A/N: Warning - This is one of those parts that some readers might find upsetting due to the disturbing nature of the villain's possible plans. I don't think it warrants a change in the story rating, especially since there's nothing explicit and not all the planned actions happen. Nonetheless, I think it warrants this note for readers to use their own discretion.

Trinkets - Part 11

It was not the first time in her life that Sarah MacKenzie was in a situation so horrible that she had to shut off some of her basic emotions and operate in a sort of mechanical mode. That had been going on since she was a child listening to her drunken father beating her mother.

It was not the first time she was up close and personal with death, … looking at a dead or dying man with a voice telling her that, in some way, it was her fault that he was dead. There had been more times than she wished to count that she had been in that situation. Eddy, Dalton, Chris …

This time, though, the voice saying that she was responsible was not just inside her. Clinton stood over her, forcing her to stare into the unmoving eyes of Jake Nichols, a man who 'loved' her.

"How does it feel, Lieutenant Colonel? Hmm?" the villain goaded her. "To be face to face with a corpse? A man who is dead because of you. Because he cared for you, … but you dismissed him. He died because, … even after you mistreated him, … he wanted to protect you."

Mac did not respond. She felt a wave of heat flash over her though. If she hadn't already been on her knees, she may well have passed out. There was so much blood … because of her. Blood that now literally covered her since Clinton had shoved her down next to the body and into the crimson pool that had emanated from it.

She closed her eyes, wanting to block everything out.

"No, no! Don't you close your eyes!" her captor scolded. "… You can't ignore Jake Nichols anymore. … I think you owe the man a pleasant goodbye. … I'm thinking that the goodbye kiss is indeed in order, … so he can go out happy."

"He's already gone," she objected, looking up at Clinton.

"Well, … yes, it does appear that way. But are you spiritual, Sarah?"

She remained quiet.

"Answer me …" he teased, drawing out the words and holding up the remote to remind her of the consequences if she did not cooperate.

She took in a deep breath. "… I'd like to believe in a higher power. But there are days when I have my doubts."

"Like today?"

"Today, I hope more than ever, that there is a God and an afterlife, … so that if you don't get justice in this life, you sure as Hell will get it in the next."

Clinton laughed. "'Sure as Hell.' …. That's funny, since I think you meant that's where I'll be."

He paused for a moment and then more seriously declared, "I don't believe that I'll ever be judged, … in this life or any other. But I do have a fascination with the supernatural and the possibility of a … nonreligious afterlife of sorts. Maybe something that only lasts a day or maybe even just a few hours. So, sometimes I like to do something nice for the body of someone who is … freshly deceased."

Mac coughed out a humorless laugh at his phrasing. "You mean after you've killed them?"

"It's just business. I told you, I'm not a monster. So, yes, I will do something nice … in case their spirit is lingering. Maybe they can still feel things after they seem dead to us."

Clinton looked steadily at Mac and touched her face. She immediately turned her head away, out of his reach, but he took a step towards her, while saying, "A pretty woman, such as yourself …"

He reached again for her face, and this time turning her head could not avoid the contact. He caressed her, and told her, "Sometimes I put a flower in her hair. … I might put a flower in your hair." He raked his fingers through her tresses.

"Don't," Mac objected, automatically pushing his hands away, smearing him with Jake's blood in the process. Looking Clinton in the eye, she firmly stated, "If you kill me … and my spirit sticks around, … I won't want you to touch my body anymore."

Seeming a bit disappointed, Clinton grunted. He then took a step back and with renewed energy told her, "You might want to be left alone, but Jakey, here, really wanted you to touch him … and kiss him … and make love to him. So, I'm thinking that since he died for you and all, … you at least owe him that kiss. I think that would make his spirit happy."

As Mac looked over Jake's limp form and pale face she definitely felt sick. "I think his spirit is long gone."

"Well, … humor me." Again, Clinton held up the remote as a reminder that she should do as she was told. "And I've seen what kind of kissing you're capable of, … so this has to be more than a peck."

"He's dead," Mac reiterated.

"As a doorknob," Clinton agreed, not seeing her point.

"Anything more than a peck would require … participation which he can't offer."

That caused a chuckle. "Oh, you're creative. You'll make it work. Just use that tongue of yours …"

"You're sick."

"But, I'm in charge." He suddenly grabbed Mac by the hair and yanked her head in the direction of the dead man's face. He roughly let her go, causing her to fling forward, her arms landing on top of Jake's chest.

"Now, kiss him," Clinton ordered. "Before I decide to have you pay attention to another part of his anatomy."

Mac quizzically glanced up at Clinton.

He smiled evilly and stated, "Post death priapism. … It could be an interesting scenario."

A whole new level of disgust that she didn't think was possible befell Mac.

"Now kiss him!"

Mac did not move. How could she possibly do what was being asked of her?

"Do it! Or there will be consequences!"

Her eyes focused on the remote.

"That's right, one way or another, I want to see some electricity."

Mac took a deep breath and tried to cleanse her mind. Maybe she could just pretend that she was about to kiss a living being …

She reluctantly began to lower her head, willing herself, numbing herself, to complete the action …

"Oh, wait. What was that, Harmon?"

Mac froze at the sound of Clinton's voice speaking to Harm on the phone. Maybe she had just gotten a reprieve.

(- -)

"Stop. Don't make her do that," begged Harm, though Mac couldn't hear his side of the conversation.

He was now directing one hundred percent of his attention to the monitors that displayed the activities downstairs, and he did not like what he was witnessing.

"Are you ready to talk?" Clinton's voice came over the speaker phone near Harm.

"… Yes."

"Alright. So, talk. Where is the device?"

"… Come up here, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"No. No more delay tactics, Harmon. Speak now … or Sarah becomes intimate with the corpse."

"Fine, I'll talk now," Harm hurried to assure him. "… But I need to draw something … for you to understand," he added, hoping to give Clinton a reason to come upstairs.

"Tell me something worthwhile first. Then, I'll let you draw whatever."

"It's kind of hard to … explain. I need to make you a … map."

Clinton paused and then looked at Mac who was staring at him, trying to figure out what Harm was saying and hoping that it would redirect Clinton's attention so that she could get away from Nichols' body.

Her captor shook his head and explained to her, "Your boyfriend is stalling. Since he's not actually talking … you need to go ahead with that kiss."

She didn't move.

"Now!" he ordered, holding up the remote and hovering his thumb over the button that would cause her to receive a significant electric shock.

She slowly started to lean down again.

"A house in Williamsburg!" Harm blurted out.

"What?"

Mac paused, but quickly received a disapproving look from Clinton, who gestured for her to continue.

Harm quickly spat out, "The device is in a hiding place at a house in Williamsburg. Now stop her!"

"Hold up, Sarah," Clinton said, just in time to prevent her lips from meeting the dead man's. "What house, Harm? You have to give me more than a city, and do it quickly, because I won't stop her again."

"The home of a childhood friend of Munkowitz's. … Uh, Ben Osbourne, I think," he rattled off as quickly as he could remember it.

"What's the address?"

"I don't know; he didn't say." He hurriedly added, "But Ben's mother still lives there, and it's within walking distance of the William & Mary campus. She works there. … I'm sure we could look her up."

"And the hiding place?" asked Clinton, grabbing Mac by the hair again and turning her towards one of the cameras to remind Harm that Mac was still at his mercy.

"That's … that's what I have to draw."

"The yard? The house? What room?" asked Clinton impatiently. "Come on, Commander, you can tell me more without drawing a picture. You're on a roll, … and you don't really want to watch me get creative with Sarah, do you? Having her kiss the dead guy would just be … foreplay, really."

Harm inwardly cursed. "It's … in the spare bedroom … in, um, the bottom of a piece of furniture."

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Clinton said gently, releasing Mac. "Unless you're lying to me. And if you are lying to me, Harmon, then you will be sorry. Do you understand? The way I've treated you so far will seem like a day at the park compared to what I am capable of doing to make your very existence, … not to mention Sarah's, … be that of sheer pain."

"I'm not lying," Harm said quietly, and in a tone filled with remorse, given the dangerous information that he had just revealed to this lunatic.

Clinton paused to think for a moment. "Thank you, Commander," he told Harm and then disconnected the phone.

Since Mac was unable to hear Harm's side of the conversation, other than making out the urgency in his voice from time to time, she was not sure just what Harm had said that seemed to pacify Clinton. Obviously, he had revealed something specific. She only hoped that Harm was able to have used the key she provided him and was merely baiting Clinton … hopefully with false information. If not, Harm had just revealed the location of a deadly device to a man that was not afraid to use it.

TBC ...