When Mac first heard the knocking the very blood in her veins turned into ice. As far as she was aware nobody knew where she was. Not even their closest friends had been told. And Harm had no need to knock. She hesitated for a few moments, hoping that the person on the other side of the door would realize they were mistaken, that they have chosen the wrong door, and just move on, but the knocking came again. And again a minute later. Slowly, cautiously she made her way towards the door, the comforting weight of a gun in her right hand. She did not even attempt to hide it behind her back.
"Yes?" she forced out in a voice as calm as possible. Her grip on the weapon tightened.
"Well, I was just wondering if you would care for some company, considering Harm is making all the rounds over the town to talk to the insurance company and other good folks who are cleaning up the mess after that little fire of his place."
She stared at the door incredulously. She knew the voice, but could it really be?
"Jack?" she asked the panelled wood in front of her.
"That's right. Look, are you going to let me in or did Rabb come up with some stupid password I am supposed to guess?"
Mac opened the door an inch and peeked out. Sure enough, there he was. Jack Keeter with the biggest smile on his broad face, looking as bulky and as much trouble as he ever had.
"Hey, Sweetcheeks."
She relaxed and a ghost of a smile lit up her face. Yet by the time she let him in and put the gun down another feeling was beginning to gnaw at her. Irritation.
"Harm put you up to this," she stated.
"Of course," Keeter smile even more brightly than before. He had always liked Mac. From the very first they hit it off and even after their two days in the Iranian desert they kept in touch from time to time. A few times they ran into each other by chance, a few times he was passing through the town. There were birthdays and New Year calls. And there were actually one or two hiking trips they made together. Once when Brumby left her and her relationship with Harm seemed stuck on a dead point and she needed to vent. She wanted a closer view of Harm's psyche and talking to his best friend, whom she could actually trust not to tell, seemed like a good thing. They talked and while Keeter kept all of Harm's confidence and secrets, he did help her understand some points of his character and confirm some of her own suspicions. The other trip happened shortly after Bud's injury. Then she just wanted to feel all of her body pleasantly aching from the physical strain of the hike and Jack Keeter was again a perfect company. She just liked being with him and did not need to hide any longing, aching of love she had to with Harm. As far as she knew Harm never learned about those trips. There was simply no need for him to know.
And now Jack was standing in the room with her, as casual as ever and honest as only he could be.
"How much did he tell you?" she asked, suddenly worried. Jack Keeter was one of the people she valued. She did not want him to pity her. Or look down on her.
"Let's just say that if I ever see Clayton Webb again face to face he will not have a face any more," Jack said firmly and leaned against the wall.
Mac's shoulders sank a bit. "So you know everything," she repeated. Her shame was made public then. Harm went ahead and told Keeter. Who else had been told? Who else now knew? That feeling of irritation that had stabbed her earlier started to simmer. For the first time in weeks, she was... angry? Yes! Yes, she was angry. At Harm.
Jack watched the emotions flick over Mac's face and quickly added: "He did not give me any details, Mac. But I am his best friend and he asked me for help. I suppose he too needed to confide in someone. Don't be mad at him. At least not for this. I'm sure we can find something else you could and should be mad about over lunch."
"Lunch?" she blinked in surprise.
"Yeah, lunch. I am not having any serious discussion with you until you have stuffed yourself with something artery-clogging and topped it off with milkshake. I still remember how impossible you were that first time we went hiking until you have polished off both your and more importantly my snacks."
He laughed as he narrowly avoided being hit by a thrown pillow.
"That is a filthy lie, Keener!" she snapped at him with the nickname he had once earned from her.
"Whatever, Sweetcheeks," he returned the jab with a nickname of his own. "You are not rotting in this room for one more minute."
She hesitated.
"Jack... I really don't feel like going anywhere," she admitted, sitting on the bed and folding her hands in her lap. It was true. The optimist she had felt just two days ago was gone. She knew leaving the hotel would do her good, but she could no longer bring herself to do it. It just seemed like such an undertaking again. Perhaps if she could just go to be and sleep she would feel better tomorrow? But Keeter was having none of that apparently.
"I am not taking no for an answer, Mackenzie."
She sighed.
"OK, but... Jack, I have nothing to wear. And I am not saying it out of vanity. I literally have nothing to wear but this," she gestured to the sweater and jeans she was wearing, "and I have already had those on for three days.
"Well then it is a good thing Mr Rabb did not notice I borrowed his credit card the other day," Keeter smiled devilishly. "Let's go and get you some heels and dresses. And negligee. I am very fond of negligee."
Never in her life had Mac felt as exhausted after a shopping trip. And never in her life had she done her shopping practically running after 6+ feet booming aviator-spy, who showered her with tender words and next-to-harrassed the shop assistants who were never quick enough or their suggestions not good enough for "Sweetcheeks here". She bought two pairs of jeans, five sweaters, a hoodie, ten T-shirts and 5 shirts before she lost count and only later when Keeter dumped all of the bags and boxes on the floor, she remembered he had also insisted on shoes, a shawl, a pair of mittens and an evening dress. She did not even recall trying it on but there it was. Mercifully he let her buy new underwear by herself, but he still somehow during all of that figured out her measurements and she discovered a blood-red silk camisole in the bundle of clothing while unpacking and she just knew for sure she did NOT try that. This time Keeter proved too slow and a pillow hit him straight in the face.
"Just wait! You will thank me for it yet when Harmy-poo loses his senses and control seeing you in that!" he had the galls to say and fled from the room for a while. He was right. When Harm appeared later, rather worn and visibly tired, he just stopped and stared, and she was not even wearing it. Just seeing it on the top of the pile of clothes stopped him in his tracks.
"You've been...busy," he stammered out, his eyes still glued to the lacy thing which, as he was noticing, had delicate embroidery of tiny roses. Then he snapped out of his fascination when he realized something. "You went out."
"Yeah," she smiled. "I... I hope this is OK?"
"Oh... of course, why shouldn't it be OK? I just... I am worried about you, Mac. After what happened, there is no telling what Webb might try to do. You going out alone is a risk." As he said that, he moved closer, throwing his cover and briefcase away. One of his hands cupped her cheek and she leaned into it, her lips brushing his wrist.
"I wasn't alone. Jack went with me. Just imagine. Somehow he decided to vacation right next door to us. Isn't that a coincidence?"
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
He drew her into his arms completely and breathed into her hair. His day had been hellish. The insurance agent was insufferable, the visit to his ruined loft depressing and Meg... never, never had he thought she could turn on him in such way.
"I... should have told you."
"Yeah, you should have. Or you could have asked me before you talked to him."
"Are you mad at me?"
"I was for a bit. But then Jack took me shopping. And helped me choose everything."
His eyes flew to the red camisole.
"Everything?" he asked in a low voice.
"Everything," she confirmed sweetly.
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh. Now why don't you change, Jack actually bought some clothes for you too."
"If he thinks that is going to cover up the fact he chose certain things for you he has a big surprise coming."
She giggled. She actually giggled. He had forgotten that beautiful sound. Until now. He kissed her. Twenty minutes later they were sitting down with Keeter in the hotel restaurant. It was Jack who had persuaded them it was risk-free and they were both too tired to argue anyway.
"Traitor," Harm said to Keeter the moment they sat down. "You were not supposed to even breather a word about your presence here and instead you take my girl shopping." His tone was light, but the bitterness underlined it. He could not help it. What if something happened? Mac was supposed to be hidden away and safe. Or with him. He could hardly protest now, after the deed of the outing was done, considering nothing had happened and Mac actually looked more at ease than in a long time. Maybe he should be jealous of Keeter? How was it that he had struggled so much just to make her smile, while Jack could turn her into a woman most closely resembling her own self? That too in a day? Was really an open wallet and a trip down to the boutique such a mighty weapon?
"Your girl was dying of boredom and so was I," Keeter grimaced. Then he grew more serious and his voice low. "Anyway, since the moment you have contacted me I had set my own little net of friends and favours into motion and while I dressed up your girl I also collected some interesting information. So don't tell me how to do my job, Rabb."
"What new information?"
"About a certain piece of shit wearing ugly suits."
Under the table, Mac instinctively reached out to hold Harm's hand and already found his own waiting. Their fingers hungrily sank into each other and squeezed. Neither of them said a word and they just stared at Keeter.
"Turns out the shit-boy has pissed off even the most patient of men with blowing up your building. You were apparently not the only one fearing that a government building like JAG could be next and that would be way too much of a mess to explain. The mighty ones have already contacted Porter Webb and insisted on some new kind of a deal. The company can no longer risk his coming into the building. She agreed."
"And this new deal... means exactly what?"
"Well, Mama promised that in return for her boy's life she would get him some help herself. Why she did not do that in the first place is beyond me," Jack huffed out.
Harm felt Mac slightly trembling beside him as she said: "Because she raised him in a way that refused to acknowledge any weakness on his part. He had to be the best in everything from table manner and tango to ... everything that had to do with his job. He... he told me once... his childhood was like that and she never changed her attitude... and he never rebelled because he so wanted to be like his father. I imagine she simply refused to think he would not be able to get a grip himself. Until now."
"Well, from what I understand he is now under house arrest in one of those mansions of theirs. What exactly does that entail I have no idea," admitted Jack. "But the good news is that there is no immediate danger to either of you. Or any danger. And whatever were your plans," Jack said and looked directly at Harm, "need no longer be considered. You go and buy a house and procreate or play bingo every Thursday now."
Could it really be that easy? Harm had a difficult time believing it. And even if Webb had given up the chase... he still needed to pay. He needed to be punished.
He blinked when a pellet made of bread hit him in the face.
"Stop plotting a revenge, man!" Keeter said. "It's bad for digestion and I am hungry. And so is Sweetcheeks over there."
Sweetcheeks.
"Sweetcheeks?" he repeated and his gaze fell on Mac, expecting her to be frowning and shooting daggers from her eyes. Instead, he was stunned to see the brightest glow of pink blooming in her face. Was she... blushing?! Mac?! His Marine!? At being called Sweetcheeks?!
"Shut up Keener," was all she said.
"OK, what is going on?" he asked slowly, the previous grave tone of the conversation forgotten in an instant.
"Nothing is going on. But your girl here has broken my heart once upon a time and ever since that night I call her Sweetcheeks in honour of that tattoo on her posterior cause ain't that the sweetest... Ouch! Hey! I didn't even mention the Semper Fi on your... Ouch! Ouch!" Keeter cried out, snatching his arm away from a fork in Mac's hand. Her face was at present as red as a fire engine, while Harm's went positively ashen.
Keeter knew. He knew about Mac's tattoos. Both of them. The Semper Fi gently rolling across the right side of her hip bone. The blooming, delicate pink lotus flower adorning her rear. The answer to the question "how" was not complicated. Neither it was welcome.
"You didn't," Harm said quietly, his eyes boring holes into his friend. Friend?! A good friend indeed! How?! When?!
"I didn't what?" Jack asked, suddenly all innocence. He was nursing his jabbed arm, ready to spring out of his chair and flee. His eyes were mischievous but to Harm, they looked simply insolent. "Your girl here," Keeter tempted his luck further, "and I spent two unforgettable days in the desert and the experience was magical."
The only thing keeping Harm from hurtling himself at Jack was the sudden sound of Mac laughing. Much like he had been unprepared to hear her giggle earlier, Harm now turned his head and stared in amazement. Sarah Mackenzie was sitting beside him, laughing so hard she had trouble catching her breath. Her face was pink and animated, her eyes squinting in delight. People were looking at them curiously, but he could only see her. She was back. She was here. She still existed. She caught the look on his face and laughed even harder. Jack joined in. It took at least five minutes before she found her composure and was able to speak again.
"Yeah, true magic! Me having to shed my clothes in the middle of the night because YOU decided to camp on an anthill and me again, having to take the cactus needles out of your butt in the morning because you ran into one in the dark. And you were howling and keening the whole time! Real romance if there ever was one!"
"I still saw you naked," Keeter laughed.
"And you will never mention that again if you value your health!" Harm snapped back. The relief he felt at Mac's explanation was immense, but not immense enough to just let Keeter completely off the hook.
He suddenly remembered other things he needed to talk about. But they were ugly things. And here she was, beautiful and laughing. He decided he wanted that for a few moments longer. It could wait. Fraternization. Such an ugly word. An hour later they made their way back up, Keeter walking them to their door.
"Goodnight, Jack," said Mac and kissed his cheek.
"Goodnight, Sweetcheeks. Unless you want to come with me and then I could give you a great night?"
Harm gently pushed Mac away from Keeter.
"Keep going and your next bedfellow will be a bedpan," he warned him, only half in jest. "Oh! And wait a moment!" he added, quickly stepping into the room, grabbing the red silk garment and thrusting it into Keeter's face. "She ain't wearing that!"
Before either of them could say anything, Mac snatched the racy camisole from him.
"Yes she is," she smiled at Harm, winked at Keeter and disappeared into the room.
"Well, I guess I should wish you a great night," Jack laughed. Before he turned away, Harm caught his arm.
"How did you do that, Jack?" he asked sincerely. "How did you manage to make her be... so happy today? I have been trying to make her feel better for such a long time now. And she has become better, even content, but... I cannot remember when was the last time I saw her like this."
Mirth disappeared from Keeter's face, but his expression remained soft.
"Buddy, I suspect it is exactly because I am not desperately in love with her. Don't get me wrong, I love that woman in there and I hasten to add as a friend before you really hit me. But her pain is not my pain. I can see beyond it. And from the little I have seen and heard, you can't. You hover. You wrap her up in cotton wool. You kiss away her tears and would carry her on your back if you could, just so she wouldn't have to touch the filthy ground ever again. But that's just it. She was deeply hurt and so were you. You are trying to stop her from drowning in her pain while you are drowning yourself. She is not the only one who needs to heal."
"I cannot help it, Jack," Harm sadly shook his head.
"Try one thing, though. When you go into that room in the next few moments and find her there, waiting for you dressed in that fabulous camisole - you're welcome, by the way - try to see her as Mac. The Mac you fell in love with. Not a victim of a heinous crime. Not somebody who needs you to treat her with kid gloves all the time. Because she doesn't anymore. She is ready to let go of the hurt. She wants to. And it will not go her way all of a sudden. She needs therapy and understanding and friends and time to cry. But she also needs to know you see her as more than that. That you still see her as desirable and strong. That is what she needs right now. And if she already is in that red thing, she is probably pretty cold. So get in there, Hammer and hammer..."
"OK, you need to go. Night!" Harm barked out and briskly slipped into the room. He could hear Keeter laughing outside. Then he turned.
There she was.
In red.
Already cold.
And he silently did thank Jack Keeter then.
