| Karen |
Where Or When |
December 20, 2003 |
Disclaimer: The usual respectful disclaimers.
Author Notes: I personally think they should just fall on each other and make mad passionate love but TPTB don’t, so we work with what we have.
There has been lots of good stuff out there, but I believe my idea is a little different.
At some point it will deviate from the official story line but I’m not sure where or when. For now I’m working on what I imagine could happen that we didn’t see. As usual, the story is more about feelings and emotions than about plot. The title is from a very old song. Not certain who wrote it, but it’s one of my favorites.
Part One
Well she was right about one thing; it was all I had. Now, its time to get over it and move on.
At one time, I thought I’d lost everything, when I lost flying. Then I found something new that was, in a way, just as satisfying mentally, if not physically.
Again, I thought I’d lost everything when she was going to marry Mic. That time I dumped my plane in the Atlantic. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to survive then, but I fought anyway. In time, I began to think there would be something for us. How could I have been so wrong?
Funny, in the majors a fifty percent average would get me a hell of a contract, but this is real life. It’s just not good enough here.
The other two times I had friends and family for support, this time I’m doing it almost alone. OK, I’ll admit Sturgis has been here for me. He’s a good friend. And my Mom is always there, but I’m almost forty years old, I certainly can’t run home to mommy because life turned crappy. There was one message from Bud on my machine, but he didn’t try a second time. That’s always the clue, whether they try back if you don’t answer. At first, I just didn’t feel like talking, but later I would have, and I wouldn’t have turned a friend from my door.
I just think its kind of strange that not another single soul had offered even the remotest inkling of sympathy. I wonder if the Admiral ordered that too.
I wonder as well, how many planes I can crash before I kill myself. At least I don’t have any physical injuries to recover from this time. This time the injuries are all well hidden. Admit it Rabb, you’re here alone with only the wraiths of everything you ever held dear for company. At least admit to yourself that your one monumental injury is a broken heart. No, make that a completely shattered and destroyed heart.
Sturgis worries I won’t have the heart for CIA work. Funny. He doesn’t seem to realize it’s the perfect option, because I have no heart left at all.
I finished my three months probation and flight training today. Oddly, I thought I was a hotshot pilot. Well I am, but these people had a few tricks I never heard of.
When you’re flying at angels thirty in a forty million dollar jet, loaded with enough firepower to take out a small city, you rely on different tactics. There aren’t too many pilots in the world that can do more that spar with you, usually out of sheer arrogance and determination. Most of the bad guys lack skill and equipment.
I’ll now be flying with little or no weapons, into areas where the other side has all the firepower; I had to learn some new techniques for surviving. And I had to learn them for several different types of aircraft. It was interesting to discover just how far the envelope can be pushed. Some of these planes can do much more than the specs suggest.
Monday I start my first assignment. I just came back to DC to close up my loft. I can’t quite bring myself to sell it yet, one step at a time. In a few months, I may find someone to rent it. I’m making a bit more than the Navy paid me, but maintaining two residences will still get expensive after a while, even if the place near Langley is little more than a room.
Sturgis is coming over Sunday afternoon to help me winterize this place and my ‘vette. I doubt I’ll be back before the bad weather begins. However, tonight I’m just going to relax. Old jeans, my favorite blue shirt over a t-shirt, and my boots, I’m on my way to McMurphy’s. I doubt I’ll see anyone I know. For some reason, they all changed to Benzinger’s while Mac and I were in Afghanistan.
Mac. That’s another issue entirely. I feel a little twinge of guilt for not at least letting her know I’m leaving, but what the hell, she’s been noticeably absent from any attempt to contact me as well. No, it’s better this way; don’t open any old wounds that might distract me from my job. She’s the one who said the ‘N’ word.
All ready now, I’ll go shoot a little pool, have a few beers with whoever is hanging out. Dammit, maybe I’ll even pick up an available blonde. Can’t deny a man a little social comfort when he’s going into danger.
Shit, listen to yourself Rabb. You sound like the worst stereotype of a twenty-something jet jockey. Picking up available women just isn’t your style anymore, and besides everything is too raw. You wouldn’t even enjoy it.
A soft knock sounds at the door. Hesitantly, I reach to open it without looking, both knowing and dreading who it will be.
Part Two
The door opens cautiously, waves of trepidation pouring through the frame. He knows it’s me, somehow. I almost turn and run. But no, I came here to tell him this and whether he wants to hear it or not, I’m going to say what I have to say.
The moment I see him my last hope dissolves. He is dressed. I mean ‘dressed’, not just sit around the house with clothes on. I’m not sure what I had hoped for…well yes, I am, but I wasn’t putting any money on it. The hope was too faint. I truly intend to just tell him without expectations.
I have wracked my brain for weeks over what it is that makes things so difficult between us. I finally decided it was, more often than not, because we both try not to say what we most want to say, and we try so hard to get the other one to say it first. As a result, we have made each other, and many other people, miserable for years.
Well now, I’m going to say it. If he outright rejects me, I won’t be any worse for knowing why I don’t have him, than I am not having him and not knowing. It’s the not knowing that’s tearing me up.
He lifts one eyebrow waiting for me to say something.
“You’re dressed,” I stammer stupidly.
“I seldom answer the door undressed Mac,” he answers with tired impatience. In another time, the comment would be teasing and flirty, now it’s just flat. “And no, there’s no one here,’ he adds as he sees my eyes dart furtively past him, scanning the room behind. A room he has yet to invite me into.
“I was just going out,” he adds awkwardly, his eyes sliding away. For just a brief moment, I glimpse a possible crack in the wall. I move towards it.
“I wanted to talk to you. May I come in?” Wham, the crack slams shut; his gray green eyes turn to granite.
“Haven’t we said enough Mac?” He asks. I’ve never heard his voice so cold. My courage is wavering badly.
“I….I wanted to thank you for what you did. It meant a lot to me, but things were just such a mess down there. A lot wasn’t said Harm, and lot was said that shouldn’t have.”
“You don’t have to thank me. It was my duty. You know ‘never leave a man behind’ that sort of thing.” He waves a dismissive hand. I can feel the aggravation rolling from him. Harm is a formidable presence in benign form, but now I almost don’t know him, he’s almost frightening, barely controlled somehow.
“No Harm, this was different, you weren’t leaving me behind, because you didn’t put me there. It wasn’t your operation and it wasn’t your responsibility, you weren’t ordered to rescue me, you did that on your own and at great cost to yourself.” I need him to know I understand all of it.
“The last time we mentioned this you kept saying us, you included Webb.” His voice is bitter; his eyes are icebergs.
“Harm,” I step closer but he steps back. “Rescuing Webb was coincidental, as were the stingers. It was there so you did it. But you came to find me, you gave up everything to do it and I know why. You did it because you love me. I’m very grateful for that. I came to tell you I love you Harm, I couldn’t let you go away without….”
“Jesus Mac I don’t want your gratitude.” He explodes. “Dammit woman, I’m not Mic. If you wanted to love me for me, nothing would have made me happier, but please god, please, not out of gratitude.”
“I know you came for me because you love me Harm, but I’m still grateful that you did. I don’t understand.” I’m puzzled what did I say wrong, why doesn’t he understand?
He takes both my shoulders in his hands and turns me squarely to face him.
“Sarah I came for you for one reason, and only one reason. Because I couldn’t bear the thought of you not being alive, somewhere in the world, even if you were never mine. I couldn’t live if you were dead; believe that. Yes, I gave up my career to do it and I’d do it again. And yes, I did it because I love you, but that presupposes no obligation on your part, so don’t try to apply one. It’s time for you to go now.” He turns me towards the door.
Grabbing his keys off the hook by the door, he guides me gently but firmly into the hall. Taking my arm he half supports, half propels me, down the flight of steps and across the driveway to my car, where he takes my keys and unlocks the door.
“Harm,” I twist to face him, “please can’t we just talk.”
“We’ve said enough Sarah. You’re the one who said ‘never’, I think you may have been right.”
Before I can protest his mouth covers mine gently but firmly, invading every part of my soul, with a kiss full of raw passion, and long denied desires. I spin completely out of control as his love washes over me, bathing every cell and every nerve ending. He kisses me with his lips, and with his hands, and finally with his full body. My knees weaken, and my body molds itself to him, answering his need, his longing, and his desire, and in that instant, he finally steps slowly back, gently releasing me.
I know I whimper but I can help it. “Why Harm, what was that for?”
“For me Sarah,” he says softly. “I’ve wanted to do that since about thirty seconds after I first saw you. I guess…. I just don’t think I’ll ever have another chance, and I needed to do it just once.”
“And it was for you too,” he continues in a slightly harsher but despairing voice. “I wanted you to know, that if I ever wanted to be on top, I had better ways of convincing you than fighting with you.”
He strokes my cheek with his finger, then, I see him mentally shake himself. Suddenly he’s the Harm from ten minutes ago.
“Go on Sarah, go to Webb, god knows, he more than anyone, deserves to be miserable.” The words crack like breaking ice. I sink into my car seat completely shattered by his statement.
The tears start to fall and I can’t stop them. He walks across the driveway to his car without looking back. I start my car and pull away but as I pass, I catch a brief glimpse of his eyes in my side mirror. I see only the smoking remains of our burned out love. I know there’s a mall two blocks away, I can pull into the garage and cry until I can see to drive home.
God he’s wrong, he’s so wrong. There is no Webb, there never was.
Part Three
I stumble through the door, clumsy from sheer mental fatigue. I can’t believe what I just did to her. I left my car at home and took a cab, because I have every intention of getting very, very drunk tonight. I also called Sturgis to meet me here. He’s the only one capable of keeping me from doing something very, very stupid while I’m very, very drunk.
The instant our eyes met in her mirror I knew I’d made the most horrifying mistake of my life. A ramp strike was falling off a fence in comparison. The depths of those deep brown pools held the charred remains of her very soul, withered and drowning, barely fighting for life and then she was gone, and I knew.
I knew then, that my heart had not been broken, only the protective shell was shattered. The tiny core of my heart hung in my chest alive and twisted with pain. It would live as long as I lived, and it would give me gut-wrenching pain every day of my life.
It took several seconds to make my body obey the commands my incoherent mind was issuing, before I could go after her. I doubted she would listen to me, and I was certain she wouldn’t forgive me but I was drawn to my death at her hands, like a moth dancing to an open flame.
She deserved no less than the opportunity to take my life and crush it beneath her foot. I would beg her to forgive me, knowing she would send me away. I would give her the chance to treat me as cruelly as I had her, at least the final rejection could be hers. It would be small comfort to either of us, but it would for once, at least be fair.
But now I’m here, willing myself to deaden my pain with a completely legal, but potentially lethal drug. I don’t really want to die; not yet, anyway, that’s why I called Sturgis. I do need to dull the hurt for a little while, though.
She wasn’t there, I went to her place, and she didn’t return. She must have gone to him. So fast, why so fast?
No Rabb, at least don’t make that stupid mistake again, that lame, jealous assumption. But where else could she be. I could have driven by Clay’s to look for her car, but I just couldn’t make myself do it. This way, I can think otherwise, when I’m deeply in need of the little comfort the thought might bring.
I’m several beers up on Sturgis when he comes through the door and spots me in a back booth. I’ll bet I look for all the world like a pouting child nursing my hurt feelings.
“Hi good buddy. What’s up? You look like hell.” He greets me brightly.
“Thanks Sturgis, I knew I could count on your support,” I murmur despondently.
I signal the waitress to bring us each another beer as he laughs silently.
“So why the party?” Celebrating your new job?” I know what he’s doing but it isn’t going to work. Not this time.
“Hardly. This isn’t a celebration Sturg, it’s a wake.” I explain as carefully as only someone half drunk can.
He looks at me closely for a minute before I see something light in his eyes. “Just how many of these have you had?” He asks.
“I don’t know,” I wave my hand aimlessly, “several I guess.” Actually, they’re just hitting me harder than my size would normally allow.
Another piercing glare brings a final realization to his face. “You talked to Mac.” It’s a statement not a question.
“Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“I talked at her. She listened.”
“And?”
“I killed it Sturgis. All of it, I killed it. She finally realized she loved me, she came to tell me, and I sent her away. Not gently, I was mean Sturgis, cruel and vindictive. I told her to go to Webb and make him miserable.” I’m as near to tears as is possible, for a grown man in a public place, when he still retains the smallest semblance of self-control.
“Dear god Harm how could you?” I’m not completely surprised by the outright disgust in his voice.
I shrug. “I didn’t want her love just out of gratitude. I always wanted it, but I wanted her to love me for me, not my stupid heroics and sacrifices. I told her I wasn’t Mic. God Sturgis, I couldn’t stop myself.” I sink back against the seat cushions and close my eyes.
Sturgis swore. He never swore, even to himself, but this time he swore creatively.
“I know Sturg, she finally realized what we could have and….”I start.
“Finally? Finally? Harm you are the absolutely stupidest man on the face of the earth.” His harsh, raised tone brings my head snapping up.
I start to protest.
“Shut up, just shut up, and listen. That woman has loved you for years. I can’t understand how you didn’t know it, but it’s always been there. Very likely, a lot longer than I’ve know about it.” He continues.
“What? What do you mean longer than you’ve known?” I grab at his words.
“Nothing, I mean everyone knows Harm,” he’s waffling.
“No,” I thunder, half rising from my seat as several other patrons turn to look, hoping for the first fight of the night. I sink back down and repeat forcefully but more quietly. “No Sturgis, you said you have known. I know you remember, you say exactly what you mean. How did you know?” I cross-examine.
Sturgis looks away, looking for an out, gauging the distance to the door, and whether I can overtake him after six beers. He had better believe I can.
“Sturgis?” I’m losing my patience, well what little is left.
He sighs, “She told me,” he mumbles.
“What?” My voice is up again, but he lays a hand on my arm. I shake it off but regain my seat.
“What do you mean she told you?” I enunciate every clipped syllable.
“She let it slip once; we were working on a case. I was sort of harassing her about your relationship, and how awkward it was for everyone to be around you two sometimes. I asked her why she didn’t just forget about it, and she said she couldn’t, because she was in love with you. Harm, she swore me to secrecy.” He hurries on. “Told me she knew at least twelve ways to give me a slow and painful death with her bare hands, if I told you. I’m sorry,” he finishes sadly.
“I am too Sturgis, I am too.” I rise, walk to the bar, and order a double bourbon. I toss that one back and order another. I’m on the third, when Sturgis throws some money on the bar, grabs my arm, and propels me though the door.
Normally, he wouldn’t have the physical capacity to do that, but I’ve had more than my share of alcohol for any given month, and I think somewhere deep inside, just this once I want to be rescued. It’s my turn.
At least tonight, I won’t have a functioning brain cell to torment me, and tomorrow they will all be in screaming pain. I figure I have at least twenty-four hours before I have to really think about Sarah Mackenzie again.
Part Four
Monday 07:00
Virginia Beach
It has been a physically relaxing two days even if none of my emotional problems have found the slightest solution. But then, who am I kidding there is no solution. I’ve been head over heels in love with someone unattainable, I should have known better. It’s sort of like the girl from the wrong side of the tracks falling for the class president, the uneducated file clerk with a crush on the CEO, a dumpy set ‘gopher’ in love with the big time movie star. He was out of my league, I was just not good enough, and no matter how hard I try, I never will be. At least I accept that now.
In two hours I’m due in Norfolk, for the case the Admiral assigned me on Thursday. I have my job and my career. Life will go on. And maybe I can find some peace, now that I can refrain from chasing rainbows.
Two days of beachcombing up and down Virginia Beach, watching the waves beat themselves against the shore clarified the lesson. The ocean is relentless and far more powerful than the fragile sand. It can mold it and pound it, proving its might, but in the end, if it beats hard enough against the immoveable beach, the beach is eventually worn away and nothing remains.
In a moment of uncharacteristic generosity I had to admit that at times we were both the ocean beating against the sand, he would wear the sand away while I built it up in another place then our roles would change and the reverse would happen. It was never-ending but ultimately destructive; a conundrum that could never be solved.
When I finished crying in the garage, when my eyes held no more tears and my sobs subsided, I found myself moving towards the only security remaining to me. My job and my responsibilities.
The files were in my trunk along with my travel bag and uniforms, ready for the scheduled early Monday trip. I also had a small weekend bag, an optimistic gesture favoring my hope regarding the Friday night meeting. It would serve the needs of an erstwhile tourist. I had to go anyway, why not now? My credit card could take two days in a beach hotel.
I pulled from the garage and headed south without returning to my apartment. The first time my cell phone rang, I turned it off. It stayed off the following two days as I walked the long beach, sat at the end of the pier, combed the funny souvenir shops, and even took a bus ride with tourists to tour the Naval Air Base. I just had to be someone else for a few days. I couldn’t stand Sarah Mackenzie right now. I watched the sunrise from the balcony of my hotel room, and listened to the waves as I ate dinner there in the evening.
The respite has changed no facts about my life, but it has renewed my physical energy, so I can cope with at least my short-term future. Whenever I can’t stand the mental pressures, I will simply find a quiet place to renew myself. This is for me, I will survive.
I’m due at the base JAG office in two hours, they actually don’t expect me until noon, as it’s anticipated I will drive down this morning, but I can get an early start. Someone knocking on my door isn’t what I need. I check the peephole and the thought of not answering is strong.
“Sarah, open the door, I know you’re in there.”
I open the door to a mildly amused and slightly annoyed Clayton Webb.
“You know Sarah, the Admiral isn’t happy with you turning off your cell phone.” He announces as he strolls into my room uninvited.
“Who says I turned it off,” I flare at him, “maybe the batteries are dead. And anyway, he gave me this assignment; he should know where I am.”
“I’m sure.” He smirks. “Had a dustup with Rabb?” Killer Webb right to the target. God I hate this man.
“None of your damn business, and what are you doing here?” I could just stamp my foot now but he’d laugh harder.
“Lets just say a little bird told me that no one has seen you since Friday night, and half your co-workers are worried silly about you. The Admiral, on the other hand, is borderline furious, because you’re not answering your phone. So I suggest you call him before he has you court-martialed.” He still has that knowing smile and I want to wipe up the floor with him. He doesn’t believe me about the phone and the Admiral apparently forgot about the assignment. Seems he forgets a lot of things lately. I’m not giving an inch. I go on the offensive.
“My phone must have gone dead, and I don’t know why anyone would be that concerned, I haven’t broken any engagements. There is no reason for anyone to even notice I was gone. I just needed a little time alone, is that a crime worthy of CIA investigation? How did you find me anyway?” I think I’m going to be angry now. This is presumptuous beyond reason.
“Credit card,” he explained, “and apparently, someone not only noticed you were missing, but has made some major waves about it.”
“Well since I can’t begin to imagine who would be that worried, and I will call the Admiral and explain about my phone, I guess your presence and services are no longer needed. As a matter of fact, I was just leaving for Norfolk. So if you please…” I hesitate, holding open the door.
He smiles that infuriating smile and says, “C’mon Sarah, let’s at least get you some breakfast before you have to beard the lion. Besides that drive is killer this time of the morning you’ll need something to fortify you.” He picks up one of my bags with his good arm, and strolls out as casually as he came in, leaving me to grab my other bag and briefcase and hurriedly follow.
I somehow have the premonition that Clayton Webb is going to become a very persistent and annoying presence in my future. So, I sigh in resignation, and trail him to the elevator.