Her eyes trap me.  Their ever-changing color: sometimes an impossible aqua, sometimes frosty as the North Atlantic Sea so close to her home, now flashing green-blue with passion.  I can’t tear my gaze away from their spell, though I long to watch as my fingers roll the tender crowns of her breasts into rigid peaks.  I want so much to watch as she is caressing my painful erection .  I groan as I feel the hot moisture engulf me.

“WHAT!”  Clayton Webb jerked awake and met the angry glare of his fellow captive.  “Jesus, why did you kick me, Rabb?”

“Well forgive me for not wanting to watch the end of your little escape from reality, Webb.”  Rabb snapped back before returning his eyes to the mouth of the cave where they were hiding.

They had been hiding in the damn thing for five days.  A cave so small that they couldn’t even stand upright; couldn’t roll over in the night without touching each other.  A cave where they had nothing to do but think.  Think about everything and everyone back home.  It was obvious to Rabb what Webb had been thinking about.  He just hoped fervently that Webb hadn’t witnessed the outward manifestations of his own thoughts – thoughts about Sarah MacKenzie.  Even while standing – well, in this case, crouching - his watch at the mouth of the cave, she was firmly with him.  At rest?  Well, at rest he had curled into a ball and gone over every second and every detail of the last six years.

“It’s raining,” he said unnecessarily.  “Is that well still filling up?”

Webb groaned and pulled himself the few feet to where a little indention in the rock had been collecting the water dripping down from the ceiling.  Webb shuddered at the thought of all the bacteria they were ingesting.  Maybe Rabb was right.  He knew the chances of Mac reaching the coast and help were slim.  But damn it, they had to hold on.  “Yeah, it’s full again.”

“Good.  I’m going to try and reach that damn banana tree.”  Rabb crouched and exited their haven before Webb could stop him. 

Nearly ten minutes had passed and Webb had almost convinced himself that the top gun’s luck had finally run out and the guerrillas had killed or captured him and would be storming the cave next. He had just decided to destroy the disc and put the gun barrel in his mouth to await them when he heard the sounds of automatic fire strike the cave entrance.  Moments later, Harmon Rabb scuttled back inside. 

“Well, have fun, Commander?  Got the old juices flowing?  Was it worth…oomph.  Holy shit!”  He gazed in wonder at the two mostly-yellow pieces of fruit.  “You did it.  How?”

“Piece of cake.  The thunder is really close by and the lightning is directly overhead.  The bastards are huddled under what passes for their foul-weather gear.  I almost made it back without anyone seeing me.”  Rabb pulled off the soaked shirt and pants and laid them out on a rock. 

Webb didn’t even register the fact that the lawyer’s skivvies were plastered to his skin.  They had been at close quarters for too long.  Even the spy’s natural reticence had taken a vacation.  Webb’s only clothing was his underwear and tattered cotton pants. His shirt had been sacrificed as bandages for the gash in Rabb’s arm, where a bullet had knicked him.  The rest of the shirt was wrapped around Webb’s stomach, covering the knife slash in his side.  Webb couldn’t believe that neither wound showed any sign of infection.  “Well, thanks.  Uhm…thanks.”

Harmon Rabb studied Webb for a moment. That Rabb owed him his life was aggravating enough.  The fact that Webb had practically pushed Mac out the second story window into the back of the passing garbage truck just before all hell broke loose put Rabb even deeper into his debt.  God, how he hated owing Webb so much.  Rabb desperately summoned up every nasty devious thing the spy had ever done and he knew it paled in comparison to the good. 

“So was it a nice dream?” he snidely asked.

“Shut up, Rabb.” Webb didn’t even bother to work up any anger.  He couldn’t help his dream, though he was still a little miffed that it had been interrupted. 

“No really.  I’m curious.  I’ve known you, what, nearly six years?  What makes the Tin Man moan like that?”  Rabb couldn’t stand the deadly silence that Webb seemed perfectly content with.  “Who was she, Webb?  It was a she, wasn’t it?  I don’t even know that about you.  Was it a particularly beautiful double agent?  Man or woman, Webb?”  When Webb just ignored him, Rabb struck out.  “Oh, wait, let me hazard a guess.  Mac, right?”

Webb finished one banana and put the other aside for later.  Tossing the peel back to the recesses of the cave he turned and in a flash of lightning clearly saw the pain and anguish on Rabb’s face.  “Why Rabb?  You think something happened back in Afghanistan?  You think she gave it up for me because I trusted her more in that one moment than you have in your entire career?  God, you’re pathetic.”  Webb had promised Mac he wouldn’t tell Rabb of their conversation that night.  The night before she nearly had her throat cut by the Al-Queda prisoner.

“She tell you that?  That I don’t trust her?  She tell you why I should trust her?” Rabb snarled back.  Jesus, this was stupid.  Here they were stuck in this tiny cave together, waiting for the Peruvian drug runners and Islamic terrorists to finally rush the cave entrance.  He didn’t expect Mac to get to help in time, certainly not in time to find them.  No, they were stuck here, snarling at each other over a wet dream - Webb’s wet dream, damn it.  Rabb, who had wet dreams about his partner with or without the benefit of hitting his head – with or without the aid of sleep – hadn’t been able to sleep, let alone do more than just worry about her.  Was she huddled somewhere in the middle of the jungle, just like they were, waiting to die? Was she already dead?  God, Webb was right even about that; Harmon Rabb, Jr. was about as pathetic as they came.  “Come on Webb, share.  We’re probably going to die here.  Who gets you to moan like that?  I really want to know.”

“We’re not going to die here.  Mac will get word to Connelly and Chegwidden and she will ride to the rescue to save your pathetic ass.” Webb laid his head against the rock outcropping and closed his eyes.  “When are you going to get your head out of your ass and just talk to her?  How long are you going string her along?  When the hell are you going to tell her you love her like a sister so she can move on?  You don’t love her.”  It was a statement not a question.  “Can you love anyone?”

All the anger, frustration and fear that Rabb had been combating these last five days roiled together into black rage.  It didn’t matter that he knew the spy was just egging him on.He knew how much he cared, even if Webb didn’t believe it – even if Mac herself didn’t understand it.  He wasn’t going to discuss their issues with Webb.  Hell, if he couldn’t discuss them with Mac why would he open up to the smug little shit across from him?  “Why, Webb, you think you might have a shot at her?  You want Mac?”

Clayton Webb took a deep breath and sighed.  “No, Harm.  I don’t have a shot at Mac.  Sometimes she can be damn near as stupid as you are.  Besides, I don’t think my wife would appreciate it if I made a pass at Sarah MacKenzie.” 

Webb reveled in the blessed silence.  He knew it wouldn’t last long but for a brief moment that simple sentence had shocked the lawyer to silence and summoned the image of his smiling Kathleen. 

“E-excuse me?” 

Webb nearly laughed out loud at the strangled question.  “What?”

“What!  You’re married?  Since when?  Why didn’t I know?” Rabb was in full prosecutor mode now.  Questions seemed to echo off the rocks surrounding them. 

Webb’s sigh turned into a groan as he turned and the muscles in his back, mostly unused these past five days, protested the change in position.  “When would I have told you, Rabb?  I don’t remember you ever asking me.”

“How long!”

Webb’s resigned laugh brought another spasm of pain, this time from the wound in his side.  “Five years.”

“You’re lying.  You’re just saying that to keep from telling me the truth.”

“Why would I lie?”.

“Why didn’t your mother tell me?  Where was this wife of yours when we thought you were dead?”  Rabb crowed triumphantly.

Webb didn’t say anything.  Before, the muddied light of the afternoon sun had shed some little light to their prison, but now it was so dark in the cave that unless a flash of lightning struck he was little more than a darker shadow against the rocks. But even in the darkness, Rabb could feel the spy coming to a decision.  Finally, he heard resigned acceptance.  “You really won’t leave this alone, will you?”

“Come on, Webb.  How can you keep something like that bottled up inside?” 

“How?  It’s easy.  It keeps them safe.”

“Them?  Oh shit.”  Understanding dawned.  “Kids!  Clayton Webb has kids!  I’ll be damned.  How…”

Webb cut him off.  “Son.  One son. Patrick. And for your information, Harm, we will get out of here.  Because, it’s one thing to be surrounded by drug runners and terrorists, it’s another thing entirely to face the wrath of Kathleen O’Meara Webb.  And if I miss Patrick’s third birthday next week, even the gates of heaven won’t keep herself from tracking me down and kicking my ass.” 

“You have a son who turns three next week?  You kept this to yourself?  Where the hell was I three years ago?  How could you keep it from me?”

“Since when are we best buddies, buddy?” The amusement in Webb’s voice embarrassed Rabb.  “I have no idea where you were three years ago.  I – we were having our own set of difficulties that had little to do with JAG or the CIA for that matter.  Contrary to the high opinion you have of yourself, not everything revolves around you, Harm.”

“I know that.  But, you couldn’t have called?  Where did you get married?  I can’t believe that Porter Webb’s son’s marriage didn’t make the society pages – buddy.” For five days they had sat with nothing to do or really say to each other.  Now, with an entire life opening up for him, no way was Rabb letting it alone. 

Webb sensed that and sighed piteously.  “You really want to know this, Rabb?  Why?”

Rabb considered the question for a long time.  Webb almost thought he had finally shut him up for a while.  “Because I consider you to be a friend, Webb.  Is that so bad?  I mean we don’t have to start exchanging Christmas cards or anything.  Besides, it’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?” came the weary reply.

“You know everything about me. About my dad, about my brother! Hell, I’ll never stop owing you for my brother.  Why don’t I need to know that you're married?  Why is it so horrible that you couldn’t share that little bit of you?”

Again, Webb weighed the question.  “Will you let me tell it my way or are you gonna interrupt with questions?”

“Depends on if there are any questions, Webb.” Rabb was thankful the spy couldn’t see his grin of triumph.

“You’re grinning like the goddamn cat that swallowed the canary whole right now.”  Again, it wasn’t a question.  But Webb took a deep breath.  “The whole story?”

“Oh yeah.”  Rabb waited.  And then waited some more.  But this time he let Webb compose his thoughts.  The rain outside was growing worse and he doubted that any of their pursuers would be stupid enough to try an assault up the steep hill, only to face his automatic rifle.  The situation was as good as they could hope for.  The passage into the cave was such that even a direct hit by a grenade launcher would have little effect except to seal them inside. And, they had something the terrorists wanted – badly.  No, it would cost the bastards dearly, and while he knew the terrorists were willing to die in their quest, the drug runners were just in it for the money.  So, for now, they had water and food, after a fashion.  Who knew, maybe Mac would get through.  He doubted it, though, and he really did want to know the man he was going to probably die with.  Perhaps it would keep him from worrying and thinking too much about Mac.

“Six years ago, about five months before that mess with Mac’s uncle, was when it started.”  Webb began. 

“When it started?  What the hell kind of way is that to start?  Sounds like a damn case.” Rabb snorted.

“It was.”

“Huh?”

“You gonna shut up long enough to get enough facts before you start?”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah right,” Clay muttered.

“Please,” Harm wheedled.

“Please?  God, you must be bored.  Fine.  They called me in--don’t ask--they gave me the facts and sent me to Ireland.  You do know this is classified right, Rabb.  Your ears only.  No sharing with Mac or AJ.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Promise.”

“Bastard.  Anyway, Tommy O’Meara was one of the most radical and violent members of the IRA and I was sent in to track down his pipeline to some major American funding as well as arm shipments.  It was decided that I go in as a history professor to get close to his sister, Kathleen.” 

“Jesus Webb, how do you sleep at night?”

“Ask Roberts.” Webb retorted.  “I was told she was part of it.  It took me three weeks just to meet her. During that time my handlers were looking too, getting more and more paranoid in the process.  You can’t imagine what it was like.”

“Yeah I can.  I’ve been there.  Mac and I had a case there once. The British….”

“The British are only half the problem.  I can’t even fathom every nuance.  And trust me, herself is an expert.”

“But you’re not, are you?”

“No, but I’m a quick study.  You gonna let…”

“Yeah, yeah.  Talk.”

“I was signed up as a guest lecturer at Trinity College.” Even in the darkness, Webb closed his eyes and let the memories take hold of him. 

“I was teaching a course on the influences the Irish culture had on American life.  I spent my evenings trying to track her down but she wasn’t at her father’s house and she wasn’t at any of the hangouts that Tommy was known to frequent.  Frankly, I thought the two of them were off somewhere planning mischief.  Damn, what a bright spot in CIA history.  She was in Galway helping a friend who'd just had triplets. 

I had just about given up hope.   I was trying to figure out how to get out of the rest of my classes and come home, tail between my legs, when one day I noticed there was another student in the lecture hall.  I’m surprised I didn’t miss her – she’s so tiny.  She sat in the back, and if the seats hadn’t been staggered up I would have just seen this empty space. But I saw her all right.”  He sighed and tried for about the thousandth time to get comfortable. 

“I’ve never seen hair that red.  Not carrot-top red; not fire-engine red, just perfect Irish red.  And her eyes.”  Webb’s voice had taken on a dreamy quality but Rabb didn’t push.  “I asked her who she was and was she on my class list.” 

A gentle snort like Rabb had never heard before followed.  “‘Oh, now, don’t ya be worryin’ yerself about me, Profess’r.  I jest stopped by to hear what blarney you’re tellin’ these poor bairn.’” 

“Wow.  I didn’t know you could do an Irish accent.” Rabb laughed.

“You try living with herself and not pick it up.” Webb snapped back.  “Anyway, I knew who she was, of course.  I’d seen pictures of her.  But they didn’t do her justice.  I forced myself to continue with the lecture.  I was speaking about the Irish miners in the west and how they were as poorly treated as the Chinese railroad laborers.  Played it up pretty well, figured I would make some points.  I did with the rest of the class but Professor O’Meara just started laying into me.  She forced me to name sources and explain how they were so mistreated.  Really threw me for a loop.  I ended up looking like a doofus.  I thought for sure the class would round on her, but they seemed to enjoy the little tennis match we were holding.  Thank God the class ended.  It was the last one of the day and everything but the pub was forgotten.”

“She was a professor?” Rabb asked, surprise coloring the question.

“She still IS a professor, Rabb.  Damn good one too.”

“Of what?”

“Classic Literature.  Why you think all Irish are either laborers or radical terrorists?  I’m surprised at you, Rabb.” Webb’s mocking tone didn’t deter Rabb.

“Keep going.”

“She waited until everyone had left and then came up and introduced herself."  Again, Webb let the memories overtake everything, including his voice. 

“‘I’m sorry, Professor Flynn. Sure, and I didn’t mean no harm, but you can’t be fillin’ their heads with such nonsense, now can you.’

"And why, Professor O’Meara, do you feel that it’s nonsense?  Do you doubt that they were abused and mistreated by the mine owners?

"‘No, but there’s another side, isn’t there, me darlin.’

"And what side would that be?

"‘Why didn't they just up and leave if it were so ter’ble?  After all, they were where they wanted to be - away from Erin.  Nobody speaks about how most of them fellas were starving over here.  I didn't hear you tellin’ about the expense it took to bring them out west.  Oh, I know there were bad ‘uns running the mines, but I don’t like to hear intelligent men panderin’ to the masses because it’s what they want to hear.  Give 'em the facts and let them make up their own minds.’”

Webb took a deep breath.  “She wasn’t at all what I expected.  I’d been told she was a firebrand radical like her brother. She was more like a leprechaun or elf.  Hell, she barely reaches my shoulder.   I managed to ask her if I could buy her a pint at the local pub.  All in the interest of education, of course.”

“Of course,” Rabb said.  Webb felt, rather than saw, the shadow move closer until he heard the slurping of water from a cupped hand. “I was going to take her to the local pub where most of the students hung out, but she insisted that we go to a different one.  I was expecting Mickey McKevitt or Gerry Adams at the very least. Instead I got Samuel Beckett, James Joyce and Oscar Wilde.”

“Huh?” Rabb’s question turned into a groan of his own and Webb waited until the other man found as comfortable a position as he could.  “Sorry, I don’t understand.”

“I mean I was expecting radical anti-British rhetoric and I got an intellectual discussion on the merits of Irish poetry throughout the ages.”

“Oh, a real waste of time and boring too.”

“No.  Kathleen O’Meara is never boring.  I-we-we shut the place down.  I offered to walk her home but then someone shouted at her from across the room, ‘Kat, darlin’, bring your fookin’ rich Yank, we’re going to Sean’s place!”

“So was this Sean a radical at least?”

“You might say that.  Sean O’Boyle was one of the movers and shakers in the IRA – in the fifties.”

“And?”

“And now he’s one of the staunchest supporters for peace.”

“You’re kidding me?”

“No, but the party wasn’t really about that either.”

“What was it about?”

Webb grew quiet.  How do you explain to someone the night you fell in love?  How do you tell Harmon Rabb about something so utterly simple and perfect?  Taking a deep, almost painful gulp of air, Webb told Rabb the same thing he'd told his boss.  “I really don’t remember.  Kathleen and I found a little nook and I spent the whole night learning about every single person in her family – living and dead.  Every person, except her brother.”

“Suspicious.”

“Yeah, that’s what Rory Carmichael said the next day when they pulled my ass in for debriefing.”

“And who is Rory Carmichael?”

“British Intelligence.  Real likable chap,” Webb spat out viciously.  “Went over all of O’Meara’s crimes.  Got my boss involved.  Told him if I was such a great agent, why was I letting my dick do the thinking for the rest of me.  Really went over the top.  George, he was the chief – three or four chiefs ago – called me on the carpet.  Told me that another shipment of guns was supposed to arrive near Wexford and I was to make sure they didn’t fall into IRA hands.  Told me if the best way to do that was to find Tommy O’Meara then I had damn well better help Carmichael find him.  Guess what, Rabb?”

“What?”

“I don’t take to threats real well.  It got me pissed, but more importantly it got me checking stuff out on my own.”

“What did you find?”

Webb sighed.  “No much until it was almost too late.  Not until I almost got her killed.” 

Rabb realized that pushing wouldn’t help so he just waited. 

“You see, she had fallen in love with me that night.  I had no idea what that meant before that day.  I tried so hard to make her hate me.  I let her think I was a sympathizer to the IRA interested in helping the cause.  She tried to argue with me but I –you know I can usually get people to do what I want.”

“We’re stuck in this hell-hole, aren’t we?” But even in the dark Webb heard the gentle acceptance. 

“I got her to agree to introduce me to Tommy.  Now don’t get me wrong, Rabb.  Thomas O’Meara was a bad person.  Even Kathleen knew it.  She loved her brother, but she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. 

"She set up the meeting in a pub in Belfast.  We drove up there together.  She told me it was the longest car ride she had ever been on.  She seldom left Dublin;  if she had to go to Wexford or Cork or even Sligo she would take the train or the bus. 

You know, Dublin is beautiful.  Belfast, however, makes the southeast side of DC look like Embassy Row.  The peace movement up there ebbs and flows as the leaders rise and die.  But the devastation from the fighting and the gangs is tearing the city apart.  We were meeting her brother at some IRA controlled pub really late at night. So she found us a little hotel where we could wait.  I didn’t know it at the time, but she had only booked one room. When Kathleen sets her mind on something there’s no talking her out of it.” 

“Uh…Webb…you don’t have to go into details.” Rabb coughed in embarrassment.

“Really?  I figured you would want the truth, the whole truth and nothing but….”

“Can it, Webb.  What happened at meeting?”

“At the pub?” Webb was pleased that he had managed to embarrass the lawyer.  However, he'd no intention of sharing that afternoon with Rabb.  It had been one of the truly special times in his life.  It had never occurred to him that the twenty-five-year-old elf in his arms was a virgin.  Even now he still choked up thinking about the precious gift she had given him.  Not just her virginity but the trust that he had nearly destroyed forever, along with her life. 

For a moment he let himself get lost in the memory of his surprise at her move.  He could almost feel her lips on his and the way her hands caressed his chest.  The way it had felt when he had entered her.  She had claimed him that day.  She reclaimed him every time they made love.

“Webb.” Rabb’s voice was gentle but insistent.

“Damn you, Rabb.” Webb shook his head, shaking the memories back to where he kept them safe.  “It was a set up, okay?  Carmichael had a bug on my rental car.  He used that information - not to alert the local cops or even the Army.  Oh, no.  That’s what I found out that night.  Tommy took great delight in telling the rich fookin’ Yank how he'd been played as a sucker.  Carmichael, while definitely military intelligence, was also secretly a member of the Ulster Defense Association.  So basically I led the woman I loved into a firefight between the IRA and the UDA. 

"I barely got us out of there.  We ran through the alleys of Belfast with O’Meara’s supporters after us.  We hid in a horrid little hovel until morning.  I stole a car and got us back to Dublin and to the embassy.  Turns out Carmichael and his bunch had been playing us all.  They got to the guns before the IRA and there was a nice little shootout in Wexford.  Ten people dead, only two of them ‘combatants.’” 

“Jeez.  What did Kathleen say?”

“Not a damn thing.  She just looked at me and walked away.”  Rabb could hear the hurt in the man’s voice, even though it had obviously turned out okay.  They were married, after all.

“What happened?”

“Nothing – then.  I went home.  Told Mother all about it and she told me that it was all for the best. I got a new title and a new boss who told me that Dr. O’Meara had resigned from Trinity and had gone missing, so obviously she had been dirty all along.  I lost the title and got stuck doing background checks for about two months.”

“Why?”

“Punched the son-of-a-bitch out.”

“Jesus, Webb! You were lucky to keep your job.”

“Was I?  There are times, Rabb...”  His laugh turned into a cough.  The nights always brought humidity that seemed to clog his lungs.  “Like now?  I’m not so sure.”

“But you keep on.”

“Yeah.  I keep on. I tried really hard to forget Kathleen.  Mother did her best to help me forget her by calling every damn friend she knew.  For awhile you would've thought I was you.  I’ve never had that many fix-ups in my life.  Poor Mother.  She really is the best, Rabb, but this time, she just had no clue.  She really thought I had been played by everyone - O’Meara, Carmichael, the Irish Security Forces, the CIA - but for some reason she got it into her head that it was mostly Kathleen’s fault.  It was the one and only time I can remember when I couldn’t speak to Mother about something so important to me.  You see, I never stopped looking for Kathleen.  I had my own supply of favors to call on and I used them all.  Then right before the son-of-a-bitch of a boss got canned, I quit.”

“What!”

“Rabb, why don’t you scream a little louder, maybe AJ can find us that way.”  Webb stooped up and let fly a stream of obscenities.  “This was the best you could find?  A goddamn cave we can’t even stand up in.  Jesus, remind me next time to ask for Turner or even AJ.”  He did what passed for his evening exercises, stretching what few muscle groups he could and crawling over to the water.  He drank two handfuls and even ran some water over his seven-day growth of beard.  “I hope Mac found AJ and AJ found Santiago and they get here soon.”

“Yeah, Webb, me too,” Rabb whispered. 

Webb crawled back to his side of the cave but instead of leaning against the wall he stretched out on the floor, trying to extend every muscle from his toes to his neck.  “Where was I?”

“You quit.”

“Oh yeah.  Mother went into a fury, of course.  Called poor Tim Fawkes.”

“Who?”

“Ask AJ.”

“Terrific.”

“Hey, you want to hear this or not?”

“Talk, damn it.”

“Tim tried to talk me out of it.  He even finagled a seat on the same plane, but I can be stubborn.”

“You.  No.”  Rabb snorted and began to stretch out next to Webb, his head near the spy’s shoes.  That way he could still keep a watch on the downpour outside the cave. 

“Shut up, Rabb!”  Webb waited and when Rabb actually stayed quiet, continued.  “We landed in Dublin and I finally lost Tim, or so I thought.  I didn’t want him with me.  I wanted to find her.  I think I checked every bar in that whole damn town.  I visited the college and even paid a visit to Mr. O’Boyle.  Sat there and let him rip me a new one.  Still sat there until he threatened to call some of his friends and have me thrown out.  Finally, I think I just believed him.  Nobody had seen Kathleen for two months or more.  I was really getting scared.  I drove out to her father’s and guess who was there.”

“Kathleen?  Seems logical.”

“Yeah?  Well, you’re wrong yet again.”

“Who?”

“Tim.  He had gone out there immediately.  He tried to take all the blame.  Told Michael O’Meara that he had been my boss at the time and they hadn’t told me the truth.  You know, Kathleen swears she’s fey just like her mother.  Well her old man’s no slacker either.  I swear to God he could see right through me.  I told Tim to go home.  I stayed with Michael O’Meara for three days, Rabb, following him around helping with the chores.  Let me tell you this, he’s a hell of a lot quieter than you are.  He didn’t say a word to me the first two days.  Just fed me and showed me where to sleep.  Then on the third day he got up, fixed us breakfast and then went out the door.  I followed him.  We walked all morning and around ten or so he started talking.  Told me about how his wife was a special woman and how she loved her children but could never understand how Tommy could hate so much and Kathleen didn’t have a bone of hatred in her body.

"Everybody in Ireland has an opinion about ‘the Troubles,’ Rabb. Most Catholics would like to see the two Irelands joined but not all of them want it bad enough to kill for it.  Michael never did, but he supported the IRA.  Nola, that was his wife, followed the old ways.  Don’t ask. Nola raised both kids to be independent thinkers first, then to follow the church, then to follow the rules. She did just fine with Kathleen but Tommy went a little wild at university and fell in with the wrong crowd.  I guess Nola getting killed in Londonderry was the straw that broke Tommy’s back.  After that there was no stopping him.  Michael understood all that. He explained that his daughter hated the sin, but loved the sinner.  Just like she loved me.  So he couldn’t understand was how I could do what I did to his daughter.  That’s when I realized what had happened.”

“What?”  Rabb demanded.

“What do you think?”

“Webb, I have no…oh Jesus, no.  One time.”

Webb sighed.  “Well it wasn’t just one time.  Yes, damn it.  When I asked him point blank he looked at me kind of funny and said, ‘you didn’t know.’ Man I got angry then.  I shouted at him.  ‘She told you I got her pregnant and then abandoned her!’  Well I guess my voice carried because the next thing I knew I see her running up the hill and shouting louder than you’ve ever heard AJ yell.  ‘Oh say it a little louder, you great fookin Yank.  I don’t think they heard you in County Mayo.’”  Webb sighed.  “You ever have a fight with a Irish lass, Rabb?”

“No.  I don’t think I have.”

“Don’t.  They hold nothing back, and God help you if you do.  In thirty-eight years I don’t remember mother ever yelling.  From what I remember of my father he never did either.”

“How did you manage?”

“Got me, but I knew that if I didn’t fight her for her, it wouldn’t matter what anyone else said.  We just screamed at each other for a good fifteen minutes.  Until I finally gave up.”

“And!” Rabb pushed himself up on his elbow and glared at the shadow next to him.  “You walked out on her?”

“No, I kissed her.”

“Ooooooo.  Forceful.” Rabb snorted.  “I can just see that working with Mac.”

“You want it to work with Mac?”

“This isn’t about me and Mac.”

“Hey you brought it up.”

“Webb, what did she do?”

“Kissed me back. Then she hit me so hard, I tripped and fell backward down the hill.”  Webb laughed softly.  “The Irish have strange mating rituals.”  He sighed and arched up until he was sitting, resting his weight against his hands.  “She ran down the hill to me, cursing and crying up a blue streak, all the while praying to the saints and yelling at me to get up.  I had hit my head, but not hard enough to do more than stun me.  Oh it was grand, it was, me lad.  But then things got serious.”

“When did she lose the baby?” Rabb asked softly.

“Oh, you’re not at dumb as you look.  She had already lost it before I found her.  She had left the university as soon as she realized she was pregnant.  Her father wanted her to stay home but she insisted on being off by herself for a spell. Some long-dead uncle’s farm, little sod house just like in the movies.  Nice place.  She was three months pregnant and all alone when she lost it..”  Webb got very quiet again and Rabb didn’t press him. 

“Her father found her two days later, digging a little grave.”  Now the tears were evident even in the near pitch black.  Both men were glad the lightning had moved on. “She’s a strong, brave woman, is Kathleen O’Meara,” Webb murmured.

After a long interval, Rabb said,  “I’m not going to make the same mistake twice and assume that everything went like clockwork after you brought her back to Dublin – you did bring her back to Dublin?”

“She and I stayed at the uncle’s house for two days.  I asked her to marry me the first day.  She said no.  I asked her to marry me the next day and she still said no.  I followed her back to her father’s house and would have asked her again, but I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Well if you will remember, all hell was breaking loose in Bosnia.  They were waiting for me at Michael’s house.  They demanded I come back to work.” 

“And you left her?” Rabb was incredulous.

“No.  She kicked me out after they explained the mission.  They didn’t want to, but they could see I wasn’t going anywhere until they told me – us – why they needed me.  It was a real sob story and for once it was true.”

“And?”

“And when it was over, I went back to Dublin again.  And asked her to marry me again.”  He sighed.  “She was back teaching at least.  But she still said no.”

“But you didn’t give up,” Rabb said with all the confidence of a six year old hearing a beloved fairy tale.

“Man, you are 0 for what, 6 tonight.”  Webb snorted, obviously enjoying himself.

“B-but…” Rabb stuttered. 

Webb grew serious.  “No. That last time, I took her out after class.  We drove down to the coast and talked.  She told me everything that she hated about my job but that she understood how important it could be.  She told me how badly my betrayal had hurt her and how she didn’t think she could get past all that.  S-she admitted she loved me more than she thought she would love anyone else but she just couldn’t betray her father or her brother.  Tommy was still alive, still fighting the fight.”  Webb waited but surprisingly Rabb didn’t say anything.  “I just sat there and looked out over the ocean.  I remember how clear it was that night.  I told her that there would probably never be anyone else for me.  That walking away from her was going to hurt so much.  But I had to do it.  I had to do it for her and for me.  So I drove her back to Dublin.  I swear I don’t know how I did it.  I was trying so hard not to cry.  But I did it.  I dropped her off at her apartment and drove straight to the airport.”  He sighed.  “When I got back I got the wonderful opportunity to act like a complete putz around Lieutenant j.g. Roberts and get you and Mac to lead me to her uncle.”

They lay there in silence at last, both staring up into the darkness, both lost in their own thoughts.  The rain began to finally taper off and Rabb groaned but started to get up.  “Don’t bother.  It’s my watch anyway,” Webb said and carefully crawled around Rabb.

“You gonna finish the story?” Rabb finally asked.

“You gonna learn something from it?”

“Probably not,” Rabb snapped back.

“You’re an idiot Rabb.” Suddenly the tension was back, a tension that had lessened as the story had unfolded.

“Maybe.  Go on, finish it.  Maybe the moral of the story will clear up six years of misunderstandings and stubbornness.”

“Rabb,” Webb sighed, then looked out the cave entrance and quietly cursed.  “Terrific, I can see the sky clearing up off to the West.  They’ll be coming for us soon.”

“Well finish the story then, damn it.  You married her.  Why?  How?”

“How? She showed up one day, six months later.  I opened my door and there she was.  Evidently Tim Fawkes took it upon himself to play fairy godmother or something.  Last thing he did before he went to Italy – oh wait, you don’t know that story.  Anyway, she told me she had accepted a position at Georgetown teaching Irish Myth and Greek Literature – that’s two different courses, Rabb.”

“Thanks, buddy.  Wouldn’t have figured that out,” Rabb snarled as he picked up his rifle, checked the magazine by feel and joined the spy by the opening. 

“She told me she missed me and couldn’t live without me and please would I marry her.” 

“That was good for the ego.  What did you tell her?” Rabb asked, unwilling to go 0 for 7.

Webb lifted his pistol, took aim and fired a shot.  “Dumb ass,” he muttered as a man fell out of a tree.  “I told her I would think about it.  That as far as I knew nothing had changed and I was still the same man she had made go back to the job she hated and would some day probably be instrumental in her brother’s capture or death.”  He raised his gun again but Rabb stopped him and took out the sniper who was probably just out of Webb’s range. 

“Let’s not waste any bullets, Webb.”

“Man that moon is something else isn’t it?” Webb breathed as several shadows took form and they picked off two more.  “Come on, you bastards.”  But evidently their pursuers weren’t completely stupid because they stopped advancing and neither man saw another target.  Neither relaxed their guard, though. 

“So how long did you make her wait before you agreed to marry her?” Rabb asked the rain forest before him.

“Couple of weeks.  We saw each other damn near every day.  Even if it was just for an hour.  I was in town, but I was busy deciphering reports coming out of Russia.   I could tell she was fitting in well at Georgetown. Took to big city life like a duck to water. She didn’t need me to survive.  Sometimes I would meet her for lunch on campus and one or two guys - students or other teachers - would make a point to stop by our table and flirt.  She was doing just fine.  I realized that I couldn’t live without her.  And to answer an earlier question, we were married in Paris in a very small ceremony.  Get down!” Webb pushed Rabb away as an explosion rocked the cave.  Dust, pebbles and a few large rocks rained down on them.  Both men dusted themselves off.  “Get the damn disc and destroy it.  We can’t allow it to get into their hands!” Webb shouted. 

Just as Rabb was reaching for the metal case they had lugged with them through Pucallpa and the rain forest - lugged instead of food or water - the sky was lit by intense light and they heard the low whine and thumping rotators.  “Holy shit!” Rabb cried.  “Those are Seahawks.  They found us.” 

They huddled together as blast after blast cleared the rain forest below them.  Together they watched as a dozen SeALs dropped from the helos on ropes snaking to the ground.  Painfully, they managed to pull themselves out of their hiding place.  Neither objected to being harnessed and pulled up to safety.  Neither was surprised to find Mac and AJ waiting anxiously on board the JFK off the coast.  Both understood why Mac’s hugs for both of them were tight but very brief. 

“Gentlemen, the seaman will show you to the showers.” AJ firmly insisted as he shook both their hands.  Webb’s current boss grimaced at their smell but took the case with the all the bank records they had downloaded eight days ago. 

Mac followed them down the corridor to their cabins.   As Webb was closing the hatch to his Rabb stopped him and leaned in a bit.  “So, why did you finally say yes?” 

Webb looked at him and then over the flyer’s shoulder to where Mac was standing, watching them – or Rabb anyway – intently.  “I’ll tell you the same thing I told herself.” Webb said quietly so only Rabb could hear.

“What?”

“I can’t whistle.” He laughed at the confused look on Rabb’s face and closed the door.

***
Five days later
JAG ops

Harmon Rabb stood at his office window staring out into the bright afternoon sun.  They had returned to DC the morning of their rescue, five days ago.  He hadn’t seen Webb at the debriefing, hadn’t spoken to him since.  He itched to call the spy and demand an answer to the cryptic response that Webb had finished his story with. 

He was surprised at the way Webb’s story affected him.  Or maybe it was because they really had come so close to dying this time.  Regardless, ever since they had got back to headquarters, he found himself looking for Mac every time he thought she should be around.  He had asked her to lunch a couple of times and tried to talk to her but once again he found himself floundering about on how to start and they ended up discussing cases. 

He even began to wonder what she would do if he just reached out one day and kissed her.  But, if he did he knew there would be no turning back and that thought scared him. 

Mac had questioned him about the five days he had spent with Webb but he couldn’t tell her.  He wanted to surprise her.  He had a plan.  Once again, Webb beat him to the punch. 

“Commander?” He turned to find Tiner standing there with a small package in his hand.

“Yes, Tiner?”

“This just came for you, sir.  Special courier.”

“Now what?” Rabb took the package and set down at his desk.  It wasn’t even wrapped, just a small sealed white box; his name was printed in block letters on the front.  He slit the tape and opened the box.  Inside he found a card and a CD jewel case.  He glared at the garish cover.  “Anyone Can Whistle – Original Broadway Recording.”  Placing the disc on his desk, he opened the card.  It was a simple children’s birthday party invitation.  Opening it up he read.  “Patrick O’Meara Webb, Saturday the 11th, 6pm.”  He studied the now familiar scrawl on the upper fold. 

This is the adults’ party.  Bring Mac.  I’ve already invited AJ – I think he’s stunned. 

P.S. – if you bring anything that makes a lot of noise, you will witness the wrath of the Irish first hand. 

P.P.S – the play sucked.  Only ran 9 performances the first time, but Kat and I went to a benefit performance the night she told me she was pregnant with Patrick.  Don’t bother with anything but cut 10.

Rabb fingered the jewel case, went to his door and closed it, noting that Mac and Singer were leaving for court.  His computer was one of the newest in the office and Tiner had assured him he could listen to CDs on it.  The Petty Officer even insisted on giving him a crash course, so Rabb wasn’t surprised when the dialogue box popped up; he even figured out how to go directly to cut 10.  He didn’t have to adjust the volume and sat back in his chair as the haunting melody filled his office.

Anyone can whistle, that's what they say, easy.
Anyone can whistle, any old day, easy. 

It's all so simple: 
Relax, let go, let fly!
So someone tell me, why can't I? 

I can dance a tango, I can read Greek, easy.
I can slay a dragon any old week, easy! 

What's hard is simple,
What's natural comes hard.Maybe you could show me how to let go,
Lower my guard, learn to be free.
May if you whistle, whistle for me.

He listened several times.  It was very short.  Taking the CD out he finally noticed the green sticky note attached to the liner notes.  After the play, she said this song was the only good thing about the whole production.  Then a little later, after she told me she was pregnant, she asked me why I had agreed to marry her.  I told her because I couldn’t whistle.  She got it.  Do you?

Rabb studied the note, wadded it up, and tossed it in the waste basket.  Then he listened to the cut again for good measure.  “Sure Webb, I understand.  But will she?  I don’t know if either one of us can whistle.”

He found himself grumpy and preoccupied.  He snapped at Tiner as he left the building.  The doors opened on the floor below and Mac stepped on board.  “Hey, Flyboy.  Leaving on time for a change, I see.”

“Yeah.  I’ve got some stuff to do.”  He was chewing his lip and not really even looking at her.”

“Well…I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said as they left the building.

“Yeah, right.  Tomorrow.”  He suddenly woke up.  “Hey Mac,” he called out to her just as she was unlocking her car door.

“Yeah?”

“You busy Saturday night?”

“Just the usual, why?”  She watched him approach.

“You want to go to a birthday party?”

“Whose?” she said as she mentally ran down a list of people they both knew.

“It’s a surprise.”  He grinned.

“Not mine?” 

“No, yours is next month.  Please, Mac.”

“Sure, I guess.  Do I need to bring a gift?”

“No, I’ll get one from both of us.” His smile grew as he considered what her reaction would be if he just kissed her.  Deciding perhaps that not all things that worked for Webb would work for him, he just walked over to his car.  “Saturday at 6.  I’ll drive.”

“Okay.”  Mac eyed him as he walked away. 

The next day Rabb tried to ignore Mac.  They didn’t have any cases together, so he didn’t have to talk to her.  But he found that he missed just being around her.  So every time she walked through the bullpen he made a point of asking her some small pointless question.  She was beginning to look at him strangely. 

It had almost been better when she was on the Guadalcanal.  Then, the workload had been a bear because she was gone and he'd little time to think about her – except at night.  The dreams had been about as hot as any dream he could remember and even now, a year later, he blushed thinking about them. 

“Harm?” 

“Hmmm.”

“Rabb!” Sturgis Turner reached across the desk and hit his friend on the arm.  “Hey, Earth to Commander Rabb.”

Rabb finally focused on his friend.   “What is it, Sturgis?” 

“What is that?” Turner pointed to the jewel case that Rabb was looking at.  He had been running the words over and over in his head.  He was really going to have to hurt Webb for sending it to him. 

“I wasn’t looking at it.  I was just thinking about something.  Come on in, what’s on your mind?” 

Turner sat in the empty chair across from Rabb’s desk and considered his friend for a moment.  “Are you sure you’re 100% after your little ordeal down in Peru?”

“What ordeal? Five days of very little water, less food and stuck in a cave with Clayton Webb?  It was a vacation.”

“Yeah well, what say we take the ‘Vette out Saturday and drive up to Annapolis.  Have lunch at Buddy’s, run, do a couple of laps around the base.  Just get our minds off of JAG for a bit.”

“Sorry, man.  I’ve got plans.  Mac and I are going to a birthday party.”

Sturgis chewed his cheek.  “You and Mac...together.”

“Yeah, together.  Is there a problem? Mac and I do lots of stuff together. At least…”

“Working stuff.  This sounds like a date.” 

“So?” Rabb sat up and began to nervously arrange his paperwork. 

“So!” Turner grinned wolfishly.  “So this is the man who insisted that all the men that Mac dates…”

“Don’t, Sturgis,” Rabb snapped.  “Just don’t.  It was a stupid thing to say, okay?  Listen, I’ve got to go.  I need to pick something up for the party.”  He grabbed his cover and exited his office.  He stuck his head inside Mac’s door, interrupting Harriet, who was standing there with a stack of papers for Mac to sign off on.  “Sorry, just wanted to make sure we were still on for tomorrow night.”

Mac looked from Harm to Harriet.  “Yeah, sure.  What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at 5:30.  Should be able to make it in time.” 

“You’re not going to tell me where we are going are you?”

“Nope.  I told you it’s a surprise.  Have a nice weekend, Harriet.”

“You too, sir.”  Harriet stared after Rabb, then looked back down at Mac.  “You know he really seems different since he got back, ma’am."

Mac nodded.  “Well, it was pretty intense.  I was so scared that I wasn’t going to be able to find them.  I don’t know what I would have done if…” She stopped herself short.  She had always regretted baring her feelings to Turner.  Harriet knew how she felt about Rabb; there was no need to discuss it further.

She finished up her paperwork and walked out to the car, lost in thoughts of Harmon Rabb, wondering at the change in his behavior.  Absentmindedly, she waved to the Admiral, not even noticing the large gaily-wrapped box he was putting in the back of his SUV.  On the way home she realized she had no clue on how to dress for tomorrow, so she picked up her cell phone and dialed Rabb’s number. 

“Hello!” he yelled.

“Harm?  Where are you?  Jesus, it sounds like you’re in a cavern surrounded by a mob."

“I am, actually.  What’s up?”

“Uhm…about tomorrow?”

Even above the horrible background noise she heard the panic in his voice.  “What about tomorrow? You’re still going, right?  You’re not backing out on me?” 

“Jeez, Harm, no.  Calm down.  I just wanted to know what to wear?”

“Oh, gee.  I’ll call you later tonight.  Ouch, lady, don’t shove.  Look Mac, I gotta go.”

“Sure, Flyboy.”

***
Saturday Evening
Sarah MacKenzie’s Apartment

Harmon Rabb had stood at this door more times than he could count.  He had never been this nervous before, ever.  But, he forced himself to take a cleansing breath and rap sharply, as if nothing was different.  He had his plan firmly in place. 

“It’s open!  Come on in.”

“Damn it.  When am I going to stop planning?”  He sighed and walked into the empty living room.

“I’ll just be a minute,” she called from the bedroom. 

He wondered what she would do if he just walked in there and kissed her.  “Coward,” he muttered.  He began to pace.  “Hey, come on, Jarhead, the party starts at six!”  He stood at her dining room table, his back to the bedroom, glaring down at the pile of work she had brought home. 

“How far to we have to go?” she said, directly behind him.

He jerked around and then just stood there, eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

“Harm?” She looked at him closely and then down at the simple sundress she'd chosen.  “Harm, is something wrong?  Is the dress wrong?  I can change.”

He couldn’t find his breath, let alone his voice.  “N-n-no.  It’s…it’s…Damn, Mac, you are so beautiful.”  He watched as a hot red flush traveled up her chest, past her cheeks, right on up into her hairline.  “You’re not Irish, right?” He clenched his fists and then relaxed them.

“Huh?”

“Please don’t hit me,” he whispered. He reached out and pulled her to him. 

They had kissed before.  Several times, in fact.  The first time they both thought he was kissing his long-dead lover, Diane.  The next couple of times had been unsatisfactory at best, embarrassing at worst.  This time, though, he just let his lips lightly brush across hers, waiting, letting her pull away.  He really expected her to pull away, but she took the invitation and deepened the kiss.  Finally, he gently pushed her away.  “Uhm…okay?”

Mac was having a hard time catching her breath but she managed a weak “Uh-huh.”  Swallowing several times she stepped away from him.  “Why?”

“Because it was time I got my head out of my six.  Look, Mac, I know we need to talk, but we have to get to this party, okay?”

Again she swallowed but nodded. “Okay.  Where we going?” 

Rabb laughed and took her by her elbow.  “Nice try, Marine, but I said it’s a surprise.  You’ll never guess it in a million years.”

“Can I try?”

Rabb considered her as they walked to his SUV.  “Uh…no.  I don’t trust my luck enough.”

“Why not the ‘Vette?” Mac asked as he held the door for her. 

“Gift’s too big.”

“What did you get?”

“Uh-uh.  Stop fishing.”  He climbed into the driver’s seat and began the trip across town to Alexandria. 

She looked up at the façade of the building.  It was an old Alexandria townhouse, lovingly restored, on a quite street.  There were no empty parking places and they had to go down a block and around the corner.  As they turned the corner, they saw AJ walking toward the townhouse from the other direction.  He allowed Rabb to do the honors.

Even though Webb had described her, Rabb was still shocked almost to silence when Kathleen opened the door.  Just barely remembering his desire to draw out the surprise for as long as he could he stepped forward.  “Kathleen, right?  I’m Harm…”

“Why, of course you are,” the red-haired wraith exclaimed.  “And you must be Mac.  Oh come in now, all of you."  She stepped in front of the very startled Chegwidden and delicately stopped him with her finger on his chest.  “Now, then, you would be Rear Admiral Albert Jethro Chegwidden, would you not.”

AJ stared down into incredible blue eyes and found himself gulping, "Yes, ma’am.” 

“You’ll not be starting any trouble tonight and breaking anyone’s nose, will you now?”

Mac gasped.  “Break – nose – Webb!”

“Hello, Mac.” Three pairs of eyes jerked up at the voice.  Clay, his arms around a very sleepy three-year old, stood at the top of the steps.  “I see Rabb didn’t tell you.”

“No.  No he didn’t.  Oh my God.  Hey!  Why didn’t you tell me?”  She turned to their hostess and found her still standing in front of AJ, her finger still buried in the middle of his chest. 

AJ just shook his head, reached down and placed the gift on a table against the wall.  Taking Kathleen’s hand he bowed and kissed the finger that had been poking him.  “I can assure you, Mrs. Webb, that as long as you are here I’m sure you can keep your husband out of trouble, thus removing any cause for me to break his nose for him again.”

Kathleen Webb smiled wickedly into the dark brown eyes.  “And didn’t himself tell me you'd be bringin’ a lady friend?” 

AJ glared at Webb who just grinned at the scene below him as he carefully made his way down the steps.  “Ah, I’m afraid that Mr. Webb’s intel is a bit dated.”

“Is it now.” Only Mac caught the triumphant grin that Kathleen gave her husband.  “Well, lets not be standing in the doorway.  Come into the parlor.  Here now, darlin’, do you want your ma?”

Patrick Webb raised his head off his father’s chest and reached for his mother, nearly falling into her arms.  Rabb thought for a moment that Kathleen would crumble under the attack, but she just adjusted the boy on her hip and let Clay lead the way into the living room. 

“I invited you three early because I know it’s such a shock,” Webb began.

“And why is that, would you be explaining that to me, Clayton Webb?” Kathleen settled into an overstuffed chair.  “Please sit down and be forgiving me edjit of a husband.  Haven’t I been begging him to invite you all for years.”

Rabb smirked at Webb.  He was standing there with an aggrieved look on his face, but the flyer could tell that he hadn’t the courage to make excuses.  “I’ll think I’ll make myself useful.  AJ, what can I get you to drink?”

AJ, still very much dazed by the assault of the elfin creature, just sighed.  “Uh…coffee?”

“Ah, go on with ya now.  Clayton?”

“Yes, dear?” 

“I’m thinking that the darlin’ Admiral would be appreciating a wee drop of the Bushmills.  Not that horrible stuff that someone gave to you either, but the good stuff me Da gave you the last time we were home.”

“AJ?  You up for it?”

“1906?  Wouldn’t mind a drop.  I’m not sure Commander Rabb can handle it though.”

“Go on with you now, Albert.  Clayton?”

“Yes dear.  Mac, since Patrick doesn’t seem inclined to visit yet, would you mind?”

Mac jumped up from the couch where she and Rabb had settled and followed Webb toward the back of the house.  When they had entered the kitchen, Webb went to the refrigerator and pulled out two can of soda.  “Well?  Let it out.  Yell and--”

“Why didn’t you tell me?  You could have told me that night,” she whispered as she studied the pattern on the floor.

“That night was about you, Mac.  What was I going to do?  Let you vent and rant about Harm and then just before you finally went to sleep say, ‘By the way, I’ve never told you, but I’m happily married to a wonderful woman and have a son?’”  Both of them grew silent as the memory of that night returned. Webb had found her near midnight stalking the grounds, ignoring the taunts and calls of the prisoners and guards alike.  He had pushed her into her room and demanded to know what was wrong.  Both of them had been surprised by her response. 

“Thank you for letting me cry that night, Clay.  It meant a lot.  It helped a lot,” she whispered. She put the glasses on the tray Clay handed her and popped the tabs on the cans of soda. 

“No problem.  What did you think about my suggestion?”

“Already called Dr. Owens.  I’ve seen him twice already.  I’m not sure when I’ll see a lot of progress, but it feels good to just talk to someone who isn’t going to judge me.” 

“Did you think I was judging you, Mac.  I mean because I suggested…”

“No you listened for nearly five hours if I recall, Mr. Webb, and I appreciate it, but I doubt that Kathleen would appreciate me calling you to just talk.”

“And why would I be worried about that, Sarah MacKenzie. Sure, and isn’t himself a fine listener.”  Kathleen stood at the doorway, Patrick clutching her hand.  “Did you find the bottle?” 

Webb walked into the butler’s pantry and returned with a bottle of extremely rare whiskey.  Picking up the tray he nudged his son with his knee.  “Come on, sport, the men have things to discuss.”  Patrick promptly transferred his grip from his mother’s hand to his father’s pant leg and toddled back into the front room, leaving the two women alone.

“Ah good, he left the soda.  Sometime he does show his brain can work on lower levels than National Security.”  Kathleen took a long drink from the red can and sighed.  “‘Tis awful stuff, but I love it.” 

“Kathleen, you’ll pardon me asking... but this is such a shock.  I mean, I’ve known Webb for nearly six years.”

“Have you now?” Kathleen eyed the woman across from her before going to the refrigerator and pulling out several trays of appetizers.  “That’s not really true, is it?  And I’m not blamin’ you or Harmon attal, attal.  He keeps things to himself.  Says it safer for me and Patrick.  But, I know it pains him.  Pains him not to have close friends he can turn to when he’s hurting.  Course, that means he has to turn to me, for which I’m grateful.  But still a man needs friends, Sarah.  But, enough of that, what were you going to ask me?”

Mac chewed her lower lip and tried to think of all the times that Webb had entered her life – and truth be told, made her and Harm’s lives very interesting in the process.  “I’m just really surprised that he’s married.  Where did you meet him?  When did you get married?  How did he keep from doing the whole daddy thing, complete with pictures, with that precious little boy in there?”

“Ah now, that’s the story now, isn’t Mac.”

Rabb kept looking over the back of the couch toward the kitchen.  The whiskey was potent and he was content to sit there, sipping his drink and listen to Webb wax poetic over the achievements of his son.  Said son was currently climbing up and down from Webb’s lap and toddling over to gaze up into the face of AJ, who was obviously fighting to keep a slightly goofy grin from appearing on his face. 

“Webb, I’d like to say he takes after his mother, but there’s little doubt as to who his father is.” 

“You think so, AJ?  Actually I think he favors my father-in-law.” Webb smirked.

“Oh go on with you now and that nonsense.  Didn’t herself bring over pictures of you when you were a wee tyke.  You know, I’m thinking there’s one around here somewhere.”  Kathleen, followed by Mac, brought in several trays of appetizers. 

“Would those be the naked baby pictures, Kathleen?” Rabb teased. 

“I’m not sure, let me…Oh.  Beast!” She murmured as her husband pulled her to sit on the arm of his chair.  She got the last word though when she sank further down to rest on his lap. 

Seeing his mother in his father’s lap seemed to tickle Patrick.  He laughed out loud and then proceeded to scale the Admiral’s leg.  Four pairs of eyes watched in awe as the former SeAL settled the boy in his lap.  “Now tell me, Mrs. Webb, when did you meet this annoying spy and, woman, what were you thinking actually marrying him?” AJ met the stern glare and like her son, Kathleen saw behind the mask. 

“Well, Admiral darlin’, I’ll be making you a deal as you Yanks say.”

“Watch it AJ.  The Irish aren’t to be trusted.” Webb warned, worry evident in his tone.

“Madam, if it is within my power, I will take that deal.”

“Well himself always says you keep your word, Albert Jethro.”

“Uhm…sweetheart.”

“Yes, Clay?”

“Dearest, unless you want to see him break my nose again, could you not be callin’ him by his given name?  I believe he prefers AJ.”

“And what’s wrong with…” Kathleen glowered at Clay.  “Oooooo.  You just want to get me arguing, now don’t you.  Well it isn’t gonna work now, is it, me fine Yank?”

Webb sighed and sipped his drink.  Kathleen settled back and told them all essentially the same story that Webb had told Rabb in the cave, glossing over the reason why she had suddenly dropped out of college, playing up his begging her to marry him.  “Then he just up and left, he did.  Not that I can say I blame him, I was a wee bit stubborn.”

“Not you, darling.” Webb hugged his wife but Rabb could see the relief in the spy’s face now that Kathleen’s side of the story was over. 

“Kathleen?” Mac hadn’t spoken at all since returning from the kitchen.  “How could you come to America and leave your home?  You said you never left Ireland before - you just up and left everything that you loved?”

“Not everything.” Kathleen quickly responded, running her fingers through the lock of hair that had fallen across Webb’s forehead.  She carefully studied the two people sitting together on the couch.  “Sometimes you just have to make up your mind to take what you want and the bishop be damned.”  She blushed.  “Besides, wasn’t himself pining away with missing me.  I see things, you know.”

“Kathleen.” There was a resigned plea in Webb’s voice.

“Oh don’t you worry none, darlin’.  I’ll not embarrass you in front of your friends, now will I?”

“Every chance you get, sweetheart.”  Webb gazed over at his son, curled up in AJ’s lap, his thumb firmly in his mouth.  While the boy wasn’t asleep he was perfectly content where he was.  “Oh.  Sorry love, there’s the doorbell.”  Kathleen stood, but it was Patrick who made it to the door just ahead of his mother.  Webb struggled out of the chair.  “Damn it, I swear she doesn’t weigh 100 pounds but she puts my legs to sleep every time.”

More guests arrived and the three JAG officers were introduced to several of Kathleen’s colleagues and re-introduced to Porter Webb and Tim Fawkes.  Tim and AJ stood off to one side to reminisce. Webb played host and Kathleen divided her time between her mother-in-law and her friends.  This left Rabb and Mac alone on the couch, though both of them answered questions and held brief conversations with most of the people there. 

Cake was eaten and the proud father took dozens of pictures as his son opened more presents.  “Jesus, Kathleen, after the party this afternoon for his play group and then all this stuff, where are we going to put it all?”

“Now, none of that.” Kathleen soothed.  “What’s in this great box?”  She read the card and looked up at the Admiral and smiled.  ‘Tisn’t drums, now is it?”

“No, lass, I was warned.” AJ smiled.  Patrick ripped off the paper, slapped the box holding the art table and supplies, and then walked to the next gift, the bulky bag from Rabb.  Webb walked over to AJ and looked down at the box.  “Do I have to put that together?”

“Come on Webb, you can always have one of the Agency tech people do it.”

“Terrific.” Webb sighed before turning his attention to the latest and largest item that he would have to find a place for.  “Oh for God’s sake, Rabb!”

“Harm where did you find that?” Mac gasped.

“Daddy!  Plane!” Patrick was almost beside himself.  The toy took up nearly three feet of floor space.  Complete with propeller and nose painted in a toothy snarl, the grey hollowed-out seat revealed pedals. 

“Oh my,” was all Kathleen would say. 

“Daddy!  Plane!” Patrick repeated insistently. 

Webb sighed and glared at Rabb.  “Well, buddy, you bought, come on.”

“Huh?” Rabb looked up in confusion.

“Where do you think he’s going to ride it?  In the dining room?”  Webb sighed and kissed Kathleen and then his mother.  “Once around the block, I guess.”  He picked up his son, and head toward the front door.  “Coming, Rabb?”

Rabb looked longingly at Mac but she just laughed and pointed to the front door.  “He’s got you dead to rights, partner.  What were you thinking?” 

“Hey, he really likes it.” Rabb parried, reached down and picked up the plastic riding toy.

Mac found herself standing next to Kathleen by the window overlooking the sidewalk out front.  “What are you going to do with all this stuff?”

“Oh, the third floor has this great empty room.  Clay will finish it off as a toyroom.” 

“This is a whole other side of Clayton Webb I never would have thought I’d see.  There’s hope yet.” Mac sighed as they watched Patrick try and learn to move the pedals just right.  She laughed out loud when Rabb started to lean over and push the little boy who had managed to go perhaps a foot under his own power.  Webb just stood there, shaking his head and calling encouragement.  “I don’t remember ever seeing Webb smile before today.” 

She heard the long sad sigh next to her.  “Aye.  There’s many a night he doesn’t smile much unless Patrick is in his lap.”

“These are hard times for him, Kathleen.” The low rumble announced their company.

“Aye, Admiral darlin’, 'tis hard times indeed.” Kathleen sighed.  “And since we’re standing here like great bloody fools watching two grown men kill their backs pushing a little boy quite capable of doing for hisself, would you be telling me something?”

AJ stood quietly behind them.  “If I can, ma’am.”

“Ach.  'Tis Kathleen or Kat.  Only me students call me ma’am.” She sighed, but then, never taking her eyes off the scene before them, whispered, “Who is Theresa?”

“Ah.” AJ rested his hand on Mac’s shoulder.  “You know, Colonel, I don’t think they will ever let Master Webb learn that on his own.  Would you go out and supervise, please.” 

Mac looked away from the street and back into the serious brown eyes of her CO.  “Aye-aye, sir,” she whispered and eased around Kathleen.

AJ stood next to Kathleen and watched for a moment and then asked.  “Nightmares?”

“Aye.  Terr’ble ones sometimes.  Sometimes he would just moan her name.”

“Why are you asking me, Kathleen?”

“'Cause he would call your name too sometimes.  Sometimes Tim’s.”

“You ever ask Tim?”

“No.  But then Tim wouldn’t tell me now, would he.  He’s part of that hateful place too.”

AJ tore his eyes away from the three adults laughing and enjoying the early evening antics of the small boy and placed his hands on Kathleen’s shoulders, forcing her to look up at him.  “No one makes my blood boil quite so hot and fast as your husband, Kathleen Webb, but I understand and accept what he does, most of the time. Especially now.   He’s a good man, and what he did to bring on those nightmares, well...”  He looked over his shoulder and called.  “Tim.  Get over here.”

Harmon Rabb knew it was all a conspiracy.  Some cosmic alignment to get him to see the joys of domestic bliss and fatherhood.  It was all so neat and tidy and he knew the forces at work. Forces that had goaded him to be the best and excel at whatever he did.  Clayton Webb, obviously bewitched by a fairy of a wife, was a father.  Damn it.  Clayton Webb had a wife and a kid before Harmon Rabb.  Rabb could have accepted the one.  But both!   And there was no doubt in Rabb’s mind that he did love Sarah MacKenzie.  But damn it - they were friends, weren’t they?  He got to see her and joke with her and, Jesus, what if it didn’t work out?  He shuddered at the thought of the fallout if it didn’t work.  Chegwidden would transfer them both.  He sighed long and low.  One of them would have to transfer if it did work. 

“Hey buddy, about time we turned around, isn’t it?” He stooped down and stared into deep blue eyes that seem to tell the future.  “I don’t know about you but your dad and I are getting bushed.”

Patrick Webb gravely considered the huge man before him, looked around and shouted,  “Daddy!”

Immediately, Clay was at his side, crouching so the little boy no longer had to look up.  “What?”  He grinned. 

“Want to fly! Daddy!” 

“Well, let's turn it around and fly then, Patrick, me bucko.  Let’s go find Mommy.”

“Mommy!”  The shriek rent the evening air and several strollers laughed softly at the sight of the man pushing the dark-haired child in a plane down the sidewalk.

“Incredible isn’t it?” Mac sighed as Harm stood up and dusted his pants off. 

“You want one of those.”  It really wasn’t a question.

Instead of answering, she looked at him.  He could see the play of emotions on her face and knew she had already answered that question.  He knew what she wanted and he knew she wanted him.  But after Australia and after that night on the Admiral’s porch when she had practically thrown herself at him he knew she wouldn’t be the first to broach the subject. 

“It’s going to be a beautiful night.  You about ready to head out?  I thought maybe, if you want, we could take a drive and maybe have that talk.”

‘It’s happening,’ she thought as she followed him back to the house.  ‘It’s really happening, and dear God I’m so scared.’

They said their good nights to the Admiral, who glared at them both as if he knew that something wonderful and terrible was about to happen.  Porter took her grandson, announcing that she would be happy to put him to bed and read him a story.  Webb and Kathleen walked them to the door.  “Thank you both for comin’ tonight,” Kathleen said as she stood in the door, Clay’s arm around her stomach, holding her to him, his chin on her head. 

“Yeah, Mac, Harm.  Thanks for coming and uhm…thanks for the plane.  He really likes it.”

Mac just smiled, but Rabb, for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, looked up at the happy couple. Making eye contact with Kathleen he asked, “Next Saturday...If that husband of yours is in town, would you like to go out for dinner or something?”

Kathleen grinned.  “Aye.  ‘Twould be grand, but I’m telling you Harmon Rabb, I like me steaks and I’ll not be eatin’ any of that tofu you’re so fond of.” 

Harm laughed. “Oh I’m sure we can find some happy medium.  I’ll call you…Clay and set it up.”  He laughed again at the pained and yet pleased expression in Webb’s eyes.

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, Rabb threw his arm around Mac’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first.  But is it okay?”

Mac walked for a bit, not answering the question, lost in her own thoughts and fears. 

“Mac?”

“What?  Dinner next Saturday?  Sure, if everyone is in town.”  She snorted.  “What are the chances of that?”

“Hey.  You’ve got to make plans.” He released her to open the car door for her.  The euphoria of the evening wasn’t shattered but he could feel the tension creeping up on them.  “You still want to go for that drive?”

Mac looked at him and just nodded.  He pulled out on to the street and maneuvered through the heavy Saturday night traffic.  When he had made his decision to talk to her he knew he wanted somewhere quiet.  Of course, one of their apartments would have been best, but he wouldn’t be comfortable at her place and she would have perhaps felt pressured at his.  He sure didn’t want to have this talk in a restaurant or bar and damn, he was getting nervous, so almost without thinking he took a random turn and found they were driving towards Hains Point.  Though dark, it was still early and he didn’t think it would be too dangerous. 

“I haven’t been here in years,” she whispered as he parked the car directly across from the War College.  From their vantage point across the Potomac they could see the Jefferson Memorial and Washington Monument almost glowing in the moonlight.  Behind them was the giant sculpture, “The Awakening," a bronze fragmented statue of man struggling to rise from the ground.

He felt like a teenager again.  Not a particularly pleasant memory, he realized.  For all his top gun cocky attitude, he remembered the gawky shy teenager he had been. 

For a long time they just sat there.  No other car made its way down the thin spit of land.  He could feel her eyes on him, waiting.  This was his call.  He knew she wouldn’t say anything.  His carefully planned speech was immediately forgotten.  Everything he had wanted to say – felt he needed to say – now a vague memory.  He sighed.  He knew he had to say something.  “Mac?”

“Yes, Harm.”  Her voice was soft and didn’t seem to hold any of the fear he was feeling.

“Mac.”  He bit his lip and then turned to her.  “You know I love you, right?”

She met his gaze, not even blinking.  “Yes, Harm.  On some level, I think you love me – after some fashion.”

“No.  No. No. No.  Damn it. No.”  He closed his eyes and then forced himself to open them again.  “I love you.  Not as a friend, though your friendship is so precious to me I’m scared that any shift in..in...in this--!” He lifted the hand resting against the steering wheel with confusion and supplication.  “I can’t lose you, Mac.  You are so important to me.”

She took a deep breath.  “So.  What are you telling me, Harm?  You want to be friends because you’re afraid to love me like Webb loves Kathleen or Bud loves Harriet?  What are you really afraid of?  Did you really mean what you said to Sturgis?  Are you afraid that if you let me love you, you’ll just be another Chris? Another Dalton?  Another…”

He groaned and laid his head against the headrest.  “Please don’t say it.  Please…”

“No, Harm, tell me.  Are you afraid that tomorrow, or next week, or six months down the line you’ll wish you were dead – or is it worse.”  Her voice dropped and he heard the anguish there.  “Do you think that I’m really a jinx and by being with me your famous luck will run out?” 

He turned to her again, this time in shock.  “How can you think that?”

“Why not, Harm?  Look at my track record.  Look--”

His hand on her cheek stopped her.  “Look at mine, Sarah.  God, aren’t we a pair.  Look at us.  We’re young, at the top of our game.  Hell, Chegwidden needs something done he doesn’t even hesitate, he sends out his top guns without even thinking about it.  Guns – Mac.  You and me.  We’re the best.  Together or apart.”  He laughed.  “Damn you, Webb.” He groaned and released her.

“Webb?  Now what?” 

“He told me a little more than Kathleen did about what happened before they finally got together.  It might have been love at first sight, but damn, it wasn’t easy.  They both gave up a lot, Mac.  Her background may very well keep him from advancing as far as he should in the Agency, though he’s done well for himself.  She gave up damn near everything for him after he hurt her terribly. They both suffered losses – just like us.” He sighed again and looked out over the Potomac.  A dark shadow glided over the river on the way to its nest.  “Remember on the JFK, when he went into his cabin and I asked him why he said yes?”

“Yeah, I didn’t get it at the time.  I don’t remember if I heard his answer.” 

“There’s this song from a musical.  I should have brought the CD that he sent me. Though I can probably recite the whole thing to you.  But the point of the song is that the singer can do grand and wonderful things like slaying dragons and speaking Greek, but the simple things, like whistling, are too hard.  I think Webb feels that Kathleen gives that to him.  I’m just afraid that both of us are so -  so goal-oriented, so competitive, that…”

She stirred in her seat, bringing up one knee under her to fully turn toward him.  “Is that what you really want, Harm?  Someone to come home to?  Someone who will submerge herself in your life?”  The words were inflammatory, but her tone was gentle and questioning.

He hesitated in answering and then snorted.  “Hell, Mac, I’m a man.  Sure, I want that on some level, but I don’t think I’m that bad.  I guess I just want someone who needs me and you don’t.” 

“I don’t?”  Her voice was still calm but he heard the incredulity there.  She opened the car door and walked away from the car toward the huge bronze structure crawling out of the ground. 

She heard his door open and slam, heard him following her and at the point where one knee thrust up out of the dirt she rounded on him.  Anger finally seized her.  “Damn you, Harmon Rabb. Damn you!”  She beat her fists on his chest.  “Need you?  Just because you don’t have to worry about me getting lost in Russia or Afghanistan, you think I don’t need you?  Because I can kick the shit out of a terrorist who holds a knife to my throat? You think I don’t need you!” She took a shuddering breath.  “I need you so much, sometimes it scares me.  Sometimes I glad that we are the way we are because I’m afraid too, Harm.  I’m afraid I'll lose your friendship.  I’m afraid that if we do this, one of us will have to transfer out and then I won’t ever get to see you except when we both happen to be home at the same time.  Need you, Harm?  Jesus, do you have a clue what I went through on that damn carrier, wanting you every night?  That time you showed up on the Guadalcanal was the best and the worst time of my life.”

“Why didn’t you just wait?” he whispered.

“What?  Wait?  When?”

“I asked you to wait and give me some time.”  He studied the giant hand rising from the ground ten feet away. 

“Jesus Christ.  Australia?  You’re giving me whiplash here!”  She took a deep breath.  “Fine.  Let’s get that out into the open, shall we.”  The skirt of her dress swirled around her as she stalked over to the anguished bronze face struggling for that first breath of life.  “Mic wanted me.  Mic wanted to be with me and to possess me and to make me feel everything that he wanted me to feel.  I think, on some level, Mic loved me.  And you want to know something, Harm?  I was willing to settle for that.  I know now I would have regretted it – sooner than later probably. But at the time I would have settled, simply because I thought I NEEDED to be loved.

"I need – I want – babies.  I want to feel life growing in me.  I want to prove to myself that brains and love and desire can overcome the crappy childhood I had and I can give to my children the love I never felt at home.  But I can’t do that by myself.  I can’t be one of those unwed career mothers.  I want it all, Harm and I’m willing to work at it.” She took a deep breath.  “I am working at it.”

“Oh yeah?  How?” He turned to her to face him, unsure where this was leading, more afraid now than when they started, more afraid that when he was on a mission.

She pulled away and leaned against the chin of the statue.  “That night Webb and I went to the camp looking for witnesses.”

“Yeah?” he strangled out.

“I was so keyed up about everything.  There we were in the middle of the biggest case of our careers – hell Harm, Sturgis was right, we’re in the history books with that one.  Tiny little footnote, maybe but we’re there.  Anyway, I was walking around the courtyard of the prison camp with no one nearby but guards making lewd suggestions and prisoners muttering death threats and worse.  I should have been planning on what I was going to say to the prisoners to get them to talk to me.  I should have been sleeping! But all I could think of was how it was Bud who knew I was the one to go on that mission with Webb, how you didn’t trust me.”

He took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him.  “Mac, it had nothing to do with trust.  Hell, it had nothing to do with worry even.  I knew Webb would watch your six just like I knew you would watch his.  Oh shit, Mac, don’t you get it?  I wanted to go.  Me.  I wanted to get off that damn ship and DO SOMETHING, not just sit in a court room and prosecute the bastard.”  He hugged her to his chest.  “Tell me what happened.” 

She moved her head so she could talk but didn’t pull away from him this time.  “Webb found me.  Demanded to know what was wrong.  Said he couldn’t afford to have me fuck it up because I was mooning over you.” 

“Webb said that?  That’s what he meant in the cave.  So what did the great Webb say?”

“He didn’t say much.  He just led me back to my room and listened to me rant.”

“Mac?  Do you want to tell me what you said?”

“No.  It’s too personal, sounds too hurtful.  I just needed to get it out.  When I was finished, Webb held me until I fell asleep.  And before you think anything bad about--” 

Harm kissed her hair.  “I know Mac.  I guess I’m glad he was there for you.  You sure you don’t want to rant to me?”

“Yeah.”  She hugged him tighter.  “Clay suggested that I see someone who would listen whenever I wanted.  I made a couple of phone calls and found a therapist. It's helping a little. I’ve only seen him twice but he listens and asks hard questions.”

“You tell him about us?”

“Do you mind?”

“No. I guess not.” He took her face in his hands and stared down into her eyes.  “Mac, I do love you.  Whatever it takes to make you happy.”

“You mean that?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“Then kiss me again.”

He lowered his lips to hers and a fire exploded within them.  Years of pent-up desire and need fueled that kiss.  As their tongues danced together, hands roamed over each other’s backs and bottoms, caressing and pulling their bodies closer until she could feel his need pressing against her mound.  He groaned as they parted.  “Oh God, Mac.  I…”

“Sssh.” She touched her finger to his lips.  Taking him by the hand she led him back to his truck.  After he settled her and got inside, he reached for the key, but her hand stopped him.  She was kneeling on her seat.  Leaning over the console, she turned his head to hers and demanded another kiss.  This one was even more heated than the one before and when he felt her hand working the buttons of his shirt lose, he only paused for a moment before reaching up to caress her breast.  He groaned as she moved her mouth down his face to kiss his neck and the exposed skin as his shirt parted under her fingers.  She tugged and pulled until the shirt was free and even though he knew the park police might very well catch them, he lowered his seat back and let her pull the shirt from him and fling it into the back of the car.  He worked the straps of her dress off her shoulders, exposing her breasts, then dragged her over the console and settled her in his lap.  He feasted on her nipples, suckling and kissing and licking them until she fell forward.  Both of them were panting so hard the windows were steamed.  She arched back and reached for his belt. 

“Mac,” he groaned.  “God, I don’t think…Jesus!” he gasped as her hand found his cock.  It was every make-out fantasy that he had never fulfilled in high school as he lifted up as far as he could to free his cock from his pants.  Tangled in her skirt he wasn’t sure his hand would find her panties but he tugged and tried to tear them from her.  With a growl of frustration, she started to move off him, but he pulled her back and then just nudged the thin material aside.  Eyes locked on his, she plunged down on his shaft and they both sighed at the joining.  For a long time he just held her close, buried in her, knowing he was home and finally understanding that he was no longer lost.  More importantly, though, he saw the truth in her eyes.  She did need him.  And he silently vowed never to let her down. 

He leaned forward and kissed her eyes, her nose and her mouth.  When she began to rise up, he grasped her hips and helped her.  In seconds, she was frantically riding him and he knew they were both close.  This wasn’t how he had envisioned their first time together, but he didn’t care.  It was damn near perfect in his eyes. Besides, they had all day tomorrow.  He felt the incredible tightening in his balls and felt her muscles clench around him.  She arched up, hands pressed against the roof as she shouted her release.  He moaned her name as she collapsed on him and together they embraced until they could both breathe again.

“Oh, wow.” She sighed. 

“Damn, Sarah.  Never once did I dream of this. Please...?”

“Hmmmm.” She snuggled her nose in the hollow of his shoulder. 

“Please can we do this again.  In a bed maybe?”

“Hmmmmm.  Whose?  When?”

He held her for a moment until the lights of a car broke the mood.  Giggling, she climbed off of him, grateful that the windows were still fogged.  Adjusting the top of her sundress, she leaned over the back of the seat and found his shirt.  But the time she turned around he was buckling his belt.  By the time the policeman rapped on the window, the shirt was on - not buttoned, but on.

“Aren’t you folks a little old to be doing this?” The park policeman sighed as Rabb shielded his eyes from the glare of the flashlight. 

Before Rabb could say anything, Mac leaned across the console and laughed.  “Oh, I don’t know, Officer, are you ever really too old to fulfill a fantasy?” 

“Well get home, get a room or…or just go.” 

Rabb didn’t speed out of the park but he wasted no time getting back on the parkway.  “Well?”

She leaned over and caressed his cock through his pants.  “Your place is closer.”

“Thank you.” He sighed and made for the Northeast side.

***
Kathleen Webb kissed the forehead of her sleeping son, moved several of the toys he had received out of the bed and quickly left the room, closing the door behind her.  She started to go downstairs to clean up some of the clutter but noticed that all the lights were out.  Going down the hall, a smile began to quirk her lips.  As she opened the door she found him, on the bed, the sheets turned down.  He was lying there, naked, already partially erect.  He held out his hand to her but she just stood there, arms folded across her chest.

“Kat?” 

“Yes, Clayton?”

“Come to bed.” His voice was already ragged with his desire.

“I really need to go downstairs and straighten up.”

“Already taken care of.  Trash taken out, glasses and silverware loaded in the dishwasher.  Come to bed, woman.”

“Ah.  Well, did you lock the doors?” She was losing the battle to keep the grin from her face.

With a snort, he reared up off the bed and stalked over to her, pulling her into a tight embrace.  When their lips parted he growled.  “I’m a bloody fookin’ spy, Kathleen O’Meara, I checked the bloody doors!”

“Oh, and are you goin’ to go all forceful on me now?”  She gasped as he picked her up and threw her on the bed.

Before she could scream or struggle he covered her with his body, pressing her into the sheets as he began a slow assault on her, moving off her only to divest her of another article of clothing before raining kisses down on the newly exposed skin.  He took special care of the tightly puckered nipples topping her small pert breasts.  Pausing to nestle his head on her belly he sighed.  “Lord, I can’t live without you Kathleen.” He groaned softly as she ran her fingers through his hair. 

“Aye, love, I know it.  I couldn’t live without you in me life either, Clayton.”  Any other endearments were lost as he gently pulled down the slacks she had worn for the party.  Burying his face in the already damp silk covering her sex he nuzzled and kissed her until she arched up off the bed.  Grabbing his face she pulled him back up to her “I need you in me now, darlin’ man.”  He pulled her panties off and kneeling between her thighs slowly filled her. 

Her head rocked from side to side, her hands held on to his shoulders and finally she wrapped her legs around him.  “Now, Clayton.  Harder, love.  Oh yes, yes, yes.” She sighed as her orgasm claimed her.  His thrusts continued until he buried his lips in her soft neck smothering his cry.  Collapsing next to her, he pulled her to his chest. 

“'Twas a perfect ending to a perfect day, Mrs. Webb.”

“Indeed, Mr. Webb.” She sighed and ran her fingers down his chest.  “I’m thinking your Mr. Rabb has finally come to his senses.”

“Now Kathleen, don’t be getting your hopes up. The two of them have danced around each other for as long as I’ve known them.  You know that.”

“Aye, and 'tis all your fault,”  she smugly replied.

He lifted his head to glare down at her upturned smirk.  “How the hell is it my fault?”

“Well, haven’t I just be telling you to bring them by?  You waited four bloomin’ years.”

“We were rather busy those four bloomin’ years if I remember correctly.  And are you telling me that one visit to the good witch of Alexandria…ouch.” He rubbed his chest were she had hit him.

“Don’t be talking blasphemy, Clayton.  I’m no witch and you know it.”

“No, you’re a wee imp bent on mischief most times.  Pull up the covers and go to sleep.”

“Oh and himself’s giving orders now to boot.”  She giggled as she covered them with the sheet.  Sighing, she snuggled closer and gently traced the latest scar on his body.  “I didn’t hurt you did I darlin’?”

“No, Kat,” he murmured as he let the magic of her lull him to sleep. 

“I really think they’ll be fine now, Clayton.  I know these things.”

“I know you do, love.” He was nearly asleep.

“Now what are we going to do about himself?”

“Hmmmmmm. Who?” 

“Why Albert Jethro, of course.  The man is just pinin’ away.”

“Kathleen!” Webb rolled his wife over and glared down at her, sleep forgotten.  “Kathleen O’Meara Webb, you will not…”

“Now, now, of course not darlin’.  Go to sleep now.”

Clay groaned and then grinned at the thought of the two-star admiral.  “Your bachelor days are numbered, AJ.”