'REBECCA AND I'



Author: Daenar (daenarchurill@yahoo.de)
Disclaimer: JAG is property of Belisarius Productions, CBS and Paramount Pictures. No copyright infringement intended.

Rating: 12+
Category: Vignette

Summary: Literature can hit very close home.

Author's note: Just a few random thoughts that passed through my conscious during the first episode of season 10 - seen through Mac's eyes. It all started when Jen quoted that line from one of my all-time favorite novels: Daphne Du Maurier's 'Rebecca'.

As always, thanks a lot to Heather for beta-reading.

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Mac's POV

"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again..."

I really did. Dream of it, I mean, not go there. Right now I can't even stand the sight of a beach. Something big would have to happen to make me drive out to that place again. I guess the whole affair shook me up a lot more than I'd have thought possible. For the present, I try to keep my distance from seashores and weekend estates.

My dreams don't seem to notice, though. They keep dragging me back to where Clay came back to me from the dead. Turning the world upside down. Just like Rebecca does in the novel.

"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again..." 

Daphne Du Maurier's heroine is me. The unresolved mystery of Rebecca's death paralyzes her, and she can't rest until the threads are unraveled. Just as I couldn't until I found out what had really happened to Clay.

It's amazing how much a dead person can hold you in his or her power. When I confided in Harm the night of Chegwidden's Dining-Out, I thought that I was taking the first step towards a new openness in our relationship. But in reality, I wasn't even myself that night. My confession was mechanical. An outward reaction to his shy efforts of showing affection. My soul was entirely closed-off. The scene is present in my memory - but to me it feels as if it never really happened.

Emotional paralysis. All those questions brought up by Clay's supposed death left me unable to mourn him. And thus unable to feel anything substantial. It's going to take me a lot of time to get my life back on track for good.

That night at Annapolis was the first time after learning Clay had died that I thought I might find a way back to my normal self. I so want to believe I was close to letting Harm take the lead and to following him into an emotional safe haven.

Just what my young heroine must have felt when she and Maxim de Winter finally, finally seemed to find a way to cross the virtual abyss separating them all through their marriage. And then - Rebecca comes back from the dead.

I know, in the book, Rebecca is and stays dead, but when her boat is found, she's physically present, intruding into what might have been budding solace in a tormented love. Climactic indeed.

Clay was never dead. And yet, for me, the situation is just the same as in the literary model. A door seemed to have opened for Harm and me to... to what? I don't know. As I said, I could hardly feel a thing. But I did have a distinct notion that he wanted to connect with me, in his sweet, almost clumsy way. That was when I decided to let him in on the bad news regarding our deal. I guess that was the limit of personal closeness I was able to offer that night. And I badly wanted to feel closer to him.

Here's the ray of hope for two people to find a way to each other, just like in the novel. And then - Clay comes back from the dead.

As climactic as it gets.

And now what?

In the novel, Maxim and his young wife have to endure the gut- and heart-wrenching homicide trial. Their chance of happiness seems almost non-existent. And yet, in the end, they are free to live happily ever after. Their souls showing scars, maybe - but united and finally freed from the demons of their past.

The first parallel I definitely see are the scars on our souls. I doubt neither Harm nor I can ever count them. But our story has to end differently. Clay is definitely not dead. I put him on trial myself and managed to draw the line. I am glad I had the opportunity to do it. But the way things went prevented Harm and me from living through the aftermath together. I had to do it alone. He couldn't possibly have helped me to settle things with Clay.

Standing at each other's sides in times of hardship is how Maxim and his wife finally find the basis for their happiness. Whereas Harm and I only solved a case, not the Gordian knot of our love. No wonder it didn't work out for us.

And still, while holding the dusty old book in my hand and skimming the last pages as if I might find the clue to our happiness among those words, I can't fight the dim, irrational hope that one final decisive parallel might in time become recognizable: against all odds, Maxim de Winter finds his happiness in the end. Maybe, one day, so will Harmon Rabb, Jr. 

If the novel is any indication, I might just be the one destined to share his 'happily ever after'.


THE END