarah stared blankly at the video monitor across the room, watching the small scroll of breaking news from ZNN as it filtered across the bottom of the screen. She wasn't really paying attention. Most of her concentration was focused on the soft round of metal that she rolled endlessly through her fingers. She closed her fist tightly around it and savored the small round hardness in the center of her palm. By now, she thought, she surely could have identified it by touch alone, so familiar was she with every nick and scratch and spot worn thin by its passing of years upon his finger.

            They had given her Clay's wedding band --along with his watch and wallet and Harvard ring-- sealed in a plastic bag not long after she had arrived in the Emergency room. She had shoved the bag down into the depths of her purse for safe keeping and had forgotten about it until a short while ago, when she'd rediscovered it during a search for change for the vending machine. The rings had winked at her from the bottom her purse, and she had found herself reaching for them, the search for coins forgotten. She had been fiddling with it ever since.

            Opening her palm, she studied the wedding band, a simple, wide circlet of gold that gleamed dully in the gray fluorescent lights. Like his Harvard ring, she had rarely seen him without it since the day she had put it on his finger –and then, only when he was in the field where being a married man was not a part of his cover. On those occasions, he did not take it with him. He was too afraid of losing it –or worse, having it discovered and being forced to explain it to a suspicious target. Instead, he would take it off and place it, along with the Harvard ring, on a heavy gold chain that he hung around her neck for safe-keeping.

            Somehow over the years, it had become a part of their parting ritual on those times that he would have to leave her. One by one, he would remove the rings and drop them carefully onto the chain, securing the catch about her neck himself before turning her to face him. He would pause for a moment to finger the rings, suspended on the length of chain just above her heart, and then he would lean in to kiss her.

            "Don't hock them," he would tease; his breath a whisper against her lips as they parted. "I'll be coming back for those."

            Then he would be gone. He would disappear into another airport …another crowd …another life, leaving her yet again with nothing to hold onto but his rings and his promise. Incredibly, it had always been enough.

            The impact of the day's events had finally caught up to her and she leaned her head back against the thin cushions of the couch and closed her eyes. God, there were still times when she could hardly believe that this was her life. Of all the possible scenarios one could have presented her with, the reality was one she never would have dreamed of. It seemed so surreal: marriage and a child with Clayton Webb, retiring from JAG and the Marines to open up a private law practice with Bud and Bobbie Latham Turner! –And there were days she still couldn't get over the fact that Gunny had joined the CIA, or that Tiner, of all people, was now serving his second term as a Congressman on the House Armed Services Committee. It certainly wasn't the future she had imagined, all those years ago. But then, she thought dryly, if things had turned out the way she had imagined, she would have been married to Harmon Rabb and…

            "And what?" she asked herself, suddenly amused at the direction her train of thought had taken. "You would have closed the deal and had a baby? You would have stayed at JAG forever and nothing would have changed except you'd be a General by now and Harm would be…"

            "Hey, ninja girl. --You look like you could use one of these."

            She opened her eyes quickly, surprised to find Captain Harmon Rabb Jr. standing there before her as if her thoughts alone had summoned him. Well, all things considered, she shouldn't be that surprised. She straightened up and accepted the cup of coffee that he proffered.

            "Thanks," she said quietly, taking a tentative sip. It was Starbucks, Hazelnut and French Vanilla. She smiled. After all these years, he still remembered.

            She felt the couch cushions shift beside her as he settled his weight upon them, and stole a small glance at him from the corner of her eye. God, he hadn't changed a bit. He was dressed casually, like the last time she'd seen him, in faded blue jeans with his leather jacket thrown on over a soft gray T-shirt.

            "How's he doing?" Harm's voice, soft and full of concern, brushed over her and she swallowed hard at the warm familiarity of it. If things had been different…

            "He's been better," she admitted, rolling the coffee cup between her hands. "So have I."

            "He's been through worse," Harm reminded her. "You both have."

            She nodded. "You're right about that," and then paused as a new thought occurred to her. "How did you know?"

            Harm shrugged. "The Admiral told me. He got the word from Meredith."

            She smiled faintly. "I miss him."

            "He misses you." Harm replied.

            "How is he?"

            Harm grinned. "A lot more relaxed, now that he doesn't have to ride herd on our sixes every day."

            She flashed a small smile at the comment, and forced herself to meet his penetrating gaze. "I can't believe you're here." She said at last.

            Harm allowed her a rueful grin. "Come on, Mac. You know me better than that. I'll always be here for you when you need me. You know that."

            She shook her head. "It's just been so long…"

            Harm shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's been a long time since you've needed me," he said quietly, casting a pointed look to the heavy gold ring she had hooked over her thumb.

            "It doesn't mean I haven't missed you," she replied. "There were a lot of times when I could have used a friend."

            "And you had them." Harm reminded her. "Bud and Harriet, Sturgis and Bobbie, Tiner, Jen, Gunny --they've always been here for you."

            "They weren't you." She pointed out.

            "No," he sighed, "I guess not."

            She took another sip of the coffee and sighed. "Ten years later and we're still dancing around the same old tune. Tell me Harm, why is it that everything always has to be so impossible with us?"

            He shook his head. "I don't know, Mac. We're just impossible people, I guess."

            She bit back a choked laugh. "Clay would agree with you on that one."

            There was a moment of silence as she felt Harm studying her with the full weight of his gaze, and then he spoke.

            "You've been happy with him."

            She nodded. "Yes, I have."  She tilted her head to look at him. "Is that why you stayed away?"

            Harm seemed to consider this. "Maybe," he said at last, staring down into his coffee cup. "None of it made any sense to me. It was different than with you and Brumby, I could see right away that you and Mic would never work out. But Webb…" he shook his head again, "I just never saw it coming."

            Neither had she, but she wasn't sure she should tell him that. She smiled wryly. "Clay told me once that you were too oblivious. He was right about that. The funny part is, until he said it, I never realized how oblivious I had been. I'd known him for eight years, and somehow I'd never managed to see the real man until he was beaten half to death and still trying to trade his life for mine."

            "Yeah," Harm said softly, "Paraguay was a real eye opening experience." He sighed deeply. "I never wanted you to go on that mission. I think part of me knew deep down that I was going to lose you." He smiled sadly, "I just never thought it would be to Webb."

            "Neither did I," Mac admitted, allowing herself to remember that awful time. She could still feel Clay's fingers wrapped tightly around her own as he'd apologized for dragging her into that hellish mess. She could still see the anguish in his eyes when he'd told her that he'd wished he could die for both of them. She could still remember how stunned she had been when he'd told her that he'd wanted her with him, that he'd needed her.

"It was so strange," she whispered softly, rolling the wedding band between her fingers. "Like someone switched on a light and this person that I'd seen only in shadow for so long was completely revealed. And everything was different…but everything the same…"

            "Paraguay changed things," Harm agreed. "It changed us. –We were different …all of us…even Webb."

            "Yes," she said softly.

            "You know," Harm said slowly, "I had made up my mind when I went down there that when I found you I was finally going to tell you…"

            "Tell me what?"

            His blue gaze drilled into hers for a long moment. "That I was finally ready to let go."

            "Why did you wait?"

            He sighed. "I overheard you and Clay –when we were changing the tire on the jeep—and then I saw you…" he hesitated. "I saw the way he was looking at you, and I knew you were the only thing that was keeping him going." His voice softened. "And I saw the way you looked at him, and …I didn't know what to think."

            "You weren't the only one," Mac murmured. Of the three of them that day, the only one who had been sure of anything was Clay. She had seen it in his eyes. He had been certain he was going to die, as certain of that as he was about his feelings for her. And for a man so filled with secrets, so used to burying his thoughts and emotions so deeply as to rarely be seen, he had been determined not to leave this earth without telling her at least once what she had meant to him.

***

            "I liked having you for a wife."

            "I liked having you as a husband…and a friend."

            "There's something about sharing the same bed …the same toothbrush…"

            "You used my toothbrush?"

            "I didn't think you'd mind."

            "You've been single too long. –Maybe we both have."

            "You're right. –Sarah, I need you. When we get back…"

***

            She had kissed him then. She still wasn't sure why. Maybe it had something to do with the ache that was settling in her heart, and the tears threatening to well up in her eyes that she didn't want him to see. Maybe it was the truth she'd read in his own eyes that called for her to comfort him in the only way she knew how. Maybe it was nothing but simple curiosity and a desire to explore a charade that had somehow become so real. Or, it could have been the fact that she'd been afraid of what he might say if she let him finish. She didn't really know. Looking back upon it now, all she knew was that she had kissed him …and everything had changed.

            It had broken her heart, that kiss. It had been so soft, so chaste, and so sweet. It was so unlike the snide, cool exterior that Clayton Webb had presented to the world that she knew it could only come from the real man within. --The man he never allowed anyone to see except for his mother …and now her. It was unlike any other kiss she had ever experienced. There was none of the playfulness she had shared with Mic, or the passion that had once flared between her and Harm on the night of her engagement party. It wasn't even the gentle, tentative kiss of friendship that she and Harm had exchanged beneath the mistletoe one Christmas. It was, in a word, love. It was as if every tender, gentle feeling he had allowed himself had been carefully hoarded for her. It was as if she was all the goodness in his life, the light in his darkness, and he was giving it all back to her.

            "When did it happen?" Harm asked, his voice quietly interrupting her memories and her thoughts.

            "When did what happen?" she murmured.

            "When did I lose you? Was it before Paraguay? Or after?"

            Mac sighed and shook her head. "I don't know, Harm. I'm not sure I can point to any one moment. All I know is one day I looked up and realized that we weren't the same people we'd been before. Too many things had happened. Too much time had passed. The opportunity for whatever we might have had was gone. We couldn't get it back."

            Reaching out, she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "But you never really lost me, Harm. You know that. –Just like I never really lost you. You're here with me now, aren't you?"

            He flashed her that old patented Harmon Rabb grin and took her coffee from her, setting it down on the table in front of them. "Yeah, ninja girl, I'm here with you," he sighed wrapping an arm about her and pulling her into his shoulder.

            She buried her face in the well worn leather, inhaling its warm, familiar scent. "I'm glad," she said softly. "I'm not sure I can do this alone."

            "You don't have to," he murmured, pressing his chin into the top of her head. "Webb's a fighter. He'll make it through this. He's gone through a lot worse to get back to you."

            "I love him," Mac said, hating the smallness of her voice.

            She felt the curve of Harm's lips as he smiled into her hair. "I know." His voice sounded amused, and a little sad. "God knows I don't understand it …but I know."

            Mac chuckled softly. "It's love, Harm. What's to understand?"

            She felt him shrug beneath her. "I don't know it's just…Webb, of all people!"

            She pulled away and tilted her head to study him more carefully. "Is that what it is? Is that what's been eating at you all these years? Why Webb and not you?"

            There was a moment of silence, and when he finally spoke, she almost laughed at the boyish petulance in his voice. "Well, maybe a little," he allowed.

            She sobered a bit. "Do you really want to know?"

            "Yeah," he said softly. "I think so. We've danced around it long enough. It's long past time we put it to rest." He stroked a lock of her hair back from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. "I think we both need to hear the answer to this. Why couldn't we have made it work? Why Clay? Why not me?"

            "Honestly?"

            Harm shrugged. "It's usually the best policy."

            She was silent a long moment and then at last, she answered him. "Because he trusted me."

            Harm scowled. "I trusted you!"

            She shook her head. "No, Harm. Not completely. Not really." He started to protest and she took his hand, squeezing it tight enough to silence him. "Don't get me wrong. I know that you trusted me more than any other living person. There were things you shared with me that you'd never have told another soul, but it was never…complete. There was always a part of you that held back, that couldn't let go."

            He groaned, "We're back to that again, are we?"

            Mac nodded. "Yes, of course we are. Don't you see? That's what it's always been about."

            Harm snorted in disgust. "All I can see is you talking circles around the issue again."

            She tamped down the familiar flare of exasperation and fixed him with a patient look. "It's simple enough, Harm. You just never wanted to admit it –to me or to yourself. It wasn't love that you were afraid of, it was trust. And you can't have a relationship unless you have both."

            She drew a deep breath. "All those years, I had to fight tooth and nail to get you to let me in. And you did, bit by bit, but never willingly. You admired me. You respected me. I think you even loved me. –But you never trusted me, Harm. You never trusted my instincts. You never trusted me to take care of myself. You never trusted me to make my own choices, --to be myself. I think when I finally started to realize that, I understood that we could never really work out."

            "And just when did that little revelation come over you?"

            She thought about it for a moment. "Afghanistan," she said at last.

            "With Webb."

            She nodded. "That day in the prison camp, when that prisoner jumped me? –I was terrified. I could feel the knife pressed into my throat and I knew he was going to kill me before Gunny could even get off a shot. …And then I saw Clay. He was looking at me. He never took his eyes off of me the whole time. He was telling everyone to put down their weapons, and at first I couldn't figure out what he was doing, but he kept looking at me and I realized he was counting on me. He trusted me to take care of myself, to take the guy out, and I had to trust him and Gunny to take out the rest of them without hitting me. It was a powerful feeling, knowing that someone had placed that much faith in me –and that I had to place that much faith in them. It made me realize that that was what was missing between us. It's what started me thinking."

            "So Webb nearly gets you killed and makes you save yourself and you suddenly decide he's the one?" Harm said sarcastically.

            She rolled her eyes. "There was more to it than that."

            "Do tell," he murmured.

            "Part of it was Paraguay," she said at last.

            "I knew it. He put the moves on you, didn't he?"

            She smiled at the note of resignation in his voice. "Actually, he was a perfect gentleman."

            She thought about it for a moment. "He was scared, Harm. I'd never seen him scared before."

            "He had good reason," Harm said quietly. "A mole in the Agency and the South American Bureau leaking like a sieve, three agents killed in seven months, and going in after Sadiq Faad and Raul Garcia with only Gunny for back up. He had to be crazy going into something like that…let alone taking you with him."

            "He wasn't crazy, Harm. He was desperate. Kershaw didn't leave him a lot of choice. That mission was his only ticket home."

            "That still doesn't excuse him for dragging you into it." Harm grumbled.

            "He said that very thing to me, about a million times." She smiled, "the funny thing is, I was never really angry with him for that. –For not telling me about Gunny, or the leaks, yes. But not for bringing me into it."

            She rolled the ring off her thumb and clenched it tightly in her palm. "He needed me, Harm. He trusted me. He trusted my judgment when he couldn't be sure of his own. He trusted me with his life, and Gunny's …and mine."

            She drew a ragged breath as she willed back old tears. "No one had ever placed that kind of trust in me before…that much faith. It was frightening …and wonderful."

            "And you loved him for it." Harm said quietly.

            Mac nodded.

            Harm let out a heavy sigh and pulled her back to his shoulder once more. "Well, what ever he did, he's made you happy." He smiled down at her. "It looks good on you. –Even though I thought I'd never again see the day you traded in your Marine green for civvies."

            "Yeah, well, that one wasn't entirely my choice." She rested her head back into his shoulder once more. "Being passed over twice for promotion is a pretty good indication that you've stayed too long at the party."

            "The promotion board must have been made up of idiots." Harm murmured.

            She snorted. "Get real, Harm. No matter how good a lawyer I was, there was no way a promotion board was going to see a record like mine as "General" material. --A recovering alcoholic?          One who'd been court-martialed for murder and who was only acquitted because it came out that she'd had an affair with a former commanding officer? It's a miracle they let me stay in the Corps –let alone make Colonel."

            "What did you do?"

            She shrugged. "What was there to do? I finished out my twenty and I retired."

            Harm raised a disbelieving eyebrow, knowing that could not be all of it.

            "And I went home…" she finished lamely, "…and cried …and yelled a lot …mostly at Clay."

            Harm grinned. "What did he say?"

            She shook her head. "Nothing. –Except for one night, when he'd finally had enough. He arranged a sitter for Penny, bundled me up in the car, took me to the best restaurant in town, and treated me to a hideously expensive meal. Then he told me that I was the most intelligent, exciting and beautiful woman he'd ever known and he couldn't stand seeing me like this any more, and what was I going to do about it?"

            "Did you karate chop him?"

            She snorted. "I thought about it. But I was too busy dissolving into a sobbing mess. I didn't know what I was going to do. I felt like I didn't know who I was any more."

            "And?"

            Mac sighed. "And he told me that I was his wife and the woman he loved. And he reminded me that even if I wasn't a Marine anymore, I was still a lawyer, and a damned good one."

            "And that was when you decided to go back into private practice?"

            She shook her head. "—Not exactly. I applied to a few firms, but I wasn't really interested in any of them. And then Bobbie and I were talking one day and she happened to mention how she was thinking of retiring from Congress and how she was considering starting up a law firm that specialized in advocacy for abused women and single mothers. The next thing I knew, we were talking about renting office space and hiring paralegals." She chuckled. "I was half afraid to tell Clay. I was afraid he'd have a fit."

            "Did he?"

            "I could tell he wasn't thrilled with our choice of office location. We wanted to be accessible to the women we were trying to help, so it wasn't in the greatest part of town. But he never said a word."

            "I find that hard to believe." Harm snorted.

            She smiled. "He just said, 'Sarah, I don't make your decisions for you, and I won't tell you what you should or shouldn't do, but I will tell you this: you have to find something that you love as much as you loved the Corps. You'll never be happy with anything less.'"

            "He was right about that," Harm murmured.

            "Yes," she mused. "He was."

            "He's been good for you," Harm decided, and there was a note of acceptance in his voice that she had never heard before. "Better, I think, than I would have been."

            She shot him a surprised look. "I can't believe you just said that."

            He laughed. "Me either, but it's true. Even if I had worked up the nerve to tell you sooner, we never would have worked out, would we?"

            "No," she said at last. "I don't think we would have. –I just wish it wouldn't have taken us this long to figure that out."

            "So do I."

            "We wasted so much time," she said sadly.

            He sighed. "My fault," he said. "I couldn't handle it. It just hurt so damned much. It was different than when you were with Brumby. Clay was my friend. I couldn't hate him, even though I wanted to. I couldn't hate you, either. I loved you and I wanted you to be happy and you were …just not with me."

            "Can you handle it now?"

            He smiled. "I think so."

            "Good," she said, and stifled a yawn. "I could use a shoulder to lean on right about now."

            He looked down at her. "I think you've already got it, Marine."

            "For how long?"

            "As long as you need it."

            She allowed her eyes to drift closed. "I take it that means you'll be in town for a while?"
            "A while."

            "Then I'll see you Memorial Day?"

            "I wouldn't miss it."