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


Author's note: I think I better repeat just for good measure ... this is NOT HarmMac. Definitely. Plus here's a little timetable to clear up any confusion I've created so far.

2004-05 and later the same year: AJ retires, the episodes Hail and Farewell 1+2 (of the real show)
2005-05: Mac takes a position at the Pentagon; H+M start dating seriously
2005-06: Harm proposes to Mac
2005-09: Harm and Mac's wedding
2005-11: Webb's accident
2006-03: Mac moves out
2006-12: Porter Webb has two strokes
2007-04: The divorce is official, Mac returns to JAG HQ as a judge (somewhere on the way she was promoted to full rank colonel)
2007-08: Present of Little Things and Second Chances


August 2007, Saturday

- Webb residence, early evening

Unnerved Mac used her writing pad as a fan and glared down at her work. She was stuck and that for more than an hour already. It was really frustrating. To distract herself she lifted her glass then rolled her eyes as she found it empty. Damn it, had everything to go wrong at the moment?

Pushing her chair back she grabbed the empty bottle from the desk and headed for the stairs. Harrison had shown her where to get water or iced tea in the kitchen and that was really necessary - even in the house it was hot. In the hallway she nearly stumbled over Dammit, lying as flat as possible on the stone tiles. The dog - obviously determined to save its energy - barely opened one eye.

Mac grinned. "That's the right thing to do now that your boss has abandoned you for a week to go with his junior baseball team to Minnesota."

Chegwidden had offered to stay until the threat was cleared up but she had insisted that it was all right. She hadn't wanted to think of these big, disappointed children's eyes if their coach changed his plans at the last minute. Besides, if they had found a substitute to accompany the boys would have been another question. Now she continued her way towards the kitchen, shaking her head.

"A baseball training camp. Don't they notice the heat?"

Halfway down the corridor she paused again as she heard a voice. Webb's voice. For a second she hesitated, torn between conflicting emotions but finally curiosity got the better of her. She followed the sound and peered into the living room. While listening a frown appeared on her face. Clayton Webb was sitting in his living room and reading aloud ... something that seemed to be a children's book? Involuntarily she took a step closer.

Webb paused at the end of a sentence, scribbled a note on the edge of the page and reached for a glass of water on the low table at his side. Suddenly he looked up and around.

"Mac. I didn't hear you come in." He closed the book.

"Oh, I - I didn't want to interrupt you. I ... uhm ... wanted to get another bottle of water." Unnecessarily she waved the empty bottle through the air. Against her will her eyes wandered towards the book in Clayton's hand and he noticed.

"Oh, that..." He cleared his throat somewhat embarrassed. "Peter's newest project for me."

"Peter?"

"Old friend of mother's. And now my new employer so to speak." At Mac's questioning look he felt compelled to explain a bit further. "He's publisher. I needed something to do after the accident and mother persuaded him to more or less give me a job as translator." He lifted the book. "And now this: Audiobooks."

Mac's eyebrows shot upwards. "Wait a minute, you are a reader for audiobooks? Those you can buy on CD? In shops?"

"That way it sounds like a crime."

"Oh no, I didn't mean to..." Mac blushed. "It has just taken me off guard. You are really doing this?"

"It's actually fun. A lot of work though. You've got to find out how to read them best, practice by yourself and then do NOT ruin the takes at the studio by laughing or getting a cold at the wrong time."

Meanwhile Mac had stepped up to him and now took the book he was holding out to her. Her eyes moved over the title.

"'This time it's magic'?"

"Peter said the first volume to this didn't sell that badly." Webb sounded defensive.

"So your name is really on the cover of a CD? Wow."

"A pseudonym. It would not be very wise to use my real name considering my last job."

Mac grimaced. "True." She flipped through the pages. "What's the title of the first volume?"

"'No magic at all'. The book is standing over there if you are interested in fantasy novels for teenagers."

"Huh!" Mac made another face then smiled. "But I may have a try if I don't get forward soon with my work - simply out of despair."

"I thought judges only sit around in courtrooms and have others to do the legwork."

"Prejudices. Ugly prejudices."

Webb chuckled. And a sudden stab of - of what? - shot through the pit of Mac's stomach. She hadn't heard this sound since ... since... She had forgotten how his face changed when he did this. Any tension and self-control seemed to vanish and he looked ... relaxed. Without holding anything back. It threw her off balance.

"You - you said you have also translated books? Children's books like this? Which languages?" She knew she was rambling but it was all she could do to keep her confusion at bay.

"Oh, illustrated guides for little galleries or small exhibitions, things like that. Nothing overly impressive. And whatever language was needed. German, Dutch, French, Spanish ... one was Japanese. About famous temples."

"You never told me you speak Japanese too."

"Someone from Japan would probably argue with you if I SPEAK Japanese ... but reading and listening is OK."

"Wow," muttered Mac again. She started wandering around the room and immediately noticed the unusual wide distance between pieces of furniture - probably to give Webb more space to maneuver his wheelchair. That thought sent another stab through the pit of her stomach. Quickly she picked up a playing piece from a chessboard sitting on a small table by the window.

"Nice set," she mumbled uncomfortably.

Well, it was: Board and pieces were made of stone, probably marble, and beautifully worked. She had used to play with her Uncle Matt and not bad as she prided herself. Harm had preferred the Game of Go and had always beaten her at it.

"A gift from AJ. Souvenir of Carrara, Italy." Webb tapped his fingers on his leg. "Do you play? I think somehow I never asked you that."

"Oh yes, I do. Well, I used to." She turned and the next words were out before she could stop them. "Want to do a round?"

Webb looked surprised. "Yes, why not?"

Mac gulped nervously as he pushed the wheels and moved over to her. Her legs were almost shaking and she sat down quickly. Webb maneuvered the wheelchair in position. They gambled for the colors and he got white. But instead of making his first move he hesitated.

"Maybe I should tell you that I played a lot when I was young and started playing a lot again recently. Mostly against the computer. I can play without a queen if you want to."

"Oh, really?" Mac snorted offended. "I don't think it's necessary I can hold my own. And don't even think about going easy on me! Understood?"

Webb just narrowed his eyes. He blew her off the board in seven moves.

"Ups." Mac pursed her lips and considered her field of disaster. She met his challenging look completed by a little smirk. And cocked an eyebrow. "Well, let's come back to that offer of yours..."

Webb blinked then laughed. As he turned the chessboard he muttered: "I would have lost my money."

"Lost your money?" Mac found herself smiling widely without knowing why.

"Uhm - nothing." He put his queen aside.

"Come on, Clayton, why would you have lost your money?"

"Because ... three years ago it would have been a safe bet that you would never take that advantage no matter how often I beat you."

Their eyes met.

"Not an advantage of that kind. A physical advantage, yes. But not this kind," Mac acknowledged finally. She frowned down at the board and quickly moved the pawn in front of her king.

This time she lasted at least sixteen moves. Without a word she turned the chessboard and they started anew after they had arranged the pieces. Slowly she was getting the hang of it back. Some time they played in concentrated silence. Then Webb had closed in her king with his castles and a pawn. After two check positions in a row she was checkmate again.

"You're learning quickly."

"Thanks. I guess that was a compliment."

Mac watched with her chin in her hands as Webb put up the pieces again. One stone was accidentally brushed off the table by his arm but before she could move he had maneuvered backwards, bent down and angled it from the floor.

"You're really handling this OK, don't you?"

For a moment Webb considered the white bishop in his hand before putting it back on the table and moving forward in his old position. He concentrated on setting the pieces.

"There's not much you can do otherwise. Life goes on if you want it or not ... eventually you cope. And it's getting easier. Somewhat. When you stop forgetting that some things are simply no longer possible."

"I see." Mac placed a fingertip on top of her king and moved it in tiny circles. "I ... had a longer talk with AJ this morning."

"Thought so."

"Do you mind?"

Webb shrugged. "Hey, you and AJ are free to talk about everything you want to."

A short silence.

"I didn't know that you and AJ have got a mutual friend," continued Mac finally.

"You mean Tim Fawkes? Yes, he ... was my mentor when I started working for the CIA and he and AJ met in Laos."

Mac was again circling the smooth stone under her hand. "AJ mentioned Italy."

"Did he." Webb's hand hovered for a moment over the chessboard as his gaze wandered out of the window. A shadow seemed to fall over his features.

"Clay?"

But Webb was far away, caught in his own memory. The memory of a gun, warm in his hands, of flowers, white and red and pink, framing Theresa's beautiful face, of the perfect little hole in her forehead... He shook his head.

"Since - since when is your hair short again?"

A second or two she just stared at him how he unnecessarily straightened the pieces on the chessboard, avoiding her eyes. Then she slowly lifted a hand and tugged at one of the short strands. Silently accepting his change of subject.

"April. This year. I was fed up with the work that comes with long hair." And it had been the day the divorce had become official. But she didn't say that.

"I- The cut suits you." Webb's eyes were lowered on the table, hiding whatever emotion might have been visible in them.

"Thanks." Mac wasn't sure why she was blushing. Involuntarily her eyes drifted to his nearly grey temples and the grey shade in the rest of his still full hair. Before she could start to feel really uncomfortable Webb gestured at the chessboard.

"Do you want another game before dinner?"

"Well, I ... I better go and have a shower. The weather is killing me."

"Oh, yes, of course, it's - hot."

Somewhat reluctantly Mac pushed her chair back and got up. She turned towards the door.

"Mac?"

"Yes?"

"Would you - like to go with me to the horses tomorrow? I'll go early in the morning because of the heat." Webb turned a knight in his hands. "But you probably have a lot of work to do..."

"No! Uhm, I mean: No, I - I would love - LIKE to go to the horses. Tomorrow."

"Fine."

"OK, fine."

A moment they looked at each other. Then Mac offered a short smile and left the room. .