I've discovered a worrying fascination with ficlets instead of concentrating on writing a longer story. Still, better creative in a short format than utterly inactive, I guess.

The following ficlet has accompanied me to quite a lot of places, traveling along in my spiral pad. While it didn't grow into a full story, I still like it. This time, J.A.G. and, of course, Rabb/Webb. Enjoy.

The Face in the Mirror
Author: allaire mikháil
Fandom: J.A.G.
Pairing: Harmon Rabb / Clayton Webb
Rating: PG-13
Summary: This is but a short snippet set directly after story #3 in mareen's wonderful "Equinox" series; it depicts Harmon Rabb's reaction to the events of a certain rainy afternoon.
Beta thanks to: tallsor
400 words, Rabb POV.

The download-friendly .html version of this story can be found here. Enjoy!

The Face in the Mirror

I'm angry. No, not angry. I'm furious.

How dare he treat me like that!

When I left his house three days ago, I was too dazed, too overwhelmed, too shocked to do anything but close the door behind me and step out into the rain.

I don't remember the way home. I just know that I was cold, wet and shaking by the time I arrived at my apartment. And I recall wondering whether the wetness on my face came from the rain or from tears.

Oh, and of course I remember standing in the bathroom, inspecting my face in the mirror, looking for the monumental change I expected to see there. For the first time in my life, I had been fucked by a man. And not just a man, but Clayton Webb; "Special Assistant to the Secretary of State". Yeah, sure. CIA or NSA, who cares? Webb is a damned, cold bastard. While I'm a fool.

Of course, I had looked the same. As always. Good, honorable, upright Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb. Or rather, change that to "bent".

I had liked it.

Back then, at that moment in front of my mirror, I felt like crying. I didn't know the man I'd become. That day made me question far too much about myself. I liked my life the way it was: simple. Pilot, JAG lawyer, ladies' man. Not a spy, a lover of men, or, God forbid, Webb's fucktoy.

I can't face him at the moment.

Oh, how I wish I'd never come to his house that afternoon. Because no matter how much I'd secretly like to repeat that amazing experience, my pride won't permit it. Whatever happened then, it would be on Webb's terms. And whatever he might think, the only one to turn out somebody's personal idiot would be me. I cannot allow myself to be so disgustingly weak. Besides, I can't give him that kind of power over me. With one casual word to the wrong people, he could destroy everything I am.

And then I indeed wouldn't be able to look into the mirror again and see me.

Then why do I feel now more regret than anger, unlike three days ago? Like I said, I don't know myself anymore.

See, not all change is external and easily visible. Some happens inside, and that's the most dangerous of all.

---

"J.A.G." ficlet by allaire mikháil, 400 words, Harmon Rabb/Clayton Webb, Rabb POV, rated PG-13.

Based upon Mareen's wonderful "Equinox" series, set directly after story #3, 'Told in Silence'. It won't make much sense unless you've read the series. A big thank-you to Mareen for allowing me to play in her sandbox and show Harm's reaction to the events of a certain rainy afternoon...

I wrote the first half of this drabble about three years ago and have carried it around as the first page in my spiral pad since then. Upon realizing that it'd never develop into a real story, I ripped out the page, rewrote it a little and now subsequently don't have to hide said pad anymore. Whew. Huge relief. See, I never dared to let the pad out of my sight during seminars... <g>

Read-through by the amazing Kylara Ingress (thank you!!!). I didn't take all her suggestions, so, when in doubt, blame me. <eg> Inspired by Mareen and Gail's fiction.