Teach Me How
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Category:
G through L › JAG
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,547
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own JAG, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Teach Me How
FF: Teach Me How
Author: JAGslashLady
Pairing: Harm/Clay AJ/Mac het
Rating: R (the last part, anyway) m/m, m/f romance
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Wish I did, though. Anyway, I'll return them once they're finished, I mean, once I'm finished with them. Relatively unscathed, but maybe a little out of breath Any non-JAG characters belong to me.
Timeframe: Totally AU Somewhere around what would be Season 8 in real time. In this JAGverse, Harm didn't go down in the ocean to delay Mac's marriage to Mic. Six months after the wedding, a jealous Mic convinced Mac to go back to Australia with him. Renee left to marry her mortician, leaving Harm to finally face the truth about himself. This story begins about two and a half years after Mac got married.
Summary: When Clay discovers Harm's secret, it leads him to make a discovery about himself; Mac returns from Australia, her marriage ended
Author's Notes: I know I'm taking a LOT of creative license with certain things toward the end of the story, but I'm going to leave it the way it's written. It's AU anyway….
************************
Clayton Webb followed his date through the restaurant behind the Hostess, scanning the other diners out of habit. In his line of work, it made sense to know who might be around you. When the Hostess stopped beside a table, Clay pulled out a chair for Lisa before sitting down in the chair beside it.
"Your waiter for this evening will be Henry," the attractive middle-aged woman told them. "Shall I send over the wine steward?"
"Please," Clay nodded.
Lisa reached out to touch Clay's hand. "This is a lovely place, Clay," she said. "How did you ever find it?"
"A colleague mentioned having brought his wife here for her birthday," Clay explained.
"It must be *really* interesting, working for the State Department," Lisa said, causing Clay to paste on his usual smile as he answered.
"It's just another job, really."
"But meeting all of those famous and interesting people -"
"They're just people," Clay shrugged, making a mental note to remind his mother that the next time she decided to 'fix him up' with the daughter of one of her friends that she make sure the woman isn't totally vapid or star-struck.
"But, you've met the *President*," Lisa sighed.
Clay wasn't sure how to respond to that, and was relieved when the wine steward appeared at his elbow.
Once he'd placed an order for a vintage wine, Lisa excused herself to go to the ladies' room. Grateful for the slight reprieve from having to keep the woman entertained, Clay went back to people watching. There was a young couple sitting nearby, obviously celebrating something important - there was a bottle Dom on ice beside their table. From the cut of the man's suit, it looked highly unlikely that he could afford such things on aquenquent basis.
Across the dimly lit room, though, Clay frowned as he recognized the familiar profile of Harmon Rabb. The Navy Commander had been a pain in his side ever since their first meeting, but over the course of time they had managed to become friends after a fashion. Sitting to one side, Clay tried to see who Rabb's date was - the last time he'd heard JAG's Top Gun had been seeing Renee Peterson, a movie producer, but that relationship had ended soon after Mac's marriage to Mic Brumby. Since then, he hadn't heard about anyone special in the other man's life. Another table was blocking his view of Rabb's date, but Clay saw Rabb smiling and laughing at the woman as he reached across the table toward her.
He wouldn't have thought Rabb could afford this place on what he made in the Navy, Clay thought as he saw Lisa weaving her way through the tables toward him. Standing up, he pulled Lisa's chair out for her, glancing across the room to the booth where Harm was sitting - and froze in surpris he he saw the blonde haired man sitting across from Harm, his hands clasped around Harm's before he brought that hand up to his lips for a moment.
"Clay?" Lisa said, touching his sleeve again. Blinking, Clay turned to look at her, sitting down again. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Clay told her, his mind working feverishly, trying to understand what he'd just witnessed.
"The wine's here," Lisa said, still giving him a look of concern.
Noticing thee ste steward standing there, Clay tasted the wine, without tasting it and nodded for him to pour glasses for both himself and Lisa. It could have tasted like vinegar for all Clay knew. Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. was sitting with another man in a restaurant, laughing - looking for all intents and purposes as though he was on a date.
"This is good," Lisa told Clay after taking a sip of her wine. "I've never known much about wines," she prattled on. "I know I should, but -" Clay picked up his own glass and took a quick drink, glancing in the direction of Harm again. "Do you know him?" Lisa asked, following his gaze.
"No," Clay denied quickly. He was beginning to think that he didn't know Harmon Rabb at all.
*******
Harm laughed again as Greg finished his story. "You should have told him to find the nearest bridge and take a flying leap," he suggested.
"I will, next time," Greg nodded. "And I might even find the bridge for him myself." He reached across the table to run a finger along Harm's hand. "You about ready to go?"
"Yeah," Harm nodded. Greg glanced at the check that was waiting, took some cash out of his pocket and left enough for the tab and a generous tip with the check. As Harm got out of the booth, he glanced toward the main part of the dining area. What was Clayton Webb doing here, he wondered, pausing just enough that Greg nearly ran into him.
"Hey, next time,nal nal a stop," Greg laughed, placing his hands on Harm's back, then frowned as he saw Harm staring at someone before Harm murmured an apology and moved forward.
"Someone you know?" Greg asked Harm as they moved toward the doors.
"Yeah," Harm said shortly, continuing outside.
"Could he be trouble?" Greg asked.
"Maybe. Look, Greg, I think I'll just head back to DC."
u suu sure? It's an hour drive, Harm - you've had a couple of beers." Greg stopped Harm's headlong flight with a hand on his arm. "Harm, we have to go back to my place anyway to get your car - might as well talk about it - have a cup of coffee before you go running back into that closet, buddy."
"Don't worry, that's not going to happen," Harm said. "But if it was anyone but this guy -"
"Oh, so that's the way it is," Greg said in a knowing tone.
"No, it's not."
"Let me guess: he's straight and has no idea that you're gay and that you want him."
Harm shook his head. "Greg, leave it alone," he said, covering his friend's hand with his and giving him a smile. "I'm just asking for a rain check, okay?" His other hand moved to Greg's cheek. "Next weekend if I'm in town. I promise."
Greg's sigh was ragged. "I know you're playing me, Harm, but you know what? I don't care. Because I'm going to hold you to that promise." He leaned forward to place a brief kiss against Harm's mouth, and then bent to unlock the passenger door of his black Classic Vette for Harm before going around to the driver side.
*****
By the time he left Lisa at her door, Clay had convinced himself that it hadn't been Rabb at the restaurant. The man Clay knew would never risk his career in the Navy that way. He always had an attractive woman on his arm. It had only been someone who *looked* like Rabb.
eve even as he thought it, Clay knew that it *had* been Rabb. There weren't many men who looked like him. That idea made him think about Clark Palmer. The former DSD agent had made everyone think he was Harmon Rabb once, and Clay opened his cell phone as he got back into his BMW, dialing a secure line.
"Harry? . . . It's Webb . . . I know it's late. I need some intel . . . I need verification that Clark Palmer is still in solitary at Leavenworth. . . . I can't tell you why I'm asking, it's enough that I am asking. I want eyes on verification, Harry. And I need the information yesterday . . . Yeah. You know the number." He flipped the phone shut again, frowning. It would be like Palmer to do something like this to try and ruin Rabb's career. Palmer was almost as obsessed with Rabb as Rabb was with Palmer.
Turning the car toward Alexandria, Clay headed home to wait for the call from Harry that would tell him whether or not he needed to alert Rabb that Clark Palmer was up to his old tricks.
********
Harm dropped his keys onto the bar on the way to the refrigerator to grab a beer. Seeing Clay at the restaurant with that blonde had been totally unexpected. In all the times he and Greg had dined there, tonight had been the first time he had seen anyone he knew from DC. He had to hope that Clay hadn't seen *him*, but something told him that his luck might have finally run out.
Sitting down on the sofa, Harm loosened his tie and shook his head. He'd been playing this game for too long, he supposed. The law of averages was bound to catch up with him sooner or later.
But why had it had to be Clayton Webb of all people who had been there tonight? Of all the people he knew, why Clay?
Every time Harm thought he'd managed to put the CIA agent out of his mind, there he was, reminding Harm that Clayton Webb was one man he'd never be able to have. Oh, he flirted with Clay whenever he needed information from him, but Harm knew that as much as he wanted it to, flirting was as far as it could go. Clay was too close to his work, knew too many of the same people. Besides, Clay was straight. And Harm, as much as he knew he probably *could* seduce the man into his bed, was afraid to take the risk.
Harm chuckled to himself. "You're a coward, Harm," he muttered, finishing off the beer before he got up and moved toward the bedroom, removing his clothes as he went. A shower - He knew that even a cold shower wouldn't ease the ache he felt - there was only one thing that would do that.
And it was the one thing that Harm *couldn't* do.
*******
Clay sat staring at the report he'd just been delivered - verifying that Clark Palmer was indeed still incarcerated in solitary confinement at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. The *real* Palmer, not some doppelganger or replacement.
Which meant that it *had* been Harmon Rabb in that restaurant on Friday evening, Clay realized. Tuning on his computer, he accessed his personal background files using the password, and found Rabb's. There was *nothing* to indicate - no sign - Rabb was extremely discreet if he'd managed to keep this a secret for almost twenty years, Clay realized. Probably vetted his partners carefully, stayed away from the local scene -
Clay closed the file and rose from his chair to go to the window of the office. Didn't Rabb realize that he was taking a chance? That if anyone else had seen him - Admiral Chegwidden, Bud Roberts, - anyone with a grudge against Rabb - his career would be over?
He was also troubled by the fact that he considered the JAG lawyer to be a friend - even if they did tend to argue about procedure on occasion. Surely Rabb realized that he could be trusted to keep his secret, hell, keeping secrets was what Clay did for a living. That Harmon Rabb hadn\rustrusted him enough to be honest - maybe he'd been afraid that Clay wouldn't understand. Which was crazy. Clay had gay friends - some of his co-workers were gay, not that they made an issue of it - it was simply a fact.
Clay scanned his desk for some reason for him to 'drop by' JAG headquarters to talk to Rabb, then realized that maybe talking to Rabb at the office might not be a wise idea. Too much chance of someone overhearing them.
His eyes fell on a folder - and Clay decided it might be the ticket to getting Harm to open up to him. He had no idea why it was important to him, but it was. While Clay had no compunction about keeping secrets from others, he disliked those that he considered to be his friends keeping secrets from him.
Opening the folder, he started reading the background on the case, wanting as many details as possible before he paid Rabb a visit.
*******************************
Harm entered his loft, putting his briefcase and cover on the bar as always. It had been a long day, he'd lost a case to Sturgis - but he'd expected to lose. Even with his closing, he'd known that the members would convict the Lieutenant he'd been defending against theft.
Still, Harm hated to lose, especially when he knew that his client was innocent. He planned on starting paperwork for an appeal this evening, arguing that evidence important to his case had been disallowed by Judge Morris.
He was just opening a bottle of beer when there was a knock on the door. He wasn't expecting anyone, and peered out of the peephole to see who it was. Damn. Clayton Webb. Another knock. Taking a deep breath, Harm opened the door, smiling. "Webb. This is a surprise."
"Can I come in, Rabb?" he asked. "I need a favor."
Harm stepped back, allowing the CIA agent to enter. He was wearing the usual tailored three-piece suit, and looked immaculate as always. "This is unusual. You needing a favor from me," Harm said. "Want a beer?"
"No, thanks. I'm not - keeping you from anything, am I? A - date or anything?"
Harm was in the middle of taking a drink of beer when Clay asked the question, and he paused only a millisecond before he swallowed and shook his head. "Nope. Planning on working tonight. Need to start an appeal on a case." Harm saw those hazel eyes were on him, giving him a vaguely disappointed look. Why disappointed, Harm wondered, unless Clay had seen him with Greg. "What's the favor?" he asked, finally turning to face the other man, indicating one of the chairs in the living area.
Now it was Clay who looked uncomfortable, and Harm was absolutely certain that Clay at least *suspected* something. "I know this is unusual, and I'll have to clear it with the Admiral, but I wanted to discuss it with you before taking it to him."
"You need me on TAD to the CIA?"
"Yeah." Clay seemed to take a deep breath before continuing. "We have a lead on someone who might have with close ties to Al Qaeda. He's willing to meet with someone to discuss turning himself in peacefully."
"Where do I come in?" Harm asked.
"He's insisting on the meeting taking place in a gay bar in the city where he's been staying."
Harm's hand stopped halfway to his mouth with the bottle as he looked at Clay. "As I said, where do I come in? What makes you think *I* know anything about gay bars?"
Clay's eyes were fixed on Harm, as if he were trying to see what was inside. "I saw you in Berryville the other evening, Harm," Clay said, an expectant look on his face, as if he hoped that Harm would have an explanation other than the most obvious one.
Harm smiled, taking a drink of the beer before he answered. "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said he was an old family friend."
"I considered that - but your file doesn't list any other male family members around your age."
"My *file*?" he questioned, realizing that the bottle he had in his hand was empty. He wanted another, but knew that he needed his wits about him at the moment.
"The Company da fia file on anyone who works for them - even TAD, Rabb. You know that."
"I just -"
"Don't worry. There's nothing in it about your - extracurricular activities."
Harm chuckled. "Never heard it called that before," he said.
"You know that it could ruin your career," Clay pointed out.
"Only if you say something."
"I won't," Clay assured him. "I thought you trusted me more than that," he sound sounding disappointed.
His tone made Harm feel like a heel. "Clay, I couldn't trust anyone I work with. Surely you understand. You're right. If anyone in the Navy ever suspected the truth - my career would be over like -" he snapped his fingers, "that."
"Then why take the risk? I know how much being in the Navy, following in your father's footsteps, means to you."
Harm shook his head. "It's not something you could understand, Clay."
"I'd like to try," Clay told him, and Harm saw that he really meant it.
"I've spent most of the last twenty years playing by the Navy's rules. Being their poster boy, the 'All-American Hero'. Having relationships with women, trying to make them work, but there was always - something missing. After Mac left for Australia with Brumby, and Renee left, I guess I just - wanted someone."
"Twenty years?" Clay repeated. "You've been -"
"Gay," Harm said when Clay paused. "I've known since I was a teenager. Which leads to the question I know you're going to ask next: If I knew, why did I join the Navy." He didn't even wait for Clay to acknowledge the thought. "Ever since I was six, I told everyone that I was going to join the Navy, become a pilot just like my dad. By the time I finally faced the truth, it was all set up. I had an appointment to the Academy; I didn't want to let my father down anything more than I thought I already had. So I hid it, pushed who I was so far back in the closet that I could pretend it didn't exist. Oh, there were a few instances when I let it out, but not for long. I had a plan for my life and I wasn't going to let anyone or anything interfere with that plan."
"Sounds a little - cold blooded," Clay noted.
"Maybe. But so far, it hasn't been an issue. I've been discreet, stayed out of DC for the most part - I only come out to people that I know are going to understand."
"The man you were with the other night -"
"Greg's a lawyer. We met a few years ago when he worked as a civilian attorney on court martial that I prosecuted. Right after Mac got married, in fact. We had a few drinks, and realized we had some things in common. He doesn't live in DC. He's got a place in Berryville."
"Is it serious?"
Harm considered that question before shaking his head. "No. Convenient, more than anything else. Keeps me off the streets," he told Clay with a grin.
"Does your mother know -?"
"Hardly. She didn't want to me join the Navy in the first place. If she'd known, she would have threatened to keep me out with the information."
"It must have been lonely for you," Clay said, surprising Harm with his insight.
"At times," Harm admitted. More at some than others, he thought, looking away from Clay.
"Mac never knew?"
"No. I wanted to tell her, but - she was military, I couldn't be sure of her reaction. I figured it would be best to just let her think I was unable to commit to a relationship."
"Have you heard her her at all?"
"Yeah. Mostly through Bud and Harriet. I get the impression that Brumby's still a little jealous of what he and everyone saw as my feelings for Mac. But she seems happy enough with Brumby. He's not who *I* would have chosen for her, but it wasn't my decision."
"You could tell her now," Clay suggested. "She left the Marines, and it might make things easier with her marriage -"
"Right. Tell her that I was only pretending to be interested in having a relationship with her all that time? That she was just a cover for me to hide behind when there wasn't someone else in my life? She'd really enjoy hearing that, don't you think?"
"Was it just pretense?" Clay asked.
"Not all the time," Harm sighed. "I considered staying in that closet, trying to make a go of it with a woman - Jordan, Mac, but it wouldn't have been fair to them, never really having all of me." He shook his head. "So I kept quiet, played the game, made all the right noises and said the things that were expected of me."
"What changed?" Clay wondered.
Harm gave Clay a teasing grin. "Why all the questions, Clay? Curious?" He chuckled when he saw the tips of Clay's ears turn red at the question.
"Just trying to understand, that's all," the CIA agent said quickly. "Why take the risk after all that time?"
"I was lonely. Like I said. Mac was gone, Renee was gone - I wasn't far off forty and had no one important in my life. I didn't want to play games anymore. I needed to be myself."
"Are you any happier?"
Harm went to the window that overlooked the street below, putting his hands into his pockets. "Truthfully? No. It's still just playing games, only with a different set of rules. Greg's a lot of fun to be with, but it's not serious and isn't going to be."
"And you want something - serious," Clay said, and Harm heard it as the statement it was.
"Yeah. I guess I don't really want to end up alone, a bitter old sailor with nothing to show for his life but a bunch of ribbons and commendations," he said, looking at the reflection of those ribbons on the front of his shirt in the dark glass before him.
"Maybe you'd be happier out of the Navy," Clay said. "That way you wouldn't have to -"
"Oh, I've considered it. Walking into the Admiral's office and handing in my resignation - I've written the damn thing out I don't know how many times - but I always tear it up. Being in the Navy is as much a part of me as being gay is. I can't separate them. I can't see myself as anything other than Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. I guess the idea of not having the Navy is more frightening than being alone."
"Well, if it's any comfort, you're not the only one facing that prospect," Clay pointed out, joining him at the window. "Only in my case, it's my job that keeps me from finding anyone. That, and Mother's dreadful taste in choosing blind dates for me."
Harm laughed. "Such as the blonde you were with the other night?"
Clay rolled hyes yes at the memory. "Her mother is a friend of Mother's. Lisa's recently divorced and Mother thought I might have something in common with her."
"I guess that didn't happen."
"She's a high-school civics teacher," Clay answered. "Totally clueless. I dropped her back at her apartment with a vague promise to call her sometime."
"Sounds like you're having about the same kind of luck I've been having," Harm said.
"At least you're in a semi-relationship. I can't even manage to get one started. Between the empty-headed females that my mother throws at me and my job -"
"Don't let your job be an excuse, Clay," Harm warned. "And if you don't like the women your mother finds, find one yourself."
"No time," Clay said, shaking his head. "Especially these days." The stood there for a moment, looking at the wet street below. "It's raining," Clay noticed.
"Has been for thet fet few minutes."
"Harm, I meant what I said: I'm not going to tell anyone about this. I don't fully agree the current policy anyway. You've more than proved over the years that being who you are doesn’t affect how you do your job."
"Thanks, Clay," Harm said, taking a deep breath. "Now, you mentioned something about a favor?"
"It was nothing," Clay said, shrugging as he moved back toward the center of the room. "It was really just an excuse et tet this out into the open."
"Seriously, Claf yof you need help -"
"I've never been inside a gay bar. I wouldn't know the first thing to do to keep from sticking out like a sore thumb."
"And you thought maybe I could give you a few pointers," Harm suggested, grinning at his friend's discomfort. "Actually, I haven't hit any 'gay bars' in some time. I try to stay away from them. Especially in this area. But I don't think that things have changed that much," Harm said, moving in a circle around Clay, endiending to study the man's appearance. "First thing I'd suggest," Harm said, "is to lose the three piece suit. A pair of jeans and a comfortable shirt, unbuttoned at the neck would be better."
"I don't own a pair of jeans, Harm," Clay said.
Harm shook his head. "Okay, I *know* you don't wear three piece suits on the weekend, right?"
"No, I wear slacks with a button down shirt - sometimes a sports shirt."
"That would do it. Informal, easy going. And learn to smile a little more."
"I'm not trying to get a date, Harm, just fit in so no one suspects I'm CIA."
"It's practically tattooed on your forehead, Clay," Harm said. "Where is this bar, anyway?"
"Florida."
"And this contact of yours - he's gay?"
"Hell, if I know. The only think that's certain is that he wants to meet in a gay bar to discuss what kind of deal he can get for giving *us* information on Al Qaeda."
"Are you going in alone?"
"No choice. We send anything more than a couple of agents, he could get scared and we'll never find him."
"Want some back up?"
"Are you offering?"
"Don't trust me to watch your back, Clay?" Harm asked, only half teasing.
"I'll have to come up with a cover story for the Admiral that he'll buy to let you go TAD to Florida for a few days," Clay told him.
"Just tell him its need to know - the way you always do," Harm suggested, smiling now. "He'll believe you - I don't have anything really pressing going on at the moment. He should be able to spare me." Hee Cle Clay a look that he knew from past experience was impossible for the agent to resist.
"I'll talk to him tomorrow," Clay nodded, and Harm released his breath slowly, unaware that he'd been holding it at all. The idea of spending a few days alone with Clay was both a pleasure and hell combined, but now that Clay new the truth, Harm woulle tle to be himself around the other man.
"It might not be a good idea to tell him that we'vscusscussed it without his knowledge - he doesn’t like being left out of the loop."
"I'd already thought of that," Clay said.
"Have you had dinner?" Harm asked.
"No. I came here from Langley. Why?"
Harm shrugged. "I thought maybe we could go get something to eat. Discuss the mission, whatever." He kept his tone light, as if the answer didn't really matter one wr thr the other, but when Clay nodded in agreement, Harm smiled again. "I know a little place on the corner - you like Chinese?"
"Yeah."
"Just let me change into some civvies and we'll go," Harm said, already unbuttoning his shirt as he headed toward the bedroom. He saw Clay turn back toward the window as he began to pull the shirt out of his uniform pants, and smiled to himself before grabbing some jeans and a pull over sport shirt to take into the more private area of the bathroom. No need to shock the poor man *too* much, after all…
******
Harm was working in his office the next day, going over some cases with Bud when he saw Clayton Webb walk through the bullpen with only the briefest of glances toward Harm before he continued on his way. Dinner the previous evening had been nice. Harm had been able to relax, and had managed before the evening was over to get Clay to actually smile.
"Anything else we need to discuss, sir?" Bud asked.
"No, I think that's about it, Bud."
Bud stood to leave, then paused. "Harriet got a letter from Mac yesterday."
"How's she doing?" Harm asked, knowing that Bud expected him to be interested, although his mind was on what was taking place in the Admiral's office.
"She left Mic."
That got Harm's attention. "What? Why?"
"She didn't say, really, but Harriet seems to think that Mic was drinking too much, and, well -"
Harm shook his head. "I won't say 'I told you so'," he sighed. "I knew the guy was trouble. I'm just surprised it took her this long to figure it out."
"Sir?"
"Never mind, Bud. Is she staying in Australia?"
"No, sir. She's planning on coming back to the States, but she's not sure what she'll do once she's here."
Knowing Bud expected Harm to be glad to see his former partner for romantic reasons, Harm managed a smile. 'll 'll be good to see her again."
"I'll let you know when we hear anything else, if you like."
"Yeah, thanks, Bud," Harm nodded as Jennifer Coates appeared in the doorway. "Yes, Coates?"
"The Admiral would like to see you in his office, Commander."
"On my way. Later, Bud."
As they moved toward the Admiral's door, Coates leaned closer to Harm. "Mr. Webb's with him."
"Wonderful," Harm sighed. "He's probably got another mission he wants to drag me into helping with."
"Be strong, sir," Coates told him as Harm tapped on the Admiral's doorframe. He winked at the Petty Officer in response.
"Enter!"
Harm opened the door and closed it behind him, standing at attention before the Admiral.
"At ease, Commander," AJ Chegwidden said, folding his arms over his chest as he continued. "Webb's asked me to assign you TAD to him for a few days, Commander to help him with a mission."
"What is it this time, Webb?" Harm asked.
"All I can say is that it involves a possible Al Qaeda informant, Rabb," was Clay's reply as he stuck as closely to the 'script' they had devised the night before over dinner.
"Mr. Webb seems to think that you might be able to give him the assistance he needs - I can't order you to go, Commander. It's your decision."
"What guarantee do I have that this will turt ant any better than the other missions I've worked on, Webb?" Harm questd.
d.
"Same as always, Rabb," Clay said, and Harm grinned.
"That bad, huh? If things are bad enough that he needs *my* help, Admiral, I'm willing to go. If you can spare me, that is."
"Things have been slow," AJ nodded. "Give Turner and Roberts whatever you're working on and then consider yourself TAD to Mr. Webb. Just be careful, Commander. Dismissed."
"Aye, aye, sir," Harm said, coming back to attention before leaving the room, Clay just a few steps behind him. "How soon do we leave, Webb?" he asked.
"I can have us on a flight by 5 o'clock," Clay told him. "I'll pick you up on at your place my way to the airport, say, around three?"
"I'll be ready," Harm assured him, gathering up various files to take them to Sturgis and Bud. "Just need to do some housekeeping here first."
Clay nodded. "See you then."
**********
Clay wasn't sure why he was looking forward to spending time with Harm in Florida. He kept telling himself that it was because Harm had seemed so friendless and lonely the night before. He needed a friend. Someone that he could talk to and just be himself with, relax with. Someone who wouldn't judge him because he was gay.
He'd been accused of being gay back in high school, Clay remembered. Simply because he was smaller than most boys and was on the swim and track team - except for his training for the pentathlon, Clay hadn't much interest in sports. He'd been a loner, someone who didn't make friends easily.
He still didn't make friends easily. Harm was one of the few people that he could put into that category, mostly because he trusted the man. He still did.
Pulling his car up to the curb outside of Harm's apartment building, Clay glanced at his watch. It was nearly three. Harm's SUV was sitting on the other side of the street - and he kept the Corvette locked up in the garage since he'd finished rebuilding it after it was stolen.
He'd told Harm at the time that he only had himself to blame after the theft. Living in this neighborhood he was asking for it. He'd suggested that he get an alarm for the car *and* the 'monster truck' as Clay called it, closing the door of his BMW and arming the alarm system out of habit before he entered the building.
Harm opened the door on Clay's first knock. "Come on in, Clay. I'm just finishing packing -" he said, moving away toward the bedroom.
"I thought you'd be finished by now," Clay noted, glancing at his watch. Harm had changed out of his uniform and into a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved blue shirt, opened at the neck.
"You said 1700, right?" Harm asked.
Automatically converting the military time, Clay nodded. "Yeah."
"We'll be fine," Harm assured him, closing his suitcase. Turning around with it in his hand, Harm stopped, shaking his head sadly. "Oh, Clay. What *am* I going to do with you?"
Clay frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"You have to be the only man I know who would even *think* about wearing a three-piece suit to Florida."
"I'll change when I get there," Clay said.
"At least take off your tie," Harm insisted.
"Harm -"
"Just your tie, Clay. That's all."
Clay glared at Harm as he pulled the knot of his tie down and slipped it off his neck, then began to carefully fold it. When Harm grabbed the tie, rolled it into a ball and tossed it toward the bar, Clay's eyes widened. "Hey!"
"You won't need it, Clay," Harm told him, picking up his suitcase again. "I thought you were worried about getting to the airport?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and grinning.
"I'm goi going to survive the next days, am I?" Clay asked, turning with a deep sigh and going back through the open door as Harm started to laugh.
"You'll survive, Clay," Harm promised as he locked the door behind them. "Kicking and screaming, probably. But you'll survive."
*************************************
Harm wasn't surprised when he discovered that Clay had booked separate rooms for them at the hotel - but he was surprised to find that the two rooms had a connecting door between them. After stowing his things, Harm knocked on the door.
"Come in," Clay called out, and Harm found that it was unlocked. Clay had removed his jacket and vest, and was hanging them neatly on hangars.
"Well, that's an improvement," Harm noted, dropping onto the side of the bed, watching Clay as he unpacked his suitcase. "You stlooklook like an executive playing hooky from work, though."
"Hazard of the job," Clay said. "Once I finish here, we'll go find something to eat and then check out that club before I meet with my contact tomorrow night."
"Sounds like a plan," Harm agreed.
"You sure no one's going to recognize you down here?" Clay asked, not for the first time. "There are a lot of Navy personnel in Florida," he pointed out, "and your face isn't one that's easily forgotten."
"It's been awhile since my face as in the paper or on the news, Clay. If anyone outside of the club sees me, they'll think I'm on leave."
"And in the club?"
"Clay, if anyone from the Navy's in that club, I *doubt* they'll admit they were there, much less report *me* for being there. And *I'll* be there for a legitimate reason."
********
They had dinner at a small oceanfront seafood restaurant before making their way to the bar. About a block down the street, Harm noticed Clay's footsteps slowing. "Nervous?" he asked.
"No," Clay said quickly. Too quickly, Harm thought, and shook his head. "It's just a bar, Clay. Go in, have a couple of drinks, relax a little, and then leave."
"Yeah. Are you going in first?" Clay asked. They had decided it would be best if they appeared to be there separately.
"Give me a couple of minutes, then follow," Harm said, lifting a hand to place it on Clay's shoulder. "Breathe, Clay."
Clay drew in a deep breath and exhaled it. "I'm fine," he assured Harm. "See you in a few minutes."
Harm gave him a longer look before turning toward the club's entrance and going inside.
It had been awhile since he'd been in a place like this, but Harm noticed that things hadn't changed that much. And as clubs went, this one wasn't too bad. The music wasn't so loud that you couldn't hear yourself think, more of a background to the soft drone of voices. A bit more upscale than some places that Harm had visited, he decided, sliding onto an empty stool at the bar.
"Can I get you something?" the bartender asked, giving Harm a look he'd seen before. Assessing, questioning.
"Beer."
"Bottle or draft?"
"Whatever you have on tap's fine," Harm said. "I'm not picky."
"I don't think I've seen you around here before," the man said as he placed a glass of beer before Harm. "I'd remember *your* face."
"I'm on vacation," Harm explained. The man was older than he was, thinner, with hair that was probably kept dark thanks to a bottle. Not Harm's type at all.
"Well, shouldn't take long for you to find someone to keep you company," the man said, looking as if he wouldn't mind being that company.
"Just here for a couple of beers," Harm told him. "Maybe some other time." He turned around, resting his elbows on the bar, dismissing the bartender as he looked at the door, wondering if Clay had decided not to do this after all. Picking up beerbeer, he took a drink, making eye contact with a blond man sitting alone at a table across the room. The man smiled at him, his eyes sweeping over Harm in a slow movement downward. If he hadn't been there on business, Harm might have gone over and had a drink with the man, talked a little -
Clay entered the bar quickly, trying to figure out why he was so uncomfortable with this. He'd been in places before where he didn't fit in, but this - Clay saw Harm standing he bhe bar, facing away from it, a glass of beer in his hand. The man's attention seemed to be on something across the room, and followed his gaze. Seeing the blond haired, over age surfer sitting at a table, giving Harm an openly hungry look sent a strange tremor of something that Clay didn't recognize through his body. Sitting down at a table, Clay forced his eyes from Harm's face to scan the room. The back corner booth where he was supposed to meet his contact tomorrow night was currently occupied by a couple who seemed totally engrossed in each other's company.
"Can I get you something to drink?" a male voice asked, and Clay looked up to see a young waiter standing at the table, his look inquisitive.
"Scotch on the rocks," Clay told him.
"Yot itt it, hon," he said, turning around to head back toward the bar.
Clay watched him go, thinking that the waiter couldn't be more than twenty-two. Looking up, he realized that the waiter had stopped right beside where Harm was standing to place the order, and that Harm was now looking at him, the same look on hise ase as he'd had when returning the look from the blond man.
The look was one that could only be described as predatory, Clay realized. Harm looked like a sleek black panther on the prowl. The man exuded sexuality. Wore it like some kind of badge of honor. Luckily, Harmon Rabb, Jr. was able to carry it off.
"Here you go," the waiter said, putting the glass of scotch down on the table in front of Clay, then saw where Clay had been looking. "Dreamy, isn't he? Hard to believe a man that good looking doesn't have someone keeping him busy instead of here."
"Yeah," Clay agreed, picking up his glass to take a drink.
"Don't look now, hon, but he's coming over," the waiter told him, leaning close enough that Clay could feel the young man's breath tickling his ear. Clay focused on looking at Harm's leisurely approach to keep from pulling away. "Lucky you. I'd give anything to be in *your shoes*." Thiteriter disappeared as Harm reached the table.
"Hi there," he said, as if Clay were a stranger. "Expecting someone?" he asked, indicating the other chair at the table.
"No," Clay said, gathering his wits enough to shake his head. "Please." What on earth was wrong with him? You'd think he was taking all this seriously, that Harm wasn't just playing a game.
"Harm," he said, still giving Clay that look that had probably turned other men's bones into water and broken down every defense they might have. But Clay reminded himself that he was made of stronger stuff, - except that he was having trouble stringing more than two words together.
"Clay."
"I'm here on vacation - I heard the waiter tell the bartender that you're a new face, too."
"Yeah. Vacation," Clay nodded. He saw the knowing grin on Harm's face.
Leaning forward, Harm placed a hand over Clay's arm. "Relax. People are watching."
Clay forced himself to ignore the sensation of Harm's fingers against his skin by meeting the other man's eyes. Seeing the humor and understanding there, Clay relaxed just a little. "I'm not sure I can do this, Harm," he said quietly, finally able to talk again.
"What? Have a drink with a friend?" Harm asked, winking and laughing softly. "That's all you're doing."
Clay smiled in response to Harm's humor, glancing at their hands on the table. "Except that I don't usually hold hands with a 'friend' while having a drink."
"Maybe you should," was Harm's reply.
"How much longer do we need to stay here?" Clay asked.
"A few minutes. You can leave first, I'll follow."
"You sure? I mean, you could stay if you want - I saw the way you and the blond guy were looking at each other when I came in." The moment he said the words, Clay wanted to recall them.
Harm lifted an eyebrow at the comment. "Just a little harmless flirting," he said. "What's the matter, Clay? Jealous?" he asked, chuckling.
"Don't be silly, Harm," Clay answered with more force than he intended in an effort to mask the fact that jealousy was *exactly* whe'de'd felt seeing the look Harm had sent toward that other man.
Harm drew back, his smile vanishing for a moment. "You might as well go on. I'll be along later after I have another beer."
"Harm -" Clay began, but Harm was already standing up and heading back toward the bar.
Clay considered following him for a moment - until the waiter returned to his table. "Oh, too bad, hon. I guess you two didn't itt it off. Happens sometimes." Clay finished his scotch in one gulp. "You want another?"
"No, thanks. How much do I owe you?"
"I'll find out. Be right back."
Clay sat there as Harm received another beer and moved toward the table where the blond was still sitting alone. After a moment, Harm sat down in the chair across from the blond.
Clay paid the tab when the waiter brought it and left the bar, returning to the hotel alone.
**********
In his room, Clay reminded himself that he was here to do a job, and that Harm was a big boy, able to take care of himself. Clay had no hold on the other man - he didn't *want* one.
Or did he?
That thought made Clay sit heavily in the chair in front of the desk. He'd felt like a stammering schoolgirl confronted by the star of the football team when Harm had looked at him with those blue-green eyes. The look that made him feel like there was no one else in the room but the two of them.
Opening up the laptop computer in front of him on the desk, Clay reminded himself that Harm flirted with everyone - and it didn't mean anything. He'd just been doing what Clay had asked him to do - help him feel comfortable with being in unfamiliar surroundings in order to do his job.
Forcing Harm from his mind, Clay turned his attentionthe the computer screen before him and concentrated on that job.
******
He wasn't even aware that he was listening for it when he heard the sound of Harm's door opening and closing. Glancing at his watch, Clay frowned when he realized that it was almost midnight. It had been almost two hours since Clay had left the bar to return to the hotel.
Hearing a soft tap on the connecting door, Clay ignored it. "Clay?" Harm's voice called quietly. Clay closed the program he'd been working in and turned off the machine, ignoring the other man's voice as he got undressed and into bed. "Clay -"
At last he heard the shower running in the other room, and turned off the light beside the bed. But it was still a long time before he fell asleep.
*******
Clay wasn't in a good mood the next morning. Between Harm's getting back so late, and then dreaming all night about Harm and Harm with the blond guy from the bar, Chadnhadn't gotten much restful sleep. So when Harm knocked on the connecting door, Clay, just coming out of the bathroom after a shower, barked, "Come in!"
Harm stood there in the doorway, his arms crossed across this chest, wearing a pair of running shorts and muscle shirt as he gave Clay an amused look as he took in the towel wrapped around Clay's lower body. Clay ignored the look by *not* looking at Harm's face. "Morning, Clay," he said.
"Morning."
"I'm going for a run befbreabreakfast - thought I'd see if you wanted to come with me?"
"No thanks."
"Let me guess: you don't run for pleasure."
"The only time I run is when I have to," Clay confirmed, taking the clothes he was going to wear out of the closet.
"Clay - look at me."
Clay's back was to Harm as he started back into the bathroom.
"Clay -"
Closing his eyes, Clay stopped in the doorway. "Harm, let it go."
"I don't want to. I want to explain -"
Clay turned around. "You don't owe me any explanation, Harm. It's your life. If you want to spend half the night with a total stranger, then that's your choice. I don't have the right to approve or disapprove of anything you do."
"I didn't 'spend the night' with him," Harm said. "We had a few drinks, talked. Figured it would be a good idea since we'll both be back there tonight. Gives *me* a reason to have come back." Harm sighed. "I'm not interested in him, Clay."
"Not my concern if you are," Clay insisted. *Liar* a little voice inside him yelled, making him lower his gaze to the carpet. "Go take your run. We can have breakfast after you get back."
"I'm forgiven, then?"
Clay made the mistake of looking up - and into those incredible eyes, seeing the look of contrition. "Nothing to forgive. Go on. I'll make some phone calls while you're gone."
"Okay," Harm said, smiling again as he closed the connecting door. A moment later, Clay heard the outer door open and close, and sat down on the end of the bed as his legs finally gave out.
The sooner he got through this day and met with Faisil al Saad and completed this mission, the better. Being in close quarters with Harm was dangerous to his equilibrium.
********
After breakfast, during which Clay and Harm continued their debate about vegetarian or non-vegetarian, they returned to the hotel, where Clay filled Harm in further about the identity of the contact, and showed him a photo as well. "Faisil al Saad has never broken any laws in this country, but his brothers are all supporters of Al Qaeda, and one of them was scheduled to have been on one of the planes on 9-11," he told Harm.
"He doesn’t agree with Al Qaeda's goals?"
"He says that he doesn't, but he's afraid that if he openly meets with anyone from the CIA or other security forces he'll be dead before he says a word."
"You think he has the information that he claims to have?" Harm woed. ed.
"That's what I'm going to find out tonight," Clay said. "Faisil's supposed to give me the information on flash memory. I'll check it out, and if it's legit, I'll offer him a deal tomorrow night."
"So we're looking at two more nights here." "Yea"Yeah," Clay said, wondering if it seemed as long to Harm as it did to him.
"Good thing I brought those case files, to go through to give me something to do, then," he said. "Speaking of which, I'll get to it."
"Might as well leave the doors open," Clay said, and wondered where his sanity had gone when Harm gave him a smile and did as suggested. They couldn’t go out except to eat in case someone from the club happened to see them, so that meant they were forced to spend almost all of their time together within these two small rooms.
Harm, meanwhile, was trying to think of some legitimate reason for him to read through the case files in Clay's room instead of his own room. Unable to think of a reason that wouldn't seem painfully transparent even to him, Harm opened his briefcase, pulling out the files and notepad and a pen.
The atmosphere had seemed incredibly strained most of the day, and Harm suspected that Clay was upset about his having remained in the bar so late the previous evening. Whether it was concern for the success of the mission - or some other reason, Harm didn't know. Clay had said he wasn't upset, but Harm could feel the tension in the other man, the subtle insistence on their maininining a strictly professional demeanor instead of the easy camaraderie of the previous day.
He sat back on the bed, putting the note pad on his lap as he got ready to work. Maybe this had been a stupid idea to begin with. He'd managed to keep his attraction to Clayton Webb hidden for all these years - he'd simply continue to do so. It wasn't as if he didn't have practice, after all. It was possible that Clay wasn't as comfortable with Harm being gay as he'd claimed to be, but Harm didn’t like to consider that idea, because it would mean their friendship would be over as well.
That thought caused Harm to get off of the bed and go to the doorway between the rooms. Clay was sitting at the desk, staring at the computer. "Clay?" he said, trying to get the other man's attention.
"Just a sec, Harm," Clay said, holding up a hand toward him. At last he turned toward the door. "Yes?"
"I think we need to talk." Did he imagine Clay's sudden tension, Harm wondered.
"Talk? About what?"
"Can I come in?" he asked, and when Clay indicated the chair, Harm moved forward, sitting forward, his hands clasped between his knees. "I get the feeling that, well, you're not - entirely comfortable with - well, with my being gay."
Clay shook his head. "No. That's not true, Harm. You're not the only person I know who's gay, you know."
"Then what's wrong?" Harm wanted to know. "You've been walking on eggshells around me all day. I told you that nothing happened between Paul and me -"
"Paul?"
"The blond at the bar?" Harm prompted.
"Oh. I hadn't heard you mention his name." Clay seemed to think for several minutes before he continued. "Why should that have bothered me? You're a free agent. I was a little concerned about how it might affect the mission," he said, but Harm had the feeling that Clay wasn't being entirely truthful. "Coming in at midnight -"
"You were awake," Harm accused.
"What?"
"How did you know what time I came in if you weren't? I knocked, but you didn't answer." He watched as Clay got up from the chair and paced across the room to the window. "Clay?"
"I was awake," Clay admitted in a quiet voice. "I - uh, wanted to make sure you got home okay," he continued in that same tone. "I guess the idea of you - being with a - total stranger -"
Harm rose as well, but didn't move. "Give me a little credit for self preservation, Clay. I haven't done something like that in a very long time. It was nice being able to just talk and flirt a little with someone."
"Being yourself," Clay said, glancing at him.
"Yeah," Harm nodded.
"Is that what you - weryingying to do with me earlier?" Clay asked. "Be yourself?"
"Yes," Harm confirmed honestly, wanting to add more, but he remained silent, afraid of frightening the other man away with the truth. "I don't want to lose your friendship, Clay," he said. "It's important to me."
"You haven't," Clay answered. "I just - all this is a little new to me. I don't mean knowing someone who's gay," he said by way of clarification. "I mean the club, and seeing you - I mean, I've seen the way you flirt with people, but - it was never so - blatant."
"You were worried about how it might impact the mission?" Harm questioned.
Clay's half grin revealed that truth of Harm's words. "A little. I mean, how do I know you'll be watching my back if you're busy flirting with people like -"
"Paul," Harm supplied. "I can't sit there watching *you*, Clay. It would attract attention. So the best thing to do is to pretend an interest in someone else, while still doing my job."
"And isn't this - Paul, going to be upset when he realizes that you're only pretending?"
"I won't be here after tomorrow night, so it really doesn't matter, does it?" Harm replied, moving closer to the other man, his hands in his pockets to make it less threatening. "Clay, trust me, okay? I'm not going to let you down."
The two men were close enough that Harm could see the gold flecks in Clay's hazel eyes, and he clenched his fingers into fists to keep from reaching toward his friend, touching his face. They stood there for what seemed an eternity before Clay finally broke eye contact and took a deep breath.
"I do trust you, Harm. If I didn't, you wouldn't be here."
"Okay. I guess I'll go back and try to concentrate on those files, then."
Clay nodded, not moving until Harm left the room. Taking a deep breath, he ran a shaking hand through his hair as he turned toward the sliding glass window that led onto the balcony. He needed fresh air. The air in the hotel room was heavy with the scent of Harm's aftershave - and something else as well. Something that Clay wasn't yet ready to admit was there.
For a moment in there, Clay had wondered what it would be like having Harm touch him again, if he'd feel the same almost electric shock as he'd felt the night before. He'd wondered what it would feel like to have Harm's lips on his skin, and the idea terrified Clay. He wasn't gay. He was straight. One day, he'd finally give in to his mother's nagging, marrying one of the women she kept throwing at him, settling down and raising a son to continue the family name.
Okay, Clay reasoned, he *was* curious. He'd been curious before, but had never done anything about it. Too afraid of someone finding out.
*Or maybe you're just afraid you'd like it* that small internal voice said.
Clay shook his head. It didn't matter anyway. Harm wasn't attracted to him in that way. His interest the previous evening was the same as his interest in Paul: a cover for the mission. Taking another deep breath, Clay went back into his room and the computer, glancing once toward the open doorway as he sat down.
********************************
Clay went into the bar first that night, early enough to grab the back corner booth. The young waiter recognized him, giving him a smile. "Decided to try again, huh?" he asked, leaning against the side of the padded seat.
"Guess I’m lonely," Clay nodded. "Scotch on the rocks."
"Be right back."
Clay's eyes moved around the bar, finding Harm's new friend sitting near the small dance floor that Clay hadn't noticed the night before. There were already some couples, entwined in each other's arms, moving across the small space to the sound of soft music.
"Here you go," the waiter said, placing Clay's drink in front of him as Harm entered the bar. Clay's eyes picked him up immediately, and the waiter apparently noticed, because he glanced around. "Ohh, the hunk's back," he sighed. "Out of my league, but still, he's nice to look at, isn't he?"
"Yeah," Clay found himself agreeing, watching as Harm ordered a beer from the bar and then sauntered over to Paul's table, where he was invited to sit down. "Looks like he's found a friend, though." Harm had pulled the extra chair around the table so that he had a view of the back corner booth - and put him very close to Paul, who seemed quite pleased by Harm's actions.
"Oh, those two talked til almost midnight last night," the waiter explained in a gossipy tone. "You should see the dreamboat dancing, though." He shivered. "That man's what fantasies are made of."
"Dancing?"
"Yeah. He and Paul - that's the blond he's with. A real player, if you get my drift. They danced for a couple of times last night - Thought I was going to have to turn the air conditioning down. Too bad you and he didn't hit it off."
"I guess so. Some things aren't meant to be, I suppose," Clay said, picking up his drink and looking away from Harm and Paul's table at last, effectively dismissing the waiter. Faisil would be here any minute, and the man wasn't going to approach his table if there was anyone else theHis His ears picked up the sound of soft laughter, and he glanced toward the table across the way to Har Harm laughing at something Paul had said.
Paul's hand was touching Harm's on the table, their shoulders were touching. The two men looked comfortable with each other, Clay thought, pushing the flash of jealousy aside. He had no right to be jealous of Harm. No reason to be upset because Harm was practically holding hands with another man, laughing at another man's jokes, looking at that other man with eyes that held an open invitation . . .
"Excuse me?"
It's was only Clay's training that kept him from jumping at the accented words, and he looked up to find Faisil al Saad standing there, mentally berating himself for becoming so focused on Harm that he had missed Faisil's arrival.
"May I join you?" the young man asked, revealing white teeth as he smiled.
"Sure," Clay said, indicating the bench across the booth.
"My name is Faisil," he said, putting a glass of what looked to be tonic water in front of him. Clay glanced up for a moment, seeing Harm's eyes slide over the booth before he appeared to turn his attention back to his own companion.
Harm had noticed Faisil al Saad's arrival while he was listening to Paul talk about his work as an executive in an advertising firm. He managed to laugh at all the right moments, watching as Faisil stopped at the bar and ordered something to drink, looking around the room before moving toward the back corner booth.
"Looks like your would be friend from last night found someone finally," Paul noted, nodding toward Clay's table, where Clay and Faisil were talking quietly. "Looks more like his speed, I think."
"I guess," was Harm's reply, pretending that he could care less about Clay or anything he did. "Let's dance," Harm suggested, knowing that he'd be able to keep an eye on Clay from the dance floor without being too obvious about it. He stood up, waiting for Paul's answer.
Paul rose as well. "Let's go."
Since Harm was slightly taller, they had decided easily the previous evening that he would lead while they were dancing. Paul was a good dancer, Harm admitted as they moved across the small area set aside for that purpose. He glanced occasionally toward Clay's table, watching as Faisil slid closer to Clay in the circular booth, placing his hand over Clay's as they continued to talk.
The dance ended, and they returned to their table and sat down, signaling the waiter for refills on their drinks. Faisil gave Clay a smile and reached out to touch Clay's hand again before he slid out of the booth and left. Harm watched the scene, surprised at how seeing the other man touch Clay made his jaw tighten painfully.
Luckily, Paul was talking to the waiter and didn't notice Harm's reaction, giving him time to force himself to relax before Paul turned his attention back toward Harm. The waiter, whose name Harm had discovered was Philip, went over to where Clay was sitting and Harm watched Clay pay his bill then leave.
Harm took a few drinks of his beer before he told Paul that he had to leave. The other man frowned, lifting a hand to Harm's shoulder. "So early? I was hoping that I might be able to talk you into going back to my place at the beach for a while. We could listen to some music. I have a jazz collection you wouldn't believe."
Giving Paul a smile, he reached up to cup the man's cheekh a h a gentle touch. "Maybe next time. I'm really exhausted, after sight seeing all day."
"How about dinner tomorrow?" Paul suggested.
"I already have plans. Some friend of the family that my mother insisted that I meet up with. I'll be here tomorrow night, though," Harm finished. "See you then?"
"I'll be here," Paul agreed, returning Harm's caress with one of his own. When Harm rose to his feet and started to pull out his wallet, Paul shook his head. "You paid last night. I've got it tonight."
"You sure?"
"I'll just consider it an investment," Paul replied, grinning, his brown eyes coming to rest just south of Harm's waistline.
"Why don't I pay for my own drinks," Harm suggested. "I prefer not to be in anyone's debt." He took the money out of his wallet and placed it on the table. "Tell him to keep whatever's left over."
Paul looked regretful as Harm turned and left the bar. He took a deep breath once he was outside, clearing his lungs - and his mind. While Paul easily fit his usual "type" - tall, blond, good looking - he was too obvious for Harm's tastes. And the fact that he hung out in a bar instead of having a close circle of friends to spend time with was another thing that Harm didn't particularly feel comfortable with. While he knew Paul wasn't adverse to having sex with him - but Harm had also seen the outline of a less tanned area on the man's left hand ring finger. He was married - and his wife probably had no idea where he spent his evenings. Harm hadn't mentioned it, knowing that it was his Ace in the hole to get out of anything tomorrow evening, when escaping could be important.
*****
Clay was at his computer, engrossed in the data on the screen when Harm tapped on the connecting door and found it unlocked. "You're back early," Clay commented without looking around. "What happened? Daul\aul's charms lose their appeal?" he thought he saw Clay wince slightly after he said the words, as if he wished he could recall them.
"I just wanted to know whether Faisil's information looked legit is all," Harm said, dropping onto the bed, linking his fingers together behind his head against the headboard. "Looked to me like you and he were getting along pretty well yourselves. I guess he's gay?"
"I didn't ask. I wasn't there to check out his sexual preference."
"Sure looked like he was to me. You two looked really cozy back there in that booth," Harm recalled, seeing Clay's head turn toward him. "Just an observation."
"I won't know how much of this is usable until tomorrow when the boys in DC get their hands on it," Clay said, pressing a button on the computer. "But it looks like good intel." He waited until something else came up on the screen before turning the system off and closing the laptop. Standing up, he looked at Harm. "Comfortable?" he asked.
"As a matter of fact, yeah, I am," Harm told him, smiling. "I think this bed is softer than that torture chamber in my room." He glanced at Clay. "I don't guess you'd want to share?"
"Harm -"
"I didn't think so," Harm said, sitting up, thinking that Clay would tell him to go to his own room and get some sleep. But the CIA agent surprised him by sitting down in the chair near the bed. Realizing that Clay wasn't ready to sleep yet, Harm commented, "You seemed pretty at ease with Faisal tonight."
Clay's grin was crooked. "I had a good teacher. Just watched you fawning over Paul."
"I wasn't -" Harm realized that it had probably *looked* that way to Clay, and cut short his objection. "Okay, I may have gone a *little* overboard," he admitted.
"A little? That waiter - Philip? - told me that you and Paul danced quite a bit last night."
"I like to dance - when I have a good partner," Harm said, recalling that Clay had been with his mother at a dance when he'd called him once. "You dance, don't you?" he asked, looking at Clay through his lashes.
"Sometimes. Mostly with Mother," he said. "And you just changed the subject," he accused in a quiet voice.
"Redirection," Harm said with a shrug.
"Is Paul a - good partner?" Clay asked, and Harm went still, wondering exactly what the man was asking.
"He's o" H" Harm said. "Not my type, though."
"Tall, blond - "
"And married," Harm added, smiling again as Clay looked at him with surprised eyes. He held up his left hand, pointing to the ring finger. "There's a faint line on his ring finger that shows he usually wears a ring."
"And you don't - get involved with - married men."
"I'll flirt -" Harm nodded. "But that's all. It's the reason he goes to the club. I think he prefers nameless, faceless partners who won't threaten hirriarriage or his public image."
"And you don't do - one night stands," Clay said.
"No. Too dangerous. Before I even come out to someone, I make damn sure it won't cause any problems."
Harm watched as Clay stood up and moved toward the sliding glass door, sensing that the man was fighting an internal battle of some kind. When Clay finally spoke, he was looking out of that window over the city.
"Harm, is it possible that - that *I'm* gay?" Harm sighed, hearing all of the self-doubt and worry and fear that he'd felt at seventeen in Clay's question. Only Harm hadn't had anyone to discuss those feelings with.
"Anything's possible, Clay," Harm replied in a quiet voice, moving toward the other man. He stopped directly behind Clay, not touching, not trusting himself to do so. "But it's something you have to decide on your own. I can't -"
Harm's words were cut off by the feel of Clay's lips on his, the feel of Clay's hand on the back of his neck as his other hand grabbed a handful of Harm's shirt as the other man turned around without warning. The feel of those lips, after so many nights of ding ing about them, was more than Harm could stand. His arms went around the smaller man, pulling him closer, his tongue gently requesting entry. When Clay's mouth opened to him, Harm heard someone groan - and realized it was himself. Clay's own tongue was exploring every recess of Harmmoutmouth, and when the kiss finally ended, both men were laying on the bed, wrapped in each other's arms.
"Damn, Clay," Harm managed, pulling Clay's head onto his chest as he tried to regain his breath, "I never knew you could kiss like that."
"Neither did I," Clay told him, and Harm smiled as he felt the rapid pace of Clay's heart, a match to that of his own. "Harm -"
"Shh," Harm said, rubbing circles on the other man's back, feeling the uncertainty and tension that were there, "Just go to sleep. I think we both need to get some rest tonight."
"Sleep," Clay sighed. "I don't sleep well, usually," he murmured, and Harm realized that Clay was almost asleep even as he spoke. "Can't."
"You can tonight," Harm promised, placing a light kiss against Clay's brown hair. "I'll be here."
"Promise?"
Harm smiled at the needy sound of that question. "I promise." *For as long as you want me to be* Harm finished silently, closing his own eyes and dropping quickly into a deep sleep.
*****
Clay woke to a feeling of peace that he hadn't felt for a very long time. In fact, he didn't want to open his eyes because he didn't want that feeling to end. He was on his side, with someone lying behind him, an arm around his waist.
Memory returned as he recognized the Naval Academy ring on Harm's hand.
He'd kissed Harm.
Clay closed his eyes again, recalling the myriad of fegs tgs that kiss had evoked. He'd kissed a lot of women over the y, bu, but he'd never felt as - complete as he'd felt with Harm. As *right*.
But with that realization came another one: he *was* gay. It explained so many things, his inability to commit to a relationship with the women he'd dated, his inability to really *connect* with any of those women. And with that thought came worry about his mother's reaction.
Very carefully, Clay lifted Harm's arm and slipped out of the bed, going into the bathroom, where he rested his hand on the vanity and stared at his reflection while the water heated for a shower. He didn't *look* any different. But he felt more rested than he'd felt in - well, since he could remember. Somehow, just knowing that Harm was there, he had slept deeply and restfully.
Slowly getting undressed, Clay got into the shower, trying to come to terms with what all of this was going to mean.
*****
Harm woke when he heard a door close and frowned as he realized that Clay was gone. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom, and laid there on the bed for a moment, trying to decide what to do. Stay there and confront Clay when he came out? Or go to his own room, change for his morning run, and then talk to Clay over breakfast?
Sighing, Harm decided on the second option. He remembered his own acceptance of who he was, and knew that Clay probably needed some space, some time to think about what was happening. Even though nothing had happened between them other than a kiss, Harm knew how Clay was probably feeling. Grabbing a notepad from beside the computer, Harm wrote a note and left it on the bed before he went through the connecting doorway into the other room.
The decision was in Clay's hands now. He could either come to terms with the truth - or go back into the closet. Either way, Harm wasn't going to force the issue. Clay meant too much to him for that to happen.
*****
Clay was sitting in a booth at the small restaurant attached to the hotel when Harm slid into the seat across from him. He was freshlowerowered and wearing dark jeans and a white pullover shirt that Clay couldn't help but notice clung to his muscular chest. "Morning," Harm said, his blue eyes fixed on Clay.
After that first glance at Harm, Clay lowered his gaze to the cup of coffee in his hands. He'd come out of the bathroom, expecting Harm to still be there, only to find a note on the pillow.
"Going for a run. See you at breakfast. Usual place. We'll talk then, if you want. Harm."
Talk. About last night. About the fact that he'd spent the night in bed with Harm. He'd never been good at morning-afters. Or at morning-after "talks". But this was different. This wasn't one of the women that his mother had picked out - this was Harmon Rabb, Jr. A friend.
He heard Harm move, and then saw his hand slowly come into his field of vision as it moved to cover Clay's. "Clay, nothing happened. If you're not ready - that's okay. It's a lot to take in. Lots of things to think about."
"I never considered the idea that I might be -," Clay said quietly. "Even last night, when Faisal touched me - I didn't feel - that's not true." He sighed, and Harm started to pull his hand away, but Clay grabbed it. "I didn't like his touching me. Made me feel - I don't know -" he paused, thinking. "D. No. Nothing like it felt when you -" He finally looked up at Harm. "I still don't know what that means."
Harm reached across to grasp Clay's other hand. "It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don't want it to. No one's going to force you to - do or be anything you don't want to. But - would you mind ifold old you that I liked sleeping with you beside me last night?"
Clay laughed quietly at the admission. "Same here. I slept better last night than I have in a long time."
"I'm glad."
"It's not easy for me to t peo people, Harm," Clay pointed out. "One of the hazards of the job, I gu"
"
"Is that part of the problem?" Harm wondered. "Worrying about how you possibly being gay could impact on your job?"
"It wouldn't be a problem as long as I was discreet," Clay said, shaking his head. "And was careful about not opening myself up to blackmail. It would mean I'd have to tell Mother -"
"You think she'd disapprove?"
"I don't know. Maybe not. Mother tends to surprise me at times. I know she supports a few gay rights groups, but -"
"You're worried she'll feel differently if her son is gay," Harm nodded. "Clay, you don't have to make a decision now. Give it some time. Think about it. But if you need to talk or - whatever -" he added with a sly grin, "I'll be here."
"Thanks," Clay replied, feeling himself responding to the other man's smile.
A waitress appeared, order pad in hand, and Harm reluctantly released Clay's hands to smile at her as he placed an order for breakfast.
**************
Back in the room, Clay booted his laptop and sat down to see if there were any messages about the information he'd sent to Langley via encrypted file the night before. Finding nothing, he was examining the information again himself when he heard Harm clear his throat. Turning, he found the other man standing in the connecting door, holding some files.
"Would you mind if I - worked on these in here?" he asked.
"No," Clay said, nodding toward the bed. "Go ahead."
"Thanks," Harm said, making himself comfortable against the headboard. "Any word yet?"
"No," Clay answered, knowing that he was talking about the intel. "Probably won't be until this afternoon at the earliest. I can't really discuss it, Harm," he said, glancing toward the bed. "It's -"
He was relieved when Harm grinned as he finished, "Need to know. I understand." He bent his head to read one of the files he'd brought with him.
Watching him, Clay couldn't help but notice how broad Harm's shoulders were - even without the padded uniform jacket. Harm could understand the need for security. Better than most, probably.
Even though he always told them that he worked for State, most of the women he'd tried to have a relationship with couldn't understand that he wasn't able to talk about his work - most of it was classified. Nor could he always tell them where he was going or where he'd been after disappearing with barely a word for days on end.
Those facts wouldn't change just because the person he was involved with was a man, Clay reminded himself. Seeing Harm look up suddenly and catch Clay watching him, Clay felt his ears redden slightly, embarrassed.
"Penny for your thoug" H" Harm said.
"Just - thinking about my lousy track record with relationships," he answered. "My job -"
"You usually tell them that you work for the State Department, right?"
"Yeah. Still doesn't mean I can tell them anything - they think I'm shutting them out and -" he let his voice trail off.
"And you're worried it would be the same with me," Harm guessed. Clay nodded. Harm closed the folder he'd been reading and put it onto the bed. "I can't say I'd be happy about it, but I think I'd understand."
"And what about my leaving the country without warning?" Clay asked. "Not being able to say where I'm going, or where I've been?"
"No one's saying it would be easy, Clay. For either of us." He smiled. "I'm just glad you'thinthinking* about it at all."
Clay's computer beeped, recalling his attention, and Harm watched him in silence for a moment before picking the folder up and opening it.
*******
True to Clay's word, it was late afternoon before he got the word that the intel from Faisal al Saad appeared to be important, and strongly suggesting that he get Faisal to a safe house, where he would be transferred to DC under security for further questioning.
"How are we supposed to do that?" Harm asked, watching as Clay started dialing another number.
"Give me a minute," he said. When someone on the other end answered, Harm listened to Clay. "It's Webb . . . Okay . . . I can do that . . . Say, ten this evening." He nodded, then gave the address of the bar. "See you then."
"Well?" Harm asked.
"We go back to the bar as usual. When Faisal comes in, he and I will have a couple of drinks, and then leave the bar together. There'l a t a taxicab waiting outside at ten. I'll see Faisal to the safe house they're using and then come back here."
"I'll watch your back. Make sure no one follows you when you leave the bar," Harm said.
"I was counting on that," Clay told him.
The afternoon had passed by in an atmosphere of companionable silence, both men concentrating on their work. Occasionally one or the other had looked up, smiling, but nothing more had been said about Clay's epiphany of the previous evening.
On Harm's part, it was because he didn't want to push Clay to make a decision too quickly. He would like nothing better than to have Clay in his life - *fully* in his life - but he didn't want it to happen only to have Clay decide in six months or a year that he had made a mistake and crawl back into the closet. The idea didn't bear thinking about.
"That's a serious look," Clay said, drawing Harm's attention.
"Serious thoughts," Harm replied with a smile.
"Trying to figure out how you're going to get away from Paul this evening?"
"Well, it won't be easy. The man's crazy about me."
"I think everyone at the bar knows that," Clay confirmed, standing up from the desk and stretching.
"What can I say? I'm a loveable person."
"Under the right circumstances, maybe," Clay said, movingsit sit on the edge of the bed not far from Harm.
Harm lifted an eyebrow as he heard Clay's words, surprised. Trying to hide his reaction, Harm laughed. "Honestly, getting away from him isn't going to be easy. The man's an octopus when he wants something."
"And he wants you."
"Yeah," Harm admitted, trying to read the look in Clay's eyes. "But *I* don't want *him*, Clay," he finally said, hoping he was reading that look correctly. When he saw Clay relax slightly, he knew that he had. Lifting a hand to Clay's shoulder, he said, "Don't worry. I can handle Paul. All I have to do is tell him I don't get involved with married men."
Clay put his hand over Harm's looking up at him. "Harm -"
"I'm not pushing, Clay," Harm said, starting to remove his hand, but Clay refused to allow it. "Don't, Clay," he said in a low voice. "You need time." Even as he spoke, Harm felt Clay's hand leave his to slide up his shoulder to rest behind his neck. "Time to think - to decide -" Closing his eyes, Harm grabbed Clay's hand in his, holding it between them. "I don't want you to rush into this, Clay. I want you to be totally, completely sure." He brought Clay's hand to his lips for a moment before he continued. "No doubts, no reservations."
Clay nodded silently as he took a deep breath. "I know. As much as I hate to say this, you're right. Until this mission is finished, I can't take the time to think about this, figure things out." He smiled. "But once Faisal is safely in that safe house tonight, I think we should talk."
"We will."
********************************
Paul almost seemed to be watching for Harm that night. The moment Harm entered the bar, the other man held up a bottle of beer that he'd apparently ordered with Harm in mind. Sitting down where he could watch the back corner booth in which Clay was already seated, Harm gave Paul an amused grin. "I hate being predictable," he declared, picking up the beer to take a drink. "What if I hadn't shown up?" Harm wondered, knowing that Paul preferred wine instead of beer.
"I'd have drowned my broken heart with it," Paul declared melodramatically. "Besides," he continued, sliding an arm across Harm's shoulders to pull him closer, "I knew you couldn't stay away."
Harm met Clay's eyes, sending what he hoped was a reassuring look toward the other man. "You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" Harm asked Paul.
"I'm told its part of my charm," Paul replied, leaning closer. Harm could smell the alcohol on the man's breath and moved away. "What's wrong?"
Nodding toward the nearly empty glass of wine on the table, he asked, "How many of those have you had?"
"Not enough," Paul decided, catching Philip's eye. While Paul was ordering another glass of wine, Harm saw Faisal enter the bar, stopping by the bar as he had on the previous evening before moving back to join Clay in the booth. Only this time, instead of remaining on the opposite side of the bench, he slid around to sit next to Clay.
"How about you, hon?" Philip asked, looking at Harm.
Harm shook his head. "I'm good."
Philip noticed the direction of Harm's gaze and bent close to his ear to say, "They make a cute couple, don't they? I'm glad he found someone. He looked so lonely that first night." Then he was gone, and Harm tried not to be so obvious in watching what was going on in the corner booth.
He took a furtive glance at his watch. It was only nine. An hour to go before they could get the hell out of here. "Need to be somewhere?" Paul asked, his arm around Harm's shoulders again.
"No. Just checking the time."
"Let's dance," Paul suggested, starting to stand up, only to drop back into the chair.
Harm laughed. "You can't even stand up," he said.
"Yes I can," Paul insisted, and this time managed to get to his feet by bracing himself on the back of his chair and the table. "See? Com'on. Dance with me."
Sighing, Harm stood up and led the other man out to the dance floor.
******
"I did not think that you were gay," Faisal said as he picked up his glass of sparkling water.
"What?" Clay asked, looking away from the dance floor where Harm was attempting to lead his intoxicated partner around the floor.
Faisal's dark gaze moved toward Harm and Paul. "You have been watching the tall one all evening. You did it last night as well. Do you know him?"
"He's here as backup," Clay said slowly.
"And are you and he -?"
"Let's just say that we're in the process of finding that out."
"Ah. He seems very at ease in this place," Faisal said. "So I guess that it is you who has only recently realized your true nature. Because you seem much less at ease."
Clay shook his head, laughing softly. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to someone who is as uneasy as you are," Faisal explained, causing Clay to look at him.
"Then you're not -"
"No."
"Then why -"
"Why choose this place to meet?" Faisal finished for him. "It was safe. None of the people I know would come to a place like this." His eyes sought out Harm again. "Does he know how you feel about him?"
Clay glanced at Harm, who was now trying to get Paul back to their table, but Paul apparently wanted to continue to dance. "He's a friend."
"You are worried about saying too much to me. I understand this. I am a stranger to you. But if we are to convince others here that we wish to be alone together, we must give the appearance of being much closer."
Clay took another drink of scotch before lifting his arm over Faisal's head to drop it across his shoulders. "You mean like this?"
*******
"Come on, Paul," Harm said, tired of pulling the other man's hands off of his hips. "If you don't come back to the table now, I'll leave you here."
Paul frowned. "You're no fun tonight," he pouted, letting Harm pull him back toward the table and sitting down heavily in the chair. Once Harm sat down beside him, he leaned closer. "Why don't you and I get out of here?"l sul suggested. "Find someplace more private?" His hand was on H's t's thigh, moving upward, and Harm grabbed it.
"Paul, you're drunk," he said quietly, trying to keep from drawing more attention than they had already drawn. "The only thing you need is a place to sleep it off."
"I'm not drunk," Paul insisted, grabbing for Harm again. "Tell you what, take me away from all this and we'll discuss it."
Deciding that he'd be better off by himself instead of putting up with a drunk, Harm shook his head. "I have a better idea. Go back to your wife. Maybe she'll put up with you." With that, he stood up and moved to the bar, leaving Paul sitting alone.
The bartender placed a bottle in front of him. "Here you go. And it's on the house," he said as Paul staggered out of the door. "I've been wishing someone would give that guy what he had coming to him."
"Shouldn't you call him a cab?" Harm asked, picking up the beer.
"He'll flag one down. He doesn't drive down here. Too afraid of someone seeing his car and tracing it back to him."
"I think I'll go back to the table now that he's gone," Harm told the bartender. "Thanks for the beer."
"My pleasure. I'm just hoping he stays gone."
Philip paused by the table moments after Harm sat down again, expressing similar sentiments. "I guess I should have warned you about him," he apologized. "Most of the regulars wouldn't have anything to do with him." He noticed Harm looking at the corner booth, where Clay and Faisal were looking *very* cozy. "Guess you gave up on that one too quickly, huh?"
"Yeah, well, you know what they say," Harm said, lifting his bottle. "Win some, lose some." He took a drink of the beer.
"You want another one?" Philip asked.
"No. I'll nurse this one til I go."
"Sure. If you need - anything -" the young man said, and Harm looked up at him, seeing the hopeful look in his blue eyes.
"Thanks, but, I'm fine."
"Yeah. That you are, hon," Philip said with a regretful sigh. "Oh, well, like you said. Win some, -"
"Lose some. I appreciate it, Philip, but I'm not really looking for companionship right now. I just - need some down time."
Philip responded to Harm's smile with one of his ownd asd as he moved off, Harm thought that the young man was going to be dangerous when he was a little older.
A few other men approached Harm's table, but he gently refused their offer of company, keeping an eye on Clay and Faisal, who were now turning toward each other, talking softly, occasionally laughing, their hands touching on the table. Seeing Clay laugh, Harm took another drink of beer. It wasn't something Clay did often, and the idea that another man was causing it made Harm feel a little green.
He kept a watch on his watch, counting the seconds as they ticked by, closer and closer to 2200 hours. At last he saw Clay signal for Philip and pay the bill before he and Faisal left the bar. Philip stopped at Harm's table as he watched them go. "Can I get you anything?"
"Just my bill."
"Lou says it's on the house tonight," Philip told him, indicating the bartender.
Smiling again, Harm gave Philip a good tip. "Thanks," he said, moving toward the doors, waving at Lou as he did so.
Just as he got outside, he saw a taxi leaving the curb. There wasn't anyone else around that Harm could see, so he flagged down the next cab that came along, telling the driver to take him to the hotel.
********
Harm paced around his room, listening for any sound in the hallway that might be Clay returning. Finally, when it was nearly 0300, Harm slowly undressed and slid between the covers of his bed. Turning out the light, he lay there in the dark, listening, worrying about where Clay was, about whether or not he was okay; worrying that he'd changed his mind and had decided to stay at the safe house instead coming back to the hotel.
Hearing the sound of Clay's door opening, Harm remained where he was, feeling relief just knowing that Clay was back and safe. Going to him would be pushing - something he'd told Clay that he wouldn’t do. He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax.
When he heard the connecting door into his room open, Harm went still, smiling as he felt the covers on the other side of the bed being lifted and then the warmth of Clay's body against his. Clay slipped his arm around Harm's waist, resting his head against Harm's back. "I'm sorry it took so long," he whispered. "I had to take care of paperwork -"
"Bureaucracy," Harm sighed, turning over onto his back, putting his arm around Clay. "I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind." He ran his hand down Clay's bare back. "You and Faisal looked pretty close tonight."
He felt Clay's eyes on him. "Jealous?"
"If I say yes, what happens?"
"He's not gay," Clay told him. "He only suggested meeting there because he thought it would be safe. It was just an act."
"A very good act."
"Looked like you had a fun evening."
Harm groaned both at the memory of Paul's drunkenness and Clay's fingers tangling in the hair on his chest. "Don't remind me. It was horrible." He grasped Clay's fingers as they brushed a nipple. "Clay, if you don't stop, we're never going to have that talk -"
"I think my being here now should tell you that I made my decision, Harm. I want to be with you. I know it's not going to be easy. Between your being in the Navy and my being CIA, we'll have to be discreet, but I want to try." He rose up on one arm. "I've never felt what I feel with you with anyone else, Harm. I don't trust people. You know that. But I trust you." Harm felt his breath catch in his throat at that admission. "Do you want to take a chance on us?"
"I've wanted to take a chance on us for a long time, Clay," Harm said.
"Really?"
"Yeah." He smiled up at Clay. "Does that bother you?"
"That you've been attracted to me for a long time? No. I'm a little embarrassed that I never saw it. Sure, you flirted with me to get information, but - you flirt with everyone," he said in a teasing tone.
"Can't promise not to do that in the future, Clay," Harm said.
"Wouldn't have you any other way," Clay told him. "Now. Are we finished talking?"
Harm pretended to consider the question. "I don't know. There might be -"
He got no further as Clay's lips closed over his, swallowing any further words into his mouth.
**********
They caught an early afternoon flight back to DC, and Clay thought that everyone on the plane *had* to know what was going on between them. IT wasn't a matter of guilt so much as it was the fact that he and Harm spent the entire flight sitting in their seats, talking and whispering, just enjoying each other's company.
But as the aircraft began to descend for landing, Clay's thoughts turned to more mundane matters - such as how they were going to manage time together considering their schedules and their jobs, and, last, but certainly not least, how he was going to tell his mother the news.
Harm evidently noticed the change, because he touched Clay's hand momentarily to get his attention. "Hey. What's wrong?"
"Reality. Mother."
"You want me there when you tell her?"
"No. I think it might be best if I tell her alone. Telling her about you depends on her reaction." Clay sighed. "When will we be able to see each other again?"
"We'll find a way," Harm promised. "I have your private number. I'll call."
He drove Harm back to his apartment. "You want to come up?" Harm asked, taking his suitcase.
But Clay wasn't looking at Harm. He was looking at the dark haired woman standing in the doorway of the building. "I don't think so. You've got company."
Harm turned around, finally seeing the woman. "Mac?"
"Hello, Harm. Webb."
Harm gave his ex-partner a hug. "What are you doing here?"
"I arrived back in Washington last night. Bud told me you were out of town playing spook with Webb -"
Clay belated gave Mac a welcoming smile. "I heard your marriage ended, Mac. Sorry."
Mac returned the smile, but looked at Harm again. "If you're busy, I -"
"No. Come on in," Harm said, moving toward the door. He was holding it open for Mac before he noticed that Clay hadn't moved. "Webb?"
"I need to go let Mother know I'm back," he said. "And stop by Langley to check on some things."
"I'll be in touch," Harm promised, giving Clay a long look.
"Okay. Glad you're back, Mac," Clay said, getting into his car and driving away.
"What's his problem?" Mac asked Harm as he watched the car down until it turned a corner.
"Who knows with Webb?" Harm said, smiling at her as he joined her inside and headed for the stairs. "It's been a rough couple of days for both of us."
"Another one of Webb's missions that went wrong?"
"Not this time," Harm told her, unlocking the door to his apartment. "Go on in. Not sure I have much to offer -"
"I really thought we could go out for dinner," Mac admitted as Harm carried his suitcase toward the bedroom. "If you don't already have plans."
He heard the uncertainty in her voice as he was about to refuse. It wasn't like her to be uncertain. "No, no plans. Want some water?" he asked. "I'm sure I have that."
"Sure."
He grabbed two bottles from the refrigerator and tossed one to her. "What happened, Mac?" he asked.
She shrugged and turned toward the windows. "It was a mistake. I shouldn't have married Mic, Harm." She looked at him. "You can say 'I told you so' if you want to."
"Wouldn't dream of it. You never mentioned any problems when you called or wrote -"
"I didn't want to bother you."
"He started drinking?"
"More and more," She nodded. "And then he'd get verbally abusive."
"He wasn't -" the idea of Mic Brumby lifting a hand to Mac made Harm physically ill.
"No. Thank God I got out before that happened." She turned back to the window. "He was jealous of you," she said in a soft voice. "He said that he thought I only married you because you never stood up and made a claim."
"Mac," Harm began, trying to think of something to say. "I wanted to," he said honestly. "If for no other reason than to keep you from marrying him. But I couldn't."
She nodded, as if she understood. "Because you don't love me. I understand -"
"Mac," he said, turning her to look at him. "I love you more than I've ever loved any woman in my life." It was true. If he hadn't been gay, he would have spoken up, kept her from marrying Mic Brumby.
"Then why?" she asked, and the tears in her eyes tore at Harm's heart.
"Because it wasn't enough."
"You're not making any sense, Harm. You say you love me, but that it's 'not enough'? What more do you need?"
"Mac, I can't -" he moved away from her, running a hand across the back of his neck. He looked away from her, then back. "I don't have it within me to make *any* woman happy," he told her.
"I don't understand, Harm," she said.
Harm closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he came to a decision. He might destroy his career if it went badly, but he had to hope that Mac wouldn't react in anger. That she would understand. "Before I try to explain, Mac, I have to ask you something."
"What?"
"What are you planning on doing now? Private practice? Try to get your commission reinstated?"
"I haven't decided. The Admiral - AJ asked me the same question today when I saw him. But - I don't know that I want to take a step backward." She sighed. "No, I'm not going back to the Marines. I'll probably work there as a civilian attorney, but - that's all."
"I want you promise me to hear me out, Mac, before you react or decide to walk out."
"Harm, what does my being a Marine or not have to do with -"
"Promise me, Mac. As my friend."
"I promise."
He indicated that she should sit down, but remained standing, pacing the floor. "Mac, haven't you ever wondered *why* I've never been able to commit to a woman? Anne, Jordan, Renee - even you?"
"Harm -"
"When I was seventeen, Mac, I made a discovery about myself, about who I am. I ignored it, pushed it aside and joined the Navy, did what was expected of me. And I *wanted* to find a woman, get married, have a family. You of all people know what family means to me, Mac. But every time I got close to that moment, I found way to mess it up. I lied to Annie about that cruise, I didn't tell Jordan about going back to flying - I kept pushing Renee away - and I let you marry Mic Brumby knowing it was a mistake. All because *I* - I do love you, Mac," he said again. "And if things were different - if *I* were different, I'd have married you in a heartbeat." He was watching her closely now, trying to read her reaction to his words. To see if she understood what he was trying to say.
Mac blinked several times. "Oh my God," she whispered. "All this time, and I never knew - you led me on, you led Annie, you led us *all* on -"
"No. No, Mac. I wasn't leading you on. Any of you. I wanted to be what everyone *expected* me to be. Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. Aviator, JAG lawyer, the Navy's poster boy -. But it's all a lie, Mac. It's all been a lie. One I kept so deeply buried that I almost believed it myself. I could have stopped your marriage, Mac, married you myself. But I would have made you just as unhappy in the long run."
Mac sat there, staring at him. "You're gay?" He nodded, watching her carefully again. "And no one else knows?"
He paused again. "I haven't told anyone at JAG, if that's what you're asking. I couldn't very well announce it to Bud or Harriet or - the Admiral, could I?"
"No, I suppose not. Does your mother -"
"She doesn't know. I think Frank suspects, but he's never said anything."
Mac stood up, moving to the windows again. "Webb knows, doesn't he?"
"Just since last weekend. He saw me at a restaurant with a - a friend and figured it out." He stood there as the silence grew. "Mac, are you okay with this? If you're not, I can understand -"
"It's a lot to take in, Harm," she said, and then started to laugh.
"Mac?"
"I was just thinking about Mic being jealous," she said, and Harm found himself laughing as well at the thought, relieved that he'd dodged another bullet.
"Can I trust you to keep the secret, Mac?" he asked as the laughter faded. "Because if you don't think you can, I'll turn my resignation in to the Admiral tomorrow morning."
"Is this what you want to do, Harm? Keeping hiding who you are just to stay in the Navy?"
"It's also who I am," Harm told her.
"And what happens if you find someone you want to be with? If you - fall in love- would you be able to keep it hidden?"
"If I have to. Actually, there is someone, Mac. It's still a new relationship, but - I'm hopeful it'll work out."
"Who? The friend that Webb saw you with?"
"No." He hesitated again. "Clay."
"Clay? Clayton Webb? Harm, are you crazy?!"
"You're not surprised that he's gay?"
"I never really thought about it. He's Webb. He - Harm!"
"Mac, you don't know him the way I do -"
"Obviously," she said, and Harm narrowed his eyes until he realized she was teasing. "He's a *spook*, Harm. You and he are - are as different as night and day. You see things in black and white, Webb - Webb sees shades of gray."
"I know all that. But you don't choose the person you fall in love with."
"Yeah. I think I can understand that. How long-?"
"Like I said, it's still pretty new. He only just realized that he's gay himself."
"And I was waiting on your doorstep when - oh, Harm. He probably thinks that - oh, damn." She picked up the cordless telephone. "You'd better call him. Now."
"Mac, it'll be all right."
"Call him, Harm. Tell him you told me the truth, and tell him that all *three* of us are going out to dinner."
Taking the phone, Harm dialed Clay's private number, his eyebrow raised as he looked at Mac as he waited for Clay to answer the cell phone.
"Hello."
"Clay?"
"I don't have time to talk, Rabb," Clay said shortly.
"Where are you?"
"Almost at Langley. Told you I had things to take care of."
Harm sighed. "I thought you were going to see your mother?"
"I'm not sure that's important right now, Rabb." He was angry. Harm could tell by the way he was using Harm's last name in that tone.
"Clay, just a minute, okay?"
"I told you -"
"I know. You're busy. Just hold on." He held the phone out to Mac. "You talk to him."
Mac glared at Harm. "Clay? It's Mac - . . . No, and don't you dare hang up on me, Clayton Webb, because I'll just drive out to Langley and talk to you in person . . . Harm told me everything." Her eyes flickered toward Harm. "*Everything*, Clay . . . Yes, he's still alive. You just talked to him . . . Well, the reason I'm calling is to invite you to have dinner tonight with Harm and me . . . Dinner. You, me, and Harm," she said again. "Well, for one reason, Harm *is* my best friend, and I need to make sure you're worthy of him."
"Mac!" Harm almost yelled, grabbing for the phone, but she ducked out of his way, laughing.
"How about seven? Will that give you time to go and see your mother and then meet us here at Harm's apartment?" She grinned at Harm. "We'll be here." Another glance at Harm. "I will. Bye." She hung up and put the telephone back onto the desk. "He said to tell you bye and he's sorry for being so bad-tempered."
Harm just shook his head, wondering what he had let himself in for.
***********************************
Clay took a deep breath as he entered the greenhouse, inhaling the combined scents of the flowers that his mother grew. "Hello, Mother," he said, causing her to turn from the roses that she was in the process of pruning.
"Clayton," she said, smiling with delight as she presented her cheek for him to kiss. "When did you get home?"
"This afternoon. I stopped by the office on my way here." She had gone back to pruning. "The roses look nice."
"Don't they? I really think that this is the best year for them in ages." She glanced at him. "You need to talk to me about something, don't you?"
"How did yoow?\ow?"
"Your hands are in your pockets, dear," she said. "Whenever you're troubled, you shove your hands into your pockets. You've al don done it."
"Could you stop pruning the roses for a minute, please, Mother?" Clay asked. "You're right - I do need to talk to you, and I need your full attention to do it." Besides, he was afraid of her being anywhere near those pruning shears when he told her what he was going to say. And not just because she might damage the roses.
After looking at him for a moment, Porter Webb removed her gardening gloves and the apron she was wearing over her dress as she turned around. "Why don't we go into the sitting room?" she suggested, slipping her arm through his. "I'll ask Markov to bring us some tea."
Clay rolled his eyes. "Mother, -" he said about to tell her that he didn't want tea.
"You're very tense, Clayton," she said, frowning. "You really do need to relax more. You're going to end up with an ulcer or a heart attack before you're fifty."
"You said that would happen before I was forty, too," Clay reminded her. "And it didn't."
"You've been lucky," Porter pointed out to him as they passed the butler. "Markov, could you bring some tea to the sitting room, please?"
"Right away, Mrs. Webb," the man said, nodding at Clay before he disappeared down the hallway.
In the sitting room, Porter sat down on one of the sofas, but Clay remained on his feet, moving around the room nervously. "You seem very ill at ease, dear," Porter noted. "What's wrong?"
"Why don't we wait until Markov brings the tea, Mother?" Clay suggested, inspecting her collection of Dresden figurines. "I'd rather not be interrupted once I start."
"Now you're frightening me, Clayton," Porter said. "You're not - ill are you?"
"No. I can tell you that you don't have to keep throwing your friends' daughters into my path anymore."
"You've met someone," Porter said, and Clay thought he heard uncertainty in her tone. "Not - Margaret Peterson's daughter. Lisa, wasn't it?"
"Hardly, Mother," Clay said, barely repressing a shudder at the idea.
Markov entered with a tray carrying a silver tea service, placing it onto the table in front of Porter. "Will there be anything else, ma'am?" he asked.
"No. Thank you, Markov," she said, already pouring the tea into bone china cups, automatically adding the two lumps of sugar that Clay preferred before handing it to him.
Clay took it, but set it back onto the table immediately. "Mother, haven't you ever wondered why I don't seem to be - attracted to any of the women you fix me up with?"
Porter, her back ramrod straight, paused with her cup between the saucer and her mouth. "You're very - selective, dear. You always have been. That's not necessarily a bad thing, you know. I suppose you take after me in that respect -"
"Mother," Clay said, sitting down beside her on the sofa. "I'm gay."
He wasn't sure what he expected. Anger. Denial. But never in a million years did he expect to have heard his mother's next words.
"You finally figured that out?" she said, as if she were discussing the weather or one of her charity events.
"You knew?"
"I - suspected," Porter corrected him, putting her cup and saucer onto the table before turning to take his hands in hers. "Clayton, all I want is for you to be happy. You've been so terribly *un*happy for so long. I think you're due." Releasing his hands, she picked up her tea again. "Now, why don't you tell me what the catalyst for this sudden moment of self-realization was?"
Clay finally reached for his own cup of tea, taking a sip before answering. "It's a who, actually," he admitted, earning a look of curiosity. Taking another drink, he put the cup down. "Do you remember the Navy officer who came to visit you when everyone thought I was dead?"
"Lt. Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr." she recalled. "Very handsome, if I remember correctly. Clayton, you're *not* telling me that -"
"Yes, Mother. I am. And he's a Commander now."
"Rumor around Washington is that he's probably going to be JAG once Admiral Chegwidden decides to retire. He's - gay?"
"Yes. I know I don't have to remind you that no one else can know about that, Mother -"
"Of course not, dear - Oh, Clayton, are you sure about this? Hiding, never being able to be together in public -"
"Only until things change. And they will, Mother. The military can't keep that stupid rule in place forever."
"Especially if the right people apply enough pressure in the right places," Porter told him, and Clay smiled in gratitude.
"You're sure you don't mind?" he asked.
"Clayton, dear, *why* do you think I always arranged for you to date vapid, shallow young women that I knew you would *never* have anything in common with? I was *terrified* that you would eventually marry one of them and be terribly unhappy. Your happiness is what's important. And if Harmon is the one who can do that, then I'm happy for you."
Clay took a deep breath, relieved that it was over with. "You have no idea how nervous I was about telling you," he said, picking up his cup again.
"I would hope you would know by now that you can tell me anything, dear. I *am* your mother, after all. Now. When are you going to bring Harmon here for dinner?"
"I'll talk to him about it tonight," he said. "We're having dinner with a mutual friend."
"Oh. I hoped you were going to have dinner with me," Porter said.
"Tomorrow evening," Clay said. "I promise."
*******
Clay gave Mac a nervous smile when she opened the door to Harm's apartment that evening. "Hi."
"Hi," she said, stepping back. "Come on in."
Harm came from the bedroom area, taking Clay's hand in his. "You okay?" he asked.
"I talked to Mother."
"And?" Harm asked.
"She already knew. She wants us to come for dinner soon."
"We will," Harm nodded. He looked at Mac. "You ready?
"If you two are," she said.
************
The next morning saw Harm back in his uniform, back at JAG. No one there guessed that he'd made a major change in his life. The only comment made was by Harriet, who had given him a long look when she'd handed him some message slips.
"You look rested, sir," she said. "I guess Mr. Webb's mission wasn't the norm."
"For once, everything went as planned, Harriet," he said, grinning. "First time for everything."
"You know that Mac is back in town, don't you?"
"Yeah. We had dinner last night."
"Really, sir?" she asked, and Harm saw the speculative look on her face, but didn't say anything else as he continued toward his office.
******
"You're sure about this, Mac?" AJ asked as he sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, looking at his former JAG officer. "I could get your commission reinstated without much difficulty."
"I appreciate it, sir, but I've been gone for almost three years. Even if I went back, I'd be topped out as a Lt. Colonel or Colonel. I think I'm better off as a civilian attorney now."
"Then you'll accept the position here?" The Navy had decided that having a civilian attorney on 'retainer' to JAG might be a wise move given current world conditions, and when AJ had discovered that Mac was coming back to DC, he'd been determined to offer her the job if she decided not to reclaim her commission.
"Might as well, Admiral."
"Good," he said, smiling. "And make it AJ. No reason to stand on ceremony." He stood up, moving around his desk. "Have you spoken to Commander Rabb yet?"
"Yes, sir - AJ. I had dinner with him and Clayton Webb yesterday."
"Both of them?"
"I was at Harm's when they got back from Florida," she explained. "I invited them both to dinner."
"I suppose Rabb's already laid claim to your evenings -" he said, fishing.
"No. Harm and I are friends, Ad - AJ. Good friends, but, we're both different people now. Why do you ask?"
"I thought, maybe you might consider - having dinner with me this evening? To discuss your duties here -"
He was surprised when Mac smiled. "I'd like that," she told him. "What time?"
"Seven?" he suggested, surprised that she'd agreed.
"I'll be ready."
AJ felt himself grinning at her. Pressing the intercom button, he told Coates, "Coates, would you gather the staff in the meeting room, please?"
"Yes, sir, Admiral," came the instant response.
AJ sat there. "I'm sorry that your marriage didn't work out, Mac," he said. "But I'm glad you're back here. I - we've missed you."
*********
Over lunch, Mac told Harm that AJ had asked her to dinner that evening, and Harm's eyebrow had lifted in surprise. "I take it he's not seeing anyone?"
"I haven't heard of anyone since he and Dr. Walden broke up." Harm sat back. "He's always liked you."
"I know," Mac said, looking at the table between them. "We, uh, almost kissed one time - luckily he pulled back, realizing how much trouble he could get into -"
"When was this?"
"Right after Dalton was murdered. At the party to introduce everyone to Francesca. I needed some aspirin, -"
"I always wondered if something happened that night," Harm told her. "But you were already so tense that I decided it was my imagination. How do you feel about him?"
"I don't know, Harm. Hell, I'm just getting out of a lousy marriage, remember? My second. I don't think I'm a good risk when it comes to marriage."
"The Admiral's a risk-taker," Harm reminded her with a grin.
"You and Clay still going to dinner at his mother's?" Mac asked, lowering her voice slightly.
"Yeah."
"You look nervous. Worried she won't think you're good enough for her son?"
Harm glanced around the outdoor area, making sure no one had heard her comment. "Mac," he warned.
"No one heard me," she assured him, reaching over to place a hand on his to calm him down. "Hey. Power down, Flyboy." She sighed as her cell phone began to ring. Glancing at the number, she frowned. "Damn." Opening it, she said, "Hello, Mic . . . No. I'm not coming back, I've already started proceedings for a divorce . . . Mic, that's none of your business," she declared, her eyes flickering toward Harm, then away. "Yes, I'm in Washington," she confirmed. "Mic, was there another reason you called other than to accuse me of sleeping with Harm? . . . Mic, don't call me again." She closed the phone and deliberately turned it off.
"You need to get a new phone with a new number," Harm noted. "Did he really -"
"He did," she sighed. "He wants me to come back," she told him. "He's also threatening to cause trouble for you if I don't."
"Mic can't hurt me, Mac," Harm told her. "He's just using emotional blackmail. Don't give in to him."
"I won't," she assured him, their hands clasped across the table. "I've learned my lesson, finally."
****************
Harm followed Clay into the apartment later that night. "You don't have to go riding with us on Sunday, Harm," Clay told him.
"I like to ride," Harm said. "I don't get to do it that often. What's wrong?" he asked, resting his hands on Clay's shoulders. "Don't want me horning in on your time with Porter?"
"That's not it and you know it." Clay shook his head. "I don't know why I ever doubted you'd charm your way into her good graces. You realize that she was serious about getting the regs changed, don't you?"
Harm shrugged as he opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. "Fine with me. The sooner the better, in fact."
Clay took his glass of wine and followed Harm over to the sofa. "I think she has visions of your being JAG someday."
"A *long* way down the road, maybe. It would mean being posted somewhere else for awhile, though." He lifted his arm along the back of the sofa, then pulled Clay closer. "Come here."
Clay settled next to him. "This is nice."
"Hmm," Harm agreed. "Do you have to work tomorrow?"
"Not unless they call," Clay said.
"Too bad you can't just turn the phone off."
"I could, but they'd find me anyway."
"That's what you get for being so good at your job, I guess."
Clay turned to look at him. "You really think I'm good at my job?"
"Sure. I know, I don't say that often. And don't expect me to say it again."
"I won't." He snuggled back against Harm again. "I was thinking -"
"I thought I told you not to do that?" Harm teased.
"Fine. I won't tell you what I was thinking about, then," Clay said with a shrug, taking a sip of his wine.
Harm put his glass on the table, then deftly snatched Clay's before pulling the other man back into his arms. "Tell me."
"You're not interested," Clay said.
Harm began to place light kisses along Clay's brow, moving down his face, bypassing Clay's waiting lips to trace his jaw. "Talk."
"Why don't we spend the rest of the weekend at my place?"
"What?" Harm questioned, lifting his head to look into Clay's eyes. "You don't like it here?"
"There's more room," Clay said. "And less likelihood of someone from JAG dropping by."
"We'll talk about it later," Harm said, returning his lips to Clay's jaw. "I'm busy right now."
Clay reached up to place his hands on either side of Harm's face. "Not as busy as you're going to be," he corrected, pressing his lips against Harm's.
Harm's fingers found the buttons on the front of Clay's shirt, unfastening each one until his hand rested against the warm flesh beneath, feeling the shiver of anticipation that went through Clay's body. "Let's move this into the bedroom," he suggested in a passion-deepened voice.
Clay rose from the sofa and held out his hand to Harm as the telephone began to ring. "Speaking of telephones," Clay said.
"Let it ring," Harm said, pulling Clay toward the bedroom. "The machine will get it."
The answering machine message played through just as they reached the step up to the bedroom. "Harm, I know Sarah's there. I need to talk to her."
Harm stopped, tension filling his body. "Brumby," Clay said, and Harm nodded, his jaw tight.
"Dammit, Harm, she's still *my* wife. I have a right to talk to her if I want to."
Clay tried to stop Harm when he grabbed the phone beside the bed. "She's not here, Brumby," Harm said shortly.
"I'm not a fool, Harm. She left me because of you. She probably went straight to your flat when she arrived."
"Mac left you because you're a drunken, abusive bastard, Brumby. She's not here. Don't call here again."
"Look, I don't know what kind of lies she's told you, Harm, but I never hurt Sarah. I love her."
"She doesn't love you. So get over it. If you call again, I'll be forced to take steps."
"The only reason Sarah married me was because you weren't man enough to speak up and claim her, mate. It only stands to reason she'd run right to you arms. If you don't let me speak to her, I can make your life a living hell. The Navy frowns on sailors who commit adultery, Harm."
"You have to prove it."
"The allegation would be enough to ruin your career and reputation," Brumby said in a smug tone.
"Take your best shot, Brumby," Harm said. "Even if Mac *was* here, I wouldn't let her talk to you unless she *wanted* to. And she wouldn't." Harm broke the connection, sitting down on the side of the bed, the photilltill in his hand.
Clay grabbed it from him, replacing it with a tennis shoe he'd found on the floor. "Here. Throw that instead."
Harm studied the shoe for a moment before lobbing it across the room, where it fell harmlessly to the floor.
"Feel better now?" Clay asked, and Harm began to laugh, pulling Clay down onto the bed with him.
*******
"You have to wait an entire year before you can file for divorce?" AJ asked Mac as they lingered over coffee.
"Yeah. Twelve month separation."
"Even after everything Brumby did?"
"I'm looking into some other options, since I'm not an Australian citizen and there's no possibility of reconciliation."
"If you need any help -," AJ offered. "I never really thought you made the right choice in marrying him anyway. Rabb was a fool not to find a way to stop you."
Mac smiled. "Harm wanted me to be happy. He thought marrying Mic would make me happy because it was what I wanted."
"I still would have spoken up," AJ muttered.
"Why didn't you?" Mac asked.
"What?"
"If you were so certain that I was making a mistake, why didn't you say something?"
"It wasn't my place - and you were still serving in my command at the time."
"I'm not now."
"But you're still legally a married woman," AJ pointed out. Mac sighed regretfully - until AJ took her hand in his. "But if you weren't -"
Mac smiled at the look on his face.
****************************************
AJ removed his glasses as he looked across his desk to find Mac and Commander Rabb standing before him, Rabb at attention. "Is there a problem?" he asked.
"Not that I'm aware of, sir," Harm said.
"No," Mac replied.
"At ease, Commander," AJ said, rising to his feet. "Then would one of you please explain why Admiral Morris called me not ten minutes ago, threatening to place you *both* in contempt of court?!"
"It was my fault, sir," Harm declared.
"No, it was mine," Mac insisted.
AJ stared them both down for a moment. "I don't give a damn who's *fault* it was, I want your assurance that it won't happen again!"
"It won't, sir," Harm said.
"No. It won't," Mac agreed. "I think we both just got a little - over zealous, Admiral," she clarified.
"Good." He took a deep breath as he picked up a paper from his desk. "I did have another reason for calling you both in. I got this from the SecNav's office this morning. It's an accusation of adultery against you, Commander."
Mac rolled her eyes. "Mic."
"That son of a -"
"Careful, Commander," AJ warned. "SecNav has asked for an investigation of the charges, considering that you and Mac were good friends before her marriage."
"It's ludicrous, Admiral," Harm insisted. "Mac left for Australia less than six months after she and Brumby were married. When would we have had a chance to -"
"Point taken. But Brumby's not claiming that anything happened before they left for Australia. He's convinced that Mac returned to Washington and resumed a - 'relationship' with you that existed prior to the marriage."
"If he wasn't in Australia, AJ -" Mac said.
AJ looked at them. "Is it safe for me to assume that there was no pre-existing relationship?"
"None, sir," Harm assured him. "Mac and I have never been more than friends."
"Never?"
"AJ," Mac warned. "Believe me. Harm and I *have* slept in the same bed, but we've never - I mean -"
"I know what you mean, Mac," AJ said.
"Anything else is a figment of Mic Brumby's twisted imagination," Harm insisted.
"Are you in a relationship at the moment, Harm?" AJ asked.
"Uh, no sir," Harm said, hating that he had to lie to the Admiral.
AJ took a deep breath, studying the paper. "I'll assure SecNav that there's no basis to this charge - but if Brumby chooses to pursue it -"
"I understand, sir," Harm said.
"Dismissed, Commander."
"Yes, sir," Harm said, snapping to attention before leaving the office.
AJ remained sitting against the edge of his desk, looking at Mac. "How much longer?" he asked.
"Another few months, according to the solicitor I hired in Sydney. That's why he'd doing this. He's getting desperate."
"It's been my experience that desperate men can be dangerous," AJ pointed out, holding out a hand to Mac. She took it, moving into his arms. "Why do I feel guilty that Rabb's taking the heat for something he's not doing?" he wondered.
"Because you're an honorable man," Mac said, resting her head on his shoulder.
AJ snorted. "At the moment, I don't feel very honorable. Was Harm telling me the truth, Mac?" he asked.
"About what? He and I?"
"No. I know that truth. I mean about his not being in a relationship. To the best of my knowledge, he hasn't been in one since Renee Peterson left to marry that mortician."
"Almost the same amount of time since you stopped seeing Dr. Waldron," Mac pointed out. "Unless *you're* seeing someone that *I* don't know about -"
"Point taken, Counselor," AJ noted, smiling. "What are you doing for lunch today?"
"Oh, meeting a tall, handsome, mature Naval officer," she said.
"Mature, hmm?" he said.
********
Harm was studying a file for the case he and Mac were trying when she tapped on the door of his office. "You okay?" she asked.
"No problem. You?"
Mac shook headhead, coming further into the room. "I'm sorry about earlier."
"It was my fault, Mac. I owe you the apology."
Mac laughed. "Why couldn't we have done this years ago?"
"Maybe we both needed to grow up a little," Harm suggested, grabbing the telephone as it rang. "Rabb." Mac saw his features fall when he heard who was on the other end. "Yeah. I can be there this afternoon for the deposition . . . 1400." He hung up, writing something down on his calendar.
Mac had seen him react to telephone calls before, and knew the reason. "Let me guess: Clay's out of town," she said, keeping her voice soft so she wouldn't be overheard outside of the room.
Harm nodded, glancing behind her as he continued. "He left last night." It always bothered him, not knowing where the other man was going or what dangers he might be facing.
"I thought he wasn't going to be doing field work anymore?"
"This is supposed to be his last one. Which is another reason why I'm worried."
"He'll be okay, Harm," Mac assured him quietly. "I imagine he feels the same way whenever you go out on quals or manage to hop a ride in a Tomcat."
"You're right. That's why when he decided to remove himself from field agent status - I decided not to keep up my quals."
"You're giving up flying?"
"I still have Sarah," he reminded her. "And Clay likes flying in that - just doesn't like my taking chances in an F-14."
Mac shook her head in amazement. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd give up flying Tomcats for *anyone*."
"People change, Mac," he pointed out. "You free for lunch?"
"Sorry. I'm meeting AJ." Harm nodded, and Mac asked, "Do you have any plans for this evening?"
Not Not really. I'll probably just go home and have a salad, work on some court briefs." He looked up at her. "Why?"
"I thought you might want to join AJ and me for dinner."
"Is that good idea - considering Brumby's temper tantrum?"
"AJ will be there - just three old friends going out to dinner together. Please?"
"You sure the Admiral won't mind a third wheel?"
"Consider yourself our chaperone," Mac winked.
"Returning the favor, hmm?" Harm asked, knowing that Mac had served that same function for himself and Clay on several occasions.
"You got it. Is it a deal?"
"Check with him first. Last thing I need is the Admiral being angry with me for horning in on your evening."
******
The three of them were laughing as they recalled some past incidents - including Harm's infamous firing a gun in a courtroom, at which Harm shook his head in disbelief.
"That was eight years ago" he groaned. "Am I *ever* going to live that down?"
"You're a legend, Harm," AJ pointed out, glancing up as a man approached the table, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to recall where he'd seen the man before.
Harm looked up to see the man standing there, smiling. "Greg. Hi."
"Been awhile," Greg said.
"Yeah. You remember Admiral Chegwidden, Greg?" Harm asked, and AJ thought he heard a note of nervousness in the younger man's voice.
AJ held out his hand, suddenly recalling where he'd seen Greg. "Greg Mitchell. You were civilian counsel on the - Matthews case."
"I'm surprised you remember me, Admiral," Greg said, shaking his hand. "That was a couple of years ago.
Harm indicated Mac. "Sarah Mackenzie, Greg Mitchell. Mac's the Civilian Legal Liaison at JAG."
"Mac," Greg said as he shook her hand and looked at Harm. "Pleasure to meet you. Harm's mentioned you a few times."
"Did you need something, Greg?" Harm asked.
"Just wanted to say hi. Like I said -"
"It's been awhile," Harm repeated, looking past Greg to where another man was standing by the door, looking toward the table with an expectant air. "I think your friend is waiting."
Greg glanced toward the man, then back at Harm. "Give me a call. We can have a drink, maybe catch up -"
"Yeah," Harm nodded, and AJ thought that he was trying to induce the other man to leave quickly.
"I'd better go," Greg said. "Nice to see you again, Admiral. Nice meeting you, Mac. Bye, Harm."
"Bye," Harm nodded, turning his attention back to the cup of coffee sitting before him.
"I wasn't aware that you and Greg Mitchell were friends, Harm," AJ noted, wondering why he wasn't only feeling tension from Harm - Mac seemed tense as well.
Harm lifted his shoulders. "We went out for a drinks a few times," he explainedPlayPlayed basketball, hung out."
AJ was bothered that Harm wouldn't look at him, but he glanced at Mac a couple of times. Before AJ could ask another question, Harm's cell phone began to ring.
Harm pulled it out, opening it. "Hi," he said, "Just a minute -" To AJ and Mac, he said, "Excuse me," before sliding out of the booth and going to the bar. As he moved away, AJ heard him say into the phone, "I didn't think you'd be able to call . . ."
Mac reached for her coffee as AJ turned back toward her. "I thought you said Harm wasn't seeing anyone?"
"I guess I was wrong," Mac said.
AJ watched Harm laughing into the phone. "Mac, what's going on?"
She touched his arm to get his attention. "Don't ask, AJ. You don't want to know the answer."
He knew what she was implying, but AJ's mind couldn't process it. Looking at Harm once again, AJ felt Mac's hand still on his arm. "Mac -"
"Please, AJ? He's happier now than I've ever seen him. It doesn't affect how he does his job. He's a decorated hero - do you *really* want to open that can of worms? Or worse, lose him?"
Looking into Mac's dark eyes, AJ covered her hand with his, recalling the times that Mac had gone to dinner with Harm - and Clayton Webb. "Mac, I want one question answered - who is he talking to?"
He saw Mac think for a moment before she answered. "Need to know, AJ."
His suspicion confirmed, AJ shook his head, trying to make sense out of a world that suddenly made *no* sense. He saw Harm close his cell phone and head back toward the table, looking a little more relaxed than he had earlier.
"We'll talk later," Mac promised quietly, and AJ nodded, trying to school is features so that Harm wouldn't suspect that he knew what was going on.
"Sorry about that," Harm apologized as he rejoined them. "I think I’m going to go. It's been a long day, and I have some reading to do before court tomorrow morning. Thanks for dinner."
"It was our pleasure, Harm," AJ said, looking up at the man. "Take care."
For a moment, AJ worried that he'd given too much away as Harm hesitated momentarily before nodding. "See you two tomorrow," he said, sliding back out of the booth.
AJ watched him leave the restaurant, and then asked Mac, "You about ready to go?"
"I suppose so."
********
"How long has it been going on, Mac?" AJ asked as he drove toward her apartment in Arlington.
"AJ, I don't think we should talk about this. I gave my word, AJ."
He pulled his SUV over to the curb in front of her apartment building, turning to look at her as he turned off the engine. "Either you talk to me about it, or I'll ask him."
Mac studied him for a moment, knowing that if AJ were to confront Harm, Harm would feel duty bound to turn in his resignation. Finally, she nodded. "Okay. Come upstairs. I'll make some coffee and we'll talk."
******
Harm was smiling as he left the courtroom. "Pleased with the verdict, Commander?" Mac asked, catching up with him at the elevators.
"Well, it wasn't everything, but Petty Officer Overton will be off the streets for awhile, anyway."
"I still don't think that he's guilty," Mac sighed.
"The members didn't agree." He looked at her. "Tell you what, why don't I buy lunch?"
Mac looked at him. "*You're* offering to buy lunch?" she asked. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Harm?"
"Very funny. Lunch?" he asked again. When she hesitated, Harm looked worried. "Something wrong?"
"I'm having lunch with AJ," she explained.
"Speaking of the Admiral, did he say anything about - Greg stopping at the table last night?"
"No," Mac said quickly, sighing as the elevator still hadn't come. "You'd think they would have fixed these things. I'm taking the stairs."
Harm followed, worrying. "Mac, talk to me," he said as they started down the stairs.
"There's nothing to talk about, Harm," she replied.
"Then why aren't you looking me in the eye?" he asked, and saw her stop in her tracks. "Mac?"
"It's taken care of, Harm," she said. "Drop it and don't worry about it."
Fear caught him in a tight grip. "Mac, what's 'taken care of'? You gave me your word -"
"And I’m not going to lie to AJ, either," Mac declared, finally looking at him.
"Damn," Harm said before continuing down the steps.
"Harm -" Mac called a him him, but he ignored her.
He went directly to his office, opening his briefcase to pull out a folder. Looking inside, he verified the contents.
"Don't do this, Harm," Mac said, appearing in the doorway.
"I don't see that I have any choice, Mac," he told her. "I won't let the Admiral risk his career -"
"It's his risk to take," Mac pointed out.
"Get out of my way, Mac," Harm said, keeping his voice quiet. "Get out of my way, or I'll move you out of my way."
Mac sighed, stepping aside. Harm moved past her into the bullpen. "Is he busy, Coates?" he asked.
Jen looked up at him. "I don't think so, sir."
Harm nodded, turning toward the door and knocking once on the frame.
"Enter!"
Harm saw Mac hovering in the door to Coates' office, silently pleading with him to reconsider. Taking a deep breath, Harm opened the door and went inside, closing it behind him and standing at attention before the Admiral's desk.
AJ looked at him over his reading glasses. "At ease, Commander. What can I do for you?"
Harm held out the folder. As AJ took it, he said, "It's my resignation, Admiral."
AJ paused momentarily before opening the folder and looking at the paper. "Personal reasons," he read. "You don't have to do this, Harm," he said, closing the folder again.
"I believe that I do, sir. To not do so under the present circumstances only puts your career in danger if someone else were to discover -"
"Then you'll just have to make sure no one else makes that discovery, won't you, Commander?" AJ questioned. Removing his glasses, he stood up. "Harm, I don't give a damn what you do outside of this office - as long as it stays outside of this office, and as long as you're discreet. I can't say that I fully approve of your choice of a partner -"
"Admiral -"
"But I'm not going to say anything about it. To anyone." He picked up the folder. "Since you're not going to be needing this -" he removed the resignation and tore it in half, then tore it again. "Anything else, Commander?"
Harm blinked, returning to attention. "No, sir."
AJ picked up another paper. "Well, I have something that you might be interested in." He held it out. "It's the promotions list."
Harm took the paper, scanning the names, surprised to find his own among them. "Captain?" While Harm had been expecting the promotion, he also knew that it meant he would probably be posted to another JAG office in Administration.
"Congratulations. SecNav will be here later today to make it official. We can discuss any changes in your duties afterward." He picked up his glasses again. "Now get back to work."
"Aye aye, sir."
Mac was still in Coates' office when Harm came out, and followed him back to his office. Harm sat down in the chair behind his desk. "He tore it up," he said to Mac.
"Thank God," Mac sighed, sitting down herself in a nearby chair.
He gave her a smile, seeing her confusion. "And I made Captain."
*********************************
It was almost three days before Harm saw or heard from Clay again. He entered the loft, dropping his briefcase onto the bar along with his keys before he saw the suitcase on the floor.
Turning toward the bedroom, he climbed up to find Clay sleeping. Leaning over the bed, he dropped a light kiss onto his lover's lips, intending to pull back. But the touch woke Clay, who lifted his head to prolong the contact.
"Nice way to wake up," he murmured.
Smiling, Harm sat down beside him. "When did you get back?"
"A couple of hours ago. Figured I'd surprise you."
"I like surprises," Harm said. "Is everyone okay?"
"Saved the world again," was Clay's response as he sat up against the headboard, peering at Harm in the dim light. Touching the end of Harm's jacket sleeve, he asked, "What's this?"
Grinning, Harm said, "I made Captain."
"When?"
"A few days ago. Found out when I tried to hand the Admiral my resignation."
Clay's eyes met his. "Your - Oh, Damn. He found out."
"Yeah. Long story. But the end shot is that he's not going to do anything - and he won't let me resign. I think it's Mac's influence."
"Possibly," Clay nodded. He touched the gold stripes on the sleeve again. "So where are you being transferred to?"
"I'm not being transferred," Harm explained. "Not right away. Since we're still short of JAGs, the Admiral wants me to stay on as Chief of Staff for a few months. He's talking about Italy after that."
"I could handle moving to Italy," Clay said.
"You'd go with me?"
"Hey, that's part of being part of your life. Getting dragged around from duty station to duty station, isn't it?" Clay grinned. "I think I can manage to get a posting in Italy. If you want me there, that is."
"You have to ask?" Harm questioned, leaning forward again. "Always."
*********
Over a celebratory dinner at a local restaurant, Harm told Clay about how AJ had discovered the truth. When he mentioned Greg, he saw the jealous flash in Clay's green eyes. They had run into Greg once not long after they had become involved with each other. The lawyer had been upset that Harm hadn't called, but had seemed to accept the fact that he was now involved with someone else.
"Why did he stop by the table?" Clay questioned.
"To say hello. I think he saw that you weren't around and hoped we might have split up. Don't worry," Harm said, barely stopping himself from placing a hand over Clay's, mindful of the public restaurant. "I called him the next day and he's fine. Clay, I told you that it was never serious between me and Greg. I'm where I want to be."
"What happened after he left?" Clay asked.
Neither of them saw Mac and AJ enter the restaurant. As they sat down, AJ caught sight of Harm and Clay sitting in a booth across the room. "Webb's back," he told Mac, who looked around.
Taking AJ's hand in hers, she said, "Would you rather go somewhere else?" she asked.
"No. As long as they don't start groping each other, I'll be fine."
Mac laughed softly, picking up her menu.
"Don't look now, but Mac and the Admiral just came in and sat down," Harm told Clay.
"Where?"
"Other side of the restaurant. At my three o'clock." Clay looked in that direction. "Relax, Clay. We're just two friends having dinner," Harm reminded him. "Not breaking any regs or rules."
"Then maybe you can explain to me why AJ's glaring at me like he'd like to break my neck," Clay commented, picking up his glass of wine.
"You're exaggerating, Clay. Punch you in nose again, maybe, but -" Harm grinned as Clay sent him a look that said he wasn't amused.
"Stop staring, AJ," Mac admonished as she read the menu. "You're scaring Clay."
"I'm not trying to scare him," AJ declared. "I'm trying to intimidate him."
"AJ," Mac warned, looking at him over the top of the menu. "Behave."
He leaned forward. "And if I don't?" he asked, smiling as he waited for her answer.
She smiled as well, but narrowed her eyes. "You *really* want to know?"
AJ's quiet laughter reached Harm and Clay's table. "I'd never realized how good those two looked together," Clay told Harm.
"I think Mac's good for him," Harm said. "He hasn't been so surly since she came back, anyway. And I know Mac's happy."
"She deserves some happiness," Clay nodded. "How much longer til her divorce from Brumby is final?"
"She's hoping no more than a couple of months."
"Think they'll get married?" Clay asked, watching Mac laugh at something AJ was telling her.
"I give them a week after the final decree," Harm said. "You about ready to go?"
"Yeah. It's been a long day - and I have to be up early to get to the office to write up my report." Looking at the check, Harm started to pull out his credit card, but Clay shook his head. "My treat. We're celebrating your promotion, remember?"
Harm sat back until the waiter brought the receipt, then he and Clay rose from the booth, pausing as they passed by AJ and Mac's table. "Hello, Clay," Mac said, smiling. "How are you doing?"
"Tired. But when Harm told me about his promotion, I decided to treat him to dinner." He looked at the Admiral. "Evening, AJ."
"Webb." Seeing Mac's look, AJ sighed. "Hello, Clay."
"It's getting late, and I have an early day in court tomorrow," Harm said. "See you both tomorrow."
"What am I going to do with you, AJ," Mac sighed once the two men had gone.
"Whatever you like, darlin'," AJ drawled.
********
"I thought you might be interested in this," AJ told Harm as they sat in the Admiral's office a few weeks later while discussing JAG business. He handed Harm a paper. "It's not a Navy case, but -"
Harm's eyes scanned the paper. An Air Force aviator who had been highly decorated in both Iraqi wars had been outed as a homosexual and was facing discharge. "Captain Hank Davis - he's fighting the discharge?"
"Apparently. He'll lose, but the media will raise holy hell about the current policy. He's been in a steady relationship with someone not in the military for the last several years, and his defense is that he's done his job with honor during that time." He gave Harm a half grin. "Something you know a little about, I think."
"Like you said, AJ, he'll lose. It won't change anything."
"I think you're wrong. Davis' civilian attorney is saying that he's willing to take this all the way to the Supreme Court if he has to. But I don't think that will be necessary. Public outcry will force Congress to make some changes. The loss of a decorated hero who could still be flying and helping fight the War on Terror simply because he *happens* to be gay? They'll be pounding on the doors of Congress *demanding* that something like that not be allowed to happen again."
Harm rose from his chair. "It's something to look forward to - would you mind if I took this and showed it to Porter? She has some - connections -"
"I rather thought you might want to do that," AJ said as the intercom came to life.
"Admiral, Mac's here -"
AJ and Harm exchanged a look as Harm said, "I thought she was taking the day off?"
"She doesn’t have a case on the docket," AJ nodded, before telling Coates, "Send her in."
"Yes sir."
A moment later, Mac was in the room, her face glowing with happiness. "I got it, AJ," she told him, waving an envelope in the air. "Hello, Harm."
AJ took the envelope and pulled the paper out of it. "Your final decree?"
Mac nodded and threw her arms around his , la, laughing.
"Thank God that man's finally out of your life," AJ said, holding her close, nodding as Harm indicated that he would wait outside. After the door closed behind Harm, AJ captured Mac's lips with his. "So, what would you say to letting another man into your life?" he asked once the kiss ended.
"Well, I don't know," Mac said. "Who do you have in mind?"
"A man who's almost old enough to be your father, but who loves you more than he could every say. A man who wants to spend the rest of his life showing you just how much he loves you."
"You are *not* old, AJ," Mac assured him, sliding her arms around his neck. "And if that was your way of asking me to marry you - the answer's yes."
********
Returning to Clay's townhouse after Mac and AJ's wedding, Harm found himself pressed against the back of the door as Clay's lips met his.
"Not that I’m complaining," he much later as they lay in bed together, still catching their respective breath, "But was there a reason for that?"
"It's the uniform," Clay explained, his arms still locked around Harm. "Combined with the wedding, I think." He looked up at Harm. "You think we'll ever have a chance to do something like that?"
Harm chuckled softly. "Only if you promise to wear white lace," he teased, yelping as Clay slapped at his chest. "I'm kidding." He took a deep breath. "According to what I'm hearing Captain Davis' case is causing all kinds of problems. I'm not sure Congress will be able to ignore the calls for his reinstatement muchger.ger."
"And when that happens," Clay finished, "they'll have to change the regulation for all of the military."
"Yeah." He ran a hand up and down Clay's arm. "Would you really want to do it? Get married?"
"You mean you don't want to make an honest man out of me?" Clay asked, and this time they both laughed. "I think I would. I know a church ceremony is probably too much to ask for - but we could set up residence someplace that they recognize civil unions - Vermont, maybe?"
"That's a long commute," Harm pointed out. "Right now, I'd just be happy to be able to stop hiding how we feel about each other. Not have to remember not to take your hand when we're in public or give you a hug, or -"
"It'll happen, Harm," Clay said. "Mother's certain of it. She's been knocking on every door, making calls, keeping the issue on the front burner."
"It would be nice if it would happen before we leave for Italy."
"Two weeks? I doubt that."
"More like four," Harm corrected. "AJ and Mac will be gone for two weeks, and then I'll have two weeks before I have to be in Italy. I'm glad you were able to get that posting at the Embassy there."
"Station Chief," Clay sighed.
"You never told me how many strings you had to pull to get that assignment."
"Believe me, you don't want to know."
"Well, whatever it was, I\lad lad we'll be together."
"Always," Clay answered, his lips on Harm's again.
*******
Harm was in the Admiral's office nearly two weeks later when Lt. Jason Tiner knocked and entered without waiting for permission. "Excuse me, sir, but -" he pointed toward the television, which Harm hadn't bothered to turn on "- there's something on ZNN that I believe the Captain will interested in seeing."
Harm sighed, giving the young attorney a look of disapproval before he picked up the remote and turned on the television. A press conference seemed to be going on - and Harm saw Captain - or rather - ex-Captain Hank Davis standing beside the President, who was speaking.
" . . . And therefore, I am hereby directing the Air Force to reinstate Captain Davis immediately, will full pay and return him to active duty as soon as possible. And I hereby order the Joint Chiefs of Staff to immediately change the regulations regarding homosexuals in the military, scrapping the current policy known as "don't ask, don't tell" and replace it with something which will allow homosexual men and women currently serving in our nation's armed forced and those who would serve in the future, to serve without fear of retribution or dismissal from service to their country . . ."
Harm stood there, his mouth hanging open, shaking his head as he listened. The President continued about how the loss of Captain Davis simply because of his sexual preference was unacceptable, just as it was unacceptable for the military to lose *any* personnel for that reason.
"Good news, isn't it, sir," Jason said.
Harm turned to look at the young officer. "Tiner - how did you know -?"
Jason shrugged. "I can't explain it, sir. It's - kind of like how Mac tells time without a watch. I just know."
"Thank you, Tiner."
"I thought you'd like to know, sir."
The telephone began to ring as Tiner left, and Harm picked it up, wanting to get rid of whoever was on the othnd snd so he could call Clay -
"Harm. Did you hear?"
He sat down behind the desk at the sound of Clay's voice. "Yeah. I heard."
"Mother called me about five minutes ago, told me to turn on the nearest TV."
Harm frowned slightly. "Where are you?"
"About - ten minutes away from Falls Church," Clay informed him. "Don't go anywhere."
The other line began to ring. "I'll be here. Probably on the phone. I have a feeling that this decision is going to create a *huge* headache for JAG." He hung up on Clay's laughter, laughing himself as he picked up the telephone.
SecNav's voice caused Harm's laughter to fade quickly. "I'm glad you're in a good mood, Captain," he said, sounding even more harried than usual. "When is Admiral Chegwidden expected back?"
"Tomorrow, sir," Harm said.
"I want to see him in my office first thing tomorrow. I assume that you're aware of the President's decision and order to the Joint Chiefs?"
"Regarding the change in policy? Yes, sir. I'm aware of it."
"I've been informed that we have to go back over every discharge on those grounds for the last ten years at least, to make sure there was more to the dismissal than simply being homosexual."
"I'll see that the Admiral gets the message, sir," Harm promised. As soon as he hung up, he went over to the open doorway. Petty Officer Coates was just returning to her desk. "Coates, I'm expng Cng Clayton Webb. Send him in as soon as he arrives, please?"
"Aye, sir," Coates replied, and Harm wondered if Tiner had said something to her as she continued. "I'm so happy for you, sir."
Moving forward, Harm said, "Is there anyone in this office who *doesn't* know?" he asked.
The young woman's eyes widened. "I'm not sure, sir," she said, grabbing the telephone on the first ring as a means of escaping Harm's challenging gaze.
Harm looked toward the bullpen, and noticed that several members of the staff were looking in his direction, most of them wearing supportive smiles. Even Sturgis Turner was standing in the door of his office, shaking his head - but he was smiling.
He considered ducking back into the Admiral's office and closing the door - but before he could act, Clay came around the corner into Ops. Some sixth sense warned Harm about what was about to happen, but he was frozen to the spot, unable to move as Clay crossed the room like a missile homing in on its target.
Clay's eyes were locked on his, ignoring Harm's silent plea not to do this - not here. When he reached Harm, Clay grabbed the lapels of Harm's jacket and pulled him down for a kiss.
It wasn't until Harm heard the applause that he truly realized that the time for closing doors was past - and returned Clay's kiss with one of his own. Keeping his arm around the other man once the kiss ended, Harm looked around the room. "Okay, show's over. Back to work," he said in as firm a voice a he could muster before turning to guide Clay into the Admiral's office.
"It won't happen again, Harm," Clay promised. "This was a special occasion."
"I'm not angry," Harm assured his lover, smiling as he gathered him close for another kiss.
******
Two weeks later, AJ Chegwidden tapped a spoon against his glass of wine to get the attention of the people in his living room. Mac had invited most of the JAG staff for a private 'Bon Voyage' party on the night before Harm and Clay were to leave for Naples, where Harm would be stationed. "I promise to keep this short - but I'd like to say a few words - if the guests of honor don't mind."
"Not at all, Admiral," Harm laughed. "As long as I have time for rebuttal."
"Not on your life, Captain," AJ responded in a teasing tone. "You've come a long way since you and I first met, Harm. You were a brash, young, hotheaded ex-fighter jockey who fought for the truth more fiercely than anyone I'd ever seen until that point. Excluding myself, of course -" More laughter. "You've done yourself - and JAG proud, Harm," AJ said, his tone now serious. "I'm proud to have served with you, and I look forward to doing so in the future." He turned his dark eyes on Clay, who was standing on Harm's right as if he'd always been there and always would be. "As for you - try to keep him out of trouble."
"I'm only one man, AJ," Clay said, "But I'll do my best."
AJ lifted his glass. "To Harm Cla Clay," he said. "Good luck and fair winds that will bring you back to us."
As the toast was echoed by their friends, Harm and Clay looked into each other's eyes, knowing that whatever happened in the future, that future would be theirs to share together and for always.
The End
Author: JAGslashLady
Pairing: Harm/Clay AJ/Mac het
Rating: R (the last part, anyway) m/m, m/f romance
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Wish I did, though. Anyway, I'll return them once they're finished, I mean, once I'm finished with them. Relatively unscathed, but maybe a little out of breath
Timeframe: Totally AU Somewhere around what would be Season 8 in real time. In this JAGverse, Harm didn't go down in the ocean to delay Mac's marriage to Mic. Six months after the wedding, a jealous Mic convinced Mac to go back to Australia with him. Renee left to marry her mortician, leaving Harm to finally face the truth about himself. This story begins about two and a half years after Mac got married.
Summary: When Clay discovers Harm's secret, it leads him to make a discovery about himself; Mac returns from Australia, her marriage ended
Author's Notes: I know I'm taking a LOT of creative license with certain things toward the end of the story, but I'm going to leave it the way it's written. It's AU anyway….
************************
Clayton Webb followed his date through the restaurant behind the Hostess, scanning the other diners out of habit. In his line of work, it made sense to know who might be around you. When the Hostess stopped beside a table, Clay pulled out a chair for Lisa before sitting down in the chair beside it.
"Your waiter for this evening will be Henry," the attractive middle-aged woman told them. "Shall I send over the wine steward?"
"Please," Clay nodded.
Lisa reached out to touch Clay's hand. "This is a lovely place, Clay," she said. "How did you ever find it?"
"A colleague mentioned having brought his wife here for her birthday," Clay explained.
"It must be *really* interesting, working for the State Department," Lisa said, causing Clay to paste on his usual smile as he answered.
"It's just another job, really."
"But meeting all of those famous and interesting people -"
"They're just people," Clay shrugged, making a mental note to remind his mother that the next time she decided to 'fix him up' with the daughter of one of her friends that she make sure the woman isn't totally vapid or star-struck.
"But, you've met the *President*," Lisa sighed.
Clay wasn't sure how to respond to that, and was relieved when the wine steward appeared at his elbow.
Once he'd placed an order for a vintage wine, Lisa excused herself to go to the ladies' room. Grateful for the slight reprieve from having to keep the woman entertained, Clay went back to people watching. There was a young couple sitting nearby, obviously celebrating something important - there was a bottle Dom on ice beside their table. From the cut of the man's suit, it looked highly unlikely that he could afford such things on aquenquent basis.
Across the dimly lit room, though, Clay frowned as he recognized the familiar profile of Harmon Rabb. The Navy Commander had been a pain in his side ever since their first meeting, but over the course of time they had managed to become friends after a fashion. Sitting to one side, Clay tried to see who Rabb's date was - the last time he'd heard JAG's Top Gun had been seeing Renee Peterson, a movie producer, but that relationship had ended soon after Mac's marriage to Mic Brumby. Since then, he hadn't heard about anyone special in the other man's life. Another table was blocking his view of Rabb's date, but Clay saw Rabb smiling and laughing at the woman as he reached across the table toward her.
He wouldn't have thought Rabb could afford this place on what he made in the Navy, Clay thought as he saw Lisa weaving her way through the tables toward him. Standing up, he pulled Lisa's chair out for her, glancing across the room to the booth where Harm was sitting - and froze in surpris he he saw the blonde haired man sitting across from Harm, his hands clasped around Harm's before he brought that hand up to his lips for a moment.
"Clay?" Lisa said, touching his sleeve again. Blinking, Clay turned to look at her, sitting down again. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Clay told her, his mind working feverishly, trying to understand what he'd just witnessed.
"The wine's here," Lisa said, still giving him a look of concern.
Noticing thee ste steward standing there, Clay tasted the wine, without tasting it and nodded for him to pour glasses for both himself and Lisa. It could have tasted like vinegar for all Clay knew. Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. was sitting with another man in a restaurant, laughing - looking for all intents and purposes as though he was on a date.
"This is good," Lisa told Clay after taking a sip of her wine. "I've never known much about wines," she prattled on. "I know I should, but -" Clay picked up his own glass and took a quick drink, glancing in the direction of Harm again. "Do you know him?" Lisa asked, following his gaze.
"No," Clay denied quickly. He was beginning to think that he didn't know Harmon Rabb at all.
*******
Harm laughed again as Greg finished his story. "You should have told him to find the nearest bridge and take a flying leap," he suggested.
"I will, next time," Greg nodded. "And I might even find the bridge for him myself." He reached across the table to run a finger along Harm's hand. "You about ready to go?"
"Yeah," Harm nodded. Greg glanced at the check that was waiting, took some cash out of his pocket and left enough for the tab and a generous tip with the check. As Harm got out of the booth, he glanced toward the main part of the dining area. What was Clayton Webb doing here, he wondered, pausing just enough that Greg nearly ran into him.
"Hey, next time,nal nal a stop," Greg laughed, placing his hands on Harm's back, then frowned as he saw Harm staring at someone before Harm murmured an apology and moved forward.
"Someone you know?" Greg asked Harm as they moved toward the doors.
"Yeah," Harm said shortly, continuing outside.
"Could he be trouble?" Greg asked.
"Maybe. Look, Greg, I think I'll just head back to DC."
u suu sure? It's an hour drive, Harm - you've had a couple of beers." Greg stopped Harm's headlong flight with a hand on his arm. "Harm, we have to go back to my place anyway to get your car - might as well talk about it - have a cup of coffee before you go running back into that closet, buddy."
"Don't worry, that's not going to happen," Harm said. "But if it was anyone but this guy -"
"Oh, so that's the way it is," Greg said in a knowing tone.
"No, it's not."
"Let me guess: he's straight and has no idea that you're gay and that you want him."
Harm shook his head. "Greg, leave it alone," he said, covering his friend's hand with his and giving him a smile. "I'm just asking for a rain check, okay?" His other hand moved to Greg's cheek. "Next weekend if I'm in town. I promise."
Greg's sigh was ragged. "I know you're playing me, Harm, but you know what? I don't care. Because I'm going to hold you to that promise." He leaned forward to place a brief kiss against Harm's mouth, and then bent to unlock the passenger door of his black Classic Vette for Harm before going around to the driver side.
*****
By the time he left Lisa at her door, Clay had convinced himself that it hadn't been Rabb at the restaurant. The man Clay knew would never risk his career in the Navy that way. He always had an attractive woman on his arm. It had only been someone who *looked* like Rabb.
eve even as he thought it, Clay knew that it *had* been Rabb. There weren't many men who looked like him. That idea made him think about Clark Palmer. The former DSD agent had made everyone think he was Harmon Rabb once, and Clay opened his cell phone as he got back into his BMW, dialing a secure line.
"Harry? . . . It's Webb . . . I know it's late. I need some intel . . . I need verification that Clark Palmer is still in solitary at Leavenworth. . . . I can't tell you why I'm asking, it's enough that I am asking. I want eyes on verification, Harry. And I need the information yesterday . . . Yeah. You know the number." He flipped the phone shut again, frowning. It would be like Palmer to do something like this to try and ruin Rabb's career. Palmer was almost as obsessed with Rabb as Rabb was with Palmer.
Turning the car toward Alexandria, Clay headed home to wait for the call from Harry that would tell him whether or not he needed to alert Rabb that Clark Palmer was up to his old tricks.
********
Harm dropped his keys onto the bar on the way to the refrigerator to grab a beer. Seeing Clay at the restaurant with that blonde had been totally unexpected. In all the times he and Greg had dined there, tonight had been the first time he had seen anyone he knew from DC. He had to hope that Clay hadn't seen *him*, but something told him that his luck might have finally run out.
Sitting down on the sofa, Harm loosened his tie and shook his head. He'd been playing this game for too long, he supposed. The law of averages was bound to catch up with him sooner or later.
But why had it had to be Clayton Webb of all people who had been there tonight? Of all the people he knew, why Clay?
Every time Harm thought he'd managed to put the CIA agent out of his mind, there he was, reminding Harm that Clayton Webb was one man he'd never be able to have. Oh, he flirted with Clay whenever he needed information from him, but Harm knew that as much as he wanted it to, flirting was as far as it could go. Clay was too close to his work, knew too many of the same people. Besides, Clay was straight. And Harm, as much as he knew he probably *could* seduce the man into his bed, was afraid to take the risk.
Harm chuckled to himself. "You're a coward, Harm," he muttered, finishing off the beer before he got up and moved toward the bedroom, removing his clothes as he went. A shower - He knew that even a cold shower wouldn't ease the ache he felt - there was only one thing that would do that.
And it was the one thing that Harm *couldn't* do.
*******
Clay sat staring at the report he'd just been delivered - verifying that Clark Palmer was indeed still incarcerated in solitary confinement at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. The *real* Palmer, not some doppelganger or replacement.
Which meant that it *had* been Harmon Rabb in that restaurant on Friday evening, Clay realized. Tuning on his computer, he accessed his personal background files using the password, and found Rabb's. There was *nothing* to indicate - no sign - Rabb was extremely discreet if he'd managed to keep this a secret for almost twenty years, Clay realized. Probably vetted his partners carefully, stayed away from the local scene -
Clay closed the file and rose from his chair to go to the window of the office. Didn't Rabb realize that he was taking a chance? That if anyone else had seen him - Admiral Chegwidden, Bud Roberts, - anyone with a grudge against Rabb - his career would be over?
He was also troubled by the fact that he considered the JAG lawyer to be a friend - even if they did tend to argue about procedure on occasion. Surely Rabb realized that he could be trusted to keep his secret, hell, keeping secrets was what Clay did for a living. That Harmon Rabb hadn\rustrusted him enough to be honest - maybe he'd been afraid that Clay wouldn't understand. Which was crazy. Clay had gay friends - some of his co-workers were gay, not that they made an issue of it - it was simply a fact.
Clay scanned his desk for some reason for him to 'drop by' JAG headquarters to talk to Rabb, then realized that maybe talking to Rabb at the office might not be a wise idea. Too much chance of someone overhearing them.
His eyes fell on a folder - and Clay decided it might be the ticket to getting Harm to open up to him. He had no idea why it was important to him, but it was. While Clay had no compunction about keeping secrets from others, he disliked those that he considered to be his friends keeping secrets from him.
Opening the folder, he started reading the background on the case, wanting as many details as possible before he paid Rabb a visit.
*******************************
Harm entered his loft, putting his briefcase and cover on the bar as always. It had been a long day, he'd lost a case to Sturgis - but he'd expected to lose. Even with his closing, he'd known that the members would convict the Lieutenant he'd been defending against theft.
Still, Harm hated to lose, especially when he knew that his client was innocent. He planned on starting paperwork for an appeal this evening, arguing that evidence important to his case had been disallowed by Judge Morris.
He was just opening a bottle of beer when there was a knock on the door. He wasn't expecting anyone, and peered out of the peephole to see who it was. Damn. Clayton Webb. Another knock. Taking a deep breath, Harm opened the door, smiling. "Webb. This is a surprise."
"Can I come in, Rabb?" he asked. "I need a favor."
Harm stepped back, allowing the CIA agent to enter. He was wearing the usual tailored three-piece suit, and looked immaculate as always. "This is unusual. You needing a favor from me," Harm said. "Want a beer?"
"No, thanks. I'm not - keeping you from anything, am I? A - date or anything?"
Harm was in the middle of taking a drink of beer when Clay asked the question, and he paused only a millisecond before he swallowed and shook his head. "Nope. Planning on working tonight. Need to start an appeal on a case." Harm saw those hazel eyes were on him, giving him a vaguely disappointed look. Why disappointed, Harm wondered, unless Clay had seen him with Greg. "What's the favor?" he asked, finally turning to face the other man, indicating one of the chairs in the living area.
Now it was Clay who looked uncomfortable, and Harm was absolutely certain that Clay at least *suspected* something. "I know this is unusual, and I'll have to clear it with the Admiral, but I wanted to discuss it with you before taking it to him."
"You need me on TAD to the CIA?"
"Yeah." Clay seemed to take a deep breath before continuing. "We have a lead on someone who might have with close ties to Al Qaeda. He's willing to meet with someone to discuss turning himself in peacefully."
"Where do I come in?" Harm asked.
"He's insisting on the meeting taking place in a gay bar in the city where he's been staying."
Harm's hand stopped halfway to his mouth with the bottle as he looked at Clay. "As I said, where do I come in? What makes you think *I* know anything about gay bars?"
Clay's eyes were fixed on Harm, as if he were trying to see what was inside. "I saw you in Berryville the other evening, Harm," Clay said, an expectant look on his face, as if he hoped that Harm would have an explanation other than the most obvious one.
Harm smiled, taking a drink of the beer before he answered. "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said he was an old family friend."
"I considered that - but your file doesn't list any other male family members around your age."
"My *file*?" he questioned, realizing that the bottle he had in his hand was empty. He wanted another, but knew that he needed his wits about him at the moment.
"The Company da fia file on anyone who works for them - even TAD, Rabb. You know that."
"I just -"
"Don't worry. There's nothing in it about your - extracurricular activities."
Harm chuckled. "Never heard it called that before," he said.
"You know that it could ruin your career," Clay pointed out.
"Only if you say something."
"I won't," Clay assured him. "I thought you trusted me more than that," he sound sounding disappointed.
His tone made Harm feel like a heel. "Clay, I couldn't trust anyone I work with. Surely you understand. You're right. If anyone in the Navy ever suspected the truth - my career would be over like -" he snapped his fingers, "that."
"Then why take the risk? I know how much being in the Navy, following in your father's footsteps, means to you."
Harm shook his head. "It's not something you could understand, Clay."
"I'd like to try," Clay told him, and Harm saw that he really meant it.
"I've spent most of the last twenty years playing by the Navy's rules. Being their poster boy, the 'All-American Hero'. Having relationships with women, trying to make them work, but there was always - something missing. After Mac left for Australia with Brumby, and Renee left, I guess I just - wanted someone."
"Twenty years?" Clay repeated. "You've been -"
"Gay," Harm said when Clay paused. "I've known since I was a teenager. Which leads to the question I know you're going to ask next: If I knew, why did I join the Navy." He didn't even wait for Clay to acknowledge the thought. "Ever since I was six, I told everyone that I was going to join the Navy, become a pilot just like my dad. By the time I finally faced the truth, it was all set up. I had an appointment to the Academy; I didn't want to let my father down anything more than I thought I already had. So I hid it, pushed who I was so far back in the closet that I could pretend it didn't exist. Oh, there were a few instances when I let it out, but not for long. I had a plan for my life and I wasn't going to let anyone or anything interfere with that plan."
"Sounds a little - cold blooded," Clay noted.
"Maybe. But so far, it hasn't been an issue. I've been discreet, stayed out of DC for the most part - I only come out to people that I know are going to understand."
"The man you were with the other night -"
"Greg's a lawyer. We met a few years ago when he worked as a civilian attorney on court martial that I prosecuted. Right after Mac got married, in fact. We had a few drinks, and realized we had some things in common. He doesn't live in DC. He's got a place in Berryville."
"Is it serious?"
Harm considered that question before shaking his head. "No. Convenient, more than anything else. Keeps me off the streets," he told Clay with a grin.
"Does your mother know -?"
"Hardly. She didn't want to me join the Navy in the first place. If she'd known, she would have threatened to keep me out with the information."
"It must have been lonely for you," Clay said, surprising Harm with his insight.
"At times," Harm admitted. More at some than others, he thought, looking away from Clay.
"Mac never knew?"
"No. I wanted to tell her, but - she was military, I couldn't be sure of her reaction. I figured it would be best to just let her think I was unable to commit to a relationship."
"Have you heard her her at all?"
"Yeah. Mostly through Bud and Harriet. I get the impression that Brumby's still a little jealous of what he and everyone saw as my feelings for Mac. But she seems happy enough with Brumby. He's not who *I* would have chosen for her, but it wasn't my decision."
"You could tell her now," Clay suggested. "She left the Marines, and it might make things easier with her marriage -"
"Right. Tell her that I was only pretending to be interested in having a relationship with her all that time? That she was just a cover for me to hide behind when there wasn't someone else in my life? She'd really enjoy hearing that, don't you think?"
"Was it just pretense?" Clay asked.
"Not all the time," Harm sighed. "I considered staying in that closet, trying to make a go of it with a woman - Jordan, Mac, but it wouldn't have been fair to them, never really having all of me." He shook his head. "So I kept quiet, played the game, made all the right noises and said the things that were expected of me."
"What changed?" Clay wondered.
Harm gave Clay a teasing grin. "Why all the questions, Clay? Curious?" He chuckled when he saw the tips of Clay's ears turn red at the question.
"Just trying to understand, that's all," the CIA agent said quickly. "Why take the risk after all that time?"
"I was lonely. Like I said. Mac was gone, Renee was gone - I wasn't far off forty and had no one important in my life. I didn't want to play games anymore. I needed to be myself."
"Are you any happier?"
Harm went to the window that overlooked the street below, putting his hands into his pockets. "Truthfully? No. It's still just playing games, only with a different set of rules. Greg's a lot of fun to be with, but it's not serious and isn't going to be."
"And you want something - serious," Clay said, and Harm heard it as the statement it was.
"Yeah. I guess I don't really want to end up alone, a bitter old sailor with nothing to show for his life but a bunch of ribbons and commendations," he said, looking at the reflection of those ribbons on the front of his shirt in the dark glass before him.
"Maybe you'd be happier out of the Navy," Clay said. "That way you wouldn't have to -"
"Oh, I've considered it. Walking into the Admiral's office and handing in my resignation - I've written the damn thing out I don't know how many times - but I always tear it up. Being in the Navy is as much a part of me as being gay is. I can't separate them. I can't see myself as anything other than Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. I guess the idea of not having the Navy is more frightening than being alone."
"Well, if it's any comfort, you're not the only one facing that prospect," Clay pointed out, joining him at the window. "Only in my case, it's my job that keeps me from finding anyone. That, and Mother's dreadful taste in choosing blind dates for me."
Harm laughed. "Such as the blonde you were with the other night?"
Clay rolled hyes yes at the memory. "Her mother is a friend of Mother's. Lisa's recently divorced and Mother thought I might have something in common with her."
"I guess that didn't happen."
"She's a high-school civics teacher," Clay answered. "Totally clueless. I dropped her back at her apartment with a vague promise to call her sometime."
"Sounds like you're having about the same kind of luck I've been having," Harm said.
"At least you're in a semi-relationship. I can't even manage to get one started. Between the empty-headed females that my mother throws at me and my job -"
"Don't let your job be an excuse, Clay," Harm warned. "And if you don't like the women your mother finds, find one yourself."
"No time," Clay said, shaking his head. "Especially these days." The stood there for a moment, looking at the wet street below. "It's raining," Clay noticed.
"Has been for thet fet few minutes."
"Harm, I meant what I said: I'm not going to tell anyone about this. I don't fully agree the current policy anyway. You've more than proved over the years that being who you are doesn’t affect how you do your job."
"Thanks, Clay," Harm said, taking a deep breath. "Now, you mentioned something about a favor?"
"It was nothing," Clay said, shrugging as he moved back toward the center of the room. "It was really just an excuse et tet this out into the open."
"Seriously, Claf yof you need help -"
"I've never been inside a gay bar. I wouldn't know the first thing to do to keep from sticking out like a sore thumb."
"And you thought maybe I could give you a few pointers," Harm suggested, grinning at his friend's discomfort. "Actually, I haven't hit any 'gay bars' in some time. I try to stay away from them. Especially in this area. But I don't think that things have changed that much," Harm said, moving in a circle around Clay, endiending to study the man's appearance. "First thing I'd suggest," Harm said, "is to lose the three piece suit. A pair of jeans and a comfortable shirt, unbuttoned at the neck would be better."
"I don't own a pair of jeans, Harm," Clay said.
Harm shook his head. "Okay, I *know* you don't wear three piece suits on the weekend, right?"
"No, I wear slacks with a button down shirt - sometimes a sports shirt."
"That would do it. Informal, easy going. And learn to smile a little more."
"I'm not trying to get a date, Harm, just fit in so no one suspects I'm CIA."
"It's practically tattooed on your forehead, Clay," Harm said. "Where is this bar, anyway?"
"Florida."
"And this contact of yours - he's gay?"
"Hell, if I know. The only think that's certain is that he wants to meet in a gay bar to discuss what kind of deal he can get for giving *us* information on Al Qaeda."
"Are you going in alone?"
"No choice. We send anything more than a couple of agents, he could get scared and we'll never find him."
"Want some back up?"
"Are you offering?"
"Don't trust me to watch your back, Clay?" Harm asked, only half teasing.
"I'll have to come up with a cover story for the Admiral that he'll buy to let you go TAD to Florida for a few days," Clay told him.
"Just tell him its need to know - the way you always do," Harm suggested, smiling now. "He'll believe you - I don't have anything really pressing going on at the moment. He should be able to spare me." Hee Cle Clay a look that he knew from past experience was impossible for the agent to resist.
"I'll talk to him tomorrow," Clay nodded, and Harm released his breath slowly, unaware that he'd been holding it at all. The idea of spending a few days alone with Clay was both a pleasure and hell combined, but now that Clay new the truth, Harm woulle tle to be himself around the other man.
"It might not be a good idea to tell him that we'vscusscussed it without his knowledge - he doesn’t like being left out of the loop."
"I'd already thought of that," Clay said.
"Have you had dinner?" Harm asked.
"No. I came here from Langley. Why?"
Harm shrugged. "I thought maybe we could go get something to eat. Discuss the mission, whatever." He kept his tone light, as if the answer didn't really matter one wr thr the other, but when Clay nodded in agreement, Harm smiled again. "I know a little place on the corner - you like Chinese?"
"Yeah."
"Just let me change into some civvies and we'll go," Harm said, already unbuttoning his shirt as he headed toward the bedroom. He saw Clay turn back toward the window as he began to pull the shirt out of his uniform pants, and smiled to himself before grabbing some jeans and a pull over sport shirt to take into the more private area of the bathroom. No need to shock the poor man *too* much, after all…
******
Harm was working in his office the next day, going over some cases with Bud when he saw Clayton Webb walk through the bullpen with only the briefest of glances toward Harm before he continued on his way. Dinner the previous evening had been nice. Harm had been able to relax, and had managed before the evening was over to get Clay to actually smile.
"Anything else we need to discuss, sir?" Bud asked.
"No, I think that's about it, Bud."
Bud stood to leave, then paused. "Harriet got a letter from Mac yesterday."
"How's she doing?" Harm asked, knowing that Bud expected him to be interested, although his mind was on what was taking place in the Admiral's office.
"She left Mic."
That got Harm's attention. "What? Why?"
"She didn't say, really, but Harriet seems to think that Mic was drinking too much, and, well -"
Harm shook his head. "I won't say 'I told you so'," he sighed. "I knew the guy was trouble. I'm just surprised it took her this long to figure it out."
"Sir?"
"Never mind, Bud. Is she staying in Australia?"
"No, sir. She's planning on coming back to the States, but she's not sure what she'll do once she's here."
Knowing Bud expected Harm to be glad to see his former partner for romantic reasons, Harm managed a smile. 'll 'll be good to see her again."
"I'll let you know when we hear anything else, if you like."
"Yeah, thanks, Bud," Harm nodded as Jennifer Coates appeared in the doorway. "Yes, Coates?"
"The Admiral would like to see you in his office, Commander."
"On my way. Later, Bud."
As they moved toward the Admiral's door, Coates leaned closer to Harm. "Mr. Webb's with him."
"Wonderful," Harm sighed. "He's probably got another mission he wants to drag me into helping with."
"Be strong, sir," Coates told him as Harm tapped on the Admiral's doorframe. He winked at the Petty Officer in response.
"Enter!"
Harm opened the door and closed it behind him, standing at attention before the Admiral.
"At ease, Commander," AJ Chegwidden said, folding his arms over his chest as he continued. "Webb's asked me to assign you TAD to him for a few days, Commander to help him with a mission."
"What is it this time, Webb?" Harm asked.
"All I can say is that it involves a possible Al Qaeda informant, Rabb," was Clay's reply as he stuck as closely to the 'script' they had devised the night before over dinner.
"Mr. Webb seems to think that you might be able to give him the assistance he needs - I can't order you to go, Commander. It's your decision."
"What guarantee do I have that this will turt ant any better than the other missions I've worked on, Webb?" Harm questd.
d.
"Same as always, Rabb," Clay said, and Harm grinned.
"That bad, huh? If things are bad enough that he needs *my* help, Admiral, I'm willing to go. If you can spare me, that is."
"Things have been slow," AJ nodded. "Give Turner and Roberts whatever you're working on and then consider yourself TAD to Mr. Webb. Just be careful, Commander. Dismissed."
"Aye, aye, sir," Harm said, coming back to attention before leaving the room, Clay just a few steps behind him. "How soon do we leave, Webb?" he asked.
"I can have us on a flight by 5 o'clock," Clay told him. "I'll pick you up on at your place my way to the airport, say, around three?"
"I'll be ready," Harm assured him, gathering up various files to take them to Sturgis and Bud. "Just need to do some housekeeping here first."
Clay nodded. "See you then."
**********
Clay wasn't sure why he was looking forward to spending time with Harm in Florida. He kept telling himself that it was because Harm had seemed so friendless and lonely the night before. He needed a friend. Someone that he could talk to and just be himself with, relax with. Someone who wouldn't judge him because he was gay.
He'd been accused of being gay back in high school, Clay remembered. Simply because he was smaller than most boys and was on the swim and track team - except for his training for the pentathlon, Clay hadn't much interest in sports. He'd been a loner, someone who didn't make friends easily.
He still didn't make friends easily. Harm was one of the few people that he could put into that category, mostly because he trusted the man. He still did.
Pulling his car up to the curb outside of Harm's apartment building, Clay glanced at his watch. It was nearly three. Harm's SUV was sitting on the other side of the street - and he kept the Corvette locked up in the garage since he'd finished rebuilding it after it was stolen.
He'd told Harm at the time that he only had himself to blame after the theft. Living in this neighborhood he was asking for it. He'd suggested that he get an alarm for the car *and* the 'monster truck' as Clay called it, closing the door of his BMW and arming the alarm system out of habit before he entered the building.
Harm opened the door on Clay's first knock. "Come on in, Clay. I'm just finishing packing -" he said, moving away toward the bedroom.
"I thought you'd be finished by now," Clay noted, glancing at his watch. Harm had changed out of his uniform and into a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved blue shirt, opened at the neck.
"You said 1700, right?" Harm asked.
Automatically converting the military time, Clay nodded. "Yeah."
"We'll be fine," Harm assured him, closing his suitcase. Turning around with it in his hand, Harm stopped, shaking his head sadly. "Oh, Clay. What *am* I going to do with you?"
Clay frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"You have to be the only man I know who would even *think* about wearing a three-piece suit to Florida."
"I'll change when I get there," Clay said.
"At least take off your tie," Harm insisted.
"Harm -"
"Just your tie, Clay. That's all."
Clay glared at Harm as he pulled the knot of his tie down and slipped it off his neck, then began to carefully fold it. When Harm grabbed the tie, rolled it into a ball and tossed it toward the bar, Clay's eyes widened. "Hey!"
"You won't need it, Clay," Harm told him, picking up his suitcase again. "I thought you were worried about getting to the airport?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and grinning.
"I'm goi going to survive the next days, am I?" Clay asked, turning with a deep sigh and going back through the open door as Harm started to laugh.
"You'll survive, Clay," Harm promised as he locked the door behind them. "Kicking and screaming, probably. But you'll survive."
*************************************
Harm wasn't surprised when he discovered that Clay had booked separate rooms for them at the hotel - but he was surprised to find that the two rooms had a connecting door between them. After stowing his things, Harm knocked on the door.
"Come in," Clay called out, and Harm found that it was unlocked. Clay had removed his jacket and vest, and was hanging them neatly on hangars.
"Well, that's an improvement," Harm noted, dropping onto the side of the bed, watching Clay as he unpacked his suitcase. "You stlooklook like an executive playing hooky from work, though."
"Hazard of the job," Clay said. "Once I finish here, we'll go find something to eat and then check out that club before I meet with my contact tomorrow night."
"Sounds like a plan," Harm agreed.
"You sure no one's going to recognize you down here?" Clay asked, not for the first time. "There are a lot of Navy personnel in Florida," he pointed out, "and your face isn't one that's easily forgotten."
"It's been awhile since my face as in the paper or on the news, Clay. If anyone outside of the club sees me, they'll think I'm on leave."
"And in the club?"
"Clay, if anyone from the Navy's in that club, I *doubt* they'll admit they were there, much less report *me* for being there. And *I'll* be there for a legitimate reason."
********
They had dinner at a small oceanfront seafood restaurant before making their way to the bar. About a block down the street, Harm noticed Clay's footsteps slowing. "Nervous?" he asked.
"No," Clay said quickly. Too quickly, Harm thought, and shook his head. "It's just a bar, Clay. Go in, have a couple of drinks, relax a little, and then leave."
"Yeah. Are you going in first?" Clay asked. They had decided it would be best if they appeared to be there separately.
"Give me a couple of minutes, then follow," Harm said, lifting a hand to place it on Clay's shoulder. "Breathe, Clay."
Clay drew in a deep breath and exhaled it. "I'm fine," he assured Harm. "See you in a few minutes."
Harm gave him a longer look before turning toward the club's entrance and going inside.
It had been awhile since he'd been in a place like this, but Harm noticed that things hadn't changed that much. And as clubs went, this one wasn't too bad. The music wasn't so loud that you couldn't hear yourself think, more of a background to the soft drone of voices. A bit more upscale than some places that Harm had visited, he decided, sliding onto an empty stool at the bar.
"Can I get you something?" the bartender asked, giving Harm a look he'd seen before. Assessing, questioning.
"Beer."
"Bottle or draft?"
"Whatever you have on tap's fine," Harm said. "I'm not picky."
"I don't think I've seen you around here before," the man said as he placed a glass of beer before Harm. "I'd remember *your* face."
"I'm on vacation," Harm explained. The man was older than he was, thinner, with hair that was probably kept dark thanks to a bottle. Not Harm's type at all.
"Well, shouldn't take long for you to find someone to keep you company," the man said, looking as if he wouldn't mind being that company.
"Just here for a couple of beers," Harm told him. "Maybe some other time." He turned around, resting his elbows on the bar, dismissing the bartender as he looked at the door, wondering if Clay had decided not to do this after all. Picking up beerbeer, he took a drink, making eye contact with a blond man sitting alone at a table across the room. The man smiled at him, his eyes sweeping over Harm in a slow movement downward. If he hadn't been there on business, Harm might have gone over and had a drink with the man, talked a little -
Clay entered the bar quickly, trying to figure out why he was so uncomfortable with this. He'd been in places before where he didn't fit in, but this - Clay saw Harm standing he bhe bar, facing away from it, a glass of beer in his hand. The man's attention seemed to be on something across the room, and followed his gaze. Seeing the blond haired, over age surfer sitting at a table, giving Harm an openly hungry look sent a strange tremor of something that Clay didn't recognize through his body. Sitting down at a table, Clay forced his eyes from Harm's face to scan the room. The back corner booth where he was supposed to meet his contact tomorrow night was currently occupied by a couple who seemed totally engrossed in each other's company.
"Can I get you something to drink?" a male voice asked, and Clay looked up to see a young waiter standing at the table, his look inquisitive.
"Scotch on the rocks," Clay told him.
"Yot itt it, hon," he said, turning around to head back toward the bar.
Clay watched him go, thinking that the waiter couldn't be more than twenty-two. Looking up, he realized that the waiter had stopped right beside where Harm was standing to place the order, and that Harm was now looking at him, the same look on hise ase as he'd had when returning the look from the blond man.
The look was one that could only be described as predatory, Clay realized. Harm looked like a sleek black panther on the prowl. The man exuded sexuality. Wore it like some kind of badge of honor. Luckily, Harmon Rabb, Jr. was able to carry it off.
"Here you go," the waiter said, putting the glass of scotch down on the table in front of Clay, then saw where Clay had been looking. "Dreamy, isn't he? Hard to believe a man that good looking doesn't have someone keeping him busy instead of here."
"Yeah," Clay agreed, picking up his glass to take a drink.
"Don't look now, hon, but he's coming over," the waiter told him, leaning close enough that Clay could feel the young man's breath tickling his ear. Clay focused on looking at Harm's leisurely approach to keep from pulling away. "Lucky you. I'd give anything to be in *your shoes*." Thiteriter disappeared as Harm reached the table.
"Hi there," he said, as if Clay were a stranger. "Expecting someone?" he asked, indicating the other chair at the table.
"No," Clay said, gathering his wits enough to shake his head. "Please." What on earth was wrong with him? You'd think he was taking all this seriously, that Harm wasn't just playing a game.
"Harm," he said, still giving Clay that look that had probably turned other men's bones into water and broken down every defense they might have. But Clay reminded himself that he was made of stronger stuff, - except that he was having trouble stringing more than two words together.
"Clay."
"I'm here on vacation - I heard the waiter tell the bartender that you're a new face, too."
"Yeah. Vacation," Clay nodded. He saw the knowing grin on Harm's face.
Leaning forward, Harm placed a hand over Clay's arm. "Relax. People are watching."
Clay forced himself to ignore the sensation of Harm's fingers against his skin by meeting the other man's eyes. Seeing the humor and understanding there, Clay relaxed just a little. "I'm not sure I can do this, Harm," he said quietly, finally able to talk again.
"What? Have a drink with a friend?" Harm asked, winking and laughing softly. "That's all you're doing."
Clay smiled in response to Harm's humor, glancing at their hands on the table. "Except that I don't usually hold hands with a 'friend' while having a drink."
"Maybe you should," was Harm's reply.
"How much longer do we need to stay here?" Clay asked.
"A few minutes. You can leave first, I'll follow."
"You sure? I mean, you could stay if you want - I saw the way you and the blond guy were looking at each other when I came in." The moment he said the words, Clay wanted to recall them.
Harm lifted an eyebrow at the comment. "Just a little harmless flirting," he said. "What's the matter, Clay? Jealous?" he asked, chuckling.
"Don't be silly, Harm," Clay answered with more force than he intended in an effort to mask the fact that jealousy was *exactly* whe'de'd felt seeing the look Harm had sent toward that other man.
Harm drew back, his smile vanishing for a moment. "You might as well go on. I'll be along later after I have another beer."
"Harm -" Clay began, but Harm was already standing up and heading back toward the bar.
Clay considered following him for a moment - until the waiter returned to his table. "Oh, too bad, hon. I guess you two didn't itt it off. Happens sometimes." Clay finished his scotch in one gulp. "You want another?"
"No, thanks. How much do I owe you?"
"I'll find out. Be right back."
Clay sat there as Harm received another beer and moved toward the table where the blond was still sitting alone. After a moment, Harm sat down in the chair across from the blond.
Clay paid the tab when the waiter brought it and left the bar, returning to the hotel alone.
**********
In his room, Clay reminded himself that he was here to do a job, and that Harm was a big boy, able to take care of himself. Clay had no hold on the other man - he didn't *want* one.
Or did he?
That thought made Clay sit heavily in the chair in front of the desk. He'd felt like a stammering schoolgirl confronted by the star of the football team when Harm had looked at him with those blue-green eyes. The look that made him feel like there was no one else in the room but the two of them.
Opening up the laptop computer in front of him on the desk, Clay reminded himself that Harm flirted with everyone - and it didn't mean anything. He'd just been doing what Clay had asked him to do - help him feel comfortable with being in unfamiliar surroundings in order to do his job.
Forcing Harm from his mind, Clay turned his attentionthe the computer screen before him and concentrated on that job.
******
He wasn't even aware that he was listening for it when he heard the sound of Harm's door opening and closing. Glancing at his watch, Clay frowned when he realized that it was almost midnight. It had been almost two hours since Clay had left the bar to return to the hotel.
Hearing a soft tap on the connecting door, Clay ignored it. "Clay?" Harm's voice called quietly. Clay closed the program he'd been working in and turned off the machine, ignoring the other man's voice as he got undressed and into bed. "Clay -"
At last he heard the shower running in the other room, and turned off the light beside the bed. But it was still a long time before he fell asleep.
*******
Clay wasn't in a good mood the next morning. Between Harm's getting back so late, and then dreaming all night about Harm and Harm with the blond guy from the bar, Chadnhadn't gotten much restful sleep. So when Harm knocked on the connecting door, Clay, just coming out of the bathroom after a shower, barked, "Come in!"
Harm stood there in the doorway, his arms crossed across this chest, wearing a pair of running shorts and muscle shirt as he gave Clay an amused look as he took in the towel wrapped around Clay's lower body. Clay ignored the look by *not* looking at Harm's face. "Morning, Clay," he said.
"Morning."
"I'm going for a run befbreabreakfast - thought I'd see if you wanted to come with me?"
"No thanks."
"Let me guess: you don't run for pleasure."
"The only time I run is when I have to," Clay confirmed, taking the clothes he was going to wear out of the closet.
"Clay - look at me."
Clay's back was to Harm as he started back into the bathroom.
"Clay -"
Closing his eyes, Clay stopped in the doorway. "Harm, let it go."
"I don't want to. I want to explain -"
Clay turned around. "You don't owe me any explanation, Harm. It's your life. If you want to spend half the night with a total stranger, then that's your choice. I don't have the right to approve or disapprove of anything you do."
"I didn't 'spend the night' with him," Harm said. "We had a few drinks, talked. Figured it would be a good idea since we'll both be back there tonight. Gives *me* a reason to have come back." Harm sighed. "I'm not interested in him, Clay."
"Not my concern if you are," Clay insisted. *Liar* a little voice inside him yelled, making him lower his gaze to the carpet. "Go take your run. We can have breakfast after you get back."
"I'm forgiven, then?"
Clay made the mistake of looking up - and into those incredible eyes, seeing the look of contrition. "Nothing to forgive. Go on. I'll make some phone calls while you're gone."
"Okay," Harm said, smiling again as he closed the connecting door. A moment later, Clay heard the outer door open and close, and sat down on the end of the bed as his legs finally gave out.
The sooner he got through this day and met with Faisil al Saad and completed this mission, the better. Being in close quarters with Harm was dangerous to his equilibrium.
********
After breakfast, during which Clay and Harm continued their debate about vegetarian or non-vegetarian, they returned to the hotel, where Clay filled Harm in further about the identity of the contact, and showed him a photo as well. "Faisil al Saad has never broken any laws in this country, but his brothers are all supporters of Al Qaeda, and one of them was scheduled to have been on one of the planes on 9-11," he told Harm.
"He doesn’t agree with Al Qaeda's goals?"
"He says that he doesn't, but he's afraid that if he openly meets with anyone from the CIA or other security forces he'll be dead before he says a word."
"You think he has the information that he claims to have?" Harm woed. ed.
"That's what I'm going to find out tonight," Clay said. "Faisil's supposed to give me the information on flash memory. I'll check it out, and if it's legit, I'll offer him a deal tomorrow night."
"So we're looking at two more nights here." "Yea"Yeah," Clay said, wondering if it seemed as long to Harm as it did to him.
"Good thing I brought those case files, to go through to give me something to do, then," he said. "Speaking of which, I'll get to it."
"Might as well leave the doors open," Clay said, and wondered where his sanity had gone when Harm gave him a smile and did as suggested. They couldn’t go out except to eat in case someone from the club happened to see them, so that meant they were forced to spend almost all of their time together within these two small rooms.
Harm, meanwhile, was trying to think of some legitimate reason for him to read through the case files in Clay's room instead of his own room. Unable to think of a reason that wouldn't seem painfully transparent even to him, Harm opened his briefcase, pulling out the files and notepad and a pen.
The atmosphere had seemed incredibly strained most of the day, and Harm suspected that Clay was upset about his having remained in the bar so late the previous evening. Whether it was concern for the success of the mission - or some other reason, Harm didn't know. Clay had said he wasn't upset, but Harm could feel the tension in the other man, the subtle insistence on their maininining a strictly professional demeanor instead of the easy camaraderie of the previous day.
He sat back on the bed, putting the note pad on his lap as he got ready to work. Maybe this had been a stupid idea to begin with. He'd managed to keep his attraction to Clayton Webb hidden for all these years - he'd simply continue to do so. It wasn't as if he didn't have practice, after all. It was possible that Clay wasn't as comfortable with Harm being gay as he'd claimed to be, but Harm didn’t like to consider that idea, because it would mean their friendship would be over as well.
That thought caused Harm to get off of the bed and go to the doorway between the rooms. Clay was sitting at the desk, staring at the computer. "Clay?" he said, trying to get the other man's attention.
"Just a sec, Harm," Clay said, holding up a hand toward him. At last he turned toward the door. "Yes?"
"I think we need to talk." Did he imagine Clay's sudden tension, Harm wondered.
"Talk? About what?"
"Can I come in?" he asked, and when Clay indicated the chair, Harm moved forward, sitting forward, his hands clasped between his knees. "I get the feeling that, well, you're not - entirely comfortable with - well, with my being gay."
Clay shook his head. "No. That's not true, Harm. You're not the only person I know who's gay, you know."
"Then what's wrong?" Harm wanted to know. "You've been walking on eggshells around me all day. I told you that nothing happened between Paul and me -"
"Paul?"
"The blond at the bar?" Harm prompted.
"Oh. I hadn't heard you mention his name." Clay seemed to think for several minutes before he continued. "Why should that have bothered me? You're a free agent. I was a little concerned about how it might affect the mission," he said, but Harm had the feeling that Clay wasn't being entirely truthful. "Coming in at midnight -"
"You were awake," Harm accused.
"What?"
"How did you know what time I came in if you weren't? I knocked, but you didn't answer." He watched as Clay got up from the chair and paced across the room to the window. "Clay?"
"I was awake," Clay admitted in a quiet voice. "I - uh, wanted to make sure you got home okay," he continued in that same tone. "I guess the idea of you - being with a - total stranger -"
Harm rose as well, but didn't move. "Give me a little credit for self preservation, Clay. I haven't done something like that in a very long time. It was nice being able to just talk and flirt a little with someone."
"Being yourself," Clay said, glancing at him.
"Yeah," Harm nodded.
"Is that what you - weryingying to do with me earlier?" Clay asked. "Be yourself?"
"Yes," Harm confirmed honestly, wanting to add more, but he remained silent, afraid of frightening the other man away with the truth. "I don't want to lose your friendship, Clay," he said. "It's important to me."
"You haven't," Clay answered. "I just - all this is a little new to me. I don't mean knowing someone who's gay," he said by way of clarification. "I mean the club, and seeing you - I mean, I've seen the way you flirt with people, but - it was never so - blatant."
"You were worried about how it might impact the mission?" Harm questioned.
Clay's half grin revealed that truth of Harm's words. "A little. I mean, how do I know you'll be watching my back if you're busy flirting with people like -"
"Paul," Harm supplied. "I can't sit there watching *you*, Clay. It would attract attention. So the best thing to do is to pretend an interest in someone else, while still doing my job."
"And isn't this - Paul, going to be upset when he realizes that you're only pretending?"
"I won't be here after tomorrow night, so it really doesn't matter, does it?" Harm replied, moving closer to the other man, his hands in his pockets to make it less threatening. "Clay, trust me, okay? I'm not going to let you down."
The two men were close enough that Harm could see the gold flecks in Clay's hazel eyes, and he clenched his fingers into fists to keep from reaching toward his friend, touching his face. They stood there for what seemed an eternity before Clay finally broke eye contact and took a deep breath.
"I do trust you, Harm. If I didn't, you wouldn't be here."
"Okay. I guess I'll go back and try to concentrate on those files, then."
Clay nodded, not moving until Harm left the room. Taking a deep breath, he ran a shaking hand through his hair as he turned toward the sliding glass window that led onto the balcony. He needed fresh air. The air in the hotel room was heavy with the scent of Harm's aftershave - and something else as well. Something that Clay wasn't yet ready to admit was there.
For a moment in there, Clay had wondered what it would be like having Harm touch him again, if he'd feel the same almost electric shock as he'd felt the night before. He'd wondered what it would feel like to have Harm's lips on his skin, and the idea terrified Clay. He wasn't gay. He was straight. One day, he'd finally give in to his mother's nagging, marrying one of the women she kept throwing at him, settling down and raising a son to continue the family name.
Okay, Clay reasoned, he *was* curious. He'd been curious before, but had never done anything about it. Too afraid of someone finding out.
*Or maybe you're just afraid you'd like it* that small internal voice said.
Clay shook his head. It didn't matter anyway. Harm wasn't attracted to him in that way. His interest the previous evening was the same as his interest in Paul: a cover for the mission. Taking another deep breath, Clay went back into his room and the computer, glancing once toward the open doorway as he sat down.
********************************
Clay went into the bar first that night, early enough to grab the back corner booth. The young waiter recognized him, giving him a smile. "Decided to try again, huh?" he asked, leaning against the side of the padded seat.
"Guess I’m lonely," Clay nodded. "Scotch on the rocks."
"Be right back."
Clay's eyes moved around the bar, finding Harm's new friend sitting near the small dance floor that Clay hadn't noticed the night before. There were already some couples, entwined in each other's arms, moving across the small space to the sound of soft music.
"Here you go," the waiter said, placing Clay's drink in front of him as Harm entered the bar. Clay's eyes picked him up immediately, and the waiter apparently noticed, because he glanced around. "Ohh, the hunk's back," he sighed. "Out of my league, but still, he's nice to look at, isn't he?"
"Yeah," Clay found himself agreeing, watching as Harm ordered a beer from the bar and then sauntered over to Paul's table, where he was invited to sit down. "Looks like he's found a friend, though." Harm had pulled the extra chair around the table so that he had a view of the back corner booth - and put him very close to Paul, who seemed quite pleased by Harm's actions.
"Oh, those two talked til almost midnight last night," the waiter explained in a gossipy tone. "You should see the dreamboat dancing, though." He shivered. "That man's what fantasies are made of."
"Dancing?"
"Yeah. He and Paul - that's the blond he's with. A real player, if you get my drift. They danced for a couple of times last night - Thought I was going to have to turn the air conditioning down. Too bad you and he didn't hit it off."
"I guess so. Some things aren't meant to be, I suppose," Clay said, picking up his drink and looking away from Harm and Paul's table at last, effectively dismissing the waiter. Faisil would be here any minute, and the man wasn't going to approach his table if there was anyone else theHis His ears picked up the sound of soft laughter, and he glanced toward the table across the way to Har Harm laughing at something Paul had said.
Paul's hand was touching Harm's on the table, their shoulders were touching. The two men looked comfortable with each other, Clay thought, pushing the flash of jealousy aside. He had no right to be jealous of Harm. No reason to be upset because Harm was practically holding hands with another man, laughing at another man's jokes, looking at that other man with eyes that held an open invitation . . .
"Excuse me?"
It's was only Clay's training that kept him from jumping at the accented words, and he looked up to find Faisil al Saad standing there, mentally berating himself for becoming so focused on Harm that he had missed Faisil's arrival.
"May I join you?" the young man asked, revealing white teeth as he smiled.
"Sure," Clay said, indicating the bench across the booth.
"My name is Faisil," he said, putting a glass of what looked to be tonic water in front of him. Clay glanced up for a moment, seeing Harm's eyes slide over the booth before he appeared to turn his attention back to his own companion.
Harm had noticed Faisil al Saad's arrival while he was listening to Paul talk about his work as an executive in an advertising firm. He managed to laugh at all the right moments, watching as Faisil stopped at the bar and ordered something to drink, looking around the room before moving toward the back corner booth.
"Looks like your would be friend from last night found someone finally," Paul noted, nodding toward Clay's table, where Clay and Faisil were talking quietly. "Looks more like his speed, I think."
"I guess," was Harm's reply, pretending that he could care less about Clay or anything he did. "Let's dance," Harm suggested, knowing that he'd be able to keep an eye on Clay from the dance floor without being too obvious about it. He stood up, waiting for Paul's answer.
Paul rose as well. "Let's go."
Since Harm was slightly taller, they had decided easily the previous evening that he would lead while they were dancing. Paul was a good dancer, Harm admitted as they moved across the small area set aside for that purpose. He glanced occasionally toward Clay's table, watching as Faisil slid closer to Clay in the circular booth, placing his hand over Clay's as they continued to talk.
The dance ended, and they returned to their table and sat down, signaling the waiter for refills on their drinks. Faisil gave Clay a smile and reached out to touch Clay's hand again before he slid out of the booth and left. Harm watched the scene, surprised at how seeing the other man touch Clay made his jaw tighten painfully.
Luckily, Paul was talking to the waiter and didn't notice Harm's reaction, giving him time to force himself to relax before Paul turned his attention back toward Harm. The waiter, whose name Harm had discovered was Philip, went over to where Clay was sitting and Harm watched Clay pay his bill then leave.
Harm took a few drinks of his beer before he told Paul that he had to leave. The other man frowned, lifting a hand to Harm's shoulder. "So early? I was hoping that I might be able to talk you into going back to my place at the beach for a while. We could listen to some music. I have a jazz collection you wouldn't believe."
Giving Paul a smile, he reached up to cup the man's cheekh a h a gentle touch. "Maybe next time. I'm really exhausted, after sight seeing all day."
"How about dinner tomorrow?" Paul suggested.
"I already have plans. Some friend of the family that my mother insisted that I meet up with. I'll be here tomorrow night, though," Harm finished. "See you then?"
"I'll be here," Paul agreed, returning Harm's caress with one of his own. When Harm rose to his feet and started to pull out his wallet, Paul shook his head. "You paid last night. I've got it tonight."
"You sure?"
"I'll just consider it an investment," Paul replied, grinning, his brown eyes coming to rest just south of Harm's waistline.
"Why don't I pay for my own drinks," Harm suggested. "I prefer not to be in anyone's debt." He took the money out of his wallet and placed it on the table. "Tell him to keep whatever's left over."
Paul looked regretful as Harm turned and left the bar. He took a deep breath once he was outside, clearing his lungs - and his mind. While Paul easily fit his usual "type" - tall, blond, good looking - he was too obvious for Harm's tastes. And the fact that he hung out in a bar instead of having a close circle of friends to spend time with was another thing that Harm didn't particularly feel comfortable with. While he knew Paul wasn't adverse to having sex with him - but Harm had also seen the outline of a less tanned area on the man's left hand ring finger. He was married - and his wife probably had no idea where he spent his evenings. Harm hadn't mentioned it, knowing that it was his Ace in the hole to get out of anything tomorrow evening, when escaping could be important.
*****
Clay was at his computer, engrossed in the data on the screen when Harm tapped on the connecting door and found it unlocked. "You're back early," Clay commented without looking around. "What happened? Daul\aul's charms lose their appeal?" he thought he saw Clay wince slightly after he said the words, as if he wished he could recall them.
"I just wanted to know whether Faisil's information looked legit is all," Harm said, dropping onto the bed, linking his fingers together behind his head against the headboard. "Looked to me like you and he were getting along pretty well yourselves. I guess he's gay?"
"I didn't ask. I wasn't there to check out his sexual preference."
"Sure looked like he was to me. You two looked really cozy back there in that booth," Harm recalled, seeing Clay's head turn toward him. "Just an observation."
"I won't know how much of this is usable until tomorrow when the boys in DC get their hands on it," Clay said, pressing a button on the computer. "But it looks like good intel." He waited until something else came up on the screen before turning the system off and closing the laptop. Standing up, he looked at Harm. "Comfortable?" he asked.
"As a matter of fact, yeah, I am," Harm told him, smiling. "I think this bed is softer than that torture chamber in my room." He glanced at Clay. "I don't guess you'd want to share?"
"Harm -"
"I didn't think so," Harm said, sitting up, thinking that Clay would tell him to go to his own room and get some sleep. But the CIA agent surprised him by sitting down in the chair near the bed. Realizing that Clay wasn't ready to sleep yet, Harm commented, "You seemed pretty at ease with Faisal tonight."
Clay's grin was crooked. "I had a good teacher. Just watched you fawning over Paul."
"I wasn't -" Harm realized that it had probably *looked* that way to Clay, and cut short his objection. "Okay, I may have gone a *little* overboard," he admitted.
"A little? That waiter - Philip? - told me that you and Paul danced quite a bit last night."
"I like to dance - when I have a good partner," Harm said, recalling that Clay had been with his mother at a dance when he'd called him once. "You dance, don't you?" he asked, looking at Clay through his lashes.
"Sometimes. Mostly with Mother," he said. "And you just changed the subject," he accused in a quiet voice.
"Redirection," Harm said with a shrug.
"Is Paul a - good partner?" Clay asked, and Harm went still, wondering exactly what the man was asking.
"He's o" H" Harm said. "Not my type, though."
"Tall, blond - "
"And married," Harm added, smiling again as Clay looked at him with surprised eyes. He held up his left hand, pointing to the ring finger. "There's a faint line on his ring finger that shows he usually wears a ring."
"And you don't - get involved with - married men."
"I'll flirt -" Harm nodded. "But that's all. It's the reason he goes to the club. I think he prefers nameless, faceless partners who won't threaten hirriarriage or his public image."
"And you don't do - one night stands," Clay said.
"No. Too dangerous. Before I even come out to someone, I make damn sure it won't cause any problems."
Harm watched as Clay stood up and moved toward the sliding glass door, sensing that the man was fighting an internal battle of some kind. When Clay finally spoke, he was looking out of that window over the city.
"Harm, is it possible that - that *I'm* gay?" Harm sighed, hearing all of the self-doubt and worry and fear that he'd felt at seventeen in Clay's question. Only Harm hadn't had anyone to discuss those feelings with.
"Anything's possible, Clay," Harm replied in a quiet voice, moving toward the other man. He stopped directly behind Clay, not touching, not trusting himself to do so. "But it's something you have to decide on your own. I can't -"
Harm's words were cut off by the feel of Clay's lips on his, the feel of Clay's hand on the back of his neck as his other hand grabbed a handful of Harm's shirt as the other man turned around without warning. The feel of those lips, after so many nights of ding ing about them, was more than Harm could stand. His arms went around the smaller man, pulling him closer, his tongue gently requesting entry. When Clay's mouth opened to him, Harm heard someone groan - and realized it was himself. Clay's own tongue was exploring every recess of Harmmoutmouth, and when the kiss finally ended, both men were laying on the bed, wrapped in each other's arms.
"Damn, Clay," Harm managed, pulling Clay's head onto his chest as he tried to regain his breath, "I never knew you could kiss like that."
"Neither did I," Clay told him, and Harm smiled as he felt the rapid pace of Clay's heart, a match to that of his own. "Harm -"
"Shh," Harm said, rubbing circles on the other man's back, feeling the uncertainty and tension that were there, "Just go to sleep. I think we both need to get some rest tonight."
"Sleep," Clay sighed. "I don't sleep well, usually," he murmured, and Harm realized that Clay was almost asleep even as he spoke. "Can't."
"You can tonight," Harm promised, placing a light kiss against Clay's brown hair. "I'll be here."
"Promise?"
Harm smiled at the needy sound of that question. "I promise." *For as long as you want me to be* Harm finished silently, closing his own eyes and dropping quickly into a deep sleep.
*****
Clay woke to a feeling of peace that he hadn't felt for a very long time. In fact, he didn't want to open his eyes because he didn't want that feeling to end. He was on his side, with someone lying behind him, an arm around his waist.
Memory returned as he recognized the Naval Academy ring on Harm's hand.
He'd kissed Harm.
Clay closed his eyes again, recalling the myriad of fegs tgs that kiss had evoked. He'd kissed a lot of women over the y, bu, but he'd never felt as - complete as he'd felt with Harm. As *right*.
But with that realization came another one: he *was* gay. It explained so many things, his inability to commit to a relationship with the women he'd dated, his inability to really *connect* with any of those women. And with that thought came worry about his mother's reaction.
Very carefully, Clay lifted Harm's arm and slipped out of the bed, going into the bathroom, where he rested his hand on the vanity and stared at his reflection while the water heated for a shower. He didn't *look* any different. But he felt more rested than he'd felt in - well, since he could remember. Somehow, just knowing that Harm was there, he had slept deeply and restfully.
Slowly getting undressed, Clay got into the shower, trying to come to terms with what all of this was going to mean.
*****
Harm woke when he heard a door close and frowned as he realized that Clay was gone. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom, and laid there on the bed for a moment, trying to decide what to do. Stay there and confront Clay when he came out? Or go to his own room, change for his morning run, and then talk to Clay over breakfast?
Sighing, Harm decided on the second option. He remembered his own acceptance of who he was, and knew that Clay probably needed some space, some time to think about what was happening. Even though nothing had happened between them other than a kiss, Harm knew how Clay was probably feeling. Grabbing a notepad from beside the computer, Harm wrote a note and left it on the bed before he went through the connecting doorway into the other room.
The decision was in Clay's hands now. He could either come to terms with the truth - or go back into the closet. Either way, Harm wasn't going to force the issue. Clay meant too much to him for that to happen.
*****
Clay was sitting in a booth at the small restaurant attached to the hotel when Harm slid into the seat across from him. He was freshlowerowered and wearing dark jeans and a white pullover shirt that Clay couldn't help but notice clung to his muscular chest. "Morning," Harm said, his blue eyes fixed on Clay.
After that first glance at Harm, Clay lowered his gaze to the cup of coffee in his hands. He'd come out of the bathroom, expecting Harm to still be there, only to find a note on the pillow.
"Going for a run. See you at breakfast. Usual place. We'll talk then, if you want. Harm."
Talk. About last night. About the fact that he'd spent the night in bed with Harm. He'd never been good at morning-afters. Or at morning-after "talks". But this was different. This wasn't one of the women that his mother had picked out - this was Harmon Rabb, Jr. A friend.
He heard Harm move, and then saw his hand slowly come into his field of vision as it moved to cover Clay's. "Clay, nothing happened. If you're not ready - that's okay. It's a lot to take in. Lots of things to think about."
"I never considered the idea that I might be -," Clay said quietly. "Even last night, when Faisal touched me - I didn't feel - that's not true." He sighed, and Harm started to pull his hand away, but Clay grabbed it. "I didn't like his touching me. Made me feel - I don't know -" he paused, thinking. "D. No. Nothing like it felt when you -" He finally looked up at Harm. "I still don't know what that means."
Harm reached across to grasp Clay's other hand. "It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don't want it to. No one's going to force you to - do or be anything you don't want to. But - would you mind ifold old you that I liked sleeping with you beside me last night?"
Clay laughed quietly at the admission. "Same here. I slept better last night than I have in a long time."
"I'm glad."
"It's not easy for me to t peo people, Harm," Clay pointed out. "One of the hazards of the job, I gu"
"
"Is that part of the problem?" Harm wondered. "Worrying about how you possibly being gay could impact on your job?"
"It wouldn't be a problem as long as I was discreet," Clay said, shaking his head. "And was careful about not opening myself up to blackmail. It would mean I'd have to tell Mother -"
"You think she'd disapprove?"
"I don't know. Maybe not. Mother tends to surprise me at times. I know she supports a few gay rights groups, but -"
"You're worried she'll feel differently if her son is gay," Harm nodded. "Clay, you don't have to make a decision now. Give it some time. Think about it. But if you need to talk or - whatever -" he added with a sly grin, "I'll be here."
"Thanks," Clay replied, feeling himself responding to the other man's smile.
A waitress appeared, order pad in hand, and Harm reluctantly released Clay's hands to smile at her as he placed an order for breakfast.
**************
Back in the room, Clay booted his laptop and sat down to see if there were any messages about the information he'd sent to Langley via encrypted file the night before. Finding nothing, he was examining the information again himself when he heard Harm clear his throat. Turning, he found the other man standing in the connecting door, holding some files.
"Would you mind if I - worked on these in here?" he asked.
"No," Clay said, nodding toward the bed. "Go ahead."
"Thanks," Harm said, making himself comfortable against the headboard. "Any word yet?"
"No," Clay answered, knowing that he was talking about the intel. "Probably won't be until this afternoon at the earliest. I can't really discuss it, Harm," he said, glancing toward the bed. "It's -"
He was relieved when Harm grinned as he finished, "Need to know. I understand." He bent his head to read one of the files he'd brought with him.
Watching him, Clay couldn't help but notice how broad Harm's shoulders were - even without the padded uniform jacket. Harm could understand the need for security. Better than most, probably.
Even though he always told them that he worked for State, most of the women he'd tried to have a relationship with couldn't understand that he wasn't able to talk about his work - most of it was classified. Nor could he always tell them where he was going or where he'd been after disappearing with barely a word for days on end.
Those facts wouldn't change just because the person he was involved with was a man, Clay reminded himself. Seeing Harm look up suddenly and catch Clay watching him, Clay felt his ears redden slightly, embarrassed.
"Penny for your thoug" H" Harm said.
"Just - thinking about my lousy track record with relationships," he answered. "My job -"
"You usually tell them that you work for the State Department, right?"
"Yeah. Still doesn't mean I can tell them anything - they think I'm shutting them out and -" he let his voice trail off.
"And you're worried it would be the same with me," Harm guessed. Clay nodded. Harm closed the folder he'd been reading and put it onto the bed. "I can't say I'd be happy about it, but I think I'd understand."
"And what about my leaving the country without warning?" Clay asked. "Not being able to say where I'm going, or where I've been?"
"No one's saying it would be easy, Clay. For either of us." He smiled. "I'm just glad you'thinthinking* about it at all."
Clay's computer beeped, recalling his attention, and Harm watched him in silence for a moment before picking the folder up and opening it.
*******
True to Clay's word, it was late afternoon before he got the word that the intel from Faisal al Saad appeared to be important, and strongly suggesting that he get Faisal to a safe house, where he would be transferred to DC under security for further questioning.
"How are we supposed to do that?" Harm asked, watching as Clay started dialing another number.
"Give me a minute," he said. When someone on the other end answered, Harm listened to Clay. "It's Webb . . . Okay . . . I can do that . . . Say, ten this evening." He nodded, then gave the address of the bar. "See you then."
"Well?" Harm asked.
"We go back to the bar as usual. When Faisal comes in, he and I will have a couple of drinks, and then leave the bar together. There'l a t a taxicab waiting outside at ten. I'll see Faisal to the safe house they're using and then come back here."
"I'll watch your back. Make sure no one follows you when you leave the bar," Harm said.
"I was counting on that," Clay told him.
The afternoon had passed by in an atmosphere of companionable silence, both men concentrating on their work. Occasionally one or the other had looked up, smiling, but nothing more had been said about Clay's epiphany of the previous evening.
On Harm's part, it was because he didn't want to push Clay to make a decision too quickly. He would like nothing better than to have Clay in his life - *fully* in his life - but he didn't want it to happen only to have Clay decide in six months or a year that he had made a mistake and crawl back into the closet. The idea didn't bear thinking about.
"That's a serious look," Clay said, drawing Harm's attention.
"Serious thoughts," Harm replied with a smile.
"Trying to figure out how you're going to get away from Paul this evening?"
"Well, it won't be easy. The man's crazy about me."
"I think everyone at the bar knows that," Clay confirmed, standing up from the desk and stretching.
"What can I say? I'm a loveable person."
"Under the right circumstances, maybe," Clay said, movingsit sit on the edge of the bed not far from Harm.
Harm lifted an eyebrow as he heard Clay's words, surprised. Trying to hide his reaction, Harm laughed. "Honestly, getting away from him isn't going to be easy. The man's an octopus when he wants something."
"And he wants you."
"Yeah," Harm admitted, trying to read the look in Clay's eyes. "But *I* don't want *him*, Clay," he finally said, hoping he was reading that look correctly. When he saw Clay relax slightly, he knew that he had. Lifting a hand to Clay's shoulder, he said, "Don't worry. I can handle Paul. All I have to do is tell him I don't get involved with married men."
Clay put his hand over Harm's looking up at him. "Harm -"
"I'm not pushing, Clay," Harm said, starting to remove his hand, but Clay refused to allow it. "Don't, Clay," he said in a low voice. "You need time." Even as he spoke, Harm felt Clay's hand leave his to slide up his shoulder to rest behind his neck. "Time to think - to decide -" Closing his eyes, Harm grabbed Clay's hand in his, holding it between them. "I don't want you to rush into this, Clay. I want you to be totally, completely sure." He brought Clay's hand to his lips for a moment before he continued. "No doubts, no reservations."
Clay nodded silently as he took a deep breath. "I know. As much as I hate to say this, you're right. Until this mission is finished, I can't take the time to think about this, figure things out." He smiled. "But once Faisal is safely in that safe house tonight, I think we should talk."
"We will."
********************************
Paul almost seemed to be watching for Harm that night. The moment Harm entered the bar, the other man held up a bottle of beer that he'd apparently ordered with Harm in mind. Sitting down where he could watch the back corner booth in which Clay was already seated, Harm gave Paul an amused grin. "I hate being predictable," he declared, picking up the beer to take a drink. "What if I hadn't shown up?" Harm wondered, knowing that Paul preferred wine instead of beer.
"I'd have drowned my broken heart with it," Paul declared melodramatically. "Besides," he continued, sliding an arm across Harm's shoulders to pull him closer, "I knew you couldn't stay away."
Harm met Clay's eyes, sending what he hoped was a reassuring look toward the other man. "You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" Harm asked Paul.
"I'm told its part of my charm," Paul replied, leaning closer. Harm could smell the alcohol on the man's breath and moved away. "What's wrong?"
Nodding toward the nearly empty glass of wine on the table, he asked, "How many of those have you had?"
"Not enough," Paul decided, catching Philip's eye. While Paul was ordering another glass of wine, Harm saw Faisal enter the bar, stopping by the bar as he had on the previous evening before moving back to join Clay in the booth. Only this time, instead of remaining on the opposite side of the bench, he slid around to sit next to Clay.
"How about you, hon?" Philip asked, looking at Harm.
Harm shook his head. "I'm good."
Philip noticed the direction of Harm's gaze and bent close to his ear to say, "They make a cute couple, don't they? I'm glad he found someone. He looked so lonely that first night." Then he was gone, and Harm tried not to be so obvious in watching what was going on in the corner booth.
He took a furtive glance at his watch. It was only nine. An hour to go before they could get the hell out of here. "Need to be somewhere?" Paul asked, his arm around Harm's shoulders again.
"No. Just checking the time."
"Let's dance," Paul suggested, starting to stand up, only to drop back into the chair.
Harm laughed. "You can't even stand up," he said.
"Yes I can," Paul insisted, and this time managed to get to his feet by bracing himself on the back of his chair and the table. "See? Com'on. Dance with me."
Sighing, Harm stood up and led the other man out to the dance floor.
******
"I did not think that you were gay," Faisal said as he picked up his glass of sparkling water.
"What?" Clay asked, looking away from the dance floor where Harm was attempting to lead his intoxicated partner around the floor.
Faisal's dark gaze moved toward Harm and Paul. "You have been watching the tall one all evening. You did it last night as well. Do you know him?"
"He's here as backup," Clay said slowly.
"And are you and he -?"
"Let's just say that we're in the process of finding that out."
"Ah. He seems very at ease in this place," Faisal said. "So I guess that it is you who has only recently realized your true nature. Because you seem much less at ease."
Clay shook his head, laughing softly. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to someone who is as uneasy as you are," Faisal explained, causing Clay to look at him.
"Then you're not -"
"No."
"Then why -"
"Why choose this place to meet?" Faisal finished for him. "It was safe. None of the people I know would come to a place like this." His eyes sought out Harm again. "Does he know how you feel about him?"
Clay glanced at Harm, who was now trying to get Paul back to their table, but Paul apparently wanted to continue to dance. "He's a friend."
"You are worried about saying too much to me. I understand this. I am a stranger to you. But if we are to convince others here that we wish to be alone together, we must give the appearance of being much closer."
Clay took another drink of scotch before lifting his arm over Faisal's head to drop it across his shoulders. "You mean like this?"
*******
"Come on, Paul," Harm said, tired of pulling the other man's hands off of his hips. "If you don't come back to the table now, I'll leave you here."
Paul frowned. "You're no fun tonight," he pouted, letting Harm pull him back toward the table and sitting down heavily in the chair. Once Harm sat down beside him, he leaned closer. "Why don't you and I get out of here?"l sul suggested. "Find someplace more private?" His hand was on H's t's thigh, moving upward, and Harm grabbed it.
"Paul, you're drunk," he said quietly, trying to keep from drawing more attention than they had already drawn. "The only thing you need is a place to sleep it off."
"I'm not drunk," Paul insisted, grabbing for Harm again. "Tell you what, take me away from all this and we'll discuss it."
Deciding that he'd be better off by himself instead of putting up with a drunk, Harm shook his head. "I have a better idea. Go back to your wife. Maybe she'll put up with you." With that, he stood up and moved to the bar, leaving Paul sitting alone.
The bartender placed a bottle in front of him. "Here you go. And it's on the house," he said as Paul staggered out of the door. "I've been wishing someone would give that guy what he had coming to him."
"Shouldn't you call him a cab?" Harm asked, picking up the beer.
"He'll flag one down. He doesn't drive down here. Too afraid of someone seeing his car and tracing it back to him."
"I think I'll go back to the table now that he's gone," Harm told the bartender. "Thanks for the beer."
"My pleasure. I'm just hoping he stays gone."
Philip paused by the table moments after Harm sat down again, expressing similar sentiments. "I guess I should have warned you about him," he apologized. "Most of the regulars wouldn't have anything to do with him." He noticed Harm looking at the corner booth, where Clay and Faisal were looking *very* cozy. "Guess you gave up on that one too quickly, huh?"
"Yeah, well, you know what they say," Harm said, lifting his bottle. "Win some, lose some." He took a drink of the beer.
"You want another one?" Philip asked.
"No. I'll nurse this one til I go."
"Sure. If you need - anything -" the young man said, and Harm looked up at him, seeing the hopeful look in his blue eyes.
"Thanks, but, I'm fine."
"Yeah. That you are, hon," Philip said with a regretful sigh. "Oh, well, like you said. Win some, -"
"Lose some. I appreciate it, Philip, but I'm not really looking for companionship right now. I just - need some down time."
Philip responded to Harm's smile with one of his ownd asd as he moved off, Harm thought that the young man was going to be dangerous when he was a little older.
A few other men approached Harm's table, but he gently refused their offer of company, keeping an eye on Clay and Faisal, who were now turning toward each other, talking softly, occasionally laughing, their hands touching on the table. Seeing Clay laugh, Harm took another drink of beer. It wasn't something Clay did often, and the idea that another man was causing it made Harm feel a little green.
He kept a watch on his watch, counting the seconds as they ticked by, closer and closer to 2200 hours. At last he saw Clay signal for Philip and pay the bill before he and Faisal left the bar. Philip stopped at Harm's table as he watched them go. "Can I get you anything?"
"Just my bill."
"Lou says it's on the house tonight," Philip told him, indicating the bartender.
Smiling again, Harm gave Philip a good tip. "Thanks," he said, moving toward the doors, waving at Lou as he did so.
Just as he got outside, he saw a taxi leaving the curb. There wasn't anyone else around that Harm could see, so he flagged down the next cab that came along, telling the driver to take him to the hotel.
********
Harm paced around his room, listening for any sound in the hallway that might be Clay returning. Finally, when it was nearly 0300, Harm slowly undressed and slid between the covers of his bed. Turning out the light, he lay there in the dark, listening, worrying about where Clay was, about whether or not he was okay; worrying that he'd changed his mind and had decided to stay at the safe house instead coming back to the hotel.
Hearing the sound of Clay's door opening, Harm remained where he was, feeling relief just knowing that Clay was back and safe. Going to him would be pushing - something he'd told Clay that he wouldn’t do. He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax.
When he heard the connecting door into his room open, Harm went still, smiling as he felt the covers on the other side of the bed being lifted and then the warmth of Clay's body against his. Clay slipped his arm around Harm's waist, resting his head against Harm's back. "I'm sorry it took so long," he whispered. "I had to take care of paperwork -"
"Bureaucracy," Harm sighed, turning over onto his back, putting his arm around Clay. "I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind." He ran his hand down Clay's bare back. "You and Faisal looked pretty close tonight."
He felt Clay's eyes on him. "Jealous?"
"If I say yes, what happens?"
"He's not gay," Clay told him. "He only suggested meeting there because he thought it would be safe. It was just an act."
"A very good act."
"Looked like you had a fun evening."
Harm groaned both at the memory of Paul's drunkenness and Clay's fingers tangling in the hair on his chest. "Don't remind me. It was horrible." He grasped Clay's fingers as they brushed a nipple. "Clay, if you don't stop, we're never going to have that talk -"
"I think my being here now should tell you that I made my decision, Harm. I want to be with you. I know it's not going to be easy. Between your being in the Navy and my being CIA, we'll have to be discreet, but I want to try." He rose up on one arm. "I've never felt what I feel with you with anyone else, Harm. I don't trust people. You know that. But I trust you." Harm felt his breath catch in his throat at that admission. "Do you want to take a chance on us?"
"I've wanted to take a chance on us for a long time, Clay," Harm said.
"Really?"
"Yeah." He smiled up at Clay. "Does that bother you?"
"That you've been attracted to me for a long time? No. I'm a little embarrassed that I never saw it. Sure, you flirted with me to get information, but - you flirt with everyone," he said in a teasing tone.
"Can't promise not to do that in the future, Clay," Harm said.
"Wouldn't have you any other way," Clay told him. "Now. Are we finished talking?"
Harm pretended to consider the question. "I don't know. There might be -"
He got no further as Clay's lips closed over his, swallowing any further words into his mouth.
**********
They caught an early afternoon flight back to DC, and Clay thought that everyone on the plane *had* to know what was going on between them. IT wasn't a matter of guilt so much as it was the fact that he and Harm spent the entire flight sitting in their seats, talking and whispering, just enjoying each other's company.
But as the aircraft began to descend for landing, Clay's thoughts turned to more mundane matters - such as how they were going to manage time together considering their schedules and their jobs, and, last, but certainly not least, how he was going to tell his mother the news.
Harm evidently noticed the change, because he touched Clay's hand momentarily to get his attention. "Hey. What's wrong?"
"Reality. Mother."
"You want me there when you tell her?"
"No. I think it might be best if I tell her alone. Telling her about you depends on her reaction." Clay sighed. "When will we be able to see each other again?"
"We'll find a way," Harm promised. "I have your private number. I'll call."
He drove Harm back to his apartment. "You want to come up?" Harm asked, taking his suitcase.
But Clay wasn't looking at Harm. He was looking at the dark haired woman standing in the doorway of the building. "I don't think so. You've got company."
Harm turned around, finally seeing the woman. "Mac?"
"Hello, Harm. Webb."
Harm gave his ex-partner a hug. "What are you doing here?"
"I arrived back in Washington last night. Bud told me you were out of town playing spook with Webb -"
Clay belated gave Mac a welcoming smile. "I heard your marriage ended, Mac. Sorry."
Mac returned the smile, but looked at Harm again. "If you're busy, I -"
"No. Come on in," Harm said, moving toward the door. He was holding it open for Mac before he noticed that Clay hadn't moved. "Webb?"
"I need to go let Mother know I'm back," he said. "And stop by Langley to check on some things."
"I'll be in touch," Harm promised, giving Clay a long look.
"Okay. Glad you're back, Mac," Clay said, getting into his car and driving away.
"What's his problem?" Mac asked Harm as he watched the car down until it turned a corner.
"Who knows with Webb?" Harm said, smiling at her as he joined her inside and headed for the stairs. "It's been a rough couple of days for both of us."
"Another one of Webb's missions that went wrong?"
"Not this time," Harm told her, unlocking the door to his apartment. "Go on in. Not sure I have much to offer -"
"I really thought we could go out for dinner," Mac admitted as Harm carried his suitcase toward the bedroom. "If you don't already have plans."
He heard the uncertainty in her voice as he was about to refuse. It wasn't like her to be uncertain. "No, no plans. Want some water?" he asked. "I'm sure I have that."
"Sure."
He grabbed two bottles from the refrigerator and tossed one to her. "What happened, Mac?" he asked.
She shrugged and turned toward the windows. "It was a mistake. I shouldn't have married Mic, Harm." She looked at him. "You can say 'I told you so' if you want to."
"Wouldn't dream of it. You never mentioned any problems when you called or wrote -"
"I didn't want to bother you."
"He started drinking?"
"More and more," She nodded. "And then he'd get verbally abusive."
"He wasn't -" the idea of Mic Brumby lifting a hand to Mac made Harm physically ill.
"No. Thank God I got out before that happened." She turned back to the window. "He was jealous of you," she said in a soft voice. "He said that he thought I only married you because you never stood up and made a claim."
"Mac," Harm began, trying to think of something to say. "I wanted to," he said honestly. "If for no other reason than to keep you from marrying him. But I couldn't."
She nodded, as if she understood. "Because you don't love me. I understand -"
"Mac," he said, turning her to look at him. "I love you more than I've ever loved any woman in my life." It was true. If he hadn't been gay, he would have spoken up, kept her from marrying Mic Brumby.
"Then why?" she asked, and the tears in her eyes tore at Harm's heart.
"Because it wasn't enough."
"You're not making any sense, Harm. You say you love me, but that it's 'not enough'? What more do you need?"
"Mac, I can't -" he moved away from her, running a hand across the back of his neck. He looked away from her, then back. "I don't have it within me to make *any* woman happy," he told her.
"I don't understand, Harm," she said.
Harm closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he came to a decision. He might destroy his career if it went badly, but he had to hope that Mac wouldn't react in anger. That she would understand. "Before I try to explain, Mac, I have to ask you something."
"What?"
"What are you planning on doing now? Private practice? Try to get your commission reinstated?"
"I haven't decided. The Admiral - AJ asked me the same question today when I saw him. But - I don't know that I want to take a step backward." She sighed. "No, I'm not going back to the Marines. I'll probably work there as a civilian attorney, but - that's all."
"I want you promise me to hear me out, Mac, before you react or decide to walk out."
"Harm, what does my being a Marine or not have to do with -"
"Promise me, Mac. As my friend."
"I promise."
He indicated that she should sit down, but remained standing, pacing the floor. "Mac, haven't you ever wondered *why* I've never been able to commit to a woman? Anne, Jordan, Renee - even you?"
"Harm -"
"When I was seventeen, Mac, I made a discovery about myself, about who I am. I ignored it, pushed it aside and joined the Navy, did what was expected of me. And I *wanted* to find a woman, get married, have a family. You of all people know what family means to me, Mac. But every time I got close to that moment, I found way to mess it up. I lied to Annie about that cruise, I didn't tell Jordan about going back to flying - I kept pushing Renee away - and I let you marry Mic Brumby knowing it was a mistake. All because *I* - I do love you, Mac," he said again. "And if things were different - if *I* were different, I'd have married you in a heartbeat." He was watching her closely now, trying to read her reaction to his words. To see if she understood what he was trying to say.
Mac blinked several times. "Oh my God," she whispered. "All this time, and I never knew - you led me on, you led Annie, you led us *all* on -"
"No. No, Mac. I wasn't leading you on. Any of you. I wanted to be what everyone *expected* me to be. Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. Aviator, JAG lawyer, the Navy's poster boy -. But it's all a lie, Mac. It's all been a lie. One I kept so deeply buried that I almost believed it myself. I could have stopped your marriage, Mac, married you myself. But I would have made you just as unhappy in the long run."
Mac sat there, staring at him. "You're gay?" He nodded, watching her carefully again. "And no one else knows?"
He paused again. "I haven't told anyone at JAG, if that's what you're asking. I couldn't very well announce it to Bud or Harriet or - the Admiral, could I?"
"No, I suppose not. Does your mother -"
"She doesn't know. I think Frank suspects, but he's never said anything."
Mac stood up, moving to the windows again. "Webb knows, doesn't he?"
"Just since last weekend. He saw me at a restaurant with a - a friend and figured it out." He stood there as the silence grew. "Mac, are you okay with this? If you're not, I can understand -"
"It's a lot to take in, Harm," she said, and then started to laugh.
"Mac?"
"I was just thinking about Mic being jealous," she said, and Harm found himself laughing as well at the thought, relieved that he'd dodged another bullet.
"Can I trust you to keep the secret, Mac?" he asked as the laughter faded. "Because if you don't think you can, I'll turn my resignation in to the Admiral tomorrow morning."
"Is this what you want to do, Harm? Keeping hiding who you are just to stay in the Navy?"
"It's also who I am," Harm told her.
"And what happens if you find someone you want to be with? If you - fall in love- would you be able to keep it hidden?"
"If I have to. Actually, there is someone, Mac. It's still a new relationship, but - I'm hopeful it'll work out."
"Who? The friend that Webb saw you with?"
"No." He hesitated again. "Clay."
"Clay? Clayton Webb? Harm, are you crazy?!"
"You're not surprised that he's gay?"
"I never really thought about it. He's Webb. He - Harm!"
"Mac, you don't know him the way I do -"
"Obviously," she said, and Harm narrowed his eyes until he realized she was teasing. "He's a *spook*, Harm. You and he are - are as different as night and day. You see things in black and white, Webb - Webb sees shades of gray."
"I know all that. But you don't choose the person you fall in love with."
"Yeah. I think I can understand that. How long-?"
"Like I said, it's still pretty new. He only just realized that he's gay himself."
"And I was waiting on your doorstep when - oh, Harm. He probably thinks that - oh, damn." She picked up the cordless telephone. "You'd better call him. Now."
"Mac, it'll be all right."
"Call him, Harm. Tell him you told me the truth, and tell him that all *three* of us are going out to dinner."
Taking the phone, Harm dialed Clay's private number, his eyebrow raised as he looked at Mac as he waited for Clay to answer the cell phone.
"Hello."
"Clay?"
"I don't have time to talk, Rabb," Clay said shortly.
"Where are you?"
"Almost at Langley. Told you I had things to take care of."
Harm sighed. "I thought you were going to see your mother?"
"I'm not sure that's important right now, Rabb." He was angry. Harm could tell by the way he was using Harm's last name in that tone.
"Clay, just a minute, okay?"
"I told you -"
"I know. You're busy. Just hold on." He held the phone out to Mac. "You talk to him."
Mac glared at Harm. "Clay? It's Mac - . . . No, and don't you dare hang up on me, Clayton Webb, because I'll just drive out to Langley and talk to you in person . . . Harm told me everything." Her eyes flickered toward Harm. "*Everything*, Clay . . . Yes, he's still alive. You just talked to him . . . Well, the reason I'm calling is to invite you to have dinner tonight with Harm and me . . . Dinner. You, me, and Harm," she said again. "Well, for one reason, Harm *is* my best friend, and I need to make sure you're worthy of him."
"Mac!" Harm almost yelled, grabbing for the phone, but she ducked out of his way, laughing.
"How about seven? Will that give you time to go and see your mother and then meet us here at Harm's apartment?" She grinned at Harm. "We'll be here." Another glance at Harm. "I will. Bye." She hung up and put the telephone back onto the desk. "He said to tell you bye and he's sorry for being so bad-tempered."
Harm just shook his head, wondering what he had let himself in for.
***********************************
Clay took a deep breath as he entered the greenhouse, inhaling the combined scents of the flowers that his mother grew. "Hello, Mother," he said, causing her to turn from the roses that she was in the process of pruning.
"Clayton," she said, smiling with delight as she presented her cheek for him to kiss. "When did you get home?"
"This afternoon. I stopped by the office on my way here." She had gone back to pruning. "The roses look nice."
"Don't they? I really think that this is the best year for them in ages." She glanced at him. "You need to talk to me about something, don't you?"
"How did yoow?\ow?"
"Your hands are in your pockets, dear," she said. "Whenever you're troubled, you shove your hands into your pockets. You've al don done it."
"Could you stop pruning the roses for a minute, please, Mother?" Clay asked. "You're right - I do need to talk to you, and I need your full attention to do it." Besides, he was afraid of her being anywhere near those pruning shears when he told her what he was going to say. And not just because she might damage the roses.
After looking at him for a moment, Porter Webb removed her gardening gloves and the apron she was wearing over her dress as she turned around. "Why don't we go into the sitting room?" she suggested, slipping her arm through his. "I'll ask Markov to bring us some tea."
Clay rolled his eyes. "Mother, -" he said about to tell her that he didn't want tea.
"You're very tense, Clayton," she said, frowning. "You really do need to relax more. You're going to end up with an ulcer or a heart attack before you're fifty."
"You said that would happen before I was forty, too," Clay reminded her. "And it didn't."
"You've been lucky," Porter pointed out to him as they passed the butler. "Markov, could you bring some tea to the sitting room, please?"
"Right away, Mrs. Webb," the man said, nodding at Clay before he disappeared down the hallway.
In the sitting room, Porter sat down on one of the sofas, but Clay remained on his feet, moving around the room nervously. "You seem very ill at ease, dear," Porter noted. "What's wrong?"
"Why don't we wait until Markov brings the tea, Mother?" Clay suggested, inspecting her collection of Dresden figurines. "I'd rather not be interrupted once I start."
"Now you're frightening me, Clayton," Porter said. "You're not - ill are you?"
"No. I can tell you that you don't have to keep throwing your friends' daughters into my path anymore."
"You've met someone," Porter said, and Clay thought he heard uncertainty in her tone. "Not - Margaret Peterson's daughter. Lisa, wasn't it?"
"Hardly, Mother," Clay said, barely repressing a shudder at the idea.
Markov entered with a tray carrying a silver tea service, placing it onto the table in front of Porter. "Will there be anything else, ma'am?" he asked.
"No. Thank you, Markov," she said, already pouring the tea into bone china cups, automatically adding the two lumps of sugar that Clay preferred before handing it to him.
Clay took it, but set it back onto the table immediately. "Mother, haven't you ever wondered why I don't seem to be - attracted to any of the women you fix me up with?"
Porter, her back ramrod straight, paused with her cup between the saucer and her mouth. "You're very - selective, dear. You always have been. That's not necessarily a bad thing, you know. I suppose you take after me in that respect -"
"Mother," Clay said, sitting down beside her on the sofa. "I'm gay."
He wasn't sure what he expected. Anger. Denial. But never in a million years did he expect to have heard his mother's next words.
"You finally figured that out?" she said, as if she were discussing the weather or one of her charity events.
"You knew?"
"I - suspected," Porter corrected him, putting her cup and saucer onto the table before turning to take his hands in hers. "Clayton, all I want is for you to be happy. You've been so terribly *un*happy for so long. I think you're due." Releasing his hands, she picked up her tea again. "Now, why don't you tell me what the catalyst for this sudden moment of self-realization was?"
Clay finally reached for his own cup of tea, taking a sip before answering. "It's a who, actually," he admitted, earning a look of curiosity. Taking another drink, he put the cup down. "Do you remember the Navy officer who came to visit you when everyone thought I was dead?"
"Lt. Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr." she recalled. "Very handsome, if I remember correctly. Clayton, you're *not* telling me that -"
"Yes, Mother. I am. And he's a Commander now."
"Rumor around Washington is that he's probably going to be JAG once Admiral Chegwidden decides to retire. He's - gay?"
"Yes. I know I don't have to remind you that no one else can know about that, Mother -"
"Of course not, dear - Oh, Clayton, are you sure about this? Hiding, never being able to be together in public -"
"Only until things change. And they will, Mother. The military can't keep that stupid rule in place forever."
"Especially if the right people apply enough pressure in the right places," Porter told him, and Clay smiled in gratitude.
"You're sure you don't mind?" he asked.
"Clayton, dear, *why* do you think I always arranged for you to date vapid, shallow young women that I knew you would *never* have anything in common with? I was *terrified* that you would eventually marry one of them and be terribly unhappy. Your happiness is what's important. And if Harmon is the one who can do that, then I'm happy for you."
Clay took a deep breath, relieved that it was over with. "You have no idea how nervous I was about telling you," he said, picking up his cup again.
"I would hope you would know by now that you can tell me anything, dear. I *am* your mother, after all. Now. When are you going to bring Harmon here for dinner?"
"I'll talk to him about it tonight," he said. "We're having dinner with a mutual friend."
"Oh. I hoped you were going to have dinner with me," Porter said.
"Tomorrow evening," Clay said. "I promise."
*******
Clay gave Mac a nervous smile when she opened the door to Harm's apartment that evening. "Hi."
"Hi," she said, stepping back. "Come on in."
Harm came from the bedroom area, taking Clay's hand in his. "You okay?" he asked.
"I talked to Mother."
"And?" Harm asked.
"She already knew. She wants us to come for dinner soon."
"We will," Harm nodded. He looked at Mac. "You ready?
"If you two are," she said.
************
The next morning saw Harm back in his uniform, back at JAG. No one there guessed that he'd made a major change in his life. The only comment made was by Harriet, who had given him a long look when she'd handed him some message slips.
"You look rested, sir," she said. "I guess Mr. Webb's mission wasn't the norm."
"For once, everything went as planned, Harriet," he said, grinning. "First time for everything."
"You know that Mac is back in town, don't you?"
"Yeah. We had dinner last night."
"Really, sir?" she asked, and Harm saw the speculative look on her face, but didn't say anything else as he continued toward his office.
******
"You're sure about this, Mac?" AJ asked as he sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, looking at his former JAG officer. "I could get your commission reinstated without much difficulty."
"I appreciate it, sir, but I've been gone for almost three years. Even if I went back, I'd be topped out as a Lt. Colonel or Colonel. I think I'm better off as a civilian attorney now."
"Then you'll accept the position here?" The Navy had decided that having a civilian attorney on 'retainer' to JAG might be a wise move given current world conditions, and when AJ had discovered that Mac was coming back to DC, he'd been determined to offer her the job if she decided not to reclaim her commission.
"Might as well, Admiral."
"Good," he said, smiling. "And make it AJ. No reason to stand on ceremony." He stood up, moving around his desk. "Have you spoken to Commander Rabb yet?"
"Yes, sir - AJ. I had dinner with him and Clayton Webb yesterday."
"Both of them?"
"I was at Harm's when they got back from Florida," she explained. "I invited them both to dinner."
"I suppose Rabb's already laid claim to your evenings -" he said, fishing.
"No. Harm and I are friends, Ad - AJ. Good friends, but, we're both different people now. Why do you ask?"
"I thought, maybe you might consider - having dinner with me this evening? To discuss your duties here -"
He was surprised when Mac smiled. "I'd like that," she told him. "What time?"
"Seven?" he suggested, surprised that she'd agreed.
"I'll be ready."
AJ felt himself grinning at her. Pressing the intercom button, he told Coates, "Coates, would you gather the staff in the meeting room, please?"
"Yes, sir, Admiral," came the instant response.
AJ sat there. "I'm sorry that your marriage didn't work out, Mac," he said. "But I'm glad you're back here. I - we've missed you."
*********
Over lunch, Mac told Harm that AJ had asked her to dinner that evening, and Harm's eyebrow had lifted in surprise. "I take it he's not seeing anyone?"
"I haven't heard of anyone since he and Dr. Walden broke up." Harm sat back. "He's always liked you."
"I know," Mac said, looking at the table between them. "We, uh, almost kissed one time - luckily he pulled back, realizing how much trouble he could get into -"
"When was this?"
"Right after Dalton was murdered. At the party to introduce everyone to Francesca. I needed some aspirin, -"
"I always wondered if something happened that night," Harm told her. "But you were already so tense that I decided it was my imagination. How do you feel about him?"
"I don't know, Harm. Hell, I'm just getting out of a lousy marriage, remember? My second. I don't think I'm a good risk when it comes to marriage."
"The Admiral's a risk-taker," Harm reminded her with a grin.
"You and Clay still going to dinner at his mother's?" Mac asked, lowering her voice slightly.
"Yeah."
"You look nervous. Worried she won't think you're good enough for her son?"
Harm glanced around the outdoor area, making sure no one had heard her comment. "Mac," he warned.
"No one heard me," she assured him, reaching over to place a hand on his to calm him down. "Hey. Power down, Flyboy." She sighed as her cell phone began to ring. Glancing at the number, she frowned. "Damn." Opening it, she said, "Hello, Mic . . . No. I'm not coming back, I've already started proceedings for a divorce . . . Mic, that's none of your business," she declared, her eyes flickering toward Harm, then away. "Yes, I'm in Washington," she confirmed. "Mic, was there another reason you called other than to accuse me of sleeping with Harm? . . . Mic, don't call me again." She closed the phone and deliberately turned it off.
"You need to get a new phone with a new number," Harm noted. "Did he really -"
"He did," she sighed. "He wants me to come back," she told him. "He's also threatening to cause trouble for you if I don't."
"Mic can't hurt me, Mac," Harm told her. "He's just using emotional blackmail. Don't give in to him."
"I won't," she assured him, their hands clasped across the table. "I've learned my lesson, finally."
****************
Harm followed Clay into the apartment later that night. "You don't have to go riding with us on Sunday, Harm," Clay told him.
"I like to ride," Harm said. "I don't get to do it that often. What's wrong?" he asked, resting his hands on Clay's shoulders. "Don't want me horning in on your time with Porter?"
"That's not it and you know it." Clay shook his head. "I don't know why I ever doubted you'd charm your way into her good graces. You realize that she was serious about getting the regs changed, don't you?"
Harm shrugged as he opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. "Fine with me. The sooner the better, in fact."
Clay took his glass of wine and followed Harm over to the sofa. "I think she has visions of your being JAG someday."
"A *long* way down the road, maybe. It would mean being posted somewhere else for awhile, though." He lifted his arm along the back of the sofa, then pulled Clay closer. "Come here."
Clay settled next to him. "This is nice."
"Hmm," Harm agreed. "Do you have to work tomorrow?"
"Not unless they call," Clay said.
"Too bad you can't just turn the phone off."
"I could, but they'd find me anyway."
"That's what you get for being so good at your job, I guess."
Clay turned to look at him. "You really think I'm good at my job?"
"Sure. I know, I don't say that often. And don't expect me to say it again."
"I won't." He snuggled back against Harm again. "I was thinking -"
"I thought I told you not to do that?" Harm teased.
"Fine. I won't tell you what I was thinking about, then," Clay said with a shrug, taking a sip of his wine.
Harm put his glass on the table, then deftly snatched Clay's before pulling the other man back into his arms. "Tell me."
"You're not interested," Clay said.
Harm began to place light kisses along Clay's brow, moving down his face, bypassing Clay's waiting lips to trace his jaw. "Talk."
"Why don't we spend the rest of the weekend at my place?"
"What?" Harm questioned, lifting his head to look into Clay's eyes. "You don't like it here?"
"There's more room," Clay said. "And less likelihood of someone from JAG dropping by."
"We'll talk about it later," Harm said, returning his lips to Clay's jaw. "I'm busy right now."
Clay reached up to place his hands on either side of Harm's face. "Not as busy as you're going to be," he corrected, pressing his lips against Harm's.
Harm's fingers found the buttons on the front of Clay's shirt, unfastening each one until his hand rested against the warm flesh beneath, feeling the shiver of anticipation that went through Clay's body. "Let's move this into the bedroom," he suggested in a passion-deepened voice.
Clay rose from the sofa and held out his hand to Harm as the telephone began to ring. "Speaking of telephones," Clay said.
"Let it ring," Harm said, pulling Clay toward the bedroom. "The machine will get it."
The answering machine message played through just as they reached the step up to the bedroom. "Harm, I know Sarah's there. I need to talk to her."
Harm stopped, tension filling his body. "Brumby," Clay said, and Harm nodded, his jaw tight.
"Dammit, Harm, she's still *my* wife. I have a right to talk to her if I want to."
Clay tried to stop Harm when he grabbed the phone beside the bed. "She's not here, Brumby," Harm said shortly.
"I'm not a fool, Harm. She left me because of you. She probably went straight to your flat when she arrived."
"Mac left you because you're a drunken, abusive bastard, Brumby. She's not here. Don't call here again."
"Look, I don't know what kind of lies she's told you, Harm, but I never hurt Sarah. I love her."
"She doesn't love you. So get over it. If you call again, I'll be forced to take steps."
"The only reason Sarah married me was because you weren't man enough to speak up and claim her, mate. It only stands to reason she'd run right to you arms. If you don't let me speak to her, I can make your life a living hell. The Navy frowns on sailors who commit adultery, Harm."
"You have to prove it."
"The allegation would be enough to ruin your career and reputation," Brumby said in a smug tone.
"Take your best shot, Brumby," Harm said. "Even if Mac *was* here, I wouldn't let her talk to you unless she *wanted* to. And she wouldn't." Harm broke the connection, sitting down on the side of the bed, the photilltill in his hand.
Clay grabbed it from him, replacing it with a tennis shoe he'd found on the floor. "Here. Throw that instead."
Harm studied the shoe for a moment before lobbing it across the room, where it fell harmlessly to the floor.
"Feel better now?" Clay asked, and Harm began to laugh, pulling Clay down onto the bed with him.
*******
"You have to wait an entire year before you can file for divorce?" AJ asked Mac as they lingered over coffee.
"Yeah. Twelve month separation."
"Even after everything Brumby did?"
"I'm looking into some other options, since I'm not an Australian citizen and there's no possibility of reconciliation."
"If you need any help -," AJ offered. "I never really thought you made the right choice in marrying him anyway. Rabb was a fool not to find a way to stop you."
Mac smiled. "Harm wanted me to be happy. He thought marrying Mic would make me happy because it was what I wanted."
"I still would have spoken up," AJ muttered.
"Why didn't you?" Mac asked.
"What?"
"If you were so certain that I was making a mistake, why didn't you say something?"
"It wasn't my place - and you were still serving in my command at the time."
"I'm not now."
"But you're still legally a married woman," AJ pointed out. Mac sighed regretfully - until AJ took her hand in his. "But if you weren't -"
Mac smiled at the look on his face.
****************************************
AJ removed his glasses as he looked across his desk to find Mac and Commander Rabb standing before him, Rabb at attention. "Is there a problem?" he asked.
"Not that I'm aware of, sir," Harm said.
"No," Mac replied.
"At ease, Commander," AJ said, rising to his feet. "Then would one of you please explain why Admiral Morris called me not ten minutes ago, threatening to place you *both* in contempt of court?!"
"It was my fault, sir," Harm declared.
"No, it was mine," Mac insisted.
AJ stared them both down for a moment. "I don't give a damn who's *fault* it was, I want your assurance that it won't happen again!"
"It won't, sir," Harm said.
"No. It won't," Mac agreed. "I think we both just got a little - over zealous, Admiral," she clarified.
"Good." He took a deep breath as he picked up a paper from his desk. "I did have another reason for calling you both in. I got this from the SecNav's office this morning. It's an accusation of adultery against you, Commander."
Mac rolled her eyes. "Mic."
"That son of a -"
"Careful, Commander," AJ warned. "SecNav has asked for an investigation of the charges, considering that you and Mac were good friends before her marriage."
"It's ludicrous, Admiral," Harm insisted. "Mac left for Australia less than six months after she and Brumby were married. When would we have had a chance to -"
"Point taken. But Brumby's not claiming that anything happened before they left for Australia. He's convinced that Mac returned to Washington and resumed a - 'relationship' with you that existed prior to the marriage."
"If he wasn't in Australia, AJ -" Mac said.
AJ looked at them. "Is it safe for me to assume that there was no pre-existing relationship?"
"None, sir," Harm assured him. "Mac and I have never been more than friends."
"Never?"
"AJ," Mac warned. "Believe me. Harm and I *have* slept in the same bed, but we've never - I mean -"
"I know what you mean, Mac," AJ said.
"Anything else is a figment of Mic Brumby's twisted imagination," Harm insisted.
"Are you in a relationship at the moment, Harm?" AJ asked.
"Uh, no sir," Harm said, hating that he had to lie to the Admiral.
AJ took a deep breath, studying the paper. "I'll assure SecNav that there's no basis to this charge - but if Brumby chooses to pursue it -"
"I understand, sir," Harm said.
"Dismissed, Commander."
"Yes, sir," Harm said, snapping to attention before leaving the office.
AJ remained sitting against the edge of his desk, looking at Mac. "How much longer?" he asked.
"Another few months, according to the solicitor I hired in Sydney. That's why he'd doing this. He's getting desperate."
"It's been my experience that desperate men can be dangerous," AJ pointed out, holding out a hand to Mac. She took it, moving into his arms. "Why do I feel guilty that Rabb's taking the heat for something he's not doing?" he wondered.
"Because you're an honorable man," Mac said, resting her head on his shoulder.
AJ snorted. "At the moment, I don't feel very honorable. Was Harm telling me the truth, Mac?" he asked.
"About what? He and I?"
"No. I know that truth. I mean about his not being in a relationship. To the best of my knowledge, he hasn't been in one since Renee Peterson left to marry that mortician."
"Almost the same amount of time since you stopped seeing Dr. Waldron," Mac pointed out. "Unless *you're* seeing someone that *I* don't know about -"
"Point taken, Counselor," AJ noted, smiling. "What are you doing for lunch today?"
"Oh, meeting a tall, handsome, mature Naval officer," she said.
"Mature, hmm?" he said.
********
Harm was studying a file for the case he and Mac were trying when she tapped on the door of his office. "You okay?" she asked.
"No problem. You?"
Mac shook headhead, coming further into the room. "I'm sorry about earlier."
"It was my fault, Mac. I owe you the apology."
Mac laughed. "Why couldn't we have done this years ago?"
"Maybe we both needed to grow up a little," Harm suggested, grabbing the telephone as it rang. "Rabb." Mac saw his features fall when he heard who was on the other end. "Yeah. I can be there this afternoon for the deposition . . . 1400." He hung up, writing something down on his calendar.
Mac had seen him react to telephone calls before, and knew the reason. "Let me guess: Clay's out of town," she said, keeping her voice soft so she wouldn't be overheard outside of the room.
Harm nodded, glancing behind her as he continued. "He left last night." It always bothered him, not knowing where the other man was going or what dangers he might be facing.
"I thought he wasn't going to be doing field work anymore?"
"This is supposed to be his last one. Which is another reason why I'm worried."
"He'll be okay, Harm," Mac assured him quietly. "I imagine he feels the same way whenever you go out on quals or manage to hop a ride in a Tomcat."
"You're right. That's why when he decided to remove himself from field agent status - I decided not to keep up my quals."
"You're giving up flying?"
"I still have Sarah," he reminded her. "And Clay likes flying in that - just doesn't like my taking chances in an F-14."
Mac shook her head in amazement. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd give up flying Tomcats for *anyone*."
"People change, Mac," he pointed out. "You free for lunch?"
"Sorry. I'm meeting AJ." Harm nodded, and Mac asked, "Do you have any plans for this evening?"
Not Not really. I'll probably just go home and have a salad, work on some court briefs." He looked up at her. "Why?"
"I thought you might want to join AJ and me for dinner."
"Is that good idea - considering Brumby's temper tantrum?"
"AJ will be there - just three old friends going out to dinner together. Please?"
"You sure the Admiral won't mind a third wheel?"
"Consider yourself our chaperone," Mac winked.
"Returning the favor, hmm?" Harm asked, knowing that Mac had served that same function for himself and Clay on several occasions.
"You got it. Is it a deal?"
"Check with him first. Last thing I need is the Admiral being angry with me for horning in on your evening."
******
The three of them were laughing as they recalled some past incidents - including Harm's infamous firing a gun in a courtroom, at which Harm shook his head in disbelief.
"That was eight years ago" he groaned. "Am I *ever* going to live that down?"
"You're a legend, Harm," AJ pointed out, glancing up as a man approached the table, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to recall where he'd seen the man before.
Harm looked up to see the man standing there, smiling. "Greg. Hi."
"Been awhile," Greg said.
"Yeah. You remember Admiral Chegwidden, Greg?" Harm asked, and AJ thought he heard a note of nervousness in the younger man's voice.
AJ held out his hand, suddenly recalling where he'd seen Greg. "Greg Mitchell. You were civilian counsel on the - Matthews case."
"I'm surprised you remember me, Admiral," Greg said, shaking his hand. "That was a couple of years ago.
Harm indicated Mac. "Sarah Mackenzie, Greg Mitchell. Mac's the Civilian Legal Liaison at JAG."
"Mac," Greg said as he shook her hand and looked at Harm. "Pleasure to meet you. Harm's mentioned you a few times."
"Did you need something, Greg?" Harm asked.
"Just wanted to say hi. Like I said -"
"It's been awhile," Harm repeated, looking past Greg to where another man was standing by the door, looking toward the table with an expectant air. "I think your friend is waiting."
Greg glanced toward the man, then back at Harm. "Give me a call. We can have a drink, maybe catch up -"
"Yeah," Harm nodded, and AJ thought that he was trying to induce the other man to leave quickly.
"I'd better go," Greg said. "Nice to see you again, Admiral. Nice meeting you, Mac. Bye, Harm."
"Bye," Harm nodded, turning his attention back to the cup of coffee sitting before him.
"I wasn't aware that you and Greg Mitchell were friends, Harm," AJ noted, wondering why he wasn't only feeling tension from Harm - Mac seemed tense as well.
Harm lifted his shoulders. "We went out for a drinks a few times," he explainedPlayPlayed basketball, hung out."
AJ was bothered that Harm wouldn't look at him, but he glanced at Mac a couple of times. Before AJ could ask another question, Harm's cell phone began to ring.
Harm pulled it out, opening it. "Hi," he said, "Just a minute -" To AJ and Mac, he said, "Excuse me," before sliding out of the booth and going to the bar. As he moved away, AJ heard him say into the phone, "I didn't think you'd be able to call . . ."
Mac reached for her coffee as AJ turned back toward her. "I thought you said Harm wasn't seeing anyone?"
"I guess I was wrong," Mac said.
AJ watched Harm laughing into the phone. "Mac, what's going on?"
She touched his arm to get his attention. "Don't ask, AJ. You don't want to know the answer."
He knew what she was implying, but AJ's mind couldn't process it. Looking at Harm once again, AJ felt Mac's hand still on his arm. "Mac -"
"Please, AJ? He's happier now than I've ever seen him. It doesn't affect how he does his job. He's a decorated hero - do you *really* want to open that can of worms? Or worse, lose him?"
Looking into Mac's dark eyes, AJ covered her hand with his, recalling the times that Mac had gone to dinner with Harm - and Clayton Webb. "Mac, I want one question answered - who is he talking to?"
He saw Mac think for a moment before she answered. "Need to know, AJ."
His suspicion confirmed, AJ shook his head, trying to make sense out of a world that suddenly made *no* sense. He saw Harm close his cell phone and head back toward the table, looking a little more relaxed than he had earlier.
"We'll talk later," Mac promised quietly, and AJ nodded, trying to school is features so that Harm wouldn't suspect that he knew what was going on.
"Sorry about that," Harm apologized as he rejoined them. "I think I’m going to go. It's been a long day, and I have some reading to do before court tomorrow morning. Thanks for dinner."
"It was our pleasure, Harm," AJ said, looking up at the man. "Take care."
For a moment, AJ worried that he'd given too much away as Harm hesitated momentarily before nodding. "See you two tomorrow," he said, sliding back out of the booth.
AJ watched him leave the restaurant, and then asked Mac, "You about ready to go?"
"I suppose so."
********
"How long has it been going on, Mac?" AJ asked as he drove toward her apartment in Arlington.
"AJ, I don't think we should talk about this. I gave my word, AJ."
He pulled his SUV over to the curb in front of her apartment building, turning to look at her as he turned off the engine. "Either you talk to me about it, or I'll ask him."
Mac studied him for a moment, knowing that if AJ were to confront Harm, Harm would feel duty bound to turn in his resignation. Finally, she nodded. "Okay. Come upstairs. I'll make some coffee and we'll talk."
******
Harm was smiling as he left the courtroom. "Pleased with the verdict, Commander?" Mac asked, catching up with him at the elevators.
"Well, it wasn't everything, but Petty Officer Overton will be off the streets for awhile, anyway."
"I still don't think that he's guilty," Mac sighed.
"The members didn't agree." He looked at her. "Tell you what, why don't I buy lunch?"
Mac looked at him. "*You're* offering to buy lunch?" she asked. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Harm?"
"Very funny. Lunch?" he asked again. When she hesitated, Harm looked worried. "Something wrong?"
"I'm having lunch with AJ," she explained.
"Speaking of the Admiral, did he say anything about - Greg stopping at the table last night?"
"No," Mac said quickly, sighing as the elevator still hadn't come. "You'd think they would have fixed these things. I'm taking the stairs."
Harm followed, worrying. "Mac, talk to me," he said as they started down the stairs.
"There's nothing to talk about, Harm," she replied.
"Then why aren't you looking me in the eye?" he asked, and saw her stop in her tracks. "Mac?"
"It's taken care of, Harm," she said. "Drop it and don't worry about it."
Fear caught him in a tight grip. "Mac, what's 'taken care of'? You gave me your word -"
"And I’m not going to lie to AJ, either," Mac declared, finally looking at him.
"Damn," Harm said before continuing down the steps.
"Harm -" Mac called a him him, but he ignored her.
He went directly to his office, opening his briefcase to pull out a folder. Looking inside, he verified the contents.
"Don't do this, Harm," Mac said, appearing in the doorway.
"I don't see that I have any choice, Mac," he told her. "I won't let the Admiral risk his career -"
"It's his risk to take," Mac pointed out.
"Get out of my way, Mac," Harm said, keeping his voice quiet. "Get out of my way, or I'll move you out of my way."
Mac sighed, stepping aside. Harm moved past her into the bullpen. "Is he busy, Coates?" he asked.
Jen looked up at him. "I don't think so, sir."
Harm nodded, turning toward the door and knocking once on the frame.
"Enter!"
Harm saw Mac hovering in the door to Coates' office, silently pleading with him to reconsider. Taking a deep breath, Harm opened the door and went inside, closing it behind him and standing at attention before the Admiral's desk.
AJ looked at him over his reading glasses. "At ease, Commander. What can I do for you?"
Harm held out the folder. As AJ took it, he said, "It's my resignation, Admiral."
AJ paused momentarily before opening the folder and looking at the paper. "Personal reasons," he read. "You don't have to do this, Harm," he said, closing the folder again.
"I believe that I do, sir. To not do so under the present circumstances only puts your career in danger if someone else were to discover -"
"Then you'll just have to make sure no one else makes that discovery, won't you, Commander?" AJ questioned. Removing his glasses, he stood up. "Harm, I don't give a damn what you do outside of this office - as long as it stays outside of this office, and as long as you're discreet. I can't say that I fully approve of your choice of a partner -"
"Admiral -"
"But I'm not going to say anything about it. To anyone." He picked up the folder. "Since you're not going to be needing this -" he removed the resignation and tore it in half, then tore it again. "Anything else, Commander?"
Harm blinked, returning to attention. "No, sir."
AJ picked up another paper. "Well, I have something that you might be interested in." He held it out. "It's the promotions list."
Harm took the paper, scanning the names, surprised to find his own among them. "Captain?" While Harm had been expecting the promotion, he also knew that it meant he would probably be posted to another JAG office in Administration.
"Congratulations. SecNav will be here later today to make it official. We can discuss any changes in your duties afterward." He picked up his glasses again. "Now get back to work."
"Aye aye, sir."
Mac was still in Coates' office when Harm came out, and followed him back to his office. Harm sat down in the chair behind his desk. "He tore it up," he said to Mac.
"Thank God," Mac sighed, sitting down herself in a nearby chair.
He gave her a smile, seeing her confusion. "And I made Captain."
*********************************
It was almost three days before Harm saw or heard from Clay again. He entered the loft, dropping his briefcase onto the bar along with his keys before he saw the suitcase on the floor.
Turning toward the bedroom, he climbed up to find Clay sleeping. Leaning over the bed, he dropped a light kiss onto his lover's lips, intending to pull back. But the touch woke Clay, who lifted his head to prolong the contact.
"Nice way to wake up," he murmured.
Smiling, Harm sat down beside him. "When did you get back?"
"A couple of hours ago. Figured I'd surprise you."
"I like surprises," Harm said. "Is everyone okay?"
"Saved the world again," was Clay's response as he sat up against the headboard, peering at Harm in the dim light. Touching the end of Harm's jacket sleeve, he asked, "What's this?"
Grinning, Harm said, "I made Captain."
"When?"
"A few days ago. Found out when I tried to hand the Admiral my resignation."
Clay's eyes met his. "Your - Oh, Damn. He found out."
"Yeah. Long story. But the end shot is that he's not going to do anything - and he won't let me resign. I think it's Mac's influence."
"Possibly," Clay nodded. He touched the gold stripes on the sleeve again. "So where are you being transferred to?"
"I'm not being transferred," Harm explained. "Not right away. Since we're still short of JAGs, the Admiral wants me to stay on as Chief of Staff for a few months. He's talking about Italy after that."
"I could handle moving to Italy," Clay said.
"You'd go with me?"
"Hey, that's part of being part of your life. Getting dragged around from duty station to duty station, isn't it?" Clay grinned. "I think I can manage to get a posting in Italy. If you want me there, that is."
"You have to ask?" Harm questioned, leaning forward again. "Always."
*********
Over a celebratory dinner at a local restaurant, Harm told Clay about how AJ had discovered the truth. When he mentioned Greg, he saw the jealous flash in Clay's green eyes. They had run into Greg once not long after they had become involved with each other. The lawyer had been upset that Harm hadn't called, but had seemed to accept the fact that he was now involved with someone else.
"Why did he stop by the table?" Clay questioned.
"To say hello. I think he saw that you weren't around and hoped we might have split up. Don't worry," Harm said, barely stopping himself from placing a hand over Clay's, mindful of the public restaurant. "I called him the next day and he's fine. Clay, I told you that it was never serious between me and Greg. I'm where I want to be."
"What happened after he left?" Clay asked.
Neither of them saw Mac and AJ enter the restaurant. As they sat down, AJ caught sight of Harm and Clay sitting in a booth across the room. "Webb's back," he told Mac, who looked around.
Taking AJ's hand in hers, she said, "Would you rather go somewhere else?" she asked.
"No. As long as they don't start groping each other, I'll be fine."
Mac laughed softly, picking up her menu.
"Don't look now, but Mac and the Admiral just came in and sat down," Harm told Clay.
"Where?"
"Other side of the restaurant. At my three o'clock." Clay looked in that direction. "Relax, Clay. We're just two friends having dinner," Harm reminded him. "Not breaking any regs or rules."
"Then maybe you can explain to me why AJ's glaring at me like he'd like to break my neck," Clay commented, picking up his glass of wine.
"You're exaggerating, Clay. Punch you in nose again, maybe, but -" Harm grinned as Clay sent him a look that said he wasn't amused.
"Stop staring, AJ," Mac admonished as she read the menu. "You're scaring Clay."
"I'm not trying to scare him," AJ declared. "I'm trying to intimidate him."
"AJ," Mac warned, looking at him over the top of the menu. "Behave."
He leaned forward. "And if I don't?" he asked, smiling as he waited for her answer.
She smiled as well, but narrowed her eyes. "You *really* want to know?"
AJ's quiet laughter reached Harm and Clay's table. "I'd never realized how good those two looked together," Clay told Harm.
"I think Mac's good for him," Harm said. "He hasn't been so surly since she came back, anyway. And I know Mac's happy."
"She deserves some happiness," Clay nodded. "How much longer til her divorce from Brumby is final?"
"She's hoping no more than a couple of months."
"Think they'll get married?" Clay asked, watching Mac laugh at something AJ was telling her.
"I give them a week after the final decree," Harm said. "You about ready to go?"
"Yeah. It's been a long day - and I have to be up early to get to the office to write up my report." Looking at the check, Harm started to pull out his credit card, but Clay shook his head. "My treat. We're celebrating your promotion, remember?"
Harm sat back until the waiter brought the receipt, then he and Clay rose from the booth, pausing as they passed by AJ and Mac's table. "Hello, Clay," Mac said, smiling. "How are you doing?"
"Tired. But when Harm told me about his promotion, I decided to treat him to dinner." He looked at the Admiral. "Evening, AJ."
"Webb." Seeing Mac's look, AJ sighed. "Hello, Clay."
"It's getting late, and I have an early day in court tomorrow," Harm said. "See you both tomorrow."
"What am I going to do with you, AJ," Mac sighed once the two men had gone.
"Whatever you like, darlin'," AJ drawled.
********
"I thought you might be interested in this," AJ told Harm as they sat in the Admiral's office a few weeks later while discussing JAG business. He handed Harm a paper. "It's not a Navy case, but -"
Harm's eyes scanned the paper. An Air Force aviator who had been highly decorated in both Iraqi wars had been outed as a homosexual and was facing discharge. "Captain Hank Davis - he's fighting the discharge?"
"Apparently. He'll lose, but the media will raise holy hell about the current policy. He's been in a steady relationship with someone not in the military for the last several years, and his defense is that he's done his job with honor during that time." He gave Harm a half grin. "Something you know a little about, I think."
"Like you said, AJ, he'll lose. It won't change anything."
"I think you're wrong. Davis' civilian attorney is saying that he's willing to take this all the way to the Supreme Court if he has to. But I don't think that will be necessary. Public outcry will force Congress to make some changes. The loss of a decorated hero who could still be flying and helping fight the War on Terror simply because he *happens* to be gay? They'll be pounding on the doors of Congress *demanding* that something like that not be allowed to happen again."
Harm rose from his chair. "It's something to look forward to - would you mind if I took this and showed it to Porter? She has some - connections -"
"I rather thought you might want to do that," AJ said as the intercom came to life.
"Admiral, Mac's here -"
AJ and Harm exchanged a look as Harm said, "I thought she was taking the day off?"
"She doesn’t have a case on the docket," AJ nodded, before telling Coates, "Send her in."
"Yes sir."
A moment later, Mac was in the room, her face glowing with happiness. "I got it, AJ," she told him, waving an envelope in the air. "Hello, Harm."
AJ took the envelope and pulled the paper out of it. "Your final decree?"
Mac nodded and threw her arms around his , la, laughing.
"Thank God that man's finally out of your life," AJ said, holding her close, nodding as Harm indicated that he would wait outside. After the door closed behind Harm, AJ captured Mac's lips with his. "So, what would you say to letting another man into your life?" he asked once the kiss ended.
"Well, I don't know," Mac said. "Who do you have in mind?"
"A man who's almost old enough to be your father, but who loves you more than he could every say. A man who wants to spend the rest of his life showing you just how much he loves you."
"You are *not* old, AJ," Mac assured him, sliding her arms around his neck. "And if that was your way of asking me to marry you - the answer's yes."
********
Returning to Clay's townhouse after Mac and AJ's wedding, Harm found himself pressed against the back of the door as Clay's lips met his.
"Not that I’m complaining," he much later as they lay in bed together, still catching their respective breath, "But was there a reason for that?"
"It's the uniform," Clay explained, his arms still locked around Harm. "Combined with the wedding, I think." He looked up at Harm. "You think we'll ever have a chance to do something like that?"
Harm chuckled softly. "Only if you promise to wear white lace," he teased, yelping as Clay slapped at his chest. "I'm kidding." He took a deep breath. "According to what I'm hearing Captain Davis' case is causing all kinds of problems. I'm not sure Congress will be able to ignore the calls for his reinstatement muchger.ger."
"And when that happens," Clay finished, "they'll have to change the regulation for all of the military."
"Yeah." He ran a hand up and down Clay's arm. "Would you really want to do it? Get married?"
"You mean you don't want to make an honest man out of me?" Clay asked, and this time they both laughed. "I think I would. I know a church ceremony is probably too much to ask for - but we could set up residence someplace that they recognize civil unions - Vermont, maybe?"
"That's a long commute," Harm pointed out. "Right now, I'd just be happy to be able to stop hiding how we feel about each other. Not have to remember not to take your hand when we're in public or give you a hug, or -"
"It'll happen, Harm," Clay said. "Mother's certain of it. She's been knocking on every door, making calls, keeping the issue on the front burner."
"It would be nice if it would happen before we leave for Italy."
"Two weeks? I doubt that."
"More like four," Harm corrected. "AJ and Mac will be gone for two weeks, and then I'll have two weeks before I have to be in Italy. I'm glad you were able to get that posting at the Embassy there."
"Station Chief," Clay sighed.
"You never told me how many strings you had to pull to get that assignment."
"Believe me, you don't want to know."
"Well, whatever it was, I\lad lad we'll be together."
"Always," Clay answered, his lips on Harm's again.
*******
Harm was in the Admiral's office nearly two weeks later when Lt. Jason Tiner knocked and entered without waiting for permission. "Excuse me, sir, but -" he pointed toward the television, which Harm hadn't bothered to turn on "- there's something on ZNN that I believe the Captain will interested in seeing."
Harm sighed, giving the young attorney a look of disapproval before he picked up the remote and turned on the television. A press conference seemed to be going on - and Harm saw Captain - or rather - ex-Captain Hank Davis standing beside the President, who was speaking.
" . . . And therefore, I am hereby directing the Air Force to reinstate Captain Davis immediately, will full pay and return him to active duty as soon as possible. And I hereby order the Joint Chiefs of Staff to immediately change the regulations regarding homosexuals in the military, scrapping the current policy known as "don't ask, don't tell" and replace it with something which will allow homosexual men and women currently serving in our nation's armed forced and those who would serve in the future, to serve without fear of retribution or dismissal from service to their country . . ."
Harm stood there, his mouth hanging open, shaking his head as he listened. The President continued about how the loss of Captain Davis simply because of his sexual preference was unacceptable, just as it was unacceptable for the military to lose *any* personnel for that reason.
"Good news, isn't it, sir," Jason said.
Harm turned to look at the young officer. "Tiner - how did you know -?"
Jason shrugged. "I can't explain it, sir. It's - kind of like how Mac tells time without a watch. I just know."
"Thank you, Tiner."
"I thought you'd like to know, sir."
The telephone began to ring as Tiner left, and Harm picked it up, wanting to get rid of whoever was on the othnd snd so he could call Clay -
"Harm. Did you hear?"
He sat down behind the desk at the sound of Clay's voice. "Yeah. I heard."
"Mother called me about five minutes ago, told me to turn on the nearest TV."
Harm frowned slightly. "Where are you?"
"About - ten minutes away from Falls Church," Clay informed him. "Don't go anywhere."
The other line began to ring. "I'll be here. Probably on the phone. I have a feeling that this decision is going to create a *huge* headache for JAG." He hung up on Clay's laughter, laughing himself as he picked up the telephone.
SecNav's voice caused Harm's laughter to fade quickly. "I'm glad you're in a good mood, Captain," he said, sounding even more harried than usual. "When is Admiral Chegwidden expected back?"
"Tomorrow, sir," Harm said.
"I want to see him in my office first thing tomorrow. I assume that you're aware of the President's decision and order to the Joint Chiefs?"
"Regarding the change in policy? Yes, sir. I'm aware of it."
"I've been informed that we have to go back over every discharge on those grounds for the last ten years at least, to make sure there was more to the dismissal than simply being homosexual."
"I'll see that the Admiral gets the message, sir," Harm promised. As soon as he hung up, he went over to the open doorway. Petty Officer Coates was just returning to her desk. "Coates, I'm expng Cng Clayton Webb. Send him in as soon as he arrives, please?"
"Aye, sir," Coates replied, and Harm wondered if Tiner had said something to her as she continued. "I'm so happy for you, sir."
Moving forward, Harm said, "Is there anyone in this office who *doesn't* know?" he asked.
The young woman's eyes widened. "I'm not sure, sir," she said, grabbing the telephone on the first ring as a means of escaping Harm's challenging gaze.
Harm looked toward the bullpen, and noticed that several members of the staff were looking in his direction, most of them wearing supportive smiles. Even Sturgis Turner was standing in the door of his office, shaking his head - but he was smiling.
He considered ducking back into the Admiral's office and closing the door - but before he could act, Clay came around the corner into Ops. Some sixth sense warned Harm about what was about to happen, but he was frozen to the spot, unable to move as Clay crossed the room like a missile homing in on its target.
Clay's eyes were locked on his, ignoring Harm's silent plea not to do this - not here. When he reached Harm, Clay grabbed the lapels of Harm's jacket and pulled him down for a kiss.
It wasn't until Harm heard the applause that he truly realized that the time for closing doors was past - and returned Clay's kiss with one of his own. Keeping his arm around the other man once the kiss ended, Harm looked around the room. "Okay, show's over. Back to work," he said in as firm a voice a he could muster before turning to guide Clay into the Admiral's office.
"It won't happen again, Harm," Clay promised. "This was a special occasion."
"I'm not angry," Harm assured his lover, smiling as he gathered him close for another kiss.
******
Two weeks later, AJ Chegwidden tapped a spoon against his glass of wine to get the attention of the people in his living room. Mac had invited most of the JAG staff for a private 'Bon Voyage' party on the night before Harm and Clay were to leave for Naples, where Harm would be stationed. "I promise to keep this short - but I'd like to say a few words - if the guests of honor don't mind."
"Not at all, Admiral," Harm laughed. "As long as I have time for rebuttal."
"Not on your life, Captain," AJ responded in a teasing tone. "You've come a long way since you and I first met, Harm. You were a brash, young, hotheaded ex-fighter jockey who fought for the truth more fiercely than anyone I'd ever seen until that point. Excluding myself, of course -" More laughter. "You've done yourself - and JAG proud, Harm," AJ said, his tone now serious. "I'm proud to have served with you, and I look forward to doing so in the future." He turned his dark eyes on Clay, who was standing on Harm's right as if he'd always been there and always would be. "As for you - try to keep him out of trouble."
"I'm only one man, AJ," Clay said, "But I'll do my best."
AJ lifted his glass. "To Harm Cla Clay," he said. "Good luck and fair winds that will bring you back to us."
As the toast was echoed by their friends, Harm and Clay looked into each other's eyes, knowing that whatever happened in the future, that future would be theirs to share together and for always.
The End