A/N: Three!

Beautifully Broken

Chapter 3: Fallen Down

"Here." Harm handed Mac a glass of water and then moved to peek out the window. The wind was still howling, and visibility was only about one foot. She figured even if the worst of it was over by tonight, the roads still would be closed most of the day tomorrow. Another day of painful conversation with Harm.

Mac took a sip of her water, praying Harm wouldn't ask her anymore about what happened with Webb. Webb hadn't hurt her, not physically, but he'd preyed upon her weaknesses…her lack of self-esteem, the nagging thoughts that she was just as her father told her she was, and her history of alcoholism. It was only one drink, he told her. One drink that turned into two, then three, then more, until three weeks later when she finally came to her senses. She had made the choice to drink, but she wouldn't have if Webb hadn't encouraged it…

How is the salmon?"

"Wonderful." Mac motioned around her. "Thank you for this, Clay. I needed it."

"Work been a little rough?" Clay asked, sympathy in his gaze.

"Yeah, you could say that. We're shorthanded and Admiral Chegwidden has been…oh, Clay…we're not here to talk about me and my problems. We're here to celebrate you getting back in the field." She lifted her water glass toward him, doing her best to ignore the sparkling golden beverage next to her plate, then took a sip.

"You haven't touched your champagne, Sarah. Like you said we're here to celebrate."

"Um, I don't drink, Clay."

Clay's eyes widened in surprise. "Why not?"

"I, ah, just don't."

Clay's eyes narrowed and his gaze turned speculative. "Oh," he finally responded, while Mac could only sit there, uncomfortable and embarrassed.

"Can I get you something to drink, Sarah? I have a wine that will go perfectly with your chicken."

Mac looked down at her meal, her appetite waning. This wasn't the first time, nor even the second or third time Clay had offered her alcohol. She supposed now was as good as any to tell she was an alcoholic. "Yeah, about that…"

"I hate to drink alone," he wheedled.

"Well, Clay…I'm an alcoholic. I can't drink."

"You mean you won't drink."

"Can't, won't…does it matter? I'm not going to drink tonight or any night."

Clay stared at her for long seconds until he finally shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"Clay, haven't you had enough? You've already had at least four tonight, at the restaurant. And now this."

Clay rolled his eyes. "What does it matter? I'm not driving."

"Yes, but…Clay, I'm really worried about you. I grew up with an alcoholic. I was an alcoholic—"

"Don't you mean you are an alcoholic?"

"What?"

"Didn't you tell me once "once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic?"

"You know what I mean. I'm saying, though, that I know the signs. I don't want to see you go down the same path my father did."

"What about your path, Sarah? Seems like you turned out all right."

"Clay…" Mac hesitated. She wanted him to know that she was saying these things because she cared. She wished someone had come to her in the beginning of her spiral and warned her, stopped her, but she could hear the irritation in his voice.

"Sarah…"

Mac sighed. "It's just so hard to stop, Clay."

"You managed to stop."

"Yeah, and it took my best friend dying to see the light. I was at my absolute rock bottom then. I don't want you to get to that point."

Webb snorted. "Sarah, I think that ship sailed away in Paraguay."

"Oh, Clay…"

Clay shrugged. "Let's not talk about this anymore tonight, okay Sarah?"

"Okay…I just…well, I care about you, Clay." Mac gave him a tentative smile, and to her relief, he smiled back.

"Thank you, Sarah. I appreciate that more than you know."

"Well, Rabb's out."

"What?"

"Rabb. He's out of the CIA. Got a little too visible."

"What does 'a little too visible mean'?"

"It means he landed a C-130 on an aircraft carrier in front of an entire news team, and then doubled down by smiling at the cameras. He's a liability now."

"Oh, I suppose…is he okay?"

Clay frowned. "Why wouldn't he be?" He never really liked it when she talked about Harm.

"Well…he lost his job…again." Mac wrung her hands. "Because of what happened in Paraguay."

"Didn't I just tell you he was fired for showing his face to the world?" Clay scowled.

Mac scowled back. Clay didn't seem to understand what Harm had given up for her, for them. "If it weren't for Paraguay, he'd still be in the navy landing F-14's and handling cases at JAG. I'd better call him." She pulled out her cellphone.

Clay heaved an annoyed sigh. "How many times have you called him, Sarah? And how many times has he called you back? Remind me…zero?"

"Clay…"

"You care too much about him, Sarah. You've called him, what, nineteen, times—"

"Seventeen," she interjected.

"Fine, seventeen calls. And he's never returned a single one. Don't you think it's time to move on? It's obvious he doesn't care for you the way you do about him. Let him go."

"It's not that easy, Clay. He's been my best friend for over seven years. He's stood by me so many times."

"And how many times have you stood by him?"

"He's my friend, Clay." Her voice rose with every word, and she wondered why Clay was needling her about Harm—Harm, the man who'd rescued them both.

"Is he? Well, I guess…you know, I ran into him a couple of weeks ago. He told me to give you his regards."

"Oh, he did, did he? Why is this the first I've heard about it?"

"Well, he seemed rather…insincere."

"Oh."

"What's wrong with you?"

"What?" Mac's head snapped up to see Clay stepping into her apartment. She quickly brushed the tears from her cheeks.

"I asked what's wrong."

Mac shook her head. "Oh, nothing…it's just…"

"Harm?"

"How did you know?"

"Well, I heard through the grapevine that he was back at JAG." Webb slipped off his jacket and draped it over a chair before sitting down next to her on the couch. "And I know that nobody upsets you more than he does."

"He doesn't upset me, Clay!" she spat indignantly.

"Really? why are you crying?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Clay."

"But—"

"No. Look, once he adjusts to being back, I'm sure we'll be our friendly selves again."

"Are you sure, Sarah? He never did call you back…"

"Well, he was upset."

"And now you're upset."

"Yeah."

"Look, let's not sit here and dwell on Rabb. Let's go out."

Mac looked down at the sweats she'd donned after she'd returned home. "I'm not really dressed for it."

"You could change."

"Please, Clay. I'm tired and I'm just not up to it. I'm not even that hungry."

Clay nodded. "Okay, Sarah. Hey, if you're not that hungry, how 'bout I whip you up a little something in the blender—you need a little nutrition, Sarah. You're way too thin."

I'm not too thin, she thought to herself.

Well, you have lost weight…

Not that much…

You've gone down a size in your uniform…

But I'm really not hungry right now…

Do you really want to lose any more weight, Sarah? Uniforms are expensive.

Mac smiled. "Okay, Clay. I'd love it if you made me something."

"Great!"

Five minutes later, he brought her a fruit and protein smoothie. It really was quite good.

Mac smile to herself. It was nice to have someone around who cared.

"Hey."

Mac looked up from the coffeemaker to see Harm entering the lounge. "Hey," she answered, her eyes quickly dropping back to the dark liquid as it dripped into the pot.

"Look, I'm sorry about the other day." Harm stepped up next to her and pulled a coffee mug out of the cupboard above their heads.

"Why? You didn't say anything that wasn't true."

"But I shouldn't have said it in front of…everyone. It was below the belt."

Mac snorted. "Well, it was that."

"Mac…"

"Don't worry about it, Harm. It's already forgotten."

"Mac…okay, thanks. I really am sorry."

Mac gave him a smile that most definitely did not reach her eyes. "I know, Harm. See you later." She turned around from the now finished pot of coffee. "Have a good day."

"You t—hey, Mac. You forgot your coffee!" he called after her.

Mac ignored him and continued down the hall. Coffee, even coffee from a fresh pot, didn't appeal to her any longer. What appealed to her was the bottle of vodka she'd stashed in her apartment.

"So let me get this straight…Harm goes on about your alcoholism in front of an entire court and then in front of everyone in the bullpen…and you let him off after a half-assed apology?" Clay stared at her incredulously.

"Clay, there was no point in rehashing it again. I'd rather just move on."

Clay nodded. "Fair enough…but I know you're still upset. "

Mac whipped around. "Of course, I'm still upset! But I just want to forget it. Besides, Harm is just…"

"Mad at you? How long, Sarah, is he going to hold a grudge?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I know. He's never going to let it go, not when he's still acting like this after all these months."

"He just needs time, Clay. But I've accepted that our friendship is over. Do I wish he was friendlier? Yes. But I get it."

Clay reached out and rested his hands on her shoulders. "I just don't like to see you hurt, Sarah. You can tell me all night long that you understand his behavior, but I know it still bothers you. A lot."

Mac abruptly pulled away from Clay. "Fine…it does bother me. He's been an absolute jackass, but how can I blame him? I ruined his life!"

"Dammit, Sarah!" Clay suddenly exploded. "You didn't ruin his life! He's just pissed that you didn't fall in his arms and run off into the sunset with him. He's jealous."

"Of what, Clay?"

"Of you and me."

Mac's mouth dropped open in shock. "Clay, there is…there is no 'you and me.'"

Clay waved her protest away. "Oh, I know that, Sarah. But Harm doesn't seem to believe that. You have to admit, we did get closer in Paraguay…and Harm, well, Harm only sees what he wants to see."

"Are you saying he wants to see us as a couple?"

"No, no…but for some reason, even after all the years he's known you, he doesn't trust you."

"Well, maybe I've given him a few reasons not to trust me over the years."

"Really? Well, I bet that goes both ways, Sarah." Clay turned and pulled a tumbler from his cupboard. "You want a drink, Sarah? You're so tense."

"Clay…"

"I know, I know…you don't drink. You think you aren't strong enough to resist. But Sarah, I know you are. I know you are strong. Just one drink—"

"It's never just one drink, Clay."

"Oh, Sarah…I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. The way Harm will never see you."

Mac swallowed hard. Maybe Clay was right…what difference would one drink make…but no. She couldn't even flirt with that path again…

So why do you have a bottle of vodka in your freezer, Sarah? she asked herself. She didn't get an answer.

"You're so tense tonight, Sarah," Clay spoke as he rubbed her shoulders. It was an oft repeated phrase, and it was certainly a true one.

"Well, you know…"

"I'm sure. A four-letter word starting with 'H', right?"

"No…"

Clay snorted. "Right."

"Clay, it's not Harm."

"Really…then what—"

"I bought a bottle of Vodka, Clay!"

Mac waited for Clay to respond, preparing herself for his shock.

There was no shock.

"So?"

"So?!" Mac jumped off the couch. "I'm an alcoholic, Clay!"

"But did you drink it?

"No."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I want to."

I want to…

Mac sat on the bed, sipping her water as she remembered the night she'd admitted to Webb she wanted a drink. Clay had remained silent for several seconds then pulled her back down to sit next to him again. He resumed rubbing her shoulders…while he told her she was strong. One drink would not be a problem. She knew now what would happen if she kept drinking. She was too smart to go down that path again…

Except she wasn't…

She took one drink of that vodka…then two…then an entire glass…and it felt so good to forget that she kept going…

Mac brushed a few tears aside, hoping Harm wouldn't notice she was sitting there silently crying. Finally, after a few weeks of drinking, she'd woken up with the worst hangover she'd had in years, called into work, and then dumped every bottle of booze she had. Later that night, she'd gone over to Webb's to tell him she couldn't spend time with him anymore, not when he was drinking more and more heavily. Her sobriety was as fragile as it had ever been, and she couldn't jeopardize it by being constantly exposed to alcohol. She'd begged Clay to understand why she had to this, to understand she still cared deeply for him, but he hadn't.

Things turned ugly…the things he'd said…horrible, awful things about her character…about her desperation, her history with men, and the embarrassing way she'd gone after Harm for years when he didn't give a damn about her. He wouldn't let her leave, taunted her with alcohol, held her down…not to rape her, but to intimidate her and keep her as a captive audience. She'd been so sick that whole day and as she lay there under him, sobbing and pleading, she'd felt so useless. None of her marine training was going to rescue her this time. Her head pounded still, she was dizzy, and had been weakened by nights of drinking and not eating. It wasn't until she was obviously going to vomit that he let her go. She ran then, barely making it outside before she threw up on the sidewalk.

She'd practically crawled her way back to her car, then drove home. She really didn't know how she'd made it, given how she'd collapsed on the floor the minute she'd locked her door behind her. She woke up in that same spot five hours later, terribly sore, and terribly devastated. She'd called into work for the rest of the week, then dragged herself to her bed. She'd slept for nearly twelve hours, passed out in the shower when she tried to wash the day before away, then had a neighbor take her to the hospital for IV fluids. She'd admitted to the ER doctor what happened and for the first time in days, weeks, months, she felt relief. She could get help.

Over the next weeks Mac went to AA meetings nearly daily. She fought the cravings, fought the urge to confront Webb for his part in all of this, and gave up on Harm. Unfortunately, all of that didn't make her less angry about Webb, less embarrassed that she'd once again ruined years of sobriety, and less hurt by Harm. The idea of transferring took shape, and she'd gone to Chegwidden. She didn't tell him that she planned to retire as soon as she got her twenty, or that she was considering leaving even before then. She would like a couple of kids. It pained her they wouldn't be Harm's but there were other ways…she vowed to start looking into that when they finally got home. But until then…she'd sit here and cry. And ignore Harm…if he'd let her…but of course he wouldn't.

"Mac, Mac…please talk to me. If We—if he—did anything to you…"

"He didn't do anything to me, Harm. At least nothing I didn't let him do."

"You slept with him?"

"No…not that it's any of your business."

"I'm sorry…but Mac…what happened?"

A harsh bark of laughter escaped Mac. "I did what I've done twice before, Harm."

"What?"

"I fell off the wagon, Harm. I drank."

"Oh, Mac…"

"But then I impressed myself…I quit cold turkey…for the third time, if you're counting, Harm."

"I'm not…oh…"

"Oh," Mac agreed.

"So…" Harm continued. "Webb, ah, made you drink, then?"

Mac shook her head. "No."

"Then what—"

"He made me feel like it was my only option."

"Only option for what?"

"To forget."

With a shrug, Mac stood and walked into the bathroom, leaving Harm standing alone, a stricken look on his face.

End Chapter 3