Her glass sat crying tears onto the table as she watched. She'd been sitting there for hours in the dark. Now slices of light were beginning to fall through the cracks in the blinds, as she swore silently at their invasion of her privacy. She was late, really late, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't care. They'd come looking for her eventually, being two hours late for a meeting with the general tended to have that effect. By then however, she hoped to be blissfully gone into the oblivion of a drunken stupor. This however was a problem.
Her eyes welled painfully protesting as she recalled the last several days. Her life was going to hell in a hand basket and no one, not even Harm, had a clue. Harm, she thought bitterly, what good has he been? She grabbed the glass off the table and managed to take a swig, swallowing against her revolting body, savoring the burning sensation as the alcohol went down. Being a drunk was one thing she was good at; she could be as mean and vicious as she wanted. No more pretending that everything was ok when it wasn't. She took another gulp, gagging before she managed to swallow. She'd never kept alcohol around the house it'd be to tempting, but since Webb... since Webb, she'd kept one of his bottles in the back of the closet along with the rest of his stuff. She took another sip, this one going down a bit easier than the last.
Webb, she mused letting out an angry sigh, he's about as much good as Harm. She got up and began pacing, pausing at the mantle to glance at a picture taken at little AJ's baptism. It was hard to believe he was almost six now. Six years she'd been longing to have what Harriet has. She drained the glass to block out the thought and wandered into the kitchen to get another glass. Standing at the counter by the sink, she began to wonder how long it would take the righteous Harmon Rabb to come looking for her. Still in uniform from the day before, she could go into the office. At the thought, she tilted her head back and drained the glass. Work was the last thing she cared about anymore. She refilled the glass and stumbled back to the sanctity of her living room, the alcohol now beginning to take effect. She sat there for a while fighting the brimming tears, and musing how the alcohol had the opposite effect of what she had hoped.
She was drunk, but she was no less discontent. Angrily she threw the glass at the wall, the shattering sound giving her grim satisfaction. A knock sounded at the door. Alarmed, she realized whoever it was had been knocking for awhile. Why hadn't she noticed?
"Mac are you in there? We're getting worried about you. If you're in there, open the door. Mac, please..." She got up stumbling over to the door. Yanking it open, she caught him by surprised as he turned back toward her as the door opened.
"I'm running a little late," she slurred taking unstable steps toward him her eyes glassy from unshed tears and the alcohol.
"Oh God Mac" he mumbled as her body clasped against his and she slipped into oblivion.