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Chapter 2:
Into The Woods
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"In vino veritas."
--In wine, truth.
~*~*~*~
0145 Zulu
26 October 2003
Harm's Apartment
North of Union Station
Washington, DC
Harm leaned back against the couch and rubbed his eyes. They'd managed to escape the reporters, so his CIA position was safe... until he managed to end his career serving his country. That, he thought, was only a matter of time. He was tired because he hadn't slept in over 48 hours. They'd kept him busy acting like an enlisted man, complete with scut work, and he'd been short on sleep before that.
Harm reached for his guitar, then changed his mind, got up, and wandered towards the fridge. He opened the door and stared at the almost non-existent contents. A yellow box of baking soda, a month old carton of Chinese take-out, bottles of water, a clear plastic container that was full of a blue, fuzzy substance, and some brown, slimy carrots were all that greeted him. It looked like a great night for take-out, that is, if he even bothered to eat.
Harm shut the door, and rifled through the cabinets until he found an unopened box of crackers. It was faster than take out, and it meant that he could go to bed sooner. Maybe this time, he wouldn't wake up. There was always that hope. He walked back into the living room, flopped onto the couch, and opened his box of saltines. It wasn't much, but eating right wasn't high on his list of priorities. What did it matter when he could get killed on his next mission?
He pulled out a package of the crackers, but just as he was about to open the white plastic, he heard a knock on the door. Harm shrugged, tossed the crackers on the coffee table, and got up to answer the door. He unlocked it, and pulled it open. "Hey Beth," he said, his voice dull with exhaustion.
Beth half-smiled and held up a twelve pack of beer. "I come bearing gifts," she said. "Harm, I know it's a lot to ask, but my place is being fumigated, and I was wondering if I could crash on your couch tonight."
Harm opened the door wider and motioned her inside. "Sure... but you can have the bed; I'll take the couch."
Beth walked inside and set the beer on the table. "No way," she began. "I'm *not* kicking you out of your bed."
Harm looked like he was going to argue, then shrugged, giving up. It just wasn't worth fighting over. "So what's the beer for?" he asked before he flopped down in his favorite chair.
Beth grinned. "Well, it's been a rough couple of days, and I could use a drink." She tore open the cardboard, pulled out two cans, and handed him one. "I figured that you probably could, too, and I didn't want to come empty handed, so here I am."
"But why a twelve pack?" Harm asked, then popped the top on his can and took a long swallow.
Beth shrugged. "I'm not trying to get you drunk and seduce you, if that's what you think, sailor."
Harm winced at the nickname, then rolled his eyes. "I'm not a sailor anymore, Beth," he reminded her. "And you'd *never* try and seduce me, because I'm not your type."
Beth grinned. "What? Tall, dark, and handsome not good enough?"
Harm drank another long swallow of beer. "I know you've got the same taste as I do in women," he pointed out dryly.
Beth got serious and smiled. "Yeah. You've just seemed so down lately that I wanted to help. We haven't exactly been sitting around knitting, you know."
Harm started to drink more beer, grimaced as he noticed it was empty, and set the empty can down on the table. "I know. We've been... busy lately."
Beth tossed him another can and leaned back on the couch. "You've been even busier than I have. When was the last time you had a whole weekend off, Harm?"
Harm shrugged, opened the can, and took another swallow. The cold liquid felt good going down his throat, and he had some good company to drink with. "I'm not sure... maybe before I left JAG." He shrugged before continuing. "It's not like I've really got anybody to spend down time with."
Beth looked at him, startled. "What about Colonel Mackenzie? The two of you seemed... close."
Harm just shrugged and nodded at the blinking light of the answering machine. "Those are probably from her. Mac's got her own life, and I'm not included in it."
"But weren't the two of you best friends?"
"That was when I was at JAG," he reminded her. Harm tipped the can up for another healthy swallow. It occurred to him that he was drinking far too fast, but he didn't really care. "Now that I don't work there, I just don't have much in common with her or any of my former friends anymore."
"I find that hard to believe, Harm."
"It's true enough." Harm got up and grabbed his guitar from the stand before walking back over and plopping down in the chair. He cradled the instrument against him, stroked the smooth wood, then began to fiddle with the tuning pegs so that he wouldn't have to look at his partner.
"Got anything to eat?" Beth asked, abruptly changing the subject.
He rolled his eyes at her, and nodded at the box of saltines on the table. "Help yourself, I find that I'm not hungry anymore." Harm chugged the rest of his beer, and began to play simple chords, hoping to be able to ignore Beth long enough to keep from saying things that he'd rather not have out.
Instead of reaching for the crackers, Beth grabbed the phone and started to dial. "Hello, yes, I'd like to order a vegetarian pizza."
Harm blocked out his partner's voice, reached for another beer, put down the guitar, and got up to check his messages. He pushed the button and frowned as Mac's voice came on. What she'd said to him in Paraguay still hurt, and the Admiral's words afterwards had only increased the agony. Between the two of them, they'd essentially managed to kill him. All that was left was to bury the remains... and the Company was good for that.
Harm's frown deepened as the Admiral's voice came on. "Harm? If you're home, pick up, son. We're all worried about you. You've got the number." He hit the delete button and erased all the messages. Why wouldn't they let him bury himself in peace? He sat back down, popped open the can, and took another drink. Maybe if he was lucky, he could drink enough to blur his raw edges. Maybe he could... forget.
Beth hung up the phone, then resettled herself on the couch with one leg underneath her. "Okay, Harm, what's the matter?" she asked. "I haven't seen you really smile in *months*, and I'd be a lousy partner if I didn't worry."
Harm shook his head and drank some more beer. "Nothing," he murmured. "At least nothing you can help with."
~*~*~*~
1903 Zulu
25 October 2003
Mac's Office
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
Mac shuffled through yet another case file. Since the discovery of Caroline Imes's record falsifications, they'd been extremely busy going through her case files. It didn't help that her court martial made them even more short handed, either. There simply weren't enough lawyers at headquarters to handle all of the pending cases at the moment.
If only the admiral had let Harm come back! At least then, they'd have someone else to help with the backlog. She'd heard Coates begging the admiral to reconsider, and had finally advised the girl to stop before she scuttled her own career. Mac looked up when Bud knocked on her door. "What can I help you with, Bud?" she asked.
"Do you have the Jackson casefile, ma'am?" he asked, walking in. "I'm to review that one, and I can't find it. I thought that some of those cases might've gotten mixed up."
Mac sifted through the stack of files on her desk and pulled it out. "Here you go, Bud," she said with a smile.
"Thank you, Colonel," he said, then headed out the door.
"Bud--" her voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Yes, Colonel?"
"Have you heard from Harm lately?"
"Yes, ma'am. Harriet called to say that we got a package from him in the mail this morning. It was a present for the baby... Harriet said that it had a nice card with it."
Mac leaned forward. "Did it say how he's doing?" she asked as she played with her Marine Corps ring.
"No, ma'am," Bud answered. "It just said congratulations about Jimmy, and it had a really cute stuffed plane in it." He grinned. "I think Harriet had a talk to him about how train sets aren't appropriate for newborns."
"Thank you, Bud," she said quietly.
"I know you said that you didn't miss him, ma'am, but you really do, don't you?"
"He's been my best friend for eight years," she said, smiling crookedly. "What do you think?"
"Just what I thought, Colonel," Bud said. "I'll tell him to call you the next time he calls to talk to little AJ."
"He does that?" Mac asked. "I didn't think that he was keeping in touch with any of us."
"Yes, he does, ma'am. But he doesn't talk to Harriet or me, just AJ. He says that just because he's away doesn't mean that his godson doesn't need to speak to him every once in a while."
"Thanks, Bud."
"No problem, Colonel." Bud left, carrying the thick file with him.
Mac tried to concentrate on her file again, but the words swam before her eyes. She *had* said never in Paraguay because it was right. It wasn't like he had tried to fight for a relationship with her. However, she still wanted to be his best friend, and the feeling kept coming that he needed her. Somehow, she'd make things work out, there had to be a way.
~*~*~*~
0300 Zulu
26 October 2003
Harm's Apartment
North of Union Station
Beth threw her napkin in the pizza box and looked at Harm. He'd only eaten half a slice of pizza, and he looked to be dropping some weight. "Harm," she said, "finish your pizza."
"Huh?" He looked at her, then at the pizza in his hand and ate it. Harm reached for another slice and ate it slowly, washing it down with more beer.
Beth got up, walked behind him, and began to rub his shoulders. "What happened to get you to work for our mutual employer, Harm?" she asked softly.
Harm finished the last of his fourth beer, rubbed his eyes, and looked at her. "Webb FUBAR'd another mission," he said finally. "Only this time, he almost got Mac killed."
Beth started stroking his hair as if he were a small child. "What happened after that?" she said as she tried to encourage him to tell her everything. She had figured that between his exhaustion and the alcohol, she could get him to talk about it, and perhaps find a way to help him. He was her partner, and that made it her responsibility to keep him healthy.
"The Admiral wouldn't let me go, so I had to resign to go save her." Harm's eyes started to close in remembered pain. "I *couldn't* let her die, because I hadn't told her, and I *can't* lose her, too."
"Tell her what?"
"As long as she's alive," he whispered, not hearing, "I can probably be okay."
"What did you need to tell her, Harm?" Beth prodded.
His eyes started to close as the alcohol caught up to him. "That I love her," came the answer as his eyes drifted shut.
Beth started to smile. She'd figured that he'd been in love with his JAG partner, but it was nice to hear confirmation. "What happened?" she asked.
"She said *never*," he mumbled. "Doesn't love me 'cause I'm not good enough. Never good enough. Don't deserve it, I guess."
"That's not true," she said gently.
"Yes, 'tis. Ev'rybody I love leaves 'cause I'm not good enough," he whispered, his eyes sagging shut. "Dad left, Mom married Frank... Diane left... Sarah doesn't care, so she lef' too." He trailed off as his head slowly came to rest on the back of the chair.
Beth caressed his hair gently, suddenly feeling very protective of him. Her mouth tightened as she thought of the Colonel. She almost wished she could deck the woman for that. How could she have been so insensitive? She sighed and reached down to tug gently on Harm's arm. "C'mon, Harm, let's get you to bed to sleep it off."
Harm got up and followed her as she tugged on his arm to guide him. He seemed more than half-asleep as she got him upstairs and sitting on his bed. Beth untied his shoes and pulled both them and socks off. As if on autopilot, he pulled off his t-shirt and jeans before collapsing completely. She pulled blankets over him and kissed him on the cheek. "For what it's worth, Harm, *I* care what happens to you because you're my partner and my friend."
Beth walked out of his bedroom and into the living room to start picking up. She glanced back over her shoulder and smiled. "I don't envy the hangover you'll have in the morning," she murmured, then she finished her self-appointed task. She made up her bed on the couch, turned off the lights, and lay down. She wasn't sure how she could help, but something had to be done before he managed to get himself killed and she'd figure out a way to fix things.
~*~*~*~