Title: Victim
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own Jag, never have and never will I'm afraid. The characters unfortunately belong to a certain D. P. Bellisario… Except those that I maybe invent myself, they belong to me.
Summary: Neither all the first-aid courses he had attended nor had his mission training prepared Bud for the sight that met him in Harms apartment...
A/N: This is my first fic. Since English just is my third language, there are probably some grammar errors, words spelled wrong and strange formulations. So don't be too hard.
If you can't get enough of it (ha-ha), think it is better of in the recycle bin, or couldn't care less, please tell me.
Part one
Bud sat down in his car and drove to Harm's apartment. He wasn't worried. Harm had told him that he was going to a party Saturday night, so he had probably just overslept or forgot about the football game Bud had got front row tickets for. Harm hadn't picked up his phone, so Bud thought he could go see him and wake him up.
He arrived in front of Harm's building, found a parking space and went up the stairs to Harm's apartment. It was such a nice day. The atmosphere at the game would be great. He imagined himself at the game already, cheering, with a big hot-dog in his hand. They had planned a small trip to the office before the game because of some paperwork; but it wasn't that important. So if they skipped it, there would be lots of time to reach the game before it started. As he approached the door he saw that it was slightly open. That was kind of strange. The neighborhood was quite safe, but leaving the door open wasn't very wise, especially since the neighbors underneath him had had uninvited guests just a couple of days before they moved out two weeks ago.
Bud started to feel nervous and a small voice in his head said that something wasn't right. He knocked, no one answered, the place was silent, disquieting silent. Something was definitely not right. He carefully pushed the door open while calling Harms name.
Neither all the first-aid courses he had attended nor had his mission training prepared him for the sight that met him in Harms apartment. He could have dealt with it easier if it was a stranger, but this was his colleague and best friend. He felt like throwing up, started to shiver profusely and was unable to move from where he stood in the doorway. On the floor, just a small distance from the door laid Harm in his dress white. Two thin streaks of half coagulated blood slowly ran down his forehead from two small wounds just underneath his hairline. Small drops of blood still occasionally dripped from his forehead and filled up the small pool which had formed on the floor. His white hat had sled of his head and into the forming blood pool, and started to gain a sickening reddish color. In Harms right hand was his service-gun with a finger still on the trigger….
Not quite sure where I'm going with this story, but I have some clues for the next chapter(s). But again; please review.