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


August 2007, Monday

- A hospital in Washington D.C.

Clayton Webb sipped angrily at his cup of water. His face dangerously dark although calm on the outside ... an expression AJ would have known all too well.

He hated hospitals. He always had but after two years of treatments, therapies, catheters, infusions and more of that kind his distaste had turned a solid phobia. He hated feeling helpless, being at the mercy of strangers. Just as he had felt in that trunk.

Gritting his teeth Webb took another sip.

Yeah, that trunk he would never have ended up in if he had recognized Johnson from the start and damn, he should have despite the old picture, the man's masquerade, the uniform he was expecting or that he had still no clue what kind of connection was between the former Marine and Rabb's assistant. Damn that he had been so engrossed in finding a link between Johnson and Vendell that he must have overlooked something else. And damn that so far nobody had thought it necessary to call and tell him if Mac was safe.

Well, and of course it hadn't helped much to lighten his mood that a definitely concerned but fuming Harrison had stormed out of the room with the words: "I'll come back after you've stuck your head in a bucket of cold water!" just a few minutes ago. So Webb did neither bother to answer as he heard a reluctant knock at the door nor to lift his head as it opened after a moment.

"Clay?" Mac stepped hesitatingly into the room and breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good, you are awake."

Webb started slightly at her voice then narrowed his eyes. "Well, why shouldn't I be? I had quite a nice rest this morning. A little bit uncomfortable and hot but really not much to do."

Mac blinked a second, somewhat confused about the sarcastic comment but then the already impressive bruise on Webb's forehead caught her eye. Swallowing hard she walked towards the bed and sat gingerly on the edge of the chair beside it. She cleared her throat.

"Harm ... Harm drove me over. He's searching a parking space right now. General Cresswell sent me home for the rest of the day after all that happened." A moment she clasped her hands tightly without looking at him then she sighed. "Clayton, I'm so sorry you got dragged into this."

Webb had a sharp reply on the tip of his tongue but swallowed it as he saw the small band-aid™ on her right jawbone. He pointed at it.

"Johnson? Didn't AJ reach Rabb in time?"

"Oh, that. It's just a scratch." Mac - somewhat distracted by seeing the ice pack on the bed under Webb's right arm - touched the tiny cut. "The bastard waited in my office when I came out of court. I fought him off and the next second Harm was storming in with the cavalry."

Webb snorted bitterly. "Some hero I am."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Mac considered the man in front of her with growing concern, the ice pack forgotten. "Clay, are you all right? You look a bit flushed. Do you have a temperature?"

"Oh, could be." Webb shrugged exaggeratedly. "It happens easily without a spleen."

"What?"

He smiled at the ceiling. "I can say hello to Bud."

When there was no response he looked back at her. Her expression was shocked and a tiny bit angry.

"I didn't know that! Anything else I don't?"

Again he considered the ceiling and pursed his lips. "Missing kidney?"

"How can you joke about something like that!" Upset Mac jumped to her feet. And against her will it came out like an accusation.

Immediately Webb's head snapped around. "Oh, excuse me, but I've had more than two years to get used to it! It isn't all that new to ME!"

Mac stumbled a step backwards at this unexpected attack. Her eyes narrowed angrily. "Well, SORRY I care!"

"Care? Why would you care, Mac? Why? After all these years?"

"I start wondering myself!"

"Well, then take your time finding the answer! Maybe you'll find a real one for a change!"

Mac's eyes were blazing fire. "How dare you!"

"Me? What, Mac? What? What did you expect? " Webb laughed into her face. "Excuse me, but I didn't walk back into your life. I let you go!"

"Let me go? Let me go?" Mac was fuming. "Oh, really? And when would you have told me that your pseudonym for the audiobooks is an anagram to my name?"

Webb jerked back. A moment he stared at her and if Mac hadn't been so angry and upset and simply at the end of her nerves she would have seen the panic in his eyes. But she saw his hand shaking as he tried to put the cup to the side and instinctively she reached out to take it from him.

It was the worst thing to do.

"DARN IT, DON'T MOTHER ME!"

Webb threw the cup across the room. It slammed against the wall, spilling the little water left in it all over the floor. And suddenly he wanted nothing more than to make her leave; she was too close, too real, stirring up emotions, the old, familiar pain he had thought buried safely deep down inside; needed to make her leave at all costs before she could see too much. His eyes dark with fury he rounded on her again.

"Who do you think you are? Florence Nightingale? I don't need this! I don't need this from anybody! Why did you come back? Why did you come here? To pity me? Then take your pity and GO HOME to your spoiled life and leave me alone! Go back to Harm! Go back to whoever you want! But just leave me alone!"

Again Mac stumbled backwards under his seething rage and it fueled her own. "Pity you? Pity you? MY spoiled life?" She stormed towards the door. "I wouldn't dream of pitying a jerk like you!"

The slamming door shook the room and it shook Webb down to the core. An endless moment he just stared at it in disbelief. Then he fell back into the pillow and groaned.

"Oooh, idiot, idiot, IDIOT!"


Harm's car, en route to Georgetown

Harm stole another little glance at the woman in his passenger seat. Her dark expression hadn't changed since she had nearly knocked him down in the hospital corridor and slapped a harsh 'Drive me home! Now!' around his ears. A little guardian angel had told him just in time not to object. Again he glanced at her.

"Hmmm... You want to talk about it?"

"No!"

"OK," Harm agreed quickly and rolled his eyes against the windshield. Mac kept glaring down at her hands. A few minutes passed.

"He is such a jerk!"

Harm cocked an eyebrow at her sudden outburst but remained silent.

"An idiot!"

He said nothing.

"Stupid idiot."

Pause. Harm waited.

"All I wanted to do was to take this stupid cup for him. And he blew up at me." She snorted. "Pity him!"

Next pause. Harm risked a glance. She was tugging at her shirt. Hard.

"He had no reason to snap at me like that. Not one single reason!"

Silence again.

Harm inhaled deeply. "You know, after my accident ... after they had told me I had to quit flight duty because of my night vision... I really wanted to slam my fist into the face of any pilot who ran across. I wanted to wipe that darn pitying, understanding smile out of their faces, out of their eyes..." He sighed. "A long time I wanted to hit anybody who looked at me so - so darn gentle whenever they learned the reason why I had to stop flying ... even you."

Mac slowly turned her head and stared at him. "You never told me that. You never talked about it."

He kept his eyes on the road. "Pity hurts, Mac. Somehow it hurts the most. Ask Bud. And don't ask me how Clayton blew up at ME last Thursday when I started telling him that I'm sorry."

Mac looked through the windshield. "It ... it was a stupid cup. And he barked at me right from the start ... as soon as I had set foot in his room... He - he got angry when I told him how I kicked Johnson's butt before the guards arrived. Talked weirdly about heroes and that he had had a nice rest in this trunk..."

"A guy has his pride, Mac."

She snorted. "Pride? PRIDE? That's what this is all about? Some stupid macho thing?"

"Oh, don't be fooled, Mac." Harm slowed down and stopped in front of a red light. "It may be in vogue to be a softie but centuries of conditioning are not that easy to overcome. Any man still dreams of rescuing the woman from highest danger illogical and unnecessary as it might be." He tapped on the steering wheel. "I mean think about it, Mac. You've seen Webb in many low points of his life ... Columbia ... Paraguay ... when he had those shaking hands... And just to mention it - sometimes you caught me at the wrong time too. A guy doesn't like that. I guess lots of women wouldn't like that either."

Again he traced a finger up and down the round. When he heard nothing he reluctantly turned his head and found her staring at him with a strange expression on her face. He shrugged.

"Why have you never been able to talk like this while we were married?" Mac asked finally.

A wry grin played around Harm's lips. "Why have you never been able to listen like this?"

Mac sat back and closed her eyes. "Touché."

The traffic light changed to green and Harm shifted gears. Some minutes they drove in silence before they had to stop again. Mac rubbed at the band-aid™ on her jaw.

"Why are you doing this?"

Harm looked at her. "Why am I doing what?"

Mac made a vague gesture with her hand. "This ... everything. Why are you still here? Why am I sitting in your car? Years and years we danced around each other, hurt each other and when we tried we failed, we got divorced ... and sometimes it was so ugly. Why are you still...?" She paused and shook her head.

Harm sighed. "Maybe because I still care? Maybe because you are still important to me and I - I still wonder if we have a second chance ... to make things right?" He looked into her eyes. "Despite the fact that it WAS ugly sometimes?"

"Oh, Harm." Mac put her head back and stared into the blue sky. "Don't you think we've had enough second chances for more than one lifetime?"

Smiling sadly Harm shifted gears. "True. But I'm not talking about getting back together. I - I mean - I wanted to say that ... just because we are - uhm - NOT ... doesn't mean we've got to disappear out of each other's lives, does it?"

"I don't know, Harm. I simply don't know." Mac heaved a sigh of her own. "You really think we could pull this off? As ... friends? On average that's highly unlikely for a divorced couple."

"When have we ever been like the average?"

She chuckled. "And again you have a point."

He just grinned. The ringing of a cell phone interrupted any further conversation. Harm fished his out of his breast pocket and answered. "Rabb. Yes, she's here. One second." He held it out to Mac. "Your assistant. You forgot your cell at the office."

"Oh." Mac frowned. "Nancy? No, no, not at all. Tomorrow? No, I'll be in. No, it's not necessary to cancel the meeting. Yes, I'm sure. No problem, Nancy, it was right to ask I should have told you. Bye."

Mac lowered the cell phone in her lap. Harm stopped in front of the old townhouse she had moved in after they had given up their joint apartment. A moment they just looked at each other then Mac opened the door and struggled out of the corvette. She took her time digging out the keys. The silence was somewhat awkward. Finally Mac lifted her eyes again and met his.

"Well..."

"Well..." Harm tapped on the steering wheel then suddenly held out his hand. "Then ... so long ... partner."

Mac tilted her head, blinked ... and took it in a strong grip. The corners of her mouth twitched. "At least you didn't call me Tonto."

Harm grinned - his unbelievable flyboy-grin - and squeezed her hand. "I would not have dared."

Laughing shortly Mac shook her head at him and turned away. He watched her climbing up the three steps to the entrance. In the doorway she looked back over her shoulder and gave him a last smile that he answered with one of his own. Then he nodded slowly to himself and reached for the key. Partners, yes. Maybe friends again, one day. Maybe they had finally settled the dance for good. He turned the ignition and peered in the side mirror then pulled out into the street.

Meanwhile Mac had crossed the stairwell and slid the key into the lock of her apartment door. After pushing it open she watched a second as it started closing on its own. How many times had she cursed the damn thing because of that. Under normal circumstances she would never have considered first floor anyway ... but she had been so eager to move out of their joint apartment at that time she would have taken almost anything. She had thought she would never be able to be in the same room as Harm again. Now... It felt good. It felt right. It felt as if a huge weight had finally been lifted off her shoulders. Smiling to herself she set her briefcase on the floor, turned to put the keys on the small table ... and found Harm's cell phone still in her hand.

"Oh, darn it!"

Cursing she spun around, grabbed the door just as it was about to fall shut and run out and through the stairwell. The door opened wider still from the push she had given it, stopped a second as the energy faded and slowly started closing again.

"Harm!"

Mac jumped down the entrance steps and looked both sides. To the left she saw the tail lights of Harm's corvette light up as he slowed down to take the corner. The apartment door moved steadily.

"Harm!"

Once more glancing left and right Mac ran out on the street, waving the cell phone.

"Harm! Your cell!"

The apartment door hesitated a split second, riding on an invisible draft of air through the small gap to the frame ... and fell shut. The explosion rocked the building, shattered most windows in the next houses and sent Mac flying in a hail of broken glass and stones, almost ten feet across the street.