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

THE PRESENT

"I killed a man. The evening before my biggest concern had been if I had hit a deer with my car and the next day I ended up shooting a man."

"A man who was about to kill Mr. Webb. And most probably you too afterwards."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It was self-defense. That's what the damn police report says, it is stated in our internal JAG investigation, heck, even the media would probably have come to the same conclusion... If the story hadn't been suppressed as good as possible due to Mister Webb's involvement. SELF-DEFENSE. Anybody keeps telling me and keeps telling me that! Commander Rabb, Colonel Mackenzie, Jennifer, Harriet, Mikey... As if it would make any difference. It doesn't. It ... happened so fast I - I can't even remember if I shouted first. I - I could have shot in the air or aimed for a leg or... Maybe Mister Webb would have been able to safe himself anyway."

"Mr. Webb made very clear - on both occasions he joined us - that there is quite a possibility that he would not have been able to avoid a bullet even if he had shot first."

"The point is that he was talking about a possibility. He was there. He knows what happened, how it happened, he can't deny the facts. And it doesn't matter anyway. Stan Covet had deserted from the Navy TWELFE YEARS ago. It was me, my uniform that set him off. I... If I had been more careful, I would not have had this accident and Mister Webb wouldn't have picked me up. We would never have entered that store together. More so, if I hadn't wasted so much time with this witness, I would have been back in Washington long before the snowstorm started. If I had simply called instead of driving up, I would never have been anywhere near this region. If I hadn't wanted to prove myself, nothing of all this would ever have happened."

"If."

"If, yes. I guess you want to tell me that I can't change the past."

"Nobody can, Mr. Roberts. Do you remember what I told you when we started our sessions?"

"There are no general answers."

"No, there are not. Mr. Roberts, this is not about JAG. This is not about duty or politics or even this country. This is not about what other people might think of you or your actions or what might be best for them. This is about you and you alone. Nothing else. It is good that you feel this regret. I would be concerned if you didn't. But it's equally important that you acknowledge that Mr. Covet tried to kill you - and Mr. Webb - at any cost. No matter for what reasons. He waited for you on the clearing. He came after you when you escaped. He purposefully searched for you with the intention to finish what he had started. Neither you nor Mr. Webb expected that he could cross the slope below his own car and not above it. That's why he was able to see you first and hide until you were in a position to his advantage."

"I know that. I know all of that. But ... it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change the guilt. He's dead. And I'm the one responsible for it. I - I took a life! And sometimes I don't know how to live with that. It's - it's been more than six months now and sometimes it still hurts so much I can't ... sleep, can't get the pictures out of my head, can't ... bear anybody around me because they don't understand that I ... lost something the very moment I pulled the trigger. Call it my innocence, call it ... I don't know what. I just know I'm not scared because I don't think I can ever touch a weapon again. I'm scared of the thought that I ... could."

"Are you still considering leaving the Navy?"

"Yes... Isn't it ironic? I fought so hard to get back to full duty after the loss of my leg. I was so ... ridiculously proud when I was promoted to lieutenant commander nevertheless. And now ..."

"Mr. Roberts ... again ... you are not in a regular unit you are a lawyer. From what I heard a very good one. And whenever we talked about your work at JAG headquarters I could see how much it still means to you."

"It does. That's what makes this so hard. I mean all right, it's rather unlikely they give me an assignment near a combat zone and ... yes, I - I love the courtroom, working with clients, helping my colleagues with research... All - all my friends are there but sometimes I just feel ... so alone. Too many things have changed. I have changed and the people around me seem to have more problems with it now than they had when I lost my leg. They try. I can see that they try. But some things ... I just can't tell them. It wouldn't be appropriate."

"It needs time. For the people around you as much as for yourself. As you've said it's been more than six months but this isn't a long time for human memory when one has been so deeply affected by something. It's up to you but I can only recommend not to hurry into decisions at this point. Besides ... doing his duty and having a conscience should never exclude one another."

"Time. Patience. Where have I heard that before? No, no, don't worry I know you're right. In more that one point. And I didn't forget that I have to consider very carefully the rather prosaic financial aspect of any decision I make. I mean I've got to provide for a family with four children now."

"Of course. How are they by the way? I hope fine?"

"Oh, yes. The children are doing great and Harriet's fine too... Well, except every now and then when I just drop everything, turn on my heel and storm out without any explanation. As I did today. I really don't know what I would do without her constant support and encouragement ... we've been through so much over the years. But still - sometimes I think even she can't understand why I have so many problems dealing with ... what happened. And somehow I'm just not able to explain why ... it's sometimes easier to be the victim."

"You've got a really unique personality, Mr. Roberts, you know that?"

"I'm - sorry?"

"Nothing. Mr. Roberts, for good measure ... would you please continue and tell me what else happened that day? After Mr. Webb's outburst?"

"There was little we could do than keep going. Just ... keep going. We met a car shortly after the crossing and the driver had a cell phone with him. Mister Webb handled everything. Within a few hours the whole slope was swarming with rangers, police officers, pathologists... They actually found his cell in the snow of the clearing because someone had the glorious idea to call his number and follow the ringing. The tracks they found were pretty conclusive - as were the bullet holes in Mister Webb's car. Nevertheless, we had to answer question after question and then they drove us down to the next bigger town and there we had to answer more questions... I - I thought I would go insane. Part of me ... just wanted to crawl under a blanket and wait until I woke up from this nightmare ... another part knew that this was no solution. That I could not run away from my responsibility. Then, at one point, I looked up and Commander Turner stepped into the room. The police had called General Cresswell - in fact Mister Webb had insisted - and he had sent the commander up."

"Commander Turner. Not Commander Rabb or Colonel Mackenzie."

"Yes. Against their sharp protest. Commander Rabb even went as far as to confront the general in the middle of the bullpen; pointing out that it was in the best tradition of the Navy to stand up for their men and that - with all due respect - he had a right to go because he was my friend... And Cresswell told him right to the face that it was exactly this emotional involvement that would represent the Navy ill in this matter. I can almost see the scene in front of my eyes; Petty Officer Coates really has a way of narrating this kind of things."

"There was a time you didn't get along well with Commander Turner, wasn't there? How did you feel about the fact that it was him?"

"In a way ... I was glad. Yes, we had had problems but we left them behind and ... like that it was less ... personal for me as if it had been with Commander Rabb or Colonel Mackenzie. And to be honest I don't know what would have happened if it had been one of them ... or both. I don't want to know how they would have reacted to Mister Webb's presence. I - I don't think I'd have been able to handle ... the explosion if they had met. I think neither of us would have been. Commander Turner barely knew him and was at least willing to listen first and then form an opinion."

"You think Commander Rabb and Colonel Mackenzie wouldn't have done that?"

"Considering the circumstances the last time they had seen each other? Or his job? I had blamed him instantly. Heck, HE had blamed HIMSELF without a second thought!"

"I see."

"And ... you know, maybe the general was right, in retrospect. Commander Rabb or Colonel Mackenzie ... they would have tried to protect me. And for some people it could have looked like the Navy was trying to ... sweep things under the carpet. I mean a fight for jurisdiction was already bound to be although we only concluded at this time that Covet was a deserter so... Yes, Commander Turner probably had the cooler head to handle this ... more diplomatically."

"Mr. Roberts, I know this question sounds ridiculous but I want you to think about it and answer nevertheless: How do you feel now?"

"Like ... smashed by a rock? More or less? But - at the same time I feel ... better. Not good but ... better. Somehow. I guess you were right. Again. This ... hurt but ... yes, it put some things back into perspective."

"Then I think this is a good point to stop for today. Was that a sigh of relief?"

"Uhm, sorry, it's just..."

"No need to apologize. There's just one thing I want you to do when you get home, Mr. Roberts. Tell your wife you've been here. She deserves to know."

"Yes. Yes. I will do that. You know ... I really want to be with them now. Harriet. The children."

"Then I suggest you go to them. Have a safe drive home."

"Thank you. And Dr. Rossley ... thank you again that you had time for me."

"As I said that's no problem, Mr. Roberts."

THE PRESENT: August 2005

- In front of the Roberts' house

Bud slowed down in the driveway and brought the car to a gentle stop. Then he just sat there for a while after turning off the ignition, staring at his hands in his lap. He felt drained, almost physically exhausted as always after a session. But it was true: at the same time he felt ... relieved. The haunting memories were once more shooed back into their dark corner, banished for the moment although still lurking in the shadows. As they would still do for a long time.

Finally lifting his head and looking at the house he felt his lips curl up in a smile. Whatever had happened, whatever he had to deal with, it was good to have this place to come home to. Especially after a day like this. Quickly he unfastened the seat belt and climbed out of the car.

He was still smiling as he took the steps to the porch but frowned slightly at the first sounds of a familiar noise, opened the door ... and was greeted by several voices screaming at the top of their lungs and from different directions. Bud sighed. Oh, well.

Routinely categorizing and weighing the intensities he decided to ignore the high-pitched wail from the kitchen for the time being (definitely the twins in need of fresh diapers) and headed for the bathroom first. He wasn't sure but there he thought to make out Harriet's voice despite the howls of his two boys.

The first thing he saw, poking his head in, was Jimmy's tearstained face, sitting on the toilet seat with a minor scratch on his knee. Second was AJ - face equally wet but also angry and tugging agitated at his mother's arm - insisting feverishly that IT HADN'T BEEN HIS FAULT - normally the best sign that it had INDEED been. And third Harriet turning her head and giving her husband an exhausted smile, shouting something through the noise. Bud only understood the word kitchen but - being an experienced father of four by now - nodded reassuringly, gestured in the direction he was going to take and smiled back. Harriet started calling again but then gave up with a shrug.

Walking across the corridor Bud almost tripped over some toys, more or less stumbled into the kitchen ... and stopped dead in his tracks.

Clayton Webb stood rigidly near the table - probably in the very spot where Harriet had shoved one of the screaming twins into his arms - and looked helplessly back and forth between this wailing bundle and the howling second twin in the baby carriage Harriet preferred to use in the house instead of carrying seats. The question "How on earth have I GOTTEN into this situation?" clearly written all over his face.

- The Roberts' house, a bit later

"I'm sorry you got sucked into in our little chaos." Bud closed the door to the porch from outside and turned around with a small sigh. The twins were changed and peaceful again, Jimmy consoled with some ice cream and AJ sent to his room to think about why it was NOT acceptable to push his little brother even if he dared to touch one of his beloved toy cars. He followed Webb downstairs. "Usually it isn't as bad as that."

The agent shrugged nonchalantly and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'll live." He glanced a bit incredulously back at the house. "Is Harriet handling this all alone?"

"Oh, there's day care, kindergarten... And some high-school teens always want to make pocket money with babysitting."

They started sauntering down the driveway. Bud noticed the short once-over Webb gave him out of the corner of his eye.

"So... How are you doing, Bud?"

"What can I say? There are good days and bad days." Bud made a little face. "Today was a bad day."

Webb glanced at him then looked away again. "You OK?"

"It's better now." Bud sighed. "I'm glad you gave me Dr. Rossley's address."

"A good psychiatrist."

"Yes."

They walked a few yards in silence, involuntarily falling into step. Bud studied his toes and crossed his arms.

"What about you? Are you-"

He quickly swallowed the rest of his sentence and blushed. But Webb had already picked up on the meaning.

"If I'm seeing someone too?"

"Oh, I - I'm sorry. I didn't want to-"

"Yes."

Bud gaped. Webb looked at him and laughed out at his shocked expression. It changed his entire face. But the next second he grew serious again. Tilting his head back he considered the sky, a deep blue now that the sun was setting.

"I figured ... it's about time to get some things straight again." A bitter smile played around the corner of his mouth as he snorted and dropped his gaze. "As far as possible, anyway."

Bud closed his eyes for a moment. He didn't know what to say. Looking around the front garden of his house - a bike was laying by the big tree where it definitely shouldn't be - he took a deep breath.

"Harriet- Harriet and I will host a barbecue next week. Some people from the office, some parents from friends of the boys and of course the friends themselves to keep the children occupied..." He bit his lips. "I - we wondered if... Maybe you've got time?"

Webb didn't respond until they had almost reached the gate.

"The office, huh?"

"Yes."

"Harm and ... Mac?"

"Yes..."

Webb sighed softly and shook his head. "Better not."

Bud didn't argue. But not for the first time he wished things were different.

They turned into the street and after a few more steps stood in front of Webb's car. Bud frowned, not only because he hadn't noticed the convertible before.

"Why did you park out here?"

Pulling his keys out Webb shrugged the question off. "Old habit I guess."

Bud watched him silently as he walked around the vehicle and unlocked the door. Six months ago he would have missed the hidden signs. Six months ago he would not have cared to see them. Six months ago a lot of things had been different.

"Mister Webb? Are you all right?"

Webb froze. His eyes flickered over to Bud and quickly away again. For a second it seemed as if he was starting to say something but instead exhaled and pressed his lips together. Resting one arm on the open door and the other on the roof he stared blindly down the street. Then suddenly he laughed strangely and made a helpless gesture with his hands.

"No. No, I'm not." Looking down he shrugged. "Bud, to be honest I stopped by because I ... I wanted to ask you and Harriet if - if you'd mind if I ... buy your children a present every now and then. Not - not often, of course, and nothing big or fancy or something you wouldn't approve of and - and they don't need to know it's from me and... If - if you don't want that it's perfectly all right, really. I'll understand. It's... it's just ... something I'd like to do. From time to time."

He fell silent and as Bud considered his bowed head he remembered the first time the world had come crashing down on him after the events of January.

He hadn't told anybody. Not Commander Rabb, not Colonel Mackenzie or Coates or Harriet. And the sessions with Dr. Rossley had just started. So he went into a filthy little bar and had a couple of beers and the same number of shots of something much stronger. And somewhere on the way he had called the Webb estate because it was the only thing he could find in the torn telephone book, babbling something that he didn't know how Webb was able to stand it. When the strange man who had answered the phone asked for his name Bud had realized that he was making a fool out of himself and hung up, returning to his sulking over a drink. Fifty minutes later Webb had walked in. As it turned out the man had told Porter Webb, Porter Webb had hunted down her son who had quickly made the right conclusion and started searching any bar along the way from JAG headquarters to the Roberts' home. But instead of giving Bud a lecture that alcohol wasn't a solution - as Commander Rabb probably and Colonel Mackenzie for sure would have done - the agent had bought a bottle of Scotch, led the younger man to a secluded table and had helped him completing his task of getting as drunk as possible. It ended with the first real alcohol-induced blackout Bud had ever had and a monstrous headache the next morning when an angry, upset and worried Harriet had described loudly how a slightly drunk but still coherent Webb and a taxi driver had dropped him off onto the couch. Of the enraged slap she had given the agent he had learned weeks later and only because Harriet let it slip. Webb never mentioned it.

"Mister Webb..." Bud had to stop and search for the best words. "I don't think there's any child in this world that doesn't love presents and mine are certainly no exception. Just give us a short call so you won't buy anything they already have."

Webb slowly nodded once, took a deep breath then nodded a second time. Looking up he gave Bud a ghost of a smile.

"Why don't you drop the mister, Bud."

For a long moment they looked at each other across the roof of the convertible. Then Webb slipped almost hastily behind the steering wheel and started the engine.

Bud followed the car with his eyes as it pulled out into the street and sped up.

He had called Webb three more times over the past months ... and the other man always came. It never went to the extent of the first evening. In fact they sometimes sat and stared silently into one and the same drink for hours. Webb listened patiently whenever Bud wanted to talk. He never offered solutions. He never gave advice Bud was not interested in at that moment. He never tried to make things better. But somehow Bud always drew strength and comfort from his silent presence. Maybe because it was the presence of another battered soul.

Bud sighed deeply and finally turned away from the car that had long since disappeared from sight. Slowly he started walking back to the house.

Yes, sometimes he couldn't help but wonder what - or maybe who - was responsible for the dark abyss normally so carefully hidden behind Webb's eyes. Not that he would ever ask. Not that he would ever get an answer if he did. But while Webb was restrained by too many secrets to talk openly about most of his troubles - although he did talk about Theresa Marcello once, the beautiful terrorist he had shot to save a friend - Bud still got the impression that he, too, found some peace when they were together.

Sighing again Bud lifted his head as he reached the steps to the porch and found Harriet waiting for him in silence, watching his slow approach. Her gaze wandered down the driveway.

"He already had to go? I just wanted to ask you two if I can bring you something to drink."

Bud paused halfway up the stairs and looked over his shoulder as if he could still see the convertible despite the distance. Or the man who had become a strange kind of friend.

"Yes, he had to go." He took the last steps. "I invited him to the barbecue but he said no."

Harriet nodded then lifted one hand and gently touched her husband's hair. Her smile was sad.

"It's probably better this way, Bud. For anybody."

"I know."

But the knowledge was bitter. Not only that there were now parts of his life he had to keep secret from his friends at JAG. Everything concerning Webb would only confuse them or - even worse - cause them pain. Other things would only bring them into conflict with their role as superiors ... going to a bar with his troubles was definitely not the supposed behavior for officers no matter how seldom or under what circumstances. But while Bud was sure Webb would continue to listen silently to anything he wanted to talk about he also knew that it wasn't fair to mention his friends in front of him. Nobody could change the past. No matter how much one wanted to.

"Bud?"

Harriet's soft question shook him out of his dark thoughts. For a long heartbeat he just looked at her before he finally closed the gap between their bodies and wrapped his arms around her, putting his head on her shoulder.

"I went to Dr. Rossley today."

And Harriet - with the silent understanding people sometimes have - simply embraced him back.

The end.

Author's note: A really big, fat thank you for your reviews.
Sorry it took me so long to finish this but my time is a bit limited at the moment.