Part Three
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Disclaimer: *I* don't even claim it.
Summary: Mac and Webb deal with recovery, relocation, reassignments, and relatives---the so-called real life stuff. This should fill in everything that leads up to the previously posted fics, "Getting To Know You" and "Cleaning Out the Closet."
Author's Note: (Sigh) The end of the saga. Now it's time to sit back and enjoy the wonderful fiction the rest of you are posting. <Eagerly settling back into my old easy chair, popcorn to the left of me, iced tea to the right of me, scrolling the board for "FF" notations.> Bring it on!
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4PM (EST)
DUKE UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER
DURHAM, NC
Clay and Mac reluctantly broke off their kiss when the privacy curtain was yanked towards the wall. Resting their foreheads against one another, their breathing was only slightly erratic. Hearing the robust voice of their untimely visitor, Mac instinctively stood up and moved away from the bed.
"Clayton, you definitely do not appear to be at death's door, son. In fact, after what we just interrupted, I'd say you're doing a lot better than I am," the amused gentleman proclaimed.
Leaning closer to the regal woman by his side, he added, "Porter, I think you mislead me about our boy here."
Porter looked affectionately exasperated by her gray-haired companion, but did not try to pull away. Patting his arm in a familiar manner, she addressed her son.
"Dear, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I did tell you we were coming at four. And despite what he says, this old curmudgeon has been champing at the bit to see you ever since we heard---."
"Damn straight, I have! C'mere, son." Sarah and Porter stood back and watched while the older man stooped down and carefully gathered Clay into a gentle bear hug. Overcome by the obviously affectionate greeting, Clay clung to the older man's shoulders and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Porter turned around to hide an amused smile, but quickly took up a position beside of Sarah to get her attention off of the men.
"Well, Sarah, how is Clayton doing today?" Porter asked in a low tone.
Startled from her observance of the two men, Sarah turned questioning eyes on Porter. "Excuse me, ma'am, what was that?"
"How is Clayton today, dear." Porter patiently repeated.
"Oh, fine," Sarah absently returned. Trouble was, she just could not take her eyes from the tableau in front of her. The age was right, the affection was certainly there, and he had come in with Porter Webb. Maybe if she could get a closer look at the older man's face.
Moving away from Porter, Sarah approached Clay's bed. Catching Sarah's eye, Clay smiled happily and gestured her closer. "Sarah, this is definitely someone you need to meet. Come over here a moment, please."
Taking Clay's outstretched hand, Sarah was able to see the older gentleman a little bit better. Studying the keen hazel eyes, she detected quite a bit of mischief in the old charmer's expression.
"You must be the `wife' Clayton acquired before his last `trip,' hmmm?" he asked her.
"Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, sir. I'm a Marine Judge Advocate," Mac confirmed.
"One of Chegwidden's crew?" The man darted a surprised glance at Clay then raised his brows to Mac.
Mac warily nodded.
Delighted, the dapper gentleman took Sarah's right hand in a loose clasp and nodded his head in a courtly manner. "Well, then, welcome to the family, Sarah."
"I don't think I caught *your* name, sir?" Sarah prodded.
"Yes, quite quick on the uptake," he approvingly told her. "Tell me, young lady, how high is your security clearance?" The man's eyes were literally twinkling as he held her hand.
"M-my security clearance?" Sarah was getting annoyed, particularly when she noticed the laughter Clay was suppressing. Rounding on him, she demanded, "Just what is going on here you miserable---?"
Clay was saved from her accusing tirade when a familiar voice rang out from the doorway.
"Tim, you old dog!"
Abruptly releasing Mac's hand, the startled gentleman turned away and grabbed the newcomer by the shoulder, pulling him into the room.
"AJ! Of all people---get in here and show yourself, old man. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes? Still terrorizing the ranks?"
"Hey, don't spread that around, Tim. I'd hate to have to kill you." AJ joked.
Tim held out his arm to Porter as she joined them at the door. "What brings you to this neck of the woods, AJ?" Mac sidled closer to Clay, suddenly recalling what day it was.
Looking over at Mac, AJ stopped smiling. "Came to retrieve my Chief of Staff. Seems she was reported as UA this morning."
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EARLIER THAT MORNING
JAG OPS
FALLS CHURCH, VA
"Tiner! Where the hell is Lieutenant Roberts?" AJ Chegwidden threw his reading glasses down on his oak desk and squeezed the bridge of his nose. So far, Tuesday wasn't shaping up any better than Monday.
"Yes, sir. He's on his way, sir." Jason Tiner was more chipper than usual this morning.
Knowing better than to ask, AJ still couldn't help himself. Maybe the kid had some handle on the day that would ease his own tension. "Petty Officer, you find this amusing?"
"Oh, no sir. Just feeling really good today," Tiner relaxed his stance and offered up one of his wholesome grins.
Shaking his head, AJ dismissed his yeoman, but Tiner hesitated. "Tiner? Something on your mind?"
"Well, yes sir. It's just that you never told me," Tiner earnestly explained.
"Told you what?" Once again, he was having difficulty keeping up with the good-natured petty officer.
"Whether or not you'll be at my graduation tomorrow night, sir. I marked your calendar three weeks ago. Dr. Cavanaugh is coming, so I just naturally assumed�" Tiner saw that the Admiral was frowning up at him, "but�uh, of course�that is, you're probably too busy sir. Didn't mean to imply that it was something of interest to you, sir," the Petty Officer awkwardly finished.
After a few uncomfortable moments, Tiner spoke again.
"Permission to return to my post, sir?" By now, Tiner was staring straight ahead, no sign of his earlier happiness evident.
"No."
"Sir?" Tiner blinked, not trusting his ears.
"Permission denied, Tiner! Now, close the hatch and grab a seat," AJ barked, anger evident in his tone.
"But, sir�" Tiner hesitated at the door.
"That was an order, not a request, Tiner! Shut the damn door and sit down!" The Admiral stood up and stalked around to the front of his desk.
"Aye, aye, sir!" Tiner carefully closed the door and proudly approached the chair, his military bearing precise and respectful.
AJ leaned back on his desk and nodded towards the leather armchair. Spine straight, expression stoic, Tiner lowered himself to the edge of the chair and waited.
"Tiner?" AJ wanted the young man to look up at him but Jason was every inch the Navy officer at this moment. The Admiral was proud of him.
"Yes, sir?" By, damn, thought AJ---there was a real snap to his response.
"I am a goddamn thoughtless bastard, son. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to attend your law school graduation. Hell, Jason, there's no excuse for it---I just plain forgot. Is the invitation still open?"
Jason couldn't contain his excitement. Although he never broke his perfect Navy stance, he couldn't keep the broad grin from his face. "Oh, yes sir! Thank you sir!"
AJ stood up and held out his hand. "Well, congratulations, son. I'm proud of you."
Jason stood up and shook the Admiral's proffered hand, grinning all the while. AJ was going to miss that happy grin. "Thank you, Admiral!"
"Well, just don't stand there, Tiner. Get Mackenzie and Roberts in here. Oh, and Commander Turner, too---we've got a full load today." AJ opened the door and more or less escorted the overwhelmed petty officer back to his post.
"Aye, aye sir!"
Smiling to himself, AJ left the door open and made a mental note to call Meredith later in the day; she'd know what kind of graduation gift to give the young man. Satisfied with this last thought, AJ turned away from his office window to face Turner and Roberts.
"Where's Mac?" was the Admiral's abrupt greeting.
Bud Roberts spoke up. "Well, sir, that's what held me up. I double-checked with her landlord and the duty officer. She hasn't returned
from North Carolina yet."
"Tiner!" AJ bellowed, not at all pleased with this news. By damn, he had an office to run!
"Yes sir, Admiral?" Tiner stood at attention.
"Get me a transport to RDU International, priority status. Then get me Sebring and reschedule his docket---he'll be Acting."
"Aye, aye, sir." Tiner was already on his way to the phone.
AJ was gathering up case files and handing them to the Commander as he barked out his next orders:
"Turner, distribute these cases appropriately---and make sure you monitor the actions of Major Ladd and Lieutenant Meyers. They're capable lawyers but might need some guidance. Think you can handle it?"
"Yes, sir!" snapped Commander Turner.
"Good, good. Roberts? Start interviewing yeomen and take up the slack on Rabb's and Mackenzie's case files. Have someone pack up Rabb's personal belongings and deliver them to him." AJ adjusted his hat and waited for Roberts.
"Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?"
"Oh, hell yeah. Make certain not a damn thing goes wrong while I'm out on this wild goose chase. That too much to ask?" No one trusted the Admiral's mood at this point, so things got a bit tense when Bud asked, "Want me to go get the Colonel, sir?"
"You feel like you can take on an rebellious Marine today? I'm sure as hell not looking forward to it!" The Admiral shook his head and took a deep breath; he was getting too old for this.
Bud wisely kept his mouth shut and shook his head. AJ nodded, picked up his briefcase, and stalked out of the bullpen.
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4:45 PM (EST)
DUKE UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER
DURHAM, NC
After profusely apologizing to the Admiral for what was essentially dereliction of duty, Mac was once again sitting on the edge of Clay's bed. Although AJ had allowed the missed day to be deducted from her accumulated vacation time, he was not inclined to let her use any additional leave days at this point. Mac was grateful for her commanding officer's latitude, but dreaded leaving Clay.
"Sarah, don't worry, I'm getting better every day. I've done this on my own before, you know," Clay reminded her.
"Well, excuse me for caring, Mr. Webb." Mac was miffed that Clay was taking their looming separation so lightly.
"What happened to my cock-eyed optimist, Sarah? It's not like I'm planning on staying down here for pleasure," Clay defended himself.
"Why stay at all? The University of Virginia Hospital has a top-notch PT department. Or there's the Medical College of Virginia---that's close. I don't see why you're not at Bethesda anyway---I was going to begin my search there before the Admiral stepped in and transport would be a�" Mac's voice trailed off as Clay gently shook his throbbing head.
"What's keeping you here, Clay?" Mac finally demanded.
"My Mother," he quietly stated, expecting her to leave it at that.
"Your Mother? Your Mother's keeping you in Durham? I don't believe it!" Mac threw her hands up in the air, stood up, and rounded on Clay. At this point she was oblivious to his pinched features and sunken eyes.
"Believe it, Sarah. It makes perfect sense for me to stay here, more so than at any other facility. Look, my records are here, I'm already here, and I've got a therapist who's really motivated to get me up and walking again." Clay said the last with a slight grin, but Mac wasn't buying his rationale.
"Okay---give, Clay. What's the real reason you want to stay here? And don't hand me any crap about your Mother wanting you here." Clay closed his eyes, not up to fighting this battle. Therefore, it was not without a little bit of relief that he heard his Mother speak up from the open doorway.
"Sarah, dear, I'm afraid Clayton's right. I am keeping him here," Porter's announcement startled Mac, but she was glad to finally have a source of information.
"Why? Why would you keep him all the way down here?" Mac was honestly confused by this decision and Porter could see that her son wasn't going to explain their reasoning to this lovely young woman. Giving Clay a chastising look, Porter led Mac over to the chair by the window and picked up the purse she had returned for.
"Obviously my son hasn't told you anything about his family. He's just like his father in that respect---and no, that wasn't a compliment Clayton!" Clay opened his mouth in protest, but quickly closed it again when his Mother ignored him and continued talking to Sarah.
"I'm a Reynolds, dear. And this is one of the houses that tobacco originally built," Porter gestured one hand airily around the room while the full impact of that statement quickly registered.
"Oh, my god," Mac softly whispered.
"Of course we've branched out into other industries now, but by the look on your face, I believe you know that," Porter raised her brow. Mac nodded.
"But what does that have to do with Clay---?" Mac wondered out loud.
"Staying here?" Porter finished for her. "Well, other than being my beneficiary," Porter waved off Clay's mumble of protest, "Clayton manages our various interests. Since he is in no shape to handle any of the government's fieldwork at this time, he's agreed to stay at The Homestead and update the books while he recuperates. It'll give him something constructive to do and he really has a gift for finance, dear," Porter confided, then muttered under her breath, "Thank god someone in this family does!"
Mac didn't know where to begin, so the first question out of her mouth was a dazed, "The Homestead?"
"Just a little farmhouse outside of the city limits, dear." Porter looked a little too innocent at this pronouncement, so Mac was just certain this little farmhouse had more in common with a wealthy estate than a barn with a few animals.
"To update the books?" Mac continued, the dazed look fading as she looked at Clay with new respect.
"Clayton is an absolute genius with finances. Did you know he began his first three companies while he was still in college? All three have since topped out of the Dow Jones and perpetuate a living annuity for several hospitals and missions," a mother's pride was quite evident in Porter's voice. She exchanged a gentle smile with her son then continued in a more prosaic manner. "Sarah, it just makes sense for Clayton to stay down here at the family compound. Tim and I are here now, and there's always room for one more�" Porter's invitation was obvious and quite generous.
"Well you heard the Admiral; he needs me back at Falls Church and won't consider any leave at this time," Mac explained.
"Not a problem dear. There's a heli-pad behind the farmhouse. Our Jerico is an excellent pilot and has a spotless flight record. I'll admit that his constant gum-chewing takes a bit of getting used to, but other than that, he's quite the pleasant young man." Porter frowned when she heard a muffled snort from Clay's bed. Turning towards her irreverent son, she addressed him warningly, "You disagree dear?"
"Of course not Mother," Clay quickly responded, not even bothering to wipe the smirk off his face. Despite his obvious physical discomfort, he appeared highly amused.
"What? Clay, what is your Mother not telling about this chopper pilot?" Mac was looking back and forth between the Clay and his Mother. Porter looked as though she wanted to laugh along with Clay, but was determined to maintain her dignity. "Clay?" Mac prodded.
"Sarah, he's okay---honest," Clay tiredly placed his left hand over the vicinity of his heart. Mac smiled when she realized that he was inadvertently pointing to the message emblazoned on his new Bart Simpson tee: "Back off, Dude!"
Seeing her smile, but not realizing it's cause, Clay released his pent-up laugh and explained. "It's just Mother's somewhat generous turn of phrase, Sarah."
Porter rolled her eyes as Clay continued. Mac was starting to see where Clay got many of his exasperating mannerisms.
"Jerico Jones is about as pleasant as a junkyard dog. As for being a *young* man," Clay gave a slight chuckle, "I'll let you be the judge. All I know is that he's been Mother's pilot since I was at Harvard and that he's been divorced eight times. Over the years I've heard about his so-called lost loves and thoroughly sympathize with all eight of those misfortunate women."
"Clayton!" Porter admonished, by Mac was intrigued and asked, "Any children?"
Clay shook his head and Mac couldn't help being a bit relieved. Although she had never met the man, the picture being painted was not reassuring. Remembering Porter's reference to the pilot's gum-chewing vice, Mac decided to get Clay's perspective. "And the gum addiction?"
"Well, it's a big improvement over the tobacco he used to chew. Man, that stuff was nasty!" They both looked over at Porter as she made a choking sound. Placing a hand over her mouth, she gestured for Clay to continue.
"I don't know how Mother did it, but not long after he began with us, she substituted his packets of Red Man with those look-alike envelopes of shredded bubble gum. You know, now that I think about it, that's about the same time he married his first wife." Clay looked over at Porter in speculation, but she purposefully avoided his eyes. "Mother?"
"Oh, for goodness sakes, just let it go dear!" Porter was becoming exasperated. At this rate, Clayton was liable to talk Sarah right out of staying with them. "So he traded one annoying habit for a less disgusting one---he wanted to make the change. His choice, dear, and it was definitely a smart choice."
Focusing on Mac, Porter began reassuring her, "Now Sarah, regardless of Clayton's maligning statements, Jerico is a wonderful pilot." Both women looked over at Clay and he reluctantly nodded his confirmation of the pilot's skills.
Smiling brightly, Porter added her clincher, "Tim makes the commute three days a week himself. See, you'd have some interesting company most of the time."
Mac still looked uncertain. Porter looked over at her son who had a knowing look in his eye. Receiving a raised brow from his Mother, Clay revealed that Mac had a tendency to get airsick. Not to be deterred at this late date, Porter mustered her most encouraging smile and began negotiations.
Clay, not able to resist the last medication he was given, quickly succumbed to a restless slumber. Snuggling in to his new down pillow and rubbing his cheek over the soft comic-style pillowcase, the last words he heard sounded like "Dramamine" and "cast iron stomach."
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6:45 PM (EST)
THE BRASS RAIL RESTAURANT
CHAPEL HILL, NC
"No kidding---she didn't!" AJ sampled the excellent Chateaux Morrisette house wine as he shared another laugh with his companions.
"Well, I guess you forgot to tell her about me, my friend. You`re pretty closed-mouthed about your personal life, you know." Tim sat back and carefully studied the man he had first met while in Vietnam.
"And you're not? Hell, Tim, I had no idea she'd want to hear about your sorry ass. The issue never came up anyway. Clay's the only reason she's asking now---right Porter?" AJ saluted Porter with his wine glass.
"Oh, undoubtedly. But I will admit it took me a bit by surprise when she asked if Tim was Clayton's father. If ever there were two more dissimilar men, it would be Neville and my brother here." Tim hugged his sister's shoulders in comfort. He remembered his rakish brother-in-law only too well: Neville had been a one-of-a-kind guy. Even after all these years, Porter wouldn't even consider another man in her life. They had certainly been a matched pair.
"Well, it was an honest mistake, my dear. After all, the boy was lucky enough to inherit these devastating Fawkes eyes," Tim batted his lashes at Porter until she hit him with her napkin.
"Oh, behave Timothy! And leave Mother's eyes out of this." Turning to AJ, Porter ignored her brother's antics---which only added to the men's amusement. "AJ, I really think she's serious about Clayton. However, there is a slight problem�."
"No." AJ didn't even look up from his salad. Tim discretely hid his grin by sipping some coffee. He was thoroughly enjoying the by-play between his crafty older sister and one of his best friends.
"You haven't heard me out," she protested.
"Answer's still no." AJ was polite but adamant.
"Arrogant bastard," Porter muttered.
"I heard that," AJ warned her, looking slightly offended.
"Well, you've probably heard it so often�" Porter suggestively trailed off.
"Got you there, AJ!" Tim was having a ball, but Porter cut him a sharp look and AJ gave him a warning.
"Stay out of it, Tim! Okay, make your case, Porter," AJ commanded.
"Careful, AJ," Porter warned. "I'm not one of those eager-to-please lawyers you can order around like lap dog."
"And I'm not some forgiving brother who'll bow down to your various schemes---don't think I've forgotten that trick you pulled in Montevideo," AJ reminded her.
"It was the relief, AJ. Of knowing my son was going to live. It was an impulse I foolishly acted on and I'm very sorry." Porter had the mea culpa act perfected; Tim recalled how effectively it had worked on Neville. Now he admired the reaction it elicited from AJ.
"Well, uh, all right. Just make it brief." Nonplussed by the seemingly sincere apology, AJ listened carefully to her plan and was impressed. She was just as detail-oriented as her brother and son. And it could work if Mac was agreeable. Two things, however, occurred to the tactician in AJ.
"Two problems, Lady MacBeth," AJ began but was interrupted by Porter's protest.
"That's a bit harsh don't you think? I'm not planning on killing anyone, AJ."
"Well, that's one of your problems. What does Clay have to say about this?" AJ waited patiently while Tim's brows rose and Porter got a startled look on her face.
"He loves her. She loves him. They want to be together. What's the problem?" Porter sounded confident, but it was apparent that Clay hadn't been consulted.
Before AJ could explain the male state of mind, Tim turned on Porter, anger evident in his tone. "Good God, Porter, you didn't ask him?"
"Well, no. But I know how he feels about her, I know---,"
"No you don't. You have no idea how he feels right now, how vulnerable those injuries make him. No man wants the woman he loves to see him in this condition. He's a grown man, Porter. What in hell were you thinking putting him in this kind of position? How do you expect him to win the woman he loves when he's not at full capacity?" Tim threw his napkin down and stood up.
AJ stood up, too, but only to stop Tim. "Hey, buddy, hold on a minute."
"Let me go, AJ." Tim was stiff with anger and AJ knew why. Tim had his own story of a lost love from long ago. Right now he was putting himself in his nephew's place, but the two situations weren't comparable: Mac wasn't about to let Clay push her away.
"Think a moment. It's not the same thing. Clay might be a little like you, but Mac is no weak-willed young debutante. Damnit, Tim, I agree---Porter should have discussed it with Clay, but what's done is done. Like you said, he's an experienced man. Don't forget: I know that sneaky son-of-a-bitch, too." Tim reluctantly grinned, proud of how AJ described his prot�g�.
"I know a side of him you don't know AJ. He's proud. He's independent. Hell, AJ, he's just like Neville, really he is. And you remember how *he* was on that last op. The last thing he told us?" Tim knew his sister was listening, but it was time she heard this, the only secret between them.
"Finish me off if something happens, boys. I won't put my family through the hell of either a POW situation or dealing with just a piece of me," AJ faithfully quoted.
"Exactly. Clay's his father all over again, AJ." Tim looked down at his sister, ignoring her tear-filled eyes. "Isn't he, Porter?"
Porter simply nodded, the truth so plain to her now that Tim pointed it out. Both men re-seated themselves, considering the situation. Porter looked over to AJ and squeezed Tim's hand. "Well, what do you two suggest?"
Almost simultaneously, both men responded, "I'll talk to him."
Porter nodded again, "Yes, that's a good idea. He'll be more forthcoming with both of you. I'm just his Mother." She heaved a long-suffering sigh, but neither man disagreed with her.
Instead, AJ spoke for them both. "We'd better do the deed tonight. I've got a flight to catch."
"Cancel it, AJ. You're staying at The Homestead tonight. You can fly in to Virginia with me tomorrow," Tim told him.
Not really wanting to board a commercial flight tonight, AJ considered his options. "Private plane or chopper?"
Tim looked offended. "Chopper---what else?"
AJ just smiled and addressed Porter again. "Which leads us to your second problem."
Porter looked wary, but Tim knew what was coming.
Sitting up straight and pinning her with his take-no-prisoners look, he informed both of them, "I am not letting Mac use any more of her leave days right now." When Porter began to protest, AJ stopped her, "No! Absolutely not! I'm not budging on this one: I need my Chief of Staff back at JAG Ops and I think she needs to get back into the swing of things."
Porter and Tim just stared at him, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. AJ cleared his throat when their entr�es arrived. All was silent while they studied their plates. "All right, damnit! One more day�but that's it. Besides, she's got a graduation to attend tomorrow night. No way would she miss seeing Petty Officer Tiner receive his law degree."
Nodding in satisfaction, they all began to eat. It turned out to be a rather enjoyable meal.
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10:05 PM (EST)
DUKE UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER
DURHAM, NC
Mac snuggled deeper into Clay's pillow, and ruffled his hair. He leaned closer and chastely kissed her forehead.
"So, how'd it go? The Admiral and your uncle set you straight?" she joked.
"Not sure. It was all very strange. Lots of dire warnings about respecting your intelligence and allowing you into my life. They seemed to think that I would try to shut you out for some reason or another. How about you? AJ still dragging you back to Virginia tonight?" Clay didn't seem too worried, so she figured the Admiral had clued him in to her extra day.
Mac settled her hand on Clay's chest and lightly stroked him. Releasing a happy sigh, Clay nuzzled her right ear, his evening beard tickling her jaw. "Brief, gruff, you know him, Clay. I've got a reprieve until tomorrow night, by the way."
"Strange time---what gives?" Clay leaned back, focusing on her answer.
Deciding his inquisitive look was just too adorable to ignore, Mac cupped his cheek and smoothed the frown from between his eyes. Clay's eyes softened as he immediately focused on Mac's mouth. "Tiner's graduation."
"Huh?" Clay was extremely articulate tonight. Repeating her answer, Mac knew that he'd understood her this time.
"Already? Well, good for him. Wish I could accompany you." Clay's frustration with his physical limitations was becoming more frequent.
Determined to help him through this period, Mac simply gave in to her instincts. Settling her lips onto Clay's, she moaned her satisfaction and just enjoyed the contact. It must have been the right response. Clay groaned in reaction and pulled her closer, roaming the interior of her mouth with his skillful tongue.
It wasn't too long before Mac took a deep breath and reluctantly leaned away from the source of her enjoyment. Clay grunted in protest, but Sarah reminded him of their surroundings. "Hey--me too, Hot Stuff, but not here, right?"
"Right," he agreed. "Are you sure there's not a lock on the door?"
"Certain." Mac sat up and readjusted the fluffy pillow behind them. "Besides, you're not ready yet."
"Who says?" He sounded resigned but playful.
"DeRon, your physical therapist. Remember him?" Mac teased.
"Not likely to forget," Clay groaned. "When'd you meet him?"
"Oh, he came by after you fell asleep earlier. He brought by that plastic breathing contraption you're supposed to be using." Mac lightly punched his shoulder as punishment for not practicing his breathing exercises.
Clay closed his eyes in remembered misery and tried to dismiss the deceptively simple instrument of torture, but Mac and DeRon had obviously had a very detailed discussion.
Fully separating herself from his warm embrace, Mac issued a challenge. "Clay, darling? When you can blow in that thing ten times without getting lightheaded, I'll make certain there are plenty of locks on the doors. Any time, any place," she promised.
Clay grinned in anticipation: Mac was the best incentive for recovery he could ever hope to have. The next few months would surely be challenging. He'd been prepared for that when he'd awakened back in Montevideo. But having each other was an unexpected gift. Damned if he wasn't going to fool them all and claim his Marine. Clasping her hand, he raised it to his lips and promised, "Two weeks. Give me two weeks, then make sure you have those locks handy!"
"Deal!" agreed Mac. There would be no losers in this joint venture, just the pleasant thrill of anticipation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~F I N I S~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~