Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.
August 2007, Thursday
- Vietnam Veterans Memorial, Washington D.C.
Harm reached out gently but didn't touch the name on the wall. Even now - in bright evening sunlight of August and not in the darkness of a cold December - the power of all these names sent a shiver down his spine. From time to time he wondered what had happened to the wings of his father he had left here. Those wings a strange old woman had given back to him at Christmas Eve a long time ago. Maybe a guard had taken them together with all these other gifts along the wall to keep them safe. Maybe some thief without respect. It was better not to think too much about things like that.
Turning away Harm scanned the crowd; glad for the little shade his cover offered his eyes. It was still hot and the sun stung. Amazingly hot for the time. He wiped sweat from his upper lip.
"Come on, Webb, where are you?"
He wondered if the past three years had changed Webb's appearance even if they hadn't changed his voice. Glancing back at the name of his father, its position so well known to him, he started to feel more and more uncomfortable with his own choice of place. Too many memories of countless visits were attached to those letters.
Of years when he hadn't known his father's fate and he had made this simple writing on a wall to his personal shrine. How often had he stood here wondering, torturing himself with unanswered questions and his inability to find out the truth. Then - later - he had paid more peaceful visits; silently telling his dad about the things happening in his life, important to him. He remembered the Christmas Eve Mac had brought Mattie here, after she had stood up for him in order to get him guardianship for the girl. He remembered the evening he had missed his traditional visit because Mac had ended up in hospital. And he remembered the one night Sergei had waited for him after Webb had bought him free out of a prisoner's camp in Chechnya.
For a long time Harm hadn't allowed himself to think of this, to acknowledge the debt he owed to this uncommunicative, devious, ruthless and on occasions right out annoying man who had popped in and out of his life for almost eight years. Hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge that the sudden tailspin the other man's career had taken was caused by a favor for ... him. Not since Paraguay.
Paraguay had been a turning point in his life in more than just one way. It had almost wrecked his career in the Navy. It had led to working for the CIA for a while ... something he would have declared impossible to fit with his morality and principles even a few weeks before it happened. It had in the end led to his guardianship for Mattie and the realization how much someone like her could mean to him. And for the first time he had thought that he fully understood his feelings for Mac ... only to be rejected.
That kiss he had witnessed - between HIS Mac and Webb - it had shattered something. It had made him angry ... and acting like an idiot. Saying things like an idiot. Not only there but for almost a year. He should have known that it was the wrong way to treat a proud woman like Mac ... especially considering their history together. And when he had finally come to his senses his timing had been more than bad. All right, it had been really tactless to make a move as long as Webb had not even been officially buried but he had been so eager not to waste this unexpected gift of a second chance...
No, if he was honest his punch in Webb's stomach hadn't been all about Mac. Part of it had been about him, about his - yet again - wounded pride, about his embarrassment and guilt and anger that he had made once more a fool out of himself when it came to Mac. But somehow even that had turned out to be OK when Mac had broken up with the spy despite all her actions and words earlier.
He had done his best to show her that he was willing to give her all the time she needed to sort things out. He had rushed to her hospital bed when she had had that accident and his heart had jumped in his chest as their hands met. Nevertheless, nothing serious had happened for several months ... at first. They had played it by the book this time. Dating a little, talking a little, doing things together - well, as much as possible considering their workload and the boundaries of their duty. Arranging their careers and assignments. He had stayed at JAG headquarters and she had taken a position in the Pentagon as the opportunity occurred in May. Things had stayed busy but they hadn't minded. Even when they had barely seen each other once a week. The day he had proposed to her had been one of the best in his life. It still was one of the best in his life next to their golden September wedding three months later. For the rest ... they were probably both to blame.
Shaking his head Harm walked a bit up and down the dark wall. To distract himself he paid more attention to the people around him. Where was Webb anyway? He was running late. There was a man in a suit... No, it wasn't him. Group of tourists, pupils with a teacher, man in a wheelchair, man with a baby carriage, a couple with two children, a...
Harm's mind went completely blank. A second he simply stared straight ahead then his head snapped back around. His jaw dropped.
Webb finished his slow approach and craned his neck to look up at the much taller man. He waited some time then sighed impatiently.
"Rabb, are you going to close that mouth anytime soon?"
No response.
"Rabb? I really don't have all day."
Harm's lips moved but no sound came out.
"I thought you've said Mac is in trouble."
Harm blinked several times but still got nothing out. His brain simply refused to comprehend what he was seeing.
"Oh, darn it." Webb rolled his eyes and turned the wheelchair in a motion that showed great practice. "You're wasting my time!"
Harm just continued staring. Clayton Webb - in a wheelchair! Involuntarily he rubbed his eyes. Blinking again he finally noticed that the other man was moving away from him and somehow kicked himself into action. As he ran after him he found his voice.
"Good God, Clay ... what did happen?"
Webb gritted his teeth and turned the wheels a little bit faster.
"This - this isn't... I mean ... this - this is temporary, isn't it?" Harm stuttered out the first thing that came to his mind.
Webb's hands hovered a second over the wheels before he pushed them with more force.
"Temporary? I guess you could say that. We are all mortal in the end."
Harm winced inwardly. Oh God, it WAS permanent!
"What did happen?" he repeated too stunned to think of anything else.
Webb glared at him and kept turning the wheels.
"Was it a mission? A sniper? A bomb?"
"For heaven's sake, Rabb! Lower your voice you're drawing attention!" Webb hissed practically fuming.
"What-"
"An overtired driver! You're satisfied? A damn overtired driver who didn't know when it was time to hail a cap instead of getting behind the steering wheel, all right?"
"Oh," Harm whispered still shocked. "They - they got him?"
"Who?"
"The driver."
"He was hard to miss."
"What did he get?"
Webb stopped. "What?"
"What did he get? The driver? I mean, he was sentenced, wasn't he?"
"That's the lawyer talking?"
"Webb..."
"That's pretty sick, you know that?" Webb moved forward again.
Harm shook his head to clear it and hurried up to him again. "Webb... Yes, maybe, but - if he got out easy maybe I can-"
"He got enough."
"What?"
"Rabb-"
"Darn it, Clayton, what did he get?"
"Life in a wheelchair." Webb only mumbled.
"He ... too?"
Webb looked up and quickly away. And Harm stopped dead in his tracks as he realized the truth. Involuntarily he gasped.
"Oh. Oh, Clay ... I'm so so-"
"DON'T YOU DARE!" Webb practically spun the wheelchair around, his face white with fury. He was almost screaming, pronouncing each word with an accusing finger. "Don't you dare pity me! I don't need this from you! I don't need this from anybody! So don't you dare and pity me!"
They stared at each other, panting, until they realized the eyes watching them curiously. With a curse Webb turned his wheelchair again and started pushing. Closing his eyes for a second Harm swallowed and followed slowly.
Several minutes they walked - or rolled - in silence. Harm kept sneaking glances at the other man but said nothing. Afraid to upset Webb even more if he did. At a loss of words. And for the first time since they knew each other willing to give the other man all the time he needed.
Finally Webb's tightly set jaw seemed to loosen a bit and without a word he stopped at a bench and put on the brakes. He stared down at his hands. Harm hesitated a second then sat down, making a small face as he felt the hot wood through his pants. The sun was mercilessly burning down on them despite the fact that it was already past six o'clock ... probably the reason why the bench was empty. They avoided looking at each other.
"Tell me about Mac's problems." Webb's voice was perfectly calm again as he finally broke the silence.
Harm drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "You know that Mac is a judge now?"
"I didn't. I'm not keeping tabs on you."
The unspoken 'any more' hung between them.
"Well, she is - since she was promoted to full rank Colonel and returned to JAG headquarters," Harm continued after a short pause.
Webb's gaze swept up briefly to check Harm's insignia. The Navy commander noticed it.
"No, I'm still commander. She's outranking me now." A wry grin flickered across his face but quickly he grew serious again. "Mac's presiding a court martial at the moment. An enlisted Marine has taken an amtrack without permission and drowned it - a pretty clear thing as far as I know."
Webb snorted. "Sounds like one of those cases you used to defend."
"Funny, Webb, really funny." It was Harm's turn for a short glare. "Not this time. Sturgis - Sturgis Turner - is prosecuting and Tiner is defending. You remember Tiner?"
"My memory is intact, thank you. Somehow Tiner is a remaining impression. He's actually a lawyer now?"
"Surprising, isn't it? It's one of his first cases and he actually has talent although he will lose that one."
"So what? To me everything sounds quite normal."
"It should be but ... Mac has been receiving harassing letters throughout the hearing. The type of: 'If you don't set him free you will pay for it...' With a lot of meaningful '...' at the end. The trial takes a bit longer than usual because two witnesses had an accident and their testimonies were delayed."
"What about the jury?"
"No jury here it's a military judge only court martial. This is possible if requested by the accused."
"Because somebody's expected that one person would be easier to handle?"
For a moment they looked at each other. Then Harm nodded.
"The thought occurred to me, yes."
Webb pursed his lips. "I guess there's an investigation?"
"Not directly that's the problem."
"Not directly? One of your judges is threatened and JAG does nothing?"
"Oh, they do ... more or less. They have staff to investigate such occurrences and a priority list. Looks like things like that happen to judges every now and then. Mac reported the letters but didn't make it urgent. She doesn't think it's necessary. She thinks this is a bad joke with nothing behind it."
"Maybe she's right?"
Harm slowly shook his head. "No. There's something about these letters ... something serious that ... scares me. I can't explain it rationally but ... this is no bad joke. I just know it. And there's more. This Marine... There was a visitor in the courtroom. The day Mac received the first letter. And later again."
"Very suspicious."
"Oh, quit it, will you? In a nutshell, I got his name from the visitor's list when I started to look into this and wanted to check him out just in case. Looks like he was a Marine too once ... but his record is sealed - and not by the Navy."
Again the two men looked at each other.
"Any idea who did it?" Webb asked finally.
"I narrowed it down to FBI or CIA ... I think. That's why I need you. My acquaintances at the Federal Bureau of Investigation are at the moment ... a little bit closed up."
"Well, what did you expect?" Webb rolled his eyes. "After last month? Nobody likes to be the bad boy."
"I thought you don't keep tabs on us." Harm raised an accusing eyebrow.
"I don't but it was unfortunately impossible to escape the headlines." Webb rimmed imaginary letters with his hands. "'Navy Commander show's FBI how to investigate a case!' Or: 'Showdown in the courtroom!' Oh, I especially liked: 'Does Director Manfield has to take his hat?' Really, Harm."
"OK, OK, it went a little bit out of control, I admit that. But they HAD screwed up."
"Whatever. Have you tried to talk to this man?"
"I DID talk to him. Wasn't very successful. An expression like a stone. Asked me if I was accusing him in any way ... there was little I could do in a crowded corridor besides giving him a stern look although I really wanted to."
"Hmm. Have you told Mac about the sealed file?"
"Of course. She told me to mind my own business. My ex-wife can be so unbelievable stubborn."
"You really don't have to tell me- Did you say ex?"
Harm saw the shocked look on Webb's face. "You didn't know that?"
"I - I... No! What -? I mean - how -? I mean ... DIVORCED?"
"This spring. But we had been separated for months before that."
"Oh my God. That's- Uhm- Oh my God." Webb looked anywhere in blank confusion but at the man on the bench, blushing suddenly deeply for some unknown reason.
Harm studied his hands very thoroughly. Nevertheless, he saw out of the corner of his eye how Webb ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to regain control. And after some more minutes he felt his questioning gaze.
"Uhm..."
"Let's just say you can't eat fish all the time and leave it that way. All right?" Harm felt suddenly very tired.
"Ah - OK. Sure."
They sat in silence. The sun was burning down on them. Harm checked his fingernails for a change. No, he still hadn't figured out why they hadn't meant to be so he guessed their different eating habits were as good an explanation as anything else. And maybe that was all there had to be. Someone who ate anything could agree to settle for a dish without meat but a vegetarian couldn't return the favor just as easy. Someone who wasn't all that interested in museums could nevertheless spend an afternoon there for the sake of family peace but someone who didn't like flying had much more problems getting on a plane. Maybe they had really failed in the little things. And after they had started fighting it had been too late anyway.
God, yes, they had always been so good at fighting. They hadn't talked for almost a year after Mac had moved out only six months after the wedding, hadn't seen each other until they had filed for divorce. Only work at JAG headquarters had forced them back to speaking terms. Something he was ... grateful for.
Harm couldn't help it that his eyes slowly wandered towards Webb's legs right at the corner of his field of vision. What a strange joke that the man who had survived being a hostage in Columbia, Clark Palmer, torture from the hands of Sadik Fahd, Tanveer's attempt on his life and whatever more ... had ended up in a wheelchair because he fell asleep behind the steering wheel. Where was the sense in that? But then again maybe there wasn't any supposed to be.
Again Harm considered Webb's legs under his eyelashes. They looked so normal, clad in a pair of light grey pants, the shoes would have gone with any of the spy's favorite three-piece suits too. Involuntarily his gaze traveled higher, over the white sleeveless shirt and the fashionable leather vest - that was really so typically Webb. The other man was taking in their surroundings, squinting his eyes against the sun. Harm wondered idly if it was training that had become an unconscious reflex or just the easiest way to avoid looking his direction. As if Webb had read his thoughts he turned his head and their eyes met. Quickly both men looked away again.
"Give me the name," Webb said finally as none of them was able to bear the silence any longer.
Harm reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Webb took it out of his hand and unfolded it, his eyes wandered over the writing.
"Well, I've got to call in favors ... and some of them are rather old." Webb glanced at his watch and grimaced. "Past six... If I call now they are even older." He shook his head and looked at Harm. "Tomorrow is Friday and with this heat a lot of people will probably try and start the weekend early. I'll do what I can but I'll guarantee for nothing. How long will the hearing last?"
"I can probably persuade Sturgis into dragging it out a little but... Maybe verdict on Monday and sentence on Tuesday?"
Webb grimaced again. "I'll do what I can," he repeated.
"That's all I'm asking for." Harm got up and immediately felt sweat running down his temple. His pants were wet at the back. A thought hit him. "Uhm - Webb... You're still in the agency or are you...? I mean ..."
"I'm ... retired for health reasons. As long as they don't need me to find a special file for them that is."
"Oh."
"You can say that." Webb grabbed the wheels but hesitated. "And Rabb?"
"Yes?"
"Don't tell her about me."
Harm looked at him. Webb's gaze darted around then focused a second on his face before it wandered off again.
"I mean it. You will not tell her about me."
Harm bit back any question. "All right."
Webb simply nodded. After a heartbeat he started turning the wheels.
Harm stood there a moment longer, following the other man with his eyes. And this time he didn't feel the heat of the sun.
