*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
You never thought you’d be alone this far down the line.
But I know what’s been on your mind.
You’re afraid it’s all been wasted time.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Clayton Webb looked at the woman that sat in a crumpled heap, propped up against the brick building, her phone still clutched tightly in her hand.. She was soaked through, her clothes plastered to her body...but what gave him pause was the haunted emptiness in her eyes.
When she finally noticed him, her eyes meeting his, they were devoid of any life. Whatever happened to her had completely broken Sarah Mackenzie’s strong spirit. The thought enraged him. There was only one explanation, and by God he was going to fucking kill Harmon Rabb for doing this to her.
Mac saw the fire and fury in his eyes, and for a moment was almost jealous of it. She wanted to feel. She wanted to be angry again. She had been so angry when she saw him standing before her, wanting to hide, wanting to shield her from what he’d done. She wanted that fury back. She wanted to pound her fists into his flesh, to feel him break under her wrath...but the will just wasn’t there. Not for that; not for anything.
Anger had given way to desolation and now she felt nothing.
From hurt, to anger, to pain, to nothing.
Her heart, just like the rest of her body, was numb.
Before she realized he had moved, Webb was bending down in front of her, his hand gently brushing the wet strands of hair off her forehead, before cupping her cheek tenderly. "Oh, Sarah. What did he do to you?"
His feather light touch and softly spoken words barely registered as her eyes stared vacantly back at him. She couldn’t answer him, but it didn’t matter. In the next instant she was being lifted into his arms.
Quickly wiping the tears and rain water from his eyes, Harm managed to stand, his wobbly legs threatening to give out on him at any time. Making his way back to his apartment his mind worked furiously, trying to figure out what to do next. As he reached the alley he noticed her car for the first time and his heart lurched in his chest.
Walking over to it he ran his hand over the hood of the sleek sports car, the water gliding off in a downward slope. He had no idea why, but just touching the tangible evidence that she’d been here, that she’d have to come back to him sometime, gave him a slight ray of hope. It also brought back all the guilt.
He needed to see her, to apologize, to beg her to forgive him.
But what if she didn’t this time? Then what?
The war raged on as Harm walked up the steps, not bothering to wait for the elevator up to his floor. Reaching his door he noticed it slightly ajar. Cautiously he moved, letting the door slide open with just the touch of his fingertips, half afraid of what he’d find on the other side.
The lights were still off, the only light coming from the harsh glare of the hallway light. Relief flooded through him when he realized that he was alone. He hadn’t really wanted to deal with the sure awkwardness that would have come from a confrontation with Beth. Closing the door behind him Harm walked over to the island counter sitting down heavily on one of the stools, staring off into space.
He was still soaked, his body peppered with goosebumps from the combination of the chilly room and his wet jeans, but he didn’t notice. His mind was consumed with all of his memories of this evening floating around in his head: hearing Mac’s one-sided conversation with Webb, the drinking, Sturgis...the sex.
Almost sick to his stomach, Harm glanced over at the couch. That’s all it had been, just sex. That was what he had wanted, right? Yeah, he had done it. He had taken what was so freely offered all the while knowing it was wrong, and with it he had sacrificed everything worth anything in his life. There had been no intimacy, no emotion with Beth. It was a desperate act, an act to banish the hurt he had felt knowing that Mac had moved on, that she had chosen Webb. With every thrust into Beth’s body he had destroyed everything that could have been with the woman he loved.
Sturgis was right; it had been the biggest mistake of his life.
Walking over to the window he looked out, staring at the storm ravaged night sky.
It was a foreign feeling to him, shame. Not the guilt; guilt was a constant companion in his life. Guilt had been a result of almost every major event of his life. He was used to screwing up. What he wasn’t used to was the possibility that this time there might not be a chance at redemption. He had always counted on being able to come out on top, to be able to talk his way out of anything, to pull the proverbial rabbit out of his hat. Somehow, he didn’t think he’d be able to pull it off this time. His behavior was disgusting, and that alone he could not forgive himself, let alone expect her to.
He’d seen her face tonight; he could tell from the childlike hope in her eyes she had come to him ready. Ready for him. Ready for them. She had made a decision and there was love and an unmistakable longing there...until the sleepy voice behind him had changed it all.
Harm had never seen such pain on another human being before. The fire that had been the inner spirit of Sarah Mackenzie had been extinguished in an instant. All he wanted, in that very moment, was to make that wounded look go away. Even now when he closed his eyes that was the image that projected itself on his closed lids.
Rage welled up within him. He wanted to banish that image from his mind.
It wasn’t fare! Why should he have to feel like this?
He’d had sex. It’d felt great. Not spectacular but good enough. It wasn’t like he slept around. It was one time in over two years. Two years! What the hell was he supposed to do? Sit around forever while Mac made up her mind whether she wanted him or not? She hadn’t given him the time he had asked for so why the hell should he feel guilty for not giving it to her?
The more he thought about it, the madder he got. Walking over to the fridge he yanked the door open, blindly reaching inside for a bottle of beer. After popping the cap on the counter he stalked over to the living area, prowling the small area in front of the bookcase.
Taking a swig of the cold liquid he looked over at the wooden structure, his eyes roving over the scattered memories of his life, frozen forever in the photographs that littered each shelf. Most of the major events of his life were presented there. Pictures of graduations, award ceremonies, weddings and christenings. There were snapshots and professional photographs, all depicting the life he had chosen to live. He almost succeeded in ignoring the fact that Sarah Mackenzie played an amazingly large role in most of the stories those pictures told.
It was his life, damn it! He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs that it was none of her damn business what he chose to do or with whom. There was no commitment, no ring on her finger. Hell, they hadn’t even really been dating. Working dinners hardly constituted an intimate relationship. It had been nine fucking months since they’d been in Paraguay.
So they had kissed a few times. So what? How the hell was he supposed to know she wanted more? It’s not like she’d opened her god damn mouth and told him what she really wanted. She hadn’t said anything...so what did he do? He had picked up the first blonde that had showed any interest in him and took her to bed.
"Fuck!" The shout reverberated throughout the apartment, punctuated by the sound of breaking glass as the bottle shattered against the opposite wall. "Fuck," he rasped this time, his head thrown back, hands on his hips. When he looked back down his eyes were drawn to the bookshelf once more, to the picture of two smiling faces, their arms wrapped around each other, their battle dress dusty from a night in the Afghan desert. Butch and Sundance. Jesus, the picture said it all.
The excuses were bullshit and he knew it. He was wrong. No matter how you looked at it Harmon Rabb was wrong. All the justification in the world wouldn’t change the truth. Sturgis was right. The truth was that when it came down to it, everything in his life now had to do with Mac. And no matter how much he wanted to convince himself otherwise, Sarah Mackenzie owned his soul.
The broken bottle forgotten, Harm walked back over to the window, his forehead head coming to rest against the glass as he watched the rain pour down over the red Corvette below. All he wanted right now was a chance to talk to her, to make things right. He watched as hard as he could, hoping in vain that he could somehow magically conger her up out of nowhere. But it never happened.
It wasn’t meant to be. Harm couldn’t help but wonder if that wasn’t the prevailing theme of his life. It always seemed like it just wasn’t meant to be for them. Something always managed to get in their way. His fault, her fault, all of the opportunities and chances, all of the time they’d wasted...none of it seemed to matter now.
"I’m sorry," he whispered to no one, all the while praying that by some kind of miracle she could hear him. "Oh god, Mac, I am so sorry."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
All the leaves have got you thinkin’
about the first time that you fell.
You didn’t love the boy too much no, no,
you just loved the boy too well.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Mac watched listlessly as the naked trees passed by the car window like images from a projector, their leaves stripped away by the harsh winter. The passing landscape looked desolate, which unfortunately was in keeping with Mac’s present frame of mind. She had absolutely no idea where Clay was taking her and at the moment she really didn’t care, as long as it was away from here, away from him.
They rode in silence, the soft hum of the car engine the only sound in the vehicle. It was as distracting as it was soothing. Looking over at his profile, the tight set of his jaw, she knew he deserved an explanation for all of this. Well, maybe deserved was a strong word, but at the very least he had earned one.
But where the hell was she supposed to start?
She was just about to open her mouth to launch into an explanation when instead "I’m sorry" slipped out before she could stop it.
Momentarily taking his eyes off the road, he looked at her puzzled. "What? What are you sorry for?" he asked, curious.
Gazing back out the window she mumbled miserably, "I don’t know...everything."
Pulling to a stop at the light, Clay turned in his seat to face her. "Look at me." When she refused he asked again softly. "Sarah, look at me."
She turned her head toward him, her large sad eyes finally meeting his. "Whatever happened, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for."
"Not even for calling you in the middle of the night?" she asked, her voice small.
"Especially for that. I told you to call me anytime and I meant it," he answered firmly, turning back around as the light turned green. Stepping on the accelerator, Clay took one hand off the steering wheel to tentatively reach for her hand. "You ready to talk about it?"
"No," she answered honestly, "but I need to at some point I guess. Might as well be now." Taking a deep breath, she gave him the short version. "I went over to see Harm tonight. Only...when I got there he...he wasn’t alone."
Clay’s jaw clenched, "Were you two...had you finally started..."
"Had we started dating?" she filled in his blanks. When he nodded she sighed. "I thought that’s what we were doing...that is, until New Year’s."
"What happened New Year’s?" he gently prodded, not sure he wanted to hear the answer. He understood where Sarah Mackenzie’s heart lied, he always had and that’s why he had backed off...to an extent anyway. It still didn’t make this any easier to hear. And he still couldn’t stop himself from wanting her.
"We...things got a little out of hand." Noticing his pained expression she hurried on. "We didn’t sleep together. We were...interrupted when Chloe called," she finished, her cheeks tinged slightly with embarrassment.
"Would you have? Had she not called?" He tried for a neutral tone but didn’t quite pull it off.
She didn’t want to hurt him, but there was only one way to answer. "In all honesty...yeah, I think we would have."
She grew quiet as Clay drove on. A few more miles down the road, she spoke again. "Up until then we’d been working on getting closer. You know, spending time together, dinners, quiet evenings. After everything that happened in Paraguay, I thought he’d finally figured it out...that he wanted me. I mean, he risks everything to come after me: his job, his life...flying. He makes this grand gesture, and as soon as things start to get too personal, too intimate, he backs off."
"What do you mean he backed off?" he asked incredulously.
"Just what I said, he backed off. After that night in my apartment it was like he just shut it down and walked away. No more spending time with each other. The dinners stopped. I asked him several times if he wanted to get together but he always had something to do, or when he asked a few times, I was busy. So eventually we just quit asking. It’s like it all just...went away. But I still thought..."
When she faltered his fingers tightened around hers in encouragement, giving her his strength to finish. "I still thought that we’d eventually work it out and move forward. That is, until tonight. He was supposed to go out tonight with Sturgis and he asked me to go along. It’s just...I didn’t want to be ‘out’ with the guys, you know? I wanted to be out with him, just the two of us. Anyway, I just told him no, he left and then you called. After I talked to you I went for a walk, did some thinking and made a decision. I went over there tonight to tell him that I was ready. I...I really thought he’d be happy. Then I get there and find out that obviously I misunderstood everything."
Clay listened, his whole body tense with rage, but he said nothing. How the hell could he do this to her?
But even Harm’s blatant disregard for her feelings wasn’t what upset him the most. He was completely stunned that, in the whole time she’d been talking, not once did Mac raise her voice or change her inflection. It stayed the same: no emotion, no feeling. It was almost like she was just a passive observer in her own life.
Why wasn’t she angry? He knew Mac. Hell, her feisty, fighting spirit was one of the things he had always loved about her. But looking at her now, listening to her, it was like this Sarah was a completely different person. She should be furious, ready to rip Harm apart with her bare hands. Instead she just sat there in her seat, small and wounded and blaming herself.
Finally pulling up in front of a large house, he shut off the car and got out, walking around to her side to help her out. Her arms immediately wrapped around him, begging him without words to not let her go. Without any thought he complied, willing to let her take whatever she needed from him, if only for tonight.
Stepping into the foyer of the house Mac took in her surroundings. Everywhere she looked fine things spoke of old money, from the paintings on the walls, to glass cases full of priceless vestiges. She had always known Clayton Webb came from a wealthy family, but she had never been witness to it until now.
"You need to warm up before you catch pneumonia." When she immediately started to protest that she was fine, he was ready for her. "Don’t even start. Your skin is like ice. Come on, move it, Marine," he commanded, tugging her toward the steps. "There’s a bathroom just up the stairs. I’ll get you settled in, then you can take a shower and warm up while I put on some tea."
Giving in simply because she lacked the strength to argue, she smiled at him indulgently before letting herself be led by his hand gently resting at the small of her back. In no time he had her making her way to the top of the long, winding staircase to the second floor.
Running her fingertips along the polished wood as she ascended, Mac was suddenly aware of how close he really was to her. He was hovering, but instead of finding it oppressive Mac was strangely comforted by his attention. He was a warm and solid presence in her now cold existence and for the first time since leaving Harm’s apartment, Mac began to let herself feel.
Depositing her off at the bathroom door, Clay pointed out where she would find toiletries and towels before turning around to leave her to it.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, and didn’t really want to put a name to, Mac wasn’t ready to let him go just yet. "Clay?"
The husky lilt of her voice stopped him dead in his tracks. "Yes?"
Walking over to him she placed her hands on his chest before shyly meeting his eyes. "Thank you...for everything."
Taking one of her hands from his chest he slowly brought it to his mouth, barely brushing her knuckles with his lips. "You’re welcome, Sarah."
More than a little breathless, Mac watched as he dropped her hand and backed away before walking down the stairs without looking back. Only then did it seem her lungs would start working again, when he was gone and away from her. Shaking her head slightly, as if to clear it, Mac began stripping off her wet clothes on her way to turn on the shower.
Turning it on as hot as she could, steam immediately began billowing out of the enclosed glass area. It was a beautiful room, all chrome and glass and wide open space. The masculine feel wasn't lost on Mac as she closed her eyes, trying to imagine Clay here. But it wasn't his image that would come...instead a tall athletic build appeared in the glass enclosure. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, dazzling smile...
"Damn it!" she cursed herself and him. Why couldn't he leave her alone? Why did he have to haunt her life the way he did? Why wasn't she stronger?
Stepping into the pounding spray, Mac felt helpless as all of her earlier emotions came flooding back with a swiftness that was almost physically painful. She was torn in a million different directions, her mental battle waging itself out on her body. She scrubbed furiously, trying to wash away that which no one could really see on the outside, the emotion she despised more than all the others...weakness.
She had fought this particular demon for years and she hated it. Hated it because it always seemed to win. The booze, the abuse, Eddie, Chris, John Farrow, Dalton, Mic. And then there was Harm. Harm was the addiction, the weakness, she couldn't get over no matter how hard she tried.
Angry; she was so damn angry. Not even necessarily at Harm any more, but angry at herself. When had she become this weak, this fragile, this...needy?
The answer was as simple as it was frightening. All her life.
She’d been that way all her life, from the time she’d been old enough to understand that the fairy tales she’d dreamed of as a little girl didn’t exist. Somewhere along the line she’d lost sight of that. No, the cold hard reality of life was that people that you care about, get too close to, always leave. That some people weren’t meant to have ‘happily ever after’. That you could never change what you really are, even if you try to hind behind a mask...or in her case a uniform.
Her uncle had cleaned her up, washed off the filth, and convinced her for a short time she was worth something. She’d worked hard, going farther, working harder than either of her parents had ever done. Joining the Marines, going to college, to law school, Mac had built herself up from nothing. She’d began building walls so high, so thick...that she’d never really realized that she was actually building them on sand.
When she came to JAG headquarters almost eight years ago, Mac was as firmly entrenched behind those walls as she had ever been. She was at a good place in her life...after a series of bad mistakes that had lead to some questions about her integrity. She wasn’t proud of what her and John did. The guilt had gnawed away at her until finally she had to leave to get away from it. But she had left it all behind and was starting over. Her career was on the right track, so what if her personal life was a mess. She didn’t need anyone but herself, right...
Then she had met Harm.
From the moment they met it was a constant battle for control. Control of her life. Control over her feelings. Control over his feelings. Control over their jobs.
Their relationship grew and morphed so many times, that by the time one or the other was ready to acknowledge that something was happening between them, it changed again. But through it all she always thought she knew him, understood him. And vice versa. That’s why she was having so much trouble comprehending how he could do this now...but not at all shocked that he had. It was the enigma that was their relationship. She was all prepared for the bitter disappointment that came with loving him. It had become a permanent part of her life since she’d met him.
They had both thought it was a good thing, tearing down walls, worming their way in, letting each other see things that no one else had ever seen. Looking back, though, maybe it had been the worst possible thing. Why would he want her, knowing what he did about her? Why would anyone want her for that matter? She was an alcoholic, the daughter of an abusive, womanizing drunk. Some would argue that she was basically a whore, giving it out to anyone and everyone that showed any interest in her.
‘But what about the good things?’ that little voice in her head whispered in vain.
So what if she was a Marine Lt. Colonel? So what if she’d seen combat and fought for her country? So what if she’d won medals for bravery? All of that didn’t change the fact that everyone she loved always ended up leaving her. If she were so great, why was she always the one left with nothing?
Why couldn’t Harm just love her?
Closing her eyes Mac laid her cheek against the cool ceramic tiles, no closer to an answer than when she started.
Clayton Webb was waging his own silent war downstairs. Setting the kettle on the burner, Clay mumbled to himself at the injustice of it all as he wiped down the marble area around the sink. Mac was here with him, finally, and it had nothing to do with her wanting him. He’d been pursuing her for months, trying to persuade her to just give him a chance. And what is it him that finally pushed her to call? No, it was all because of Harm, Harm and his uncanny knack for screwing things up with this particular woman. "Great. Just fucking grand," he growled, pitching the dishtowel onto the counter.
It wasn't that he was upset that she had called him; he’d do anything he could for her. He was upset that every time he tried to catch a break with her it seemed like he was bucking fate. While in Paraguay he’d let his emotions for her show for the first time. Why then he had absolutely no clue. Maybe it was the close quarters, maybe it was her courage and loyalty. Maybe because from the moment they’d met he’d been a little bit in love with her. Whatever the reason he would have died for Sarah Mackenzie, was prepared to die for her.
But here they were now. They had made it out alive...mostly because of Harmon Rabb, Clay grudgingly had to admit. Riding in on the proverbial white horse, Harm had charged in there to save the woman he loved, the woman they both loved. After it was all over, and the dust had settled, it had looked like Harm accomplished his goal. He’d taken the gamble, took the risk, and won.
So then why, after all that sacrifice, would he be stupid enough to throw it all away by sleeping with someone else? It didn’t make any damn sense. Of course most things with these two didn’t. And god, were they ever slow! It had been nine months since they’d left South America. What the hell were they waiting on?
"Oh well, Rabb’s loss is my gain," he said, trying to sound more confident than he really felt. After making his way back upstairs to his bedroom, he quickly changed clothes, before picking up his wet things and heading to the bathroom off of his own room. Running a comb through his hair he caught a glimpse of his bathrobe in the mirror. Grabbing it, he walked back out, stopping at her door.
Hesitating only for a moment, Clay rapped twice on the door. When there was no answer he tried again before cracking the door just enough to hear any movement. All he heard was the shower still running. Figuring he was safe enough to hurry in and leave the robe for her, Clay pushed the door open and made his way in, trying not to disturb her.
Placing the hunter green terry cloth robe on the vanity, Clay did his best to ignore the fact that there was a very naked woman, standing not ten feet away in the shower, one that he happened to be very attracted to. Eyes averted, he fingered the soft material. It would be too big for her, his robe. His mind worked furiously to try to ignore what she would look like in it, what it would be like to take it off of her...his hands gliding over her smooth creamy skin. That soft...satiny, olive colored flesh. Squeezing his eyes shut against temptation, Clay turned abruptly with every intention of walking straight out of there before he did something really stupid.
Taking a step toward the door, he was startled to hear the shower shut off. Out of reflex he looked up, and what he saw stopped him cold and caused the fire to flare inside him all at the same time. Standing before him, in the very see-through shower stall, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Mac was oblivious to her surroundings and to the fact she was no longer alone. Tipping her head back, she slicked her hands over her wet hair and squeezed, trying to draw as much moisture out of her hair as she could. Even after her hot shower her muscles ached. All of the tension of the day seemed to have settled in her back and shoulders. She tried to work the kinks out and as she did, her chest jutted forward, her back stretching. Only then did she hear the muffled gasp come from across the room.
Instinctually, Mac tried to cover herself until she met the startled but hungry eyes of Clayton Webb.
It was unavoidable, the heat that infused her body. He was looking at her, devouring her with his eyes. It felt so good, after everything that had happened tonight, to feel wanted, to be desired. Opening the shower door, Mac stepped out in front of him, beads of water running slowly down her body.
It was overwhelming, the flame of desire that sparked with just one look. He wanted her, she needed him, and the demon inside of her laughed wickedly at the prospect of winning another round.
Steps were made by both and when she was close enough he reached for her, his arms wrapping around her waist and drawing her against him. Her arms immediately encircled his neck as their mouths met in a hungry kiss. It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t loving. It was hard and demanding and so desperate. Her still wet body clung to him, her fingers spiking into his hair to hold him to their kiss. When their tongues met he groaned into her mouth as his hands drifted lower over the firm round curves of her bottom.
The next instant she was being lifted and set on the high bathroom counter. It was cold against her damp skin but she didn’t care. There was heat everywhere else and that’s what she wanted to concentrate on. There was no Harm, no Mac, no Webb...just the heat. Concentrate on the heat, she kept telling herself. All that matters right now is this moment, this feeling. It doesn’t matter who you’re with as long as you can feel again...
They broke away for air and her hands immediately flew to the buttons on his shirt, opening each one frantically. When it was finally undone her legs wrapped around him, drawing him in closer. The tips of her breasts rubbed sensuously against the light spattering of hair on his chest, and both groaned at the contact as their lips met again.
Just as his hand covered her breast the high pitched whistle of the tea kettle broke them out of the passion induced frenzy. Reality hit both of them at the same time with the impact of a sledge hammer, where they were, what they were about to do.
Looking up at each other at the same time Clay saw the desperation and fear in her eyes and mentally chastised himself. She didn’t need this tonight. She was hurting, and he knew this was more than likely a knee jerk reaction to what had happened with Harm. Closing his eyes, he sighed, letting his hand fall away from her breast as he pushed back away from her.
Panic welled up within her, threatening to choke her. "Clay...please. Please don’t...don’t back away," she pleaded, even as her legs were falling away from his waist.
Cupping her cheek in his palm, Clay traced her bottom lip with his thumb. "Then say it. Tell me this has nothing to do with Harm. Tell me that if Harm had been alone tonight we’d be right where we are now," he said, firmly, already knowing the answer.
She blinked and one lone tear rolled down her cheek. "I...I can’t."
Smiling sadly, Clay nodded. "I know." Leaning in to kiss her forehead, his lips lingered for a second before he stepped back out of her embrace. "Look, go ahead and use the robe. I’ll find something for you to wear and you can change in my bedroom down the hall. Then come on downstairs. I think we need to talk."
He waited until she nodded in agreement before leaving her alone.
He was just filling mugs when she finally made her way into the kitchen. Avoiding eye contact, she held out her hand when he extended the cup in her direction. "Come on, Mac. We can sit by the fire in the den."
Following behind him, Mac couldn’t help but notice he’d used her nickname this time. She was back to being 'Mac'. Somehow that said more about everything than any other words could.
They sat in silence in front of the fire, each one trying to figure out what to say. Taking a cautious sip of her tea, Mac let the hot liquid work its magic on her throat, before staring deeply into the dark brew.
"You know why I stopped, don’t you?" His voice was a little above a whisper but they were close enough to hear clearly.
"Yes," she answered. She knew why. It still hurt but she knew why. She’d done it again, let her mixed up emotions rule her head, and had again lost another good man because of it.
Sensing her doubting her self worth, Clay hurried on. "Mac, I would like nothing more than to take you upstairs and make love to you. I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember. But if we do that, with the way things are right now, won’t we always wonder?"
When she remained quiet he pushed again. "Have you even talked to him about this? Heard his side of the story?"
That got a reaction out of her and her head snapped up. "His side of the story? His side? Which side would that be? The one where he fucked someone else?"
Trying to calm her down, Clay held up his hands. "I’m not condoning what he did, Mac. And I’m madder than hell that he hurt you. But...if there is ever more between you and I, I don’t want Harmon Rabb in the middle of us."
"I know. It’s just I...I’m so confused. For the last four or five years my life has been slowly spiraling out of control. Somewhere along the way I...I lost myself. First it was Harm leaving and then there was Mic. I look back on my relationship with Mic and god, I can’t see any of me there. It was all him. Him pushing, him deciding, him calling the shots. And I did it. I went along with it all."
Standing, Mac paced in front of the fire, Clay watching on as she dealt with her memories. "Do you have any idea what it’s like to realize you’ve become a god damn doormat?"
"Don’t you think that’s a little bit harsh, Mac?"
Mac gave a disgusted snort. "Is it? I begged Mic not to go the night he left, begged him to stay because I didn’t want to be alone. I even told the son of a bitch I loved him because I...I was afraid. Why, damn it? Why am I so afraid?" By the time she had finished the tears were streaming down her face.
Clay would have given anything to take her pain away, to bear it for her. But he was also aware that there were deeper issues being dealt with than just Harm and what happened tonight. Standing he reached for her again, meaning to comfort her.
Abruptly she jerked away from his touch. "No! Don’t touch me."
"Okay, I won’t. But...it’s alright. It’s okay to cry, Mac. And it’s alright to be afraid," he soothed.
"I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t want to be needy. I don’t want to feel worthless. I just...can’t help it!" she choked on a sob.
This time he did take her into his arms while she cried. He held her until the storm had passed, until she was able to calm down on her own. When she looked up at him the concern for her was evident in his eyes. Her heart swelled with the knowledge he cared so much. "I’m sorry, Clay. I never meant to unload all of this on you tonight. But this is me, this is who I really am. Scars and all."
"All of us have scars, Mac. No one makes it through this life without pain. Especially in our line of work. No one can be happy all of the time, and there are no guarantees. There are a couple of things I do know for sure, though. I know that I care about you very much and that you care about me. But, I also know that you love Harmon Rabb. Mac, you have some decisions that you need to make, but in order to do that you need the whole story. Go to him, figure it out, take all of the time you need. And when and if your...decision is me, I’ll be here. If it’s Harm...I’ll understand that too. You need to finally find peace with yourself, Mac. Until then...you’ll never be happy."
She stared at him, humbled by the strength of character he had just shone. It would be very easy to love this man. He had his flaws just like everyone else, but underneath it all, he was a good man. "Clay, ever since we...upstairs...you’ve called me ‘Mac’. Why not ‘Sarah’?"
"Because, ‘Sarah’ is for when...if you choose me. Until then, I’m your friend, Mac. And no matter what happens I always will be."
Overwhelmed with emotion, all she could manage was a heartfelt, "Thanks."
With one last hug her reassured her. "You’re welcome. Come on, you need some rest. Why don’t you head upstairs and take the guest room?"
"Umm, Clay, I think I’d rather call a cab and head home. I...really need to be alone."
"Are you sure you want that, Mac?" he couldn’t help but ask.
"Yeah, I’m sure. I need to think, and I really need to do it on my own turf, so to speak." When he looked doubtful, she smiled at him. "Really, Clay, I’ll be fine."
It was the first real smile he’d seen all evening and he relented. "Okay, I’ll call for you."
Twenty minutes later the cab pulled in front, and Clay was walking her out. "The offer still stands, Mac. If you need me, for anything, I’m here."
"I know. Thanks again, Clay."
"No problem. Just...take care. And, Mac? I meant it. Talk to him. You owe it to yourself to know the truth."
The fear flashed again in her eyes, but was quickly hidden once more. "I...I’ll try. That’s all I can promise. Goodbye." And with one last kiss, she was gone.
As the car pulled away and drifted off into the night, taking her away from him, Clayton Webb hoped that he’d made the right choice...for all their sakes.