Title: Last Thing I Wanted

Author: Celli Lane

Fandom: JAG

Paring: Rabb/Webb

Rating: PG-13 for language

Archive: List archives/WWOMB; all others please ask

Disclaimers: JAG belongs to assorted people with lawyers, who would never dream of paying me to write this.

Warnings: None, unless you need to be warned that this is my first slash fic ever. :)

Summary: Harm writes a letter to Webb.

Notes: Special thanks to Caroline for reassuring me that it didn't suck. The title and the inspiration for the story come from the Terri Clark song of the same name.

Last Thing I Wanted
by Celli Lane

Dear Webb,

Or should I say Clay? Christ, this is impossible. I can't even write you a letter without spending ten minutes on the salutation.

Here's the thing. This--this relationship we're in. Or not in, half the time. I know it's the last thing you wanted. You can't afford any more secrets than the ones you get at work.

Hell, I didn't want it either. I love my career. I don't know who I'd be without it. But my commission is one thing. National security is another. And I know as well as you do that's what we're risking.

What is it, now, six months since we admitted there was a physical attraction between the two of us? Every single day of that six months--every time I open my email or pick up the phone--I've waited for the message from you that it's over, that we can't take the risk any more. And every time I hear from you, whether it's a dinner invitation or some assignment you want to drag JAG into, I'm...I'm relieved. More than I should be.

You think it's just about sex, don't you? Maybe you think it's just the novelty of being with another man. I hate to disappoint you, Webb, but I've been practicing "don't ask, don't tell" for longer than even you know. Going to bed with another man isn't unusual for me.

Waking up with one is, though.

Here's where the impossibility of it all sets in. I accepted my sexuality, and the need to hide it, a long time ago. But I never knew what I was really hiding until now.

It's one thing to give your body to another man, Clay. It's another thing entirely to wake up one morning and realize you've handed over your soul as well.

For the first time, I feel as though I'm breaking the rules I've spent the last decade upholding. I can't stay; this isn't capable of being hidden anymore, and I won't destroy your life.

By the time you read this, I'll be on TAD somewhere--I don't know where. Don't try to find out. For once, for just once, accept that someone else knows best. I know you'll get rid of this letter.

Goodbye, Clay. I wish--well, you know what I wish, don't you?

Love,
Harm

--the end--