A/N: I don't know if such a place exists in DC. If so, any similarities are a coincidence.

Solitary Man

Fifth Quarter Bar, Washington, DC
December 20, 2003
1930 Local

Harmon Rabb sat in a booth facing the entrance of the bar and took a drink of bourbon. He had never liked sitting with his back to a door, but it had gotten worse in the last few weeks. Maybe it was a heightened sense of awareness or because of his latest mission, but of late, he often felt someone was watching him.

A look around the room revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Several people sat at the bar, nursing beers, and eyes glued to the television. A couple sat at the next booth. They were laughing and totally absorbed in one another.

A wave of sadness for what might have been overcame Harm. He had made his share of mistakes with Mac, but he thought she would have understood why he resigned his commission to find her.

Yes, he should have told her. Shouldn't have tabled the conversation. The one time when he thought she was about to understand Spook Boy interrupted with his comment about his "honeymoon" with Sarah. Webb clearly had an agenda when he'd asked Mac to accompany him on the mission.

And somehow, Spook Boy had got the girl. It still hurt when he remembered Mac's words. "There's never going to be an us…"

If there's never going to be a future with Mac, then I'll remain single for the rest of my life. Guess that's not a bad idea, given the job I have.

But the sensation of being watched wouldn't go away, so he took another look around the room. That's when he saw the woman. She sat alone on the far side of the bar, and her eyes were transfixed on Harm. Under other circumstances, he might have taken a second look. She was attractive and had shoulder-length blonde hair.

What did Mac say when his Corvette was stolen? Something about a guy wanting a car that came standard with a long-legged blonde. Yeah, he'd dated his share of them. But none compared to a brown-eyed, brown-haired marine.

Harm looked away, then took a sip of his drink, hoping he hadn't attracted the blonde's attention. But from the corner of his eye, he saw her slip off the barstool and begin walking his way.

He glanced at his watch. Of all times for Sturgis to be running late. Harm alternated between tapping his fingers on the table and looking at his watch. Maybe she'd get the hint and pass by. No such luck.

"Did your date stand you up?" Her voice was low and seductive.

"Date? What makes you think that?"

"You keep looking toward the door. Acting impatient. If you want company—."

"No. My friend should be here anytime. In fact, here he comes now." Harm breathed a sigh of relief when Sturgis walked through the door, then stood to greet his old academy mate and former colleague, ignoring the woman.

She looked toward the door. "Oh, I see," she said before walking away.

"Hey, buddy," Sturgis said. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic on the beltway was worse than usual."

"What'll you have?"

"Beer."

Harm flagged down a passing waiter. "A beer for my friend here, and I'll have another bourbon."

"Coming right up."

"Who was the blonde?" Sturgis asked as they both sat down.

Harm shrugged. "I don't know. Someone looking for a good time."

"She's a looker. Maybe my timing was wrong."

"No. I was about to tell her to get lost when you came along." Harm burst out laughing as he realized what the woman must have been thinking.

"Good to hear you laugh, man. Haven't seen you do much of that lately."

"Not much to laugh about."

"Tell me about it. The last month at the office has been like working in a morgue."

The waiter arrived. Sturgis took a drink of his beer. "So, have you talked to Mac lately?"

"No. Why would I?"

"I think you should, Buddy."

"Sturgis, Mac isn't interested in talking to me. We have no future together—her choice. She's with Webb now. End of story."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. He was at the office a couple of days ago, and she practically threw him out."

"Yeah, well, probably a lover's spat. She made it a point to bring up his name in almost every one of those seventeen phone calls she made to me. At least she's stopped doing that."

"Mentioning Webb or stopped calling?"

"Calling. I told you Mac and I don't have anything to say to one another."

"I'm not buying that. She asked if I'd seen you. Seemed surprised that not only we talk regularly, but also that you visited with Bud and Harriet. I think she feels left out."

"Her choice. I don't want to talk about Mac. That part of my life is over."

"Doesn't have to be."

Harm downed the remaining bourbon. "Look, Sturgis. Even if we were on speaking terms, getting involved in a relationship right now is out. Not with the kind of job I have now."

"You had a choice to come back to JAG?"

Harm jerked his head in surprise. "Who told you that?"

"Come on, man. Everyone knows. Hard to keep secrets around that place. I suppose you had your reasons."

"I did. And it's a need to know basis. End of discussion." Harm stood, then threw some bills on the table. "Drinks are on me. I gotta go."

"I thought you said he was available," the blonde said into her cell phone.

"He is."

"Then why was he meeting some guy in a bar?"

"A guy?"

"Yeah. He couldn't get rid of me fast enough."

"What did the man look like?"

"Average height. Light skinned African American. Maybe late thirties. Know him?"

"Yeah. Commander Sturgis Turner with the JAG corps. They go back a long way. They're friends. Nothing more."

"Well, he certainly wasn't interested in talking to me. How am I supposed to get information from him if he won't even talk to me?"

"Just be patient. He'll come around."

"So, are you going to arrange another 'chance' meeting?"

"Give me a few days. If he's in town, I know exactly where he'll be on Christmas Eve."

CIA Headquarters
December 22, 2003
1000 Local

When Harm stepped off the elevator on his way to Kershaw's office, he wasn't surprised to see Clayton Webb. Somehow the man had wormed his way into Harm's assignment, despite Kershaw's opinion that he would find a way to screw it up.

What did surprise him was the look on Webb's face. It was beat red, and his usual aloft expression was absent. The elevator door had already closed, and Webb pounded on the button as if doing so would expedite the car's arrival.

Harm couldn't resist taking a jab. "Rough morning, Spook Boy?"

"Don't start with me, Rabb. If I find you had anything to do with this, you'll be sorry."

"Don't know what you're talking about, but I'd take a guess and say you're off the Sadik assignment."

"You did talk."

"Only to inform him how Beth O'Neal and I waited three days for your so-called informant to show up. We wasted valuable time because of your false information. As we have every step of the way."

"You'll pay for this. Thanks to you, I've been relegated to the role of desk jockey again. Pushing papers. Seems I'm no longer wanted in the field."

"It was your doing, Webb. Too many botched assignments. Too much useless information. Besides, being a desk jockey fits you, Spook Boy. That way, you don't have to soil your hands or your designer suits."

"That's it, isn't it? You're jealous. You can't afford to live the lifestyle I do, so you'll do anything to undermine me."

"Webb, my stepfather is the VP of Chrysler. We may not be "old money" like your family, but I can assure you I grew up comfortably. And as for your lifestyle, you've got nothing I want." Harm turned, then walked toward Kershaw's office.

"Except for Sarah," Webb called out.

It took every ounce of restraint for Harm not to respond. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and knock the smirk he knew would be on Webb's face. Instead, he continued walking, never breaking his stride.

Kershaw's secretary waved him through. When he entered the office, the director was on the phone, but he motioned for Harm to sit down.

"I'm glad you called me… It's something I needed to hear… I believe I've taken care of the situation, but if he comes to you again, let me know immediately. I did not approve of his request to involve any JAG officers for an assignment… Thanks, Admiral. Same to you." Kershaw ended the call.

Harm's eyebrows shot up at the mention of JAG.

"That was your former CO. He called earlier to inform me Webb had requested Col. Mackenzie for a temporary assignment with the CIA. Chegwidden refused, of course. But what's worse, Webb lied about it. Said he had both mine and the SECNAV's approval. I don't know what he's up to, but I don't like it."

"I saw him in the hallway. He's not happy about being taken out of the field. Blamed me."

Kershaw shook his head. "Not your fault. I don't take kindly to dishonest agents. Webb has given me more than enough reasons of late to be concerned about his performance. One more stunt like this, and I'm placing him on suspension. I don't care who his father was or what connections he has."

"Can't say that I blame you."

"Now that Webb's out of the picture, maybe we can make some progress on finding Sadik. You'll be working with Brandon Vance. He's dependable and trustworthy. He won't let you down."

JAG Headquarters
December 22, 2003
1700 Local

Mac sat at her desk, wrapping up the mound of administrative paperwork that had accumulated over the past couple of weeks. Being short of an attorney made her job as Chief of Staff more difficult. She'd spent so much time in the courtroom of late, and she'd neglected her other duties.

Looked to be a long night. She didn't have any new cases for the next few days, so if she worked late tonight, then spent tomorrow on administrative functions, she should be caught up by Christmas Eve.

Not that she had any plans for the holiday. Clay had called again over the weekend, trying to persuade her to spend Christmas with him and "Mother." When confronted about his lie to Chegwidden about her agreeing to work with him on an assignment, he blew it off.

"So I told him a little white lie. I knew you would agree if I asked."

"That's where you were wrong. I once told Mic Brumby never to assume, and I'm warning you of the same."

"Does that mean you won't spend Christmas with me?"

"I have no desire to spend Christmas or any other day with you. It's over Clay. Get out of my life and leave me alone."

"You don't mean that."

"Yes. I do. Now, I'll thank you to stop calling." She slammed the receiver.

When thinking back over the conversation, Mac had a feeling she hadn't seen the last of Clay. She shook her head. He'd changed over the past several months. Or maybe he'd always been this way. She just hadn't known him.

"Excuse me, Colonel," Harriet Sims stood at the door.

"What is it, Harriet?"

"I know it's sort of last minute, but I wanted to invite you to the house for Christmas dinner. That is unless you have plans."

Mac smiled. "That's sweet of you, Harriet, but I wouldn't be good company."

"Nonsense. It's going to be a small gathering. Big Bud and Mikey, of course, and a few friends."

"Did you invite Harm? I doubt he'd want to see me."

"Bud did, but he declined. Said he wasn't even sure if he'd be in town. His job often takes him away, you know."

"So I've heard. Harm doesn't talk to me. Apparently, I'm the only one here except for the admiral that he's not in contact with."

"Ma'am," Harriet began. "What happened in—"

"Don't ask. Things have always been complicated with Harm and me. Let's just leave it at that."

"Okay, Ma'am. If you change your mind about Christmas, the invitation is open."

"Thanks, Harriet. That means a lot to me."

North of Union Station
December 22, 2003
1830 Local

Harm entered his loft, went directly to the refrigerator, and pulled out a beer. The meeting with his new partner had gone smoothly. Brandon Vance had been with the agency for ten years. He was no-nonsense and pulled no punches when it came to voicing his opinion of Clayton Webb.

"He had the potential to be a good operative, but the last few months have taken a toll on him."

Harm tried to be gracious in his response. "I guess getting tortured will do that to you."

"I'm not talking about Paraguay. He started screwing up before then. Kershaw did right by putting him on desk duty."

They spent the rest of their meeting discussing strategies. Vance had information that Sadik was somewhere in the Middle East. "We don't think he'll make any moves until after the first of the year. Might as well enjoy the next few days because it's going to get busy."

"Just how reliable is your source?" Harm had asked.

"Better than anything Webb has. I trust this man with my life. I have on several occasions."

"Then that's good enough for me."

Harm sat the beer on the coffee table, then reached for his guitar. Playing relaxed him. He had the next few days to rest, and he planned to take advantage of that time. If what Vance said was right, there was no telling what the new year would bring.

A/N: Solitary Man by Neil Diamond