:: Dreams and Liars ::Chapter Thirteen 18 December, Monday "Ma'am. You aren't going up there." She stood on the landing of the 15th floor looking up. "What would you suggest?" The sergeant insisted, "Let me send up a couple of Rangers." "No, get everybody out. The General's orders, sergeant." "The General also ordered you and Colonel Webb..." "Yeah, and I'm going to go tell him right now." She started up the stairs. Her feet were cold again and she wondered idly if they would ever be clean. One of the men had offered her his boots but she declined. "No, I can't imagine I'm going to get much of a chance, so I'll use every trick I've got." Instead of going up the stairway that Webb had used, she crossed through the building to the other side. Men were hurrying down the stairs but they made room for the very determined looking Marine Colonel, a large .45 clutched in her hand. She hadn't wanted to be tied down lugging the rifle and one of the men had insisted that she take his weapon. "It's better than the .38 there ma'am." Mac figured it wouldn't matter one way or the other, but she took the gun and now stood outside the door on the 17th floor, two Marines with Force Recon patches on their shoulders right behind her. She had fought taking them, but the Sergeant had called the General and the General had called Chegwidden and so there they were. They checked the door carefully before opening it and Mac was surprised not to find an explosives charge. This is not good. Peering carefully around the corner and seeing nothing she hesitantly stepped into the corridor. The sounds drifting up from the stairwell cut off as the Marine carefully closed the door. She had just motioned for one to check each door when they heard a high-pitched voice demand. "Where the hell is your little friend? I need her." "I told her to get the hell out of here." Webb's voice, sounding cocky as always, drifted back. Mac approached the muffled voices until she could hear them clearly. Looking up into the corner she grinned. Knew there would be one. Pointing to the angled mirror in the corner the three made out the distorted reflections in the corridor. Two men that Mac didn't recognize held Webb by either arm. Jackson was slumped on the floor. Mac couldn't tell if he was alive or not until Deirdre O'Neill swung her booted foot and caught the man in the chest causing a grunt of pain. "I heard what you told her you idiot. She'll be here. If she doesn't, then soldier boy here dies. I can't use his uniform anyway." "Forget it. I told her to scram." Mac motioned for the men to go around the other direction and pressed her back against the wall to watch and wait. Lord, Webb just shut up. O'Neill paced back and forth and then snarled, "Ben? You see anything?" Ben Hareesa stuck his head around the corner. "No. I told you he said something funny to her. She must have known that we didn't have the breastplate anymore." Mac watched in horror as Deirdre brought the gun up to Webb's forehead. Keeping one eye on the mirror she stepped out and as Deirdre grinned and swung the gun to the helpless man on the floor. Mac yelled, dropped and fired. She hit the floor hard, but she saw Webb throw off one of the men and ram into the other. Looking up, she saw Hareesa raise his gun. She never heard the shots but blood and bone exploded as the bullets ripped through his head. She sat up just as one of the Marines came running around the corner. Webb and one of the men were grappling for a gun and the other was groping on the floor for something. She saw the gun and shouted. "Don't even think about it." She crawled over to Jackson, past O'Neill who was doubled over, clutching her stomach, the blood pooling around her. "Hey, Sarge. How bad is it?" He coughed and she could see the blood on the carpet and finally heard the wheezing. "Oh shit." She yelled to the other commando to call for a chopper. "We have to take him off the roof." "Let's get him down the elevator." Webb panted. "Can't. We found explosives wired to one of them." Webb stumbled over to her. "You sure? They were making plans on using the elevator, once they got your uniform for her. That's why they made me call you. I was hoping you'd get the message to get out when I called you Rabb." He sat down next to her, leaning his back against the wall. This close she could see the gash under his eye had reopened and his lip was swollen. Mac sat back and watched as one of the commandos called for the helicopter and medic. She hurt. Her feet hurt. She was tired. Too tired to move. Too tired to think. O'Neill shifted and Mac saw Webb crawl forward. "Deirdre. Where is it? Who has it?" The death rattle sounded loud in the hallway. Webb sat back, one knee up and the other almost touching the dead terrorist. "Jesus. What was it all for?" "Well, if nobody else dies, then I guess it was worth it?" Mac stood up at the sound of pounding feet. Reaching out her hand she tiredly commanded. "Come on Colonel. Remember, you're in charge." She walked out of the hallway to the stairway. She didn't think she could make it, but she did. As she came down the last flight she almost burst into tears. Someone had very carefully laid her shoes and ruined nylons beside the doorframe. Bending down she used the wadded up pantyhose to wipe off her feet and then slip on the shoes. Walking out into the lobby, soldiers with cases moved past her and a Marine general approached her. She started to come to attention but he growled, "At ease, Colonel." "Yes, sir." "Webb just called in. The helicopter just picked up Jackson. The bomb they found was set to go off on contact and they've found three more, one on each of the elevators. Should be a simple job to defuse them and get them out of there. We'll move the bodies once we clear the bombs away." "Yes, sir. Anything else?" She didn't wait for his answer and tiredly made her way to the opening in the wall. Even though the hole had allowed the building to chill, as she entered the plaza, the blast of December, snow-promising, air took her breath away. She shivered in her uniform jacket and the cold bit at her bare legs. She threw back her shoulders and twisted her neck. By the time she reached the security checkpoint for the building she was freezing and wide awake. "Mac!" She turned to see Rabb running toward her. "Hey." "Jesus." He ripped off his coat and threw it over her shoulders. His warmth and smell surrounded her and she should have been grateful. She was grateful. He was a good friend. An obnoxious friend, but still as dear to her as anyone and she collapsed into his arms and began to cry. He held her tight and led her to a van that was parked nearby. "Come on, jarhead. Get in." He helped her in and she noticed through her tears, Francesca Paretti sitting on one of the bench seats, a huge gray blanket wrapped around her. "Oh thank God." Mac moved to sit next to the girl and they hugged each other. Sitting back and pulling Rabb's coat tighter around her Mac whispered, "How did they get you down from the elevator?" "Oh, my Papa and Harmon came and got us all. Papa lowered himself down on the rope and then Harmon joined him. The pulled each of us out and then lowered us down to the ground." The girl leaned over and whispered, "I was very frightened, but Harmon held me all the way down. He is very cute, is he not?" Mac nodded and leaned her head back. "Very, Francesca. Where is your dad, I mean the Admiral?" "He and the Generals are conferring inside." Francesca leaned her head against the van window. "What!" Mac sat up and pushed open the door. She started toward the building but a Marine stopped her. "Sorry ma'am, no one gets in without security clearance." She fumbled with buttons on Rabb's coat and had just pulled out her badge when she saw the Admiral and Rabb walking out of the building. "Here!" She shoved the badge at the startled guard and ran up to them. "Sir?" "Mac! Rabb said you were out. "Come on let's get back to Francesca. They found us rooms across town. We can't get to your clothes, of course, but we'll make due." Chegwidden was already past her and halfway to the van before she could even turn around. He held open the door for her and she climbed back in. "Sir? What about the bomb?" He looked at her and then over at Rabb. "Oh I though Rabb already told you?" She was too tired to glare or even look at him, "No, sir." "They were able to pull back the sheeting on the front of the freezer. They moved all the C-4 into blast proof containers and the trucks are hauling it away now. They thought they would have time to move it, but they decided it would be easier to let the detonator explode. They've moved everything away from it as far as they could and they've put up as much cushioning as they could around and over it." He shrugged as the van started to pull away from the curb. "We'll have to see what happens. They finished moving out all unnecessary personnel and a bunch of lawyers are definitely unnecessary." "Sir! Francesca told me what you did." AJ smiled back at his daughter. "Well, sometimes even lawyers can help." The van pulled into the street and through the tinted glass she could see Webb just coming out of the building, the two terrorists left alive behind him surrounded by Marine commandos and Army Rangers. Yeah, sometimes we can help. :: :: ::
24 December, Tuesday The report was scattered on the bed. The cover sheet marked "TOP SECRET" "EYES ONLY" was resting in the corner where it had floated after she had slammed down the pile of papers. It had been delivered to her at JAG ops. She hadn't planned on going in but she thought it would give her something to do. It hadn't. The detonator had gone off causing damage to the area around the freezer and the floor above it, but without any loss of life. And, after yet another sleepless night at the new hotel in Brussels, she had finally broke and told the Admiral she was going home. "Sir, there's nothing for me to do here and I'm due my vacation." She hadn't really been surly about it, but Chegwidden had eyed her carefully before picking up the phone and ordering a seat to be found on the next transport out. "Son, I don't give a damn if the Senator's daughter is going to be late for her daddy's Christmas party, Colonel MacKenzie has an important meeting to attend. Now you want to explain to the President why she missed it?" Mac shook her head in wonder. Well he hadn't actually lied. She had gotten home Wednesday and discovered that there was one less worry and one more disappointment. She wasn't pregnant. There had been an excited phone message from Chloe that had made her both happy and sad. "Mac! Daddy's got leave and we're going to meet him in San Diego and he is going to take me to Disneyland. Can you come visit in January?" She had told Chloe, "Of course, honey," hung up, and wondered what she was going to do the rest of the week. Webb had been good to his word on one thing, at least. When she had opened the door to the apartment her suitcases were piled on the floor and all the gifts that she had bought were neatly stacked on her dining room table. She spent all day Friday buying wrapping paper and wrapping, she would have done it Thursday, but she couldn't bring herself to get out of bed. Saturday and Sunday she pretty much paced. Oh, she could call it cleaning if anyone had bothered to actually ask what she was doing, but even though every single surface in the apartment was dusted, wiped, cleaned, and/or scrubbed, it was all just busy work. She had railed to the refrigerator. "Why doesn't he call?" Her inner voice had loudly proclaimed, Because you told him not too, remember? "Since when did he ever pay attention to anything I said?" she had shouted at the linen closet. The towels wisely refrained from answering On Sunday evening the phone rang and Mac forced herself to calmly wait three rings before languidly answering, "Hello?" "Mac?" She kept the sigh deeply buried. "Good evening, Admiral." "How are you feeling?" "Good, sir. I've gotten some rest, finally. I think I've recovered from my jet lag and I've been running every afternoon. Frankly, I think I'll go in tomorrow." "Excellent." She could hear the embarrassed pause. "Actually, Mac that's why I called." "Sir?" "Rabb is leaving Brussels and going directly to California and if you were going in to the office anyway, I think I'll ask you to be acting JAG. I'm going to fly to Zurich with Francesca and see Marcella. I'll be back next Sunday." "Good for you, sir. No problem at all." They had discussed the few cases on the docket and AJ reminded her to give everyone Christmas Eve off as soon as they had reported in, had the traditional cake, coffee and gift exchange. "Oh, and Mac. There're gifts for everyone in my office closet, could you please see to it that they get passed out." "Yes, sir. Have a great time in Zurich." "Merry Christmas, Mac." Rabb called her Monday morning and asked her if she still wanted to come out and instead of laying a guilt trip on him for leaving the acting JAG gig on her when it was really his responsibility, she just begged off. "Nah. I feel I need to go to the party at the Roberts' and I'm still kinda' of tired." "Sure, Mac. Hey, we'll talk when I get back, Thursday." "Sure, Harm. Merry Christmas." This morning, just after 1100 hours, she had packed up the gifts she received and was just leaving when an Army Ranger and a man who was obviously "Company" came in, asked to see her identification and handed her a large envelope. The agent pompously asked, "Ma'am, you will take all prescribed security precautions?" "Why, you gonna blow my big toe off if I don't?" She muttered as she signed for the envelope. The CIA agent hissed and started to retort, but the Ranger nudged him. "Come on Thompkins, I want to get home to my family." Mac dumped the envelope into the bag with her gifts and stalked down to her car. Great, you're pissed off at Webb and you take it out on the "good cop" of the psycho team. Fighting traffic back to her Georgetown apartment did nothing to soothe her nerves. Pausing at the door, she steeled herself before unlocking and pushing it open to find... exactly what she had left earlier in the day. He wasn't standing at the window staring out into the still bright afternoon. He wasn't lounging, one leg gracefully crossed over the other, in one of her chairs. Dropping the bag by the door, she struggled out of her coat and hung it on a hook. She wanted a drink. No. You want him. "No I don't!" she gritted out to the empty room. She missed Jingo, but her frequent absences these past months had convinced her that she couldn't keep a dog. It wasn't fair. So now Jingo romped on Chloe's grandmother's ranch. After she had stripped down to her underwear, made a nice stiff...cup of tea, she grabbed the envelope out of the bag and moved to her bedroom. Might as well be comfortable while I read this work of fiction. An hour later she slammed it down onto the covers in frustration and got up to shower for the party later in the evening. She really didn't want to go tonight, but the look of panic on Harriet's face when she made feeble noises of being tired and maybe staying home, changed her mind. Staring around the bathroom, she decided on a long soak instead and filled the tub with hot water, poured in jasmine scented bath salts and returned to the bedroom to hunt for several pages of the report to restudy. Sinking down into the relaxing steamy liquid she considered everything she had just read. The two terrorists who had survived gave up three other gunmen who were waiting in a truck two blocks away. Mac didn't want to think about how Webb had gotten the information but remembering the body of Captain Thomas sprawled out on the cold marble floor, and the huddled form of Sergeant Jackson, his lung pierced by the bullet from O'Neill's gun, she wondered if she really cared. So many had died, Captain Thomas, Horst Belk, Lucretia Pedrotti, Armin Dettwiler, Hans Bauer, O'Neill or whatever her name really was, Ben Hareesa, Hannah Jacobs. Hannah had never recovered from the seizure that had somehow started this whole thing spiraling out of control. The report gave quick thumbnails on the other members of the conference. All had been cleared except the ones she knew about and Brody Armstrong. The young woman had been sent in by MI-6 to keep track of Sinclair and offer assistance as needed. "Some help you were, missy." Mac told the picture of the sunset on the wall. Most surprising of all was the apparent innocence of both Lealia Bouchard and Vasilii Gubin. Mac toed more hot water into the tub and sipped at the mug of cinnamon tea. How strange that appearance so belied the core. Funny, witty, Lucretia Pedrotti would have killed her in a heartbeat over 14 jewels and tattered fabric. Cold, arrogant, Lealia just wanted a little justice for herself and women everywhere. Jolly old Hans Bauer had turned out to be one of the most ruthless backers of violent hate groups who worshipped at the altar of the memory of Adolph Hitler. Vasilii Gubin, snide, cruel and generally obnoxious, had pretty much just wanted to get out of the reality of his life in Russia for a few days. The Breastplate of Aaron. Mac closed her eyes to summon up the one glimpse of history and Biblical mystery she would probably ever witness. Such beauty to have been the instrument of personal loss and destruction. The report advised that early indications supported the theory that Kurt Farber, who had paid the ultimate price for his greed, was working alone and no one higher up in the government was implicated. "Yeah right!" She raised her tepid tea cynically to the picture on the wall. Clyde Marshall would suffer no further consequences after he got out of the hospital. "After all," he had advised police from his hospital bed, "I was just coming to the aid of my good friend, Hannah Jacobs who had been brutally hit in the head by Armin Dettwiler before she killed him. She's not Hannah Jacobs! Well how was I supposed to know." The report advised that there was little that would be done against such an "advocate of US interest." She considered filing charges, and idly wondered if Webb would extract his own revenge. Again, she wasn't sure she really cared. Only two things were really cleared up by the report and Mac was only interested in one of them. The first was that investigators were laying blame for the four bombs in the elevators at the office building in the lap of Sinclair. One of the two terrorists in custody told the story of how Sinclair had been caught on the 15th floor and executed by O'Neill herself. It had occurred to none of them to check to see why he had been there or why he had accepted his death so readily. "The pig just knelt there laughing hysterically while Deirdre cut his throat." Mac put her mug in the corner of the tub and scooted further down into the water. Really, when she analyzed the whole affair it was sordid and nasty with little to redeem it. She wondered if the relic would turn up again or if it would disappear back into obscurity. Poor Horst Belk - so very human, so very tragic. For nearly 60 years he had guarded something, not out of any real sense of duty, but because by doing so he felt he was hurting the murderer of his Helga. Investigators had found a hoard of stolen artwork. And, a diary. Someone who are you kidding, he had sent a copy of five pages, each neatly written, detailing Belk's rationale to himself and to his God for his crimes. Mac reached over to the toilet seat and picked up the sheets and skimmed over them again.
Sighing, she placed the papers back on the toilet seat and stood up. It was still only 1348 hours and she didn't need to be at the Roberts' until 1830 hours. Maybe she would take another nap. Stepping out of the tub, she studied her face in the mirror. Her lips were still chapped from the abuse she had heaped upon them during those stressful days – and nights - and she could see more of the little lines around her eyes. It’s getting too late, I'm getting too old. Sleep still eluded her and she wondered ... Oh for God sakes! Snap out of it! Briskly she toweled off, dried her hair and put on the huge terry robe. Reaching down for her mug, she decided that another cup of tea was in order. She opened the bathroom door, walked across the bedroom and flung open the door leading to the front room and nearly tripped over him as he knelt, frozen, before the small tree she had forced herself to put up last night. "Busted, Webb," she whispered.
:: Chapter 14 ::24 December, Tuesday He didn't turn, just stood and smoothed his hands down his trousers. "I thought you would still be at work." "Bad intel, Webb. We had our little Christmas exchange, drank our coffee, ate the cookies and JAG is officially closed for two days." She leaned against the doorframe, too afraid to stand, her knees felt like jelly. She swallowed twice before she could continue. "What are you doing here?" Finally, he turned and she saw he was `back in uniform.' The charcoal gray three-piece wool suit hung on him just a little. Of course her uniforms did too. They had both lost weight in Germany. Even with all that great food. The bruise under his eye was an interesting shade of greenish-yellow now; the cut on his lip was nearly healed. Shoving his hands into his pockets he tried for nonchalance. He failed. "I was just dropping off a gift you forgot." She pushed herself upright set the cup on the small desk and walked to the tree, her bare feet peeking out from the hem of the robe. She knelt before the tree and spotted it immediately. It wasn't very big, a little larger than a thick novel, it was nothing that she had bought or wrapped. She found her hands her shaking and she fisted them into the terry. "You shouldn't have done it Webb." She wasn't sure she spoke loud enough for him to hear until he crouched down next to her. "Shouldn't have done what, Ma...Sarah?" She could feel his breath on her cheek and she finally reached out and picked up the gift. Pointing to the flat square box that had no nametag on it, she murmured. "You might as well open yours." "Mine?" She could hear the pleased surprise in his voice. She started to make a snide comment about misplaced Christmas spirit, but just nodded and sank the rest of the way down to the floor, crossing her legs under her as she did. Gently she pulled the ribbon and bow off and peered over at him. "You did this yourself. The wrapping, I mean." He gave her a sheepish smile. "That bad, huh?" "No, not bad at all, it just doesn't have that polished, wrapped in a store look." "Oh." He sounded nervous as she finished tearing the paper away. "Oh." Her voice caught as she opened the package and stared in at the beautiful teakwood box. The design was inlaid into the wood, a soft impression more than a harsh rendition. The globe, the anchor and eagle almost a shadow instead of fine detail. She opened the lid and the Marine Corps hymn tinkled out from the mechanism. She carefully examined the workmanship and discovered the small inscription in the lid. To: SM. Thank you and I'm sorry. CW. She closed the lid and sat there refusing to look at him, not hearing the wrapping paper tear next to her. "Oh, this is really nice. It looks great with the suit. See." She still couldn't look at him. "Sarah?" Tears began to spill from her eyes. "Please don't..." He whispered and touched her lightly on the shoulder. Jerking away, she whispered. "Get out. Please just get out." She could hear his ragged breathing and thought he would say something else but he stood up and she heard the swishing of his coat as he put it on. "Good night, Colonel MacKenzie. Have no fear, I keep my bargains." But when this is over. We are through. I don't want to ever see your face at JAG ops again. I mean it, Webb. I can't take this anymore. I can't stand the lies anymore. Agreed?... Agreed. She heard him open the door and she turned to look at his back, the red of the scarf just peeking out above the collar of his coat. "What the hell do you want from me, Webb? Forgiveness? Understanding? What, damn you?!" She struggled to stand up, the robe tangling around her legs. She knew he would keep walking, closing the door behind him, yet again. He did step outside and the door started to close but suddenly he was back in the room, the door slamming behind him. His snarl was bitter and angry. "What do I want, Sarah?" He roughly grabbed her by the shoulders. She stumbled and he was pressing her against the wall. A small vase rattled on a table, fell and shattered. "I want a lot of things. But, I don't want nor need your forgiveness. I did what I did. I apologized, get over it. I wanted to do the right thing in Munich and it went wrong. I'll deal." He was so close to her she could make out the flecks of brown in his eyes, though they were rapidly fading as anger and passion darken the green to almost jade. "Understanding? God! How can you possibly understand what I do, everyday? You and Rabb, Jesus, you really have no idea. Everything with you is cut and dried and THE TRUTH is your God. Well, good for you, Sarah. Good for Rabb. The world needs heroes." His voice had never gotten above the angry growl and it wound its way into her very being. She shivered in his touch. Please, just kiss me. Please, just take me to bed. He turned away from her and took such a deep breath that she could see his shoulders expand through his coat. "What do I want, Sarah MacKenzie? I want you. I want to take you to bed and make love to you until we are both so exhausted that we sleep until 5:30." "What? 5:30? What happens at 1730 hours?" He turned then and stared at her. She could see fear in his eyes that had nothing to do with rejection on her part and she understood that what he was about to say was costing him a lot. "At 5:30, Colonel MacKenzie we have to get up, shower and get ready and then go to the Roberts for Christmas Eve." "We have to? They invited you?" "No." "Oh." The import of what he said was like a kick to the stomach and she didn't know if she could stand upright. He was asking to be seen with her as her date. He wanted the Roberts and everyone else at JAG to know that he had spent Christmas Eve with her. He wanted Rabb to know that he had spent Christmas Eve with her, because she had little doubt that Rabb would know, even before they left the Roberts. "This has got nothing to do with, with… At his confused look, she tried again. "Well at the airport in Brussels when we got off the plane, you took my arm when you saw..." "With Rabb?" He sighed and ran his hand over his face. "Not everything is about Rabb, Sarah. But since you've brought it up. Let’s get that right out into the open. I need to know. I've watched for five years as he danced around you and I make it my business to know the people I work with. I will bet anything you care to wager that you're not romantically involved with him. But I need to know because that is the deal breaker, Sarah. I won't play second fiddle. I don't give a damn how many friends you have, men, women or children. I'll never be jealous of the time you spend with them or him, but if we do this, you are mine." She felt a powerful flush of desire and need surge through her body but she forced herself to huff. "Just like that. You break into my apartment, give me a...a... God Damn perfect... present and you expect to lay your claim?" He walked up to her but didn't touch her. "I bought that present the day before we left for Munich. It's been sitting on my desk at work. At the time I was apologizing for ruining your Christmas. But, that's not how I plan to lay my claim. Say the word, Sarah, and I'll go. Like I said, I keep my agreements." She couldn't meet his eyes. "And what about what I want? What I need?" If she moved a fraction of a breath or tilted her head up just a blink the decision would be made. She stood perfectly still. His words caressed her cheek, "If it is within my power, I will give it to you." "Will you always tell me the truth?" "No, but I will never lie to you." "Semantics, Webb!" Angrily she tried to move past him, but he brought his hands up to either side of her, forcing her to choose to touch him. "You know I can't tell you what I do or where I go." "What about `when' you go? I'm supposed to guess if you are in town? I'm supposed to just wait for your pleasure, Mr. Webb? Wait for you to be sitting on my sofa when I open the door at night?" He took a deep breath. "I can try and let you know that I won't be available, but I won't always be able to do anything more than leave a voice mail." He finally realized exactly what he was demanding. The fear almost made him pale. "Is that enough? Can you handle that?" She dropped her eyes and whispered. "I don't know." He waited a heartbeat and then nodded. "I see." Dropping his hands back to his sides he turned to the door. Just as he reached out for the knob she added. "But I'm willing to try." Walking up she put both hands on his shoulders. "Seriously try...Clayton." He shuddered and leaned his head against the door panel. "Anything else?" She didn't answer immediately. In fact she walked back to the tree. Staring at the ornaments, she bent down and plugged in the lights. Tiny multi-color stars twinkled out. Their shine blurred by her tears. Don't tell him. Don't. You don't want him to leave. Talk about your deal breakers! She heard the heavy wool coat hit the chair, the swoosh of his jacket falling on top of it and his shoes clump on the floor as he toed them off. Oh I hope they're slip-ons, Webb, for that quick escape. White sleeve-encased forearms circled her waist and he pulled her back to his chest. Don't tell. "Tell me, Sarah." "I want kids." She waited for him to stiffen and he did. He stepped back but instead of running from the room, instead of laughing out loud, he gently turned her to him. "What? Not last week? It's only been nine days, Mac? Are you?" His voice was soft and she knew what he was really asking and she threw her head back and groaned. "Oh God. What is it with you, me, and simple communication? No Clay. I'm not. I haven't been with anyone in a long time. And that's been here and gone already – since last Sunday, I mean." She was blushing furiously anyway so she met his wide-eyed shock, "Oh and just to clear up something else. I'm clean. I had a complete check up including an HIV screening two months ago." She cocked her eye at him and he just shook his head. "Yeah, me too. Last month, actually. And I haven't been with anyone and nothing happened in Munich." He shuddered, "Though just being in that room upstairs at Kay's, watching..." She touched his cheek. "Don't think about it now. Though, if you want to talk later, we can." She didn't want to loose the train of thought just yet though, so she stepped up closer so that her knotted belt was caressing his zipper. "I want kids, Webb. I'm not getting any younger and I need to know that you understand." He kissed her then, gently, sweetly, chastely. Holding her at arm's length he studied her carefully. "So what you are telling me is that you aren't going to use protection and you don't want me to either?" He grinned. "You're mighty pretty when you blush like that, Sarah." But he waited. "That's correct." "And if you get pregnant and have a baby then what about me?" "How do you feel about it?" "Well, it's a shock of course. I had planned on just, you know, dating a while, see if you could stand the pressure of being seen with me." "Pressure! Ha! I'm a Marine, Webb." "Damn cute one too." He was grinning and she started to slap his arm when he grabbed her wrist. "Watch the arm, Colonel." He pulled her to him and this time the kiss wasn't chaste or sweet or gentle. Demanding entrance, his tongue plundered her mouth. His teeth nibbled on her lower lip and his fingers urgently worked at the knot on her robe. Pushing the robe off her shoulders to pool at her feet, he stood back and quickly undid his tie and unbuttoned his vest, then his shirt. Before he could undo the cuffs though she grinned evilly, stepped up to him and pulled the shirt down both arms. While he was struggling to get his hands free she pushed him against the wall. Running her hands behind his neck she pulled his lips to hers, kissing him passionately, insisting on her turn to plunder and tease. He finally worked one hand free of the shirt and managed to wrap both arms around her. "No fair, Sarah." "Too bad." She whispered huskily before tonguing his nipple through his T-shirt. "If you don't let me get undressed then we'll have to take the time to go to my place so I can change. I don't mind them thinking that we are sleeping together but proof positive... Oh Jesus, Mac." His complaint was lost in his groan as she cupped his erection and slowly began to caress him through his pants. Grabbing hold of both her wrists he dragged her into the bedroom and pushed her onto the bed, but she righted herself and started to crawl toward him. He growled. "Don't move." As quickly as he could, he finished undressing and finally noticed the papers scattered on the floor where they had fallen. "Nice. I send you a complete `Top Secret' report and this is the way you treat it." "Don't wanna talk about the report. Want you. Inside me, now." Reaching for him she wobbled on her one hand and he took the advantage and pushed her back down to the pillows. Pinning her shoulders, he brought his lips down to hers again. Slowly he branded her with his tongue. Tracing her earlobe, trailing down her neck to settle in the valley of her breasts. The weight of him held her still; the feel of his erection pressed between them drove her mad. "Please, Clay." "In time, Sarah. I want to enjoy this. God, you smell good." Bringing his lips to her already hardened nipples he flicked each one in turn, eliciting long low moans from her throat. He started to trail kisses down her stomach and as he approached her mound she opened herself to him, fisting her fingers through his hair guiding him to where she wanted him. He gently explored her labia and parted her lips to find her swollen bundle of nerves. She thrashed her head at the sensation of his lips and tongue exploring her, images from their night in Germany, of her nose pressed against his scrotum while she tortured his cock with her mouth, flooded her mind and she groaned out his name. "Please, Clay. Oh please I need you now." He moved up until he captured her mouth again, but his hand lingered and began to play. Plunging one long finger deep inside her he began to stroke her inner walls. Arching up to meet his thrusts as she returned his kisses, she shuddered with the beginnings of her orgasm. "Now, harder. Oh damn you, in me, please. Oh... w-w-why did you stop... Yes!" He plunged deep within her. She gazed up into his eyes and saw the mask had finally crumbled completely. Love was clearly there and she knew that as hard as times would be and that there would be bad times between them, the love would remain and she only hoped that she could find half as much love in her own tortured soul. He began to rock into her, thrusting deeper with each stroke, concentrating on moving just right to pleasure her. "It's my turn to watch you lose control, Sarah." The rumble of pleasure started deep in her chest and, as her inner walls contracted around his thrusting shaft, finally erupting as a shout of joy. As the tremors shook her, he sped up his tempo and soon he buried his seed deep inside her. She could feel the warmth spread through her. She clutched at him, holding him tight. "Don't leave me. Stay right here...for now." When he finally rolled off of her, he pulled her to face him. She smiled at the shadow of worry in his eyes. Touching his lips with her fingers she sighed contentedly, "No fantasy that, Clay. It was very real and very, very wonderful." Stifling a yawn she snuggled into his embrace. The last thing she heard before she fell asleep was, "Oh yeah. This is much better than any dream I've ever had." She woke with a start, the bed next to her empty and for a moment she couldn't remember why she was surprised and upset by that very normal fact. Then she heard water cascading off his body and the memories of their lovemaking returned. Rising from the bed she grinned as she saw that the pages of the report had been picked up and neatly stacked on the table. Well, as neatly as could be expected since some of the pages had been under them during their antics. Probably best to just burn that report, Webb. Her grin faded somewhat as she considered how complicated this relationship would be and how she would probably always think of him as Webb instead of Clay in conjunction with his job. Moving to the bathroom door she pushed it open to stand and watch his silhouette move against the steamed glass. Oh well, I guess we'll be a little late. Slowly opening the door she stepped in and embraced him from behind. He relaxed into her hug. "Did the shower wake you?" Turning around, he lowered his lips to hers before she could answer. "M-m-m-m. I wanted to let you sleep as long as you could." "I got plenty of sleep. Kiss me again." She demanded. "Later." He reached down and found the liquid soap. Inhaling the scent, he peered at the label. "Jasmine. Perfect. Turn around." He soaped her back and then her breasts, stomach and finally her mound, paying very close attention to every fold as he trailed his hand between her legs. As he carefully controlled the sensations coursing up and down her entire being she realized that this was how he was claiming her for his own. Because, she knew she would never tire of his touch. She might become furious with him Might? Will! Oh god, don't stop. for whatever `sin of omission' he committed, but she would always come back for this. She tried to grind into him, but he held her firm as he brought her to a knee-weakening climax. Holding her up, he gently finished cleaning her and then reached for the controls. She slapped his hand away from the knob. "My turn to clean you up." His lips were nestled near her ear. "I was finished when you got in. I don't need to be cleaned up." She turned around, kissed him sweetly on the lips before sinking to her knees. As she grasped his already hard cock in her hand, caressing the head with her thumb, she grinned up at him. "Oh you will need to be cleaned up when I'm through with you, Clayton Webb." Flicking her tongue out, she rolled it around the head. She rubbed the thick vein on the underside of his cock, then pressed his cock against his stomach so she could nibble her way down to his balls, before soothing it with her parted lips back to the tip. "Sarahhhhhh." He groaned as she took him in. His fingers entwined in her wet hair. "God, Sarah, baby. So hot, God. I...Sarah you've got to stop now." He tugged ineffectively at her shoulders but she only sucked harder, beginning to hum around him, sending shudders through them both. "Sarah, I can't...oh Jesussssssss!" He erupted into her mouth and she swallowed as much as she could before releasing him to rock back on her heels and gaze up at him. Slowly he slid down the cool tiles until he was sitting in the tub, gasping for air. All the while the shower beat down on them. Crawling forward until she could straddle his hips she took his face in her hands and kissed him long, slow and deep. "What a way to die. That is your intention isn't it, Colonel. You are trying to kill me." She grinned and trailed kisses along his cheek until she could whisper huskily in his ear. "No. Just staking my claim, Mr. Webb." He tried to laugh but it came out very shaky. "Consider me claimed." A shadow crossed his features. "We're going to be late." Gracefully rising and reaching out her hand to him she grinned. "Not too late and probably it will set a precedent for all future gatherings. I suspect we are going to be one of those couples that always show up at the last minute." :: :: ::
24 December, Tuesday The look on Bud's face had been priceless. Recognition gave way to confusion then to shock. "Uhm...Colonel...Mr. Webb...ah...Harriet said you were bringing a date...ah... please come in. Let me take your coats." Mac had called as they were leaving to let Harriet know she was running late and to ask, "You don't mind if I bring someone do you?" "Oh no, ma'am. Actually, we have another surprise, so bring your date." Bud took their coats and then followed as Mac led Webb by the hand into the living room. "Everybody here knows Mr. Webb, right?" At his father's and Tina Mattoni's confused look he glanced to the spy for help. Webb stepped up to Mrs. Mattoni and took her hand. "Clayton Webb, State Department." Mikey Roberts had a coughing fit but stopped quickly as Victor Galindez hit him rather hard on the back. Big Bud looked from Webb to Mac, over to his son, then shrugged before yelling. "Hey, Rabb, where's my beer?" Mac's eyes grew wide as Harm appeared in the doorway, a bottle of beer clutched in his fist. She watched as the surprise grew on his face until he had that `deer caught in headlights' look. She reached out, took the beer and handed it to the elder Roberts. "Hi flyboy, I thought you were going to California?" She kept it light and waited for him to focus on her and not the man standing just behind her. He seemed to be having trouble and Webb leaned over and asked. "Hey, could you get me a coke. I'm going out to get the sack of gifts, okay?" She smiled back at him and nodded. "Sure. Thanks." He left the room and Mac moved into the kitchen. Rabb followed her. "So, Harm. What happened? You miss your flight?" "What happened?!" He waved his arms and Harriet almost dropped the platter of cold cuts she was just taking out of the refrigerator. "You show up with Clayton Webb in tow and you ask me what happened?" "Commander, please." Harriet looked distressed. "You're yelling." "I am not." "Actually, yes you are, Harm." Mac said quietly. Moving to the cooler that Bud had placed on the floor she opened it and reached in and pulled out two cans of cola. "Now, what happened to your flight?" He huffed and crossed his arms. "I thought I would surprise you and..." "And you got turned around in Chicago because of weather, Commander." Harriet admonished quietly. "Well yeah. But..." Mac snorted quietly and looked at Harriet. "Can I help you with anything, Harriet?" "No ma'am. I'm just going to put this on the table then everything will be fine." Harriet looked from Mac to Harm and then, shaking her head, hipped open the swinging door to the living room. "Mac?" He still sounded mad but confused too. "What Harm?" She was suddenly furious with him. "What is it?" "How could you..." "How could I what? Get involved with a man who you don't like?" "I didn't say I didn't like him." "Then you do?" "What does that have to do with anything?" "I don't know, Harm. What does it have to do with anything? What exactly are you mad about?" "Mac! The man left you hanging." "Get over it, Harm. I have. Now, what is it about Clay that you object to? And while we are on the subject, where do you get off objecting to who I date?" "So you are dating? Are you also..." He stopped suddenly and turned away. "Red light, Commander." She sighed, looked out of the kitchen door into the living room in time see Webb come in and hand the bag of gifts to Harriet. He appeared to be completely at ease and she marveled at his self-control. She whispered almost to herself, "He really is quite remarkable." Turning back to Rabb she studied the lost look on his face. "I want you to stop this, Harm. Please. I need you to accept this." "Mac, I can't." He looked down at his feet. "I just don't understand how you can." She put the sodas down on the counter and walked up to him. "Look at me." He took a deep gulp of air and met her gaze. "This has nothing to do with you and me. He will not come between our friendship. He has already told me that and I believe him. I want you to promise me the same." "And if I can't?" "Then you had better ask for a transfer out of JAG, Mister, because I am going to do my best to make this work for a lot of reasons and the most important one is that I'm in love with him." She paused at the look of anger and surprise on his face and realized that he wasn't looking at her but behind her. She turned around and saw Clay standing there at the door a look of pleased surprise on his face and she realized that she meant every word of it. She knew that it shouldn't be possible but it really was quite wonderful. "Hi." "Hi. I just wanted to get my coke. I'll leave you two..." "No. It's okay. I'm coming in now." She walked up to him, grabbing the sodas as she did. "Come on, you can keep Big Bud away from me." "Why? Does he bother you?" He glared into the room at Roberts' father who was talking intently to a dazed Tina Mattoni. "Nah, he just bores you to death." Looking back at Rabb she asked softly, "You coming, flyboy?" He nodded but turned away to face the sink. "Yeah, in a minute." Three hours later, Mac was helping Harriet straighten up. She hadn't been surprised that Rabb left early, hurt but not surprised. Mikey and his date were talking quietly to Galindez and his girlfriend, Dana, at the front door. Bud was yawning and Big Bud was snoring in the corner chair where he had moved to watch an old movie halfway through the party. She smiled at Webb but he didn't notice because he was quietly reading "Twas the night before Christmas" to little AJ. Twin heads of dark hair bent over the book. She picked up the depleted tray of lunchmeat and moved into the kitchen. "He's really good with little AJ, ma'am." Harriet observed as she put a bowl in the sink. "Seems to be, doesn't he." They moved together organizing the leftovers for several minutes without speaking. "Ma'am? Mac?" Mac covered the remains of the cold cuts with plastic wrap. "Yes, Harriet?" "You really like him don't you?" A small smile curved at Mac's lips. "Yeah. I really do, though he is going to drive me nuts." "Good, then don't let Commander Rabb come between you two." "That's not going to happen, is it Colonel MacKenzie?" The women turned to find Webb standing there, hands in his pockets. She shook her head. "No, Clay it's not. You about ready or are you going to read another story to young Master Roberts?" "Nope, AJ is down for the count. He fell asleep on the fourth rendition of 'On Dancer,' etc. and the Lieutenant took and put him to bed." They said their goodnights. He helped her on with her coat and they walked to where he had parked the car down the street. The night was clear and cold and he put his arm around her waist. "That wasn't so bad." She whispered into his coat lapel. "Nah, it was a great warm up." "Warm up? For what?" She pulled back and glared at him. "For Christmas dinner at Mother's, of course." Home :: JAG Index :: e-mail |