Gratitude
Part Five
Since her sprint from the conference room this morning, Colonel Mackenzie had left her office exactly three times. Twice to use the ladies room and once to get a refill on her coffee from the break room. He was certain of this because he had only left his office three times. Twice to get a drink of water from the fountain located outside the ladies room and once to refill his coffee in the break room. Each time, he had tried to initiate a conversation with Mac. The first time, he had called her name three times before she realized he was speaking to her. She had turned to him and immediately tensed. Seeing her reaction, he quickly revised his hastily conceived intro into small talk and instead asked her if he could borrow one of her files as research. Mac had nodded quickly and rushed to retrieve it from her desk. She had handed it to him and warily asked if there was anything else. When she visibly relaxed at his quick �no thanks�, he had retreated back to his office feeling a small measure of unease at her obvious relief at his departure. The second time was easier. He had turned away from the water fountain when he heard the ladies room door open and had run right into Mac, who promptly dropped her purse. Apologizing to her for not looking where he was going, he had quickly helped her gather the contents of her purse off the floor. He had helped her up with a gentle hand and an easy smile. The smile became forced and the knot of unease tightened into guilt when he saw the genuine surprise on her face at his casual friendliness. He forced himself to remain casual, not pushing her, and had been rewarded with a shy smile and a quick thank you.
But it was their final meeting in the break room that stood out in his mind. He had watched her enter and waited a short time before following her in with his own cup. She was standing refilling her mug when he entered, and he knew immediately something was wrong. Her entire body was pulled taut, her gaze was turned inward, and both hands trembled violently as they threatened to drop the pot and the mug. He quickly turned to see if anyone was nearby. Seeing that they were alone, he set his own mug down and started to move towards her. The moment his weight began to shift towards her, she had whirled toward him. Her hands trembled even more violently as coffee sloshed over the rim of her mug onto the floor. He had reached forward and quickly but gently plucked both mug and pot from her hand and set them next to his own empty cup. Looking at her with concern, he saw her eyes fill with tears. Flushing from a combination of embarrassment and adrenaline, she muttered an apology and darted for the door before he had a chance to say a word. He followed, but she was in her office with the door shut and blinds closed by the time he caught up. Unwilling to make a scene, he returned to his post at his desk and waited for her to reemerge.
Two and a half hours later he was still waiting. The only sign of life had been the darkening of her office lights. She had probably turned them off thinking that if anyone glanced over, they would think she had slipped out without being noticed. The knot in his stomach grew larger and heavier when he realized that it was working. The office had emptied without incident. If he hadn�t been sitting guard, he would have never noticed either. He would have simply left her to sit in the dark and never been the wiser. As he sat staring at her darkened windows, he wondered how long she would wait before deciding it was safe to emerge. He had the feeling that this was not the first time she had done this and imagined she had her internal clock timed to set off her own kind of �all clear� signal. The question now was whether to wait with her for that signal or barge into her office and demand to know what�s going on.
Yeah, that would work, Sturgis, he snorted to himself. You storm in there and try to bully her into telling you what�s wrong and she�ll drop you on your six before you finish a sentence.
Well, what am I supposed to do? He questioned himself. I can�t just leave her in there forever. It�s obvious she�s not going to come to me on her own.
Can you blame her? Sturgis recognized the soft, reproachful voice that answered. As a preacher�s son, he had learned very early what his conscience sounded like. Especially since his conscience had picked up the annoying habit over the years of sounding exactly like his father. And when Chaplain Turner spoke, his son listened. Even if the voice was coming from his own head.
No, I don�t blame her, he sighed. But if she�s been having problems since she got back, why didn�t she say anything? Why did she try and pretend like nothing was wrong? If any of us had known...
You would have known if you had bothered to look, the voice cut in sharply, it only took you a few minutes� observation this morning to recognize something was off. But you were too busy being mad at her for what happened with Harm.
Wait a minute, Sturgis protested, Harm is my oldest friend. You�re supposed to stick up for your friends. Whatever�s going on with Mac, she hurt Harm. Badly. Am I just supposed to ignore that?
Of course not. You should never ignore a friend who�s hurting. You should stick up for them, protect them, listen and be there for them.
Which is exactly what I did for Harm. And I don�t regret that at all.
You shouldn�t regret it, his conscience responded, Sticking up for people when they�re too hurt or upset to stick up for themselves is what has always made you a good friend.
Then why am I the one fault at here?
Because you never stopped to ask Mac what her side of the story was. You never sought her out like you did Harm. You never sat down and listened to what she had to say. You never checked to see if she needed someone to stick up for her because she was too hurt or upset to stick up for herself. You protected Harm at the expense of Mac. You sacrificed her in the name of friendship. You forgot that Mac is also your friend. With that last rebuke, the voice fell silent. Sturgis decided that he hated that voice. He especially hated when it was right.
A sudden movement at the corner of his eye caused him to look up. While he had been busy arguing with himself, Mac had managed to sneak out of her office without detection. She was almost to the elevator when she turned and saw that she had been spotted. Sturgis hurried up from behind his desk and rushed to catch up with her. Abandoning the elevator, she turned and shoved open the stairway door. By the time he reached the door, she was gone. He ran to a window overlooking the parking lot but didn�t see any sign of her. She had vanished from the office like a shadow. Or a ghost.
He debated going after her, but decided against it. It was obvious she wasn�t open to talking about whatever was bothering her, at least not with him. He wondered if she would talk to someone else. He ran through the list of Mac�s friends. Everyone currently at JAG was out. The only one who hadn�t shunned her was the Admiral. Sturgis was pretty sure Mac was still angry enough with him that she would just as soon hit him as talk to him. And eliminating the Admiral also eliminated Meredith. She was friends with her C.O.�s fiancee, but not close friends. As far as Sturgis knew, that only left two people: Harmon Rabb and Clayton Webb. Well, it was quite obvious from his talk with Harm last week that she wouldn�t be going to him anytime soon. If Mac hadn�t told him what was wrong in Paraguay when they were still talking to each other, she sure as hell wasn�t going to confide in him now. And while Harm had been adamant that she had started the bad blood between them, he admitted that he had aggravated the situation with his own words and actions. No, both Harm and Mac were too hurt and angry with each other to even attempt communication at this point.
That left Clayton Webb. Sturgis didn�t know exactly what happened between Mac and Webb in Paraguay; Harm would only say that they �got close�. Considering the level of sarcasm and bitterness in his voice when he said that, he knew it was possible that Mac and Webb were involved romantically. Of course, with his only source of information a man whose jealousy concerning Mac was damn near legendary, he had to consider the possibility that they were just friends who had been through hell together. Either way, at this point Clayton Webb was probably the only person Mac felt close enough to talk to. If anyone would know what was wrong , it would be him.
Sighing heavily, he retrieved his briefcase and his cover and headed to his car. It looked like he would be making a trip to the hospital.
North of Union Station
Harmon Rabb, Jr., former Naval aviator and JAG lawyer, had spent the days since his return trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his life. He had known when he left for Paraguay that it was possible the Admiral wouldn�t take him back, but acknowledging the possibility and facing the reality were vastly different things. He had no idea where to go next. He knew there was a job waiting for him at the CIA, but the thought of being a spook left him cold. He got frustrated enough working for the Agency on TAD assignments for JAG; he didn�t think he could handle it every day for the rest of his life.
Although if you went to work for the Agency, maybe Mac would decide a relationship with you was worth a shot. After all, it seemed to work pretty well for Webb.
Harm cursed loudly as the bitter thought popped into his head. As much time as he was spending trying to figure out his career, he had spent that much more trying to avoid all thought of Mac. Which was, of course, completely impossible. Even if he managed to avoid her in his waking hours, she stilled visited him every time he closed his eyes. It had actually gotten sadly predictable. He closed his eyes and one of two scenes immediately filled his mind. The first was of them standing in front of the cab in Paraguay. Over and over, like a skipping record, the conversation replayed itself in his mind. And each time he woke up in a cold sweat, angry and hurt and defeated all over again. And he would spend the next couple of hours trying to decide where it went wrong, at what point he could have said or done something that would have made a difference. And each time, the harsh words and painful glances would overwhelm him until he forcefully shoved it out of his mind.
As painful as the first dream was, it was nothing compared to the second. He could deal with the first dream, it was based in reality. The second dream was pure fantasy. It started out real enough. He would walk into the bathroom and see her, clad in nothing but frothy bubbles. He would gaze at her until she finally asked him what he was thinking. And he would tell her. �I forgot how beautiful you are.� But that�s where reality would end. In his dream, she responded to his statement with a look of passion and desire, not confusion and surprise. In his dream, there was no Hardy, no Webb or Gunny. There was just Mac. Mac smiling at him as she lifted herself from the tub, bubbles sliding down her slick form. Mac gliding towards him and wrapping her arms around his neck. Mac pulling his head to hers in a kiss that put all other kisses to shame. Mac, on the bed, soft and warm and his. And she would look at him with eyes full of love and thank him for saving her. She would press herself against him and tell him that everything was going to be fine, that they could handle anything because they were together. And he would wake up, his body on fire and his eyes full of tears, her �I love you, Harm� still softly echoing through him. After that dream, he would head straight for the shower, stand under a blast of icy water, and let the tears flow for what might have been. What she had decided could never be.
The hell of it was, the more he thought about it, the more he understood why she felt that way. As awful as she had been to him down there, he had been just as bad. He made snide remarks about Clay. He had questioned her decisions. He had thrown Catherine Gale in her face instead of mentioning that he had resigned. Instead of being honest with her, he had constantly tried to gain the upper hand in their confrontations. And she had done the same. But, damn it, he just didn�t get it! He gave up everything to find her and she didn�t seem to care. He saved her from the same kind of torture she had watched Webb suffer through, and she wasn�t the least bit grateful. In fact, it seemed to have just pissed her off! He had tried, over and over in his mind, to figure out why she had acted the way she did and came up with nothing. Now it looked like it was too late. If he had been trying to be the one on top, he failed miserably. He didn�t think he could be any lower if he tried.
He shook his head and dragged himself over to the window. He couldn�t keep doing this to himself. It was over, she had made that clear. And he had to get past it if they were going to salvage even a small piece of their friendship. He briefly considered the thought that they would never get past it, that their friendship was over, and immediately felt ill. He couldn�t accept that. He couldn�t accept the thought of her being gone from his life completely. Somehow, he had to let this go. The bitter irony of that thought brought him up short. �But you just can�t let go, can you?� How many years had it been since she said those words to him? She had wanted him to let go so they could have a future. And now he had to let go of that future if he had any hope of salvaging the present. What a damn fucking mess they had made of things.
A movement below drew his attention back to the window. A familiar minivan was pulling in front of his building. He watched Bud and Harriet get their son out of the car and head towards the door. Great. He didn�t know if he was up to facing the Roberts family right now. He was feeling pretty raw at the moment. He contemplated waiting until they were in the elevator and then heading down the fire escape, but found he really was looking forward to seeing little A.J. And even if he wasn�t, he knew better than to cross a pregnant Harriet Sims. Hell, he knew better than to cross Harriet Sims, period. So he quickly looked around his apartment, picked up a few scattered clothes, shoved the beer bottles into the recycling bin, and looked in the mirror to make sure he looked better than he felt. Deciding that he looked fine considering he was an unemployed ex-naval aviator/lawyer who had lost his best friend and all his dreams for the future, he pasted a smile on his face and went to welcome his friends.
He had barely gotten the door open when a small blond tornado blew into his apartment and ran straight into his knees. Wincing in pain, he hefted his godson into his arms and was rewarded with an enthusiastic hug and a shouted, �Hi, Unca Harm!�
�Hey, buddy! How�s my favorite sailor doing? Hey Bud, Harriet, come on in.�
Moving away from the door with A.J. still in his arms, he motioned for the Roberts� to enter. Harriet beamed at him as she dragged her heavily pregnant body over to the sofa, stopping to lean up and kiss his cheek. Bud followed a little hesitantly, unsure of how to act around his friend now that he was out of the Navy. Harm noticed this and moved to set him at ease. He slid his godson onto his hip and reached out to clasp Bud�s hand.
�It�s O.K., Bud. I�m still the same person I was two weeks ago.�
�Of course you are, Commander. I mean, just because you�re not at JAG doesn�t mean you�re not still a lawyer. And you still fly planes. I mean not Tomcats, sir, but other planes. And, well Commander...I mean...well...�
�Bud!� Harriet glared at her husband from her perch on the sofa. �Quit babbling. The Commander�s still our friend. You don�t need to act any different with him,� turning to Harm, she smiled, �Sorry, sir. We�re still working on getting used to all of this.�
�You and me both, Harriet,� he smiled ruefully. For a moment, an awkward silence filled the room as Harm turned to gaze out the window again. Sighing once, he squared his shoulders and turned around, flyboy smile firmly in place. Looking at Harriet once again, he said, �Harriet, I think the first thing you both need to get used to is calling me Harm. No Commander, no Sir, Harm. Got it?�
�Yes, sir!� they chorused. And then both adults blushed profusely and began to stammer apologies. Unable to maintain his foul mood in the face of their obvious embarrassment, he shook his head and laughed. Motioning Bud to sit next to his wife, he slid to the floor and sat A.J. on his shoulders.
�How are you feeling these days, Harriet? Are your legs still bothering you?� Harm felt sure that if he could just keep the conversation focused on his friends, he could handle this visit without having to get into anything too painful. The last thing he wanted to talk about was anything related to Paraguay. Or anyone. Bud and Harriet sensed this and kept up a steady stream of chatter about her pregnancy, the house and little A.J. They discussed life at JAG while avoiding any mention of the Colonel, or the Admiral. Harm was grateful to them for that. They did ask him about his plans for work. He mentioned the offer from Kershaw.
�Are you really thinking about working there, sir? Sorry, Harm. I mean, what about private practice?� Bud was a little unnerved about his friend joining the Agency. After all, Harm got in enough trouble as a JAG. Harm as a C.I.A. agent just seemed to be courting disaster.
�Yeah, I guess I am. I mean, I thought about private practice, but I�m not sure I want to be a lawyer outside of JAG.�
�Yeah, you probably wouldn�t last any longer than the Colonel d...� Bud broke off, realizing what he had said. He and Harriet looked at Harm, not sure what to say or do now that the Colonel had been mentioned. Should they pretend it never happened and quickly change the topic or should they acknowledge what Bud said and try to get Harm to talk to them about whatever had happened between the two in Paraguay? They decided to let Harm take the lead and silence once again blanketed the room.
Harm wasn�t sure what to do himself. He wasn�t sure he could handle talking about Mac. On the other hand, he felt like he was literally starving for news of her. Harm fought a quick, bloody war with himself and then turned back to his guests.
In a pathetic attempt at nonchalance, he looked out the window as he asked, �So how is the Colonel these days? Getting back into the swing of things O.K.?�
�She seems fine, sir,� Bud replied anxiously, not knowing what Harm wanted to hear. When he didn�t respond, Bud continued, �She�s back in the courtroom tomorrow, actually. Prosecuting a case against Commander Turner. Should be pretty easy for her. Well, unless something like today happens again. But I doubt it will. I mean, maybe if the Admiral was defending it would but he�s not going to do that so, really, I think it will be perfectly fine. She�ll be perfectly fine, today was just, and well it was nothing and....�
�Bud!� This time it was Harm interrupting Bud�s babbling. Bud stopped and looked at the Commander�s face. Realizing what he said, he paled and opened his mouth to backtrack. Before he could say a word, Harm raised his hand and said firmly, �Bud, what happened today?�
�Sir, it was nothing really...�
�If it was really nothing, you shouldn�t have any problem telling me about it, should you?� Seeing Bud hesitate again, he followed with, �Consider it an order, Lieutenant.�
�Well, sir, Harm, you know technically you can�t give me orders anymore...�
Realizing what he had just said, he trailed off and looked apprehensively at Harm. Harm waved him off. He didn�t really mind what Bud said. After all, he was correct. He looked from Bud to Harriet and quietly repeated, �What happened today?�
Seeing that her husband was tongue-tied, again, Harriet responded. She quickly relayed this morning�s confrontation between the Admiral and his Chief of Staff. She told him what she had seen herself and filled in the blanks with the details Jen had given her. Harm just sat there, stunned. He couldn�t believe what he was hearing. In fact, if it were anyone else, he would have thought they were lying. But Harriet wouldn�t do that. She was probably understating what happened so he wouldn�t get concerned. If she was, she was too late.
What the hell was she thinking? She actually told the Admiral she wouldn�t let the team down? Was she trying to get court-marshaled? Harm�s thoughts raced as he tried to figure out why Mac would pick a fight with the Admiral. Harriet quickly broke into his musings.
�Sir, it�s really not that bad. I think everyone just wrote it off to the stress of everything that�s been happening. I don�t think the Admiral really blamed her, either. I overheard him talking to Meredith on their way to lunch today and he told her that the Colonel wasn�t dealing well with you being gone. I really think he understands, sir. I�m sure she won�t get in any trouble.�
�I�m sure you�re right, Harriet,� Harm tried to take comfort in her words. She probably was right. Even if the Admiral was mad now, he never managed to stay mad at Mac for too long. Harm had figured out long ago that Brumby was right. They all were a little bit in love with her. Some more than others. He turned his attention back to his friends right as they told him they needed to get A.J. home. He offered up the token protest, but they all knew he was ready to be alone for a while. He walked them to the door and gave them a sincere thank you for stopping by. Harriet smiled and hugged him again, brushing off her tears as pregnancy hormones. Bud just looked at him solemnly and shook his hand again.
�Call us if you need anything. Anytime. Don�t be a stranger, Harm.� And with that, Bud moved to the elevator. Waving one last goodbye, Harm shut his door and moved back to the window. Watching the Roberts� pack up and leave, he thought again about what they had told him about Mac. He had thought that she was fine, that she had put her experiences with Saddiq, and with him, behind her and moved on. Now he was wondering if she hadn�t just been hiding from him again. For all her complaints about his running away, she was pretty good at herself. Maybe if he went to see her he could figure out what was going on. Even as he went to grab his keys, he stopped. Going to see her was the worst thing he could do. They were both still too raw from their previous confrontations. He would push her and she would either push back or retreat further. They would blow up at each other all over again until they were worn out. Then, they would move to the freezing each other out portion of the program. No, seeing Mac would be the worst thing for both of them. He sat down at his desk and sighed. His voice echoed through the empty apartment.
�I�m sorry, Mac. I just can�t do this again. I can�t let it go. Not yet.�
Kresge Hills Medical Center
Sturgis had spent most of those extra forty minutes debating the pros and cons of taking Webb for a long walk and throwing him off the nearest bridge. He decided against it finally, not because of his Christian upbringing or his firm beliefs, but because if he went to jail for killing the man there would be no one around to help Mac. That settled, he had formulated the start of a basic conversation that he believed would make Webb see that he was not the man for the Colonel. If it didn�t work, he would reconsider the bridge.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Sturgis pushed open the door to the room. He found his target propped up in bed with his gaze fixed on ZNN. Glancing up as he heard the door open, he started to speak.
�Sarah, already miss m...� his voice trailed off as he saw the identity of his new visitor. The look of complete confusion on the spy�s face was just what Sturgis was looking for. Keeping an opponent off balance was the best way to keep the upper hand in any verbal altercation. He took a moment to evaluate Webb�s physical appearance. There was no denying the man had been severely injured. However, considering what he had been through, he probably looked better than he should. Better than he would if Harm hadn�t been around to save his sorry six, that�s for sure. Sturgis could see Webb�s eyes narrow momentarily before his body deliberately relaxed and he fixed Sturgis with his patented Clayton Webb smirk. Sturgis recognized the ploy as the conversational equivalent of the game of chicken. The first one to speak was the loser. He was sure Webb was a master of the game. He�d have to be considering his job. Sturgis could see from the look in his eyes that the spy didn�t even consider him a worthy opponent. That arrogance, Sturgis decided, was going to be his downfall.
Sturgis Turner was a man who not only knew himself, but also knew how others saw him. Solid and dependable, he was the one others turned to for advice or guidance. He was the mediator, the diplomat smoothing over ruffled feathers; he was the pillar of strength. To men like Webb, he was boring. So boring that he wasn�t worth more than a surface glance. Most men would be upset at being thought of in those terms, but Sturgis relied on it. It gave him invisibility. Time to analyze situations and discover his opponent�s weaknesses. And by the time his opponent realized he had the upper hand, Sturgis had already moved in for the kill. It worked in the courtroom and it was going to work here. Webb was already starting to tense, his eyes searching and analyzing, trying to find a weakness. The longer he looked and didn�t find one, the more nervous he became. And all the while, Sturgis stood there in silence, gazing impassively at the figure on the bed. He knew what he wanted, and Webb didn�t have a clue what that was. Winning the game was only a matter of waiting the spy out, whether it took hours or even days. Or, Sturgis thought as Webb affected a look of mild curiosity, maybe only a few minutes.
�What can I do for you, Commander Turner?� Sturgis allowed a small grin to cross his face and Webb glared at him. He had flinched first, lost the game, and they both knew it. Now Webb was just trying to salvage enough from the situation to figure out what Sturgis was here for.
�Not a thing, Mr. Webb,� Sturgis stated calmly, �I had thought you might be able to help me with something but I was mistaken.�
Clay frowned, �If there�s nothing I can help you with, why are you here?�
�Just because there�s nothing YOU can do, Mr. Webb,� Sturgis said with deliberate emphasis, �doesn�t mean there�s nothing I can do.�
Webb raised an eyebrow, �And you think you can do something for me, Commander?� his tone clearly implying how unlikely he found the prospect.
Sturgis merely smiled that same knowing smile. A smile that dropped from his face as he leaned forward to respond, �For you, Mr. Webb or to you. It�s your choice which.�
Clay looked at him incredulously, �Are you threatening me, Commander Turner?�
Turner shook his head calmly, �Not at all. I�m merely stating a fact. You see, Mr. Webb, you and I are going to have a little talk. What you get out of that talk is completely up to you.�
The smirk reappeared on Clay�s face, �And what is the little talk going to be about? Wait, let me guess. We�re going to talk about a certain ex-Naval aviator and how I helped screw up his life. About how he saved my life and I owe him and now it�s time to repay the debt. What does he want me to do, Turner? Get A.J. to give him his job back? Find him a place at the Agency? Or does he want me to help him fix the mess he made with Sarah? Maybe use me to get back in her good graces? If that�s it, he�s out of luck.�
�This has nothing to do with Harm. As far as I know, Harm doesn�t want anything from you. Certainly not and of the things you just brought up. Harm�s not looking for anyone to go to the Admiral on his behalf. He got an interview with Deputy Director Kershaw on Friday all by himself, and when he decides to fix �the mess with Sarah�, I�m sure he�ll want to do that on his own terms. After all, they�ve been fixing the messes they�ve made for eight years now. Some times take longer than others, but they always get around to it eventually.�
Sturgis moved to the chair by the bed and lowered himself into it. Fixing Webb with a piercing glare, he went on, �But then you already knew that, didn�t you, Mr. Webb? After all, you�ve known them as long as they�ve known each other. You�ve been around for all of the misunderstandings, all of the fights. You�ve heard all the hurtful words they�ve flung at each other and seen all the wounds they�ve inflicted. They�ve spent a lifetime watching people walk away and they�ve come to expect it. That�s why they�ve chosen the lovers they have. They both know that eventually that person will walk away, so they choose partners that they can live with and live without. You know that. You�re counting on it. You know that if Mac chooses you, it will be for the same reason she chose all those other men. You know if you left her, she could live without you and move on. But you�re trying your hardest to make her choose you anyway, because you know that once you have her, you�ll never leave her. And you know she wouldn�t leave you. Loyalty and compassion, friendship and caring would keep her with you. But you have to do it soon. Because with every moment that goes by without her choosing you comes the chance that she might work things out with Harm. And then you lose.�
�Tell me something, Commander Turner, do you try this in court?� Webb spit out sarcastically. �Do you throw out wild theories based on what you believe you know and try and talk fast enough to convince everyone else? If you do, then you must lose a lot of cases. Because if your theories are as fantastic as the one you just spun, you don�t stand a chance in the courtroom. Do you even believe what you�re selling?�
�I don�t throw out theories, in court or anywhere else. I present the facts and trust that people are smart enough to recognize them for what they are. Of course, I sometimes overestimate the intelligence of the people I�m dealing with.�
Webb�s face grew tight with fury. �Are you implying that I�m stupid, Commander?�
�Quite the contrary. You�re a very intelligent man. You�re also cunning, deceitful, and manipulative. You know that you�re working against the clock, so you�re using every advantage you have. Even your weaknesses. You�re using your injuries to feed Mac�s guilt. When she tells you know guilty she feels, you remind her how much you care about her. When she sees your hand tremble and tries to help you because you�re her friend and she cares about you, you tell her that the only thing you need is her. You relay how grateful you are to Harm for saving her when you failed, knowing she�ll defend you. Remind you of what you did for her. And let it conveniently remind her as well. Then you ask her how things are going between her and Harm. You have to remind her how far apart they are to emphasize how close you are. Harm�s gone and you�re not, and you can never let her forget it.�
�Why should she forget it? It�s the truth. I can see it and so can Sarah. Obviously, you can�t.�
�I do see it. But there�s something else I see. Something you see, and you�re trying desperately to keep her from figuring it out.�
�What is it exactly that I see that she doesn�t?� Clay�s mask of superiority and contempt was starting to slip, and as it did, his growing fear was showing through the cracks. �Since you apparently know more about what I�m thinking than I do, why don�t you enlighten me? What is Sarah going to figure out?�
Sturgis� face was the picture of confidence and his voice was a strange mixture of certainty, contempt, and pity. �She�s going to figure out that she was never alone. Harm was always with her. Even if he wasn�t physically there, his heart has always been with Mac, just as hers has always been with him. She�s going to look back on a lifetime of people leaving her and see that Harm is the only one who came back. That he always has come back to her and he always will. No matter what happens, how bad it gets, how many of her weaknesses he sees, he will never abandon her. Because he loves her more than anything. And all those fears they had about moving forward and losing what they already had don�t matter, because they�ve already lost what they had. That�s too overwhelming for them to get past right now. They think it�s the end. But neither one of them will accept that for long. And that�s when they�ll realize that they can let it end or they can make it a new beginning. And when the time comes to go forward or stop for good, they won�t stop.�
�What if you�re right? What if they choose not to stop? How do you know that�s the best thing for Sarah? How do you know she wouldn�t be better off with me?� Clay�s voice was full of fear and anger and determination. Sturgis� voice was just filled with the knowledge that he was right. �Because, Mr. Webb, she doesn�t love you.�
At that simple statement, Clay lost control. Raising himself on the bed, he shoved his face into Sturgis� and shouted, �He doesn�t deserve her!�
Sturgis� grip on his own temper vanished and he struck back, �Neither do you!� His voice full of barely controlled rage, he continued, �Whatever else Harmon Rabb has done to her, he has never used her to satisfy his own needs. He�s never preyed on her insecurities to achieve his goals. And he has never, NEVER, tried to manipulate her into settling for less than exactly what she wants.� Calming slightly, he stood and looked down at the man in the bed. His face was red and his hand was trembling violently. Gesturing to the hand, Sturgis� remarked softly, �I know you love her. The trembling in your hand is proof of that. But how much do you love her? Enough to be honest? Enough to let her make her own choices without trying to influence her? Do you love Sarah Mackenzie enough to risk letting her go? If you don�t, then you don�t love her enough. You don�t love her like you should. And I don�t think you do. But I�m going to give you the chance to prove me wrong. Let go now. Let her follow her heart and remain her friend. That�s what I�m going to do for you, Mr. Webb.�
�And if I don�t, that�s when you�ll do something to me? What exactly will you do to me?� Clay challenged.
�I�ll take your chance away. I�ll tell her everything I just told you. I don�t want to, it�s better if she figures it out herself. But if two days from now, you�re still trying to weasel your way into her life, I will tell her. And then you won�t even have her friendship.�
�What makes you so sure she�ll believe anything you say?�
Sturgis stepped back from the bed. �Because she knows I wouldn�t lie to her. I don�t lie to her, you do and she knows it. I keep secrets for her and you keep secrets from her. She knows that, too. The difference between us, Mr. Webb, is that you have to work to keep her trust. I have to work to lose it. Now, you can make your choice. You can decide I�m spinning a theory and keep doing what you�re doing. Or you can recognize that I�ve just been stating the facts and change your ways. It IS your choice, Mr. Webb. Make the right one. You have forty-eight hours.�
Sturgis turned and walked confidently out the door without bothering to look back. He had seen resignation register in the man�s eyes at his last statement. He was almost positive that Webb would decide to walk away from Mac. And if he was wrong, Sturgis would talk to Mac and she�d throw him out and all the way back to Paraguay. Sturgis smiled at the thought. He started whistling as he strolled into the elevator. Looking at himself in the mirror adorning the elevator wall, he congratulated himself on a successful mission. And he hadn�t even needed the bridge.
JAG Headquarters
1730 EST
Commander Sturgis Turner waved goodbye to the Roberts� from his post behind his desk. He had rarely left his office since returning from the conference room this morning. When asked, he had told his co-workers that he simply had too much work to do. They had no reason to disbelieve him; the office had been playing catch-up since Harm�s arrest in the spring. However, Sturgis� work for the day had nothing to do with the files massed on his desk and everything to do with the woman whose office he�d been observing all day.
1805 EST
Just as Sturgis was leaving JAG, Bud and Harriet were exiting the antiquated elevator leading to Harm�s apartment with little A.J. in tow. It had been Harriet�s idea to bring their son along; she knew that the Commander would never turn away his own godson. It had also been Harriet�s idea not to inform him they were coming. She told her husband that it would be a nice surprise for Harm. She didn�t mention the part about it being a whole lot harder to turn them away once they were standing in front of them. Bud hadn�t agreed, but he had learned during his wife�s first pregnancy that if he wanted to sleep in his bedroom, Harriet was right. About anything and everything. So here they were, on their way to the Commander�s, praying he would let them in. Literally and figuratively.
2010 EST
It had taken Sturgis less than fifteen minutes to find out where Clayton Webb was hospitalized. It had taken him another twenty to find the Medical Center. Ten minutes to park, enter the building, and take the elevator to the correct floor. Less than a minute to recognize the voices coming from the door as Mac and Webb�s. Two extra minutes were wasted battling with his conscience about the morality of eavesdropping until Sturgis got fed up and told his conscience, father�s voice or not, to shut the hell up. The next thirty-six minutes were spent listening closely to the pair�s conversation, analyzing for any hints of what was wrong with Mac. In these thirty-six minutes Sturgis came to two conclusions. The first conclusion was that not only did Clayton Webb not know what was wrong with Mac; he didn�t even realize that there was anything wrong. While Sturgis viewed this as a slight setback, he had anticipated that Mac might not want to burden Webb with her problems. It was the second conclusion that had kept Sturgis out in the hall for an extra forty minutes after Mac left. Because the second conclusion was that Clayton Webb might not see anything wrong with Sarah Mackenzie, but Sturgis Turner saw a whole lot of things wrong with Clayton Webb.