Part 5
JAG Ops
Tuesday
January 20
We’ve known each other for eight years. We’ve gotten each other into and out of trouble so many times I’ve lost count. We have been inexorably tied together, friends and colleagues, gentle adversaries, not true opponents. But that’s all came crashing down around us. It started in San Diego, but it came to fruition at breakfast. God, that was a hideous breakfast. I can’t believe that Harm did that. I can’t believe he waited so long to confront me on this new wonderful thing with Clay. That he sulked was to be expected. I was prepared for a campaign of long looks and cutting remarks. I wasn’t – I’m not prepared for a head on attack. What am I going to do with him? What the hell am I going to do with Clay? How dare he break that news to me like that? Is this an omen of the way things will be? But to be fair, I know that he was trying to get up the nerve to break it to me before Harm walked in. How are we going to survive this? When this is over, one of them will be hurt. Oh God, why did I think that? Harm will be hurt. I’m in this for the long run with Clay. I’m not going to let my feelings for Harm ruin another chance at happiness.
"Mac?"
Thank God, a diversion. I don’t have to think about Harm right now. "Hi Sturgis, you ready to talk about the Hanson case?"
He sits down, and begins to make his argument for a plea. But, today, his deep baritone can’t keep my attention. Damn you, Harm. Why? Why now? But of course, I know why now.
"So, you agree with me?" Sturgis is studying me carefully, and I have no idea whether I agreed to let his client, accused of conduct unbecoming, off with a written warning or to go to the Army/Navy game with him – Sturgis, not his client. "You’re not with me here, are you, Mac?"
I sigh. I once confided in this man. I shouldn’t have, but I did, and for a while I thought my declaration solidified my feelings. Now, I know all it did was bring another player into the soap opera of my life. "Two months loss of pay and twenty hours of working with abuse victims." By the look on his face, it’s less than he’d pleaded.
"You want to talk?"
"God, no." He’s shocked at my vehemence, but I wave him away. "I suspect that I’m going to get my fill of talking today." I really like Sturgis. I sometimes feel guilty not working harder on my other friendships here at JAG – and outside, too. "But thanks."
He stands and looks down at me. "You and Harm are good people, Mac. I know he can be…" He considers his words carefully. "Difficult."
Wearily, I accept my own responsibility in the mess. "We’re both difficult. Thanks, I mean it, but no."
He tilts his head in surrender, then leaves to find his client to give him the good news. Singer’s next, and we sit and argue for nearly two hours over points that are moot to the case. But, with Singer, I can’t let my guard down. She goes off on these tangents as a smoke screen to get what she wants. Well, whatever point she’s trying to make, when she leaves my office, we’re still going to trial, and I still have a solid case against her client.
Lunch consists of Subway at the conference room table. Books and reports are everywhere as the Admiral and I hash out the latest round of manpower reports for all of JAG. JAGPAC once again delayed everything, and now we’re in it for the long haul. I don’t even know what time we’ll get out of here tonight.
Finally, at 1934 hours, he sits back in his chair. "Enough. I’ve had enough, and so have you. We’ll finish this at 0700 tomorrow. Go home and relax."
Yeah, fat chance just walked in the door and is laughing his ass off. "I can stay, sir."
"Go home, Mac. The report’s due Friday. We’ve still got time to finish it up for Sheffield. Make a note for me to send Admiral Straw a scathing memo about getting his reports in on time." He stands but doesn’t leave the room. Please, God. I know Harm’s been acting strange these past two weeks, but please, don’t let him ask me about it. "Are you okay, Mac?"
"I’m good, sir." Quickly, I stand. "Though, you’re right, I am a little tired. Maybe it’s a good idea for me to go home and soak in a hot tub." Maybe I can run out and rent a room somewhere. I don’t want to do this. I’ve never dreaded anything in my life like the conversation tonight with Harm. Maybe he’s chickened out. For a true hero, it’s the one area in his life where he’s been a coward. Quickly, I scrawl a note to tell the cleaning crew to stay out of the conference room, and the Admiral hands me a piece of tape. As we walk out into the bullpen, we both notice Harm’s working at his desk. The Admiral looks at him for a long moment, then turns his attention to me. Instead of saying what I know he wants to say, he abruptly spins on his heel, and leaves me alone.
As if on cue, Harm looks up from his computer. He stands and grabs his cover. I have no choice but to let him drive me home. "Let me check my messages." Maybe Clay called. And what? We have to have this talk.
There’re only three messages, none of them from Clay. Sighing, I grab my coat. I button and belt it like armor around my soul. Will I survive tonight; will he? I know this morning Clay was worried that Harm would go ballistic, perhaps even postal. But, I’m not afraid of Harm physically hurting me. Emotionally? Oh yeah. I don’t want to do this. I’m not prepared for this. If Clay and I are to have a chance at seeing where this new relationship can really go, I need to deal with the long-standing issues with Harm.
I’m afraid.
He opens my door for me. Oh, brother. "Thank you." I strap myself in and stare straight ahead.
"You want to pick up Chinese?"
"Whatever you want." I know I won’t taste whatever it is we eat tonight. He calls in the order from our favorite takeout joint, and I sit in the car while he runs in to get it. The urge to flee is staring to choke me. I’m a Marine, damn it. This talk is what I’ve wanted for years, damn it to hell! But not now; Clay and I are still so new together. Oh, and what? Wait again until we’re standing on the Admiral’s porch once more. Though I doubt seriously if the Admiral will throw my engagement party to Webb. Oh, God. I arch my head back and close my eyes. A headache like I’ve never experienced before stabs at my nerves from the top of my head all the way down to my kidneys.
"You okay?" he says as he buckles up. I didn’t even realize that he’d opened the door. I know I wasn’t asleep.
"Yes."
We spend the remainder of the trip in silence. He follows me up the stairs to my apartment, and waits while I let us in. The first thing I do is go to my answering machine. Solid red. I check my cell phone messages – nothing.
"He’s working late," Harm says, carefully with no inflection. There’s no sneer in his voice. He knows that working late isn’t a bone of contention. He knows what the bone will be, and I prepare myself for his attack. He’s one of the best junkyard lawyers I know. He’ll go for the jugular when necessary.
"I’ll be right back. You know where everything is." I hurry to my bathroom and promptly begin to vomit. It’s not morning sickness. It’s nerves, pure and simple. I brush my teeth, find the heavy duty Advil, and pop two instead of one. I know I’ll need more soon. I decide to change, and pull off my khakis. I don jeans and a sweatshirt, and start to walk back out, but the light sparks off Clay’s birthday gift to me, and I reach for it. I need something of him for the coming battle. I feel like a knight ready to joust for… for what? Why are we doing this? I do want answers.
We both pick at our food, and I prolong the inevitable by making coffee. Perhaps the caffeine will help. It probably won’t. Finally, we’re sitting on the couch together. I’m not afraid of Harm. He’s the most honorable man I know. He lives by a code that’s as engrained in him as it is in Clay. How alike they are, and how very different.
"So, what’s with this thing with you and Clay?"
I pull my eyes away from the spot on the carpet. "I don’t want to talk about Clay, Harm. I WILL not talk about Clay. If that’s why you’re here, then thanks for the Chinese food, and go." I stand to face him. "Why must you do this? You’re not my father – thank God. Do you see yourself as my brother?"
"No." He’s on his feet, too. God forbid that he’d let me gain the advantage of height. So I sit back down, and look up at him. It actually makes my head feel a little better.
"Then why is it any of your business who I see?"
"I thought this was the year."
Aw, the anniversary. Five years. "I believe the operative word was IF, Harm. If neither of us was with someone."
"Is that why? You don’t want a baby?"
Oh ,Harm. More than you know. It’s hard now, five years later, to try to remember why I wanted to wait. Harriet’s baby was – is – adorable. But, I had things I wanted to accomplish in my career. Funny, they’re still important. The Corps is still important, but like I told Clay, I’d give it all up for a baby. "Harm, how did you see that working?"
"Huh?"
"This whole five year thing. Do you really want to have a child with someone you don’t love?"
"I do love you!" Good God. He said it. He blurted it right out. But it’s no secret. I think we both know that we feel something deep and strong for each other. Why not call it love? But I can see the fear in his eyes. "I’ve always loved you."
"I see. You loved me when you dated Jordan?"
"Yes."
"And you loved me while you dated Renee?"
He looks so lost and confused, and all he does is nod before turning to stand and stare out my window. Five years I’ve waited for this. Five years I’VE KNOWN the truth. "Why did you put me off in Sydney? Why did you say those things on the Admiral’s porch?"
"Five years, Mac. We agreed."
"So? Is that what life with you would be like?" And suddenly, I know. Of course it will. "Answer me. You couldn’t come up with a reason to be with me, because you said five years!? Ever hear of compromise?"
"Yeah, that’s what gets criminals lighter sentences." He turns, and I know I’m in for it now. The famous closing argument. I wonder if he’s put time into this, or will it be one of his off-the-cuff statements. Those are his most deadly.
We’re frozen in time. How many times have we done this? Come to the edge, and then ran away. Both of us are so stubborn and set in our ways. I love him, but I know now, with crystal clarity, that there can never be an "US." But he needs to get this out. I refuse to compose my rebuttal without hearing what he has to say.
"I said five years for a reason, Mac. I know you. I know me. I knew I had things that I had to work out."
"Finding your dad?"
"Yeah, and I couldn’t have done that without you. Oh, Mac. I owe you so much. My life. My sanity." I nod my head so slightly and, at the grimace on his face, I realize I’ve picked up one of Clay’s mannerisms. "But you had issues, too. You didn’t tell me things either."
"I know."
"You see, I knew we needed to be sure."
"Sow those wild oats?"
"Don’t joke!"
"I wasn’t. In the past five years, we’ll leave Anne Pendry out of it, you’ve dated how many women? Did you get them out of your system?"
"Yes, damn it."
"I see. But me? What am I, Harm, the Virgin Mary? I don’t think so."
"So this thing with Webb?"
"This thing with Webb is mine! I didn’t question you about Jordan or Bobbi Latham or…"
"Bobbi and I were…"
I hold up my hand. "I don’t want to hear the details. I don’t care."
"Fine. Then let’s just talk about us."
"Yes, please. How do you see us, Harm? What do you see for the future?"
He stands there confused. "The future? Us. You and me, together. In a place of our own. Kids. A couple, at least. It’ll be hard, but Bud and Harriet manage."
"And how do we reach this nirvana?"
"Well, I guess we better start dating."
We’ve completely by-passed all the issues that have kept us from "dating" the past five years. "Harm we spend more time together – or we used to – than many married couples. I’ve slept in your arms. We were in the desert holding each other, our lips an inch apart, and we didn’t do anything!"
"You wanted to fuck in the desert!? Oh, wouldn’t that have been a fun report when they found our bones blasted to bits?"
I don’t think I’ve ever heard him use that word before. Sounds funny coming from his mouth. "Why didn’t we kiss? Why didn’t we kiss under the table when we flipped the coin to see who would be first chair? Why did you treat me that way in front of Bud, Clay, and the Captain of the Seahawk?"
"I love you."
Now that he’s said it, I guess he likes the sound of it. "I love you too, Harm. We’ve established that."
"Do you love Webb?"
"I don’t know."
"You know he’s just using you to get…"
"Don’t say something you’re going to regret."
"Is it because he was there for your birthday, and I wasn’t?" He rubs his hands over his face. "I don’t know what else you want me to say. I’ve said it."
"I know that, too. Harm, look at me." He drops his hands and walks to the sofa. He reaches out and takes my hand. I should pull away, but we need to get this out of the way, too. Besides, I want it. I kneel up on the cushion. He bends down, and our lips meet. He isn’t kissing the ghost of Diane, and this isn’t under the mistletoe. Only once has he kissed me and meant it – that time on the Admiral’s porch. I realize that he’s kissing me for the same reason. He’s afraid. His hand holds my head, and he deepens the kiss – something he didn’t do during my engagement party. I can taste coffee and spicy tofu. His scent is so familiar to me, I can recognize him in the dark. I close my eyes to enjoy it. And I remember Clayton Webb giving me the nod that saved my life. Harmon Rabb, Jr. is kissing me, and all I can see is the look of awe on Clay’s face when he sees me in the dress he bought me, the way he leaned in my doorway telling me the plans for Russia. The three of us at the Sudanese Embassy after Harm saved the day. The three of us, tied together. But Harm’s always been moose to my squirrel. Clay doesn’t share our history. But now I know, he shares a place in my heart.
Harm pulls away and his thumbs caress away the tears I didn’t even know I was shedding.
He goes to the hall tree, and picks up his coat and cover. "This isn’t over, Mac. I won’t give you up without a fight. You know he’s going to want me for something. He said me, not us. Whatever it is, when we get back, we’ll finish this. I love you."
I sink to the couch and give into my tears. Damn him. We settled nothing except he finally said the words. But words without action mean nothing. Clay was there for me. Clay… Oh, damn, what am I going to do?
I pace for hours, cursing the time, cursing Harm, finally cursing Clay. "Where are you? Call if you can’t make it." Be careful for what you wish. The phone rings at ten past midnight.
"You better not wait up."
"We have to talk, Clay."
"I can’t. The meeting just broke up for a ten-minute break. So? Did you hash it out?" I can hear the tension in his voice, but I’m no longer sure if he’s worried about us or Harm’s fitness for whatever mission Clay’s dragging him into.
"I didn’t expect to solve six years of issues in one night, Clay. I wish you were here though."
"Why?" The question hangs between us. But before I can answer, he groans. "Gotta go. Meet me at Manny’s at 7:00?"
"Make it 6:30. I have to finish something with Chegwidden, he’s coming in early just to work on it."
"Okay."
I wait until I get a dial tone, and then wait until the phone-off-the-hook signal jars me out of my stupor.
I have no recollection of actually going to bed. I don’t sleep, and the alarm doesn’t wake me; it merely advises me that I have to face this day. I want to pull the covers over my head and hide.
I’m three minutes early, but Clay’s car is already there. He’s sitting at the same table, and even across the length of the restaurant I can see how tired he is. This is not a good way to start a mission. I’m worried about him, and I’m worried about Harm.
He stands to greet me, and we share a chaste peck. "You look like I feel. Are you okay?"
"No. But sit down." The waitress comes and refills Clay’s cup. "Just coffee." I’ve only twenty minutes. Hopefully someone will have brought something for the coffee room.
"How bad was it?"
"Pretty bad."
"Resolution?"
"None."
"I see."
I reach for his hand, and he allows it. "Clay, I don’t know. What I have with you makes me feel so good. It’s new and wonderful. However, we haven’t had a chance to really butt heads on any issues." I return his rueful grin. "Well, other than over work." I’m fighting my tears. "But I owe him a chance to work it out in his head. You have to understand, I… I know that as much as we love each other, Harm and I aren’t good for each other. We can’t talk. You and I… at least we talk. You can’t know how much that means to me."
I let him mull that over for a bit, then I ask, "What’s going to happen this morning?"
I wait for him to backpedal, but he squeezes my hand, and comes to what’s probably the hardest decision of his life to date. "I need Harm to help me resolve a matter that affects the Navy as well as National Security." He takes a deep breath and drops his eyes from mine. "Just Harm, not you."
"Why not me?" I ask quietly, keeping all emotion from my voice.
He sighs and leans back, releasing my hand. "You know that I trust you, right?" At my nod he continues. "Even now, with what we’ve done – with what I hope grows – I would use you if it was called for. But this is a two-man job, any other body, AJ’s, Galindez’s, Turner’s, yours, would jeopardize the mission and our lives. There’s no room for you."
I know that it cost him a lot to tell me what he has. Suddenly, ‘need to know’ and ‘classified’ make a lot more sense.
"How long?" I can’t imagine what it must be like for girlfriends, wives, significant others, who don’t have the security clearance I do.
His eyes flicker around the room. I know he’s still struggling with how much to tell me. Leaning forward again, he draws me closer, until we’re practically nose-to-nose over the plastic flowers and packets of jellies. "Would you like to have dinner with me next Thursday?" At my dazed nod, he stands and kisses me briefly. By the time I settle back in my chair, he’s halfway out the restaurant.
I don’t have time to ponder what’s happened. Instead, I hurry outside. It’s starting to snow, but the chill I feel is deeper than the cold can reach.