ABOUT US 2: Surprise, Surprise
Author: LeE
e-mail: lee_81881@yahoo.com
Classification: Romance H/M
Disclaimers: JAG doesn't belong to me. It belongs to DPB and CBS. I'm just having some fun while procrastinating on homework...
*From Part 5*
"You mean Lt. Moore had something to do with this?" AJ demanded.
"Don't bluff with me Admiral. I'm the DCI remember? I read that message you got from the Skipper before it left that ship" Trent answered evenly, no pride or smugness noticeable; simply a sense of urgency palpable in the air that surrounded him.
"We don't have much time. I'll explain everything once we're safe. Let's go" Rising from his chair, he made sure his face was covered once again before he departed. Leaving instructions for them to follow on an envelope on the desk, Trent walked out of JAG.
*Part 6*
AFGHANISTAN
ON THE ROAD
SAME DAY
The repetitive bumping against the cool glass surface finally brought him back to reality as Harm opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. He was in a car; that much he could tell. Turning his head, which now hurt worse than before, he tried to identify the place. He'd been in the Middle East before. There had to be something he could remember, something he could recognize and store away in his mind for when the time came for him to make his escapade. There was no doubt in his mind that he had to at least try to get away from Webb. Strange. He was the only one in the car, other than Webb, who was driving in silence, as Harm had apparently dozed off from the effect of whatever drug he'd been given on the back seat of the Jeep.
The bouncy ride seemed only to intensify the aches that had become so familiar to him. Quickly adjusting in his seat, his hand flew to his left arm, breathing a sigh of temporary relief that his wound had been apparently attended to. How? He had never seen anyone in that hell hole other than Webb. He faintly remembered passing out after attempting to stand at Webb's order. After that, a big gap on his memory prevented him from even an educated guess as to where he'd been or where he was being taken. The last thought on his mind before he fainted had been of Sarah. His Sarah.
Visibly shaking his head, he tried to focus on the situation at hand once again. He had to figure out a way to let someone know where he was. Mac was probably dying of worry. Why now, God? Why now after the dreams we've had were standing at our doorstep? Nothing he thought, said, or did could take him back in time before the... crash? Once again he made an effort to remember how he'd gone from his Tomcat to where he was now.
"Skates" he murmured softly and this brought Webb's attention towards him. Turning his eyes from the road, Webb regarded him, a devilish grin on his face.
"I see you're awake, Harm"
"What do you want, Webb?" he answered, the hatred quickly growing inside him allowing him to forget the many times Webb had been there for them. The many times him and Mac had been there for Webb.
"Shut up" Webb answered defensively and turned back, his eyes concentrating on the road once again, a frown now visible on his features. Harm could see his face through the mirror, and once again wondered silently what phase two was all about. He'd heard Webb talking about it with Lt. Moore on the phone the day before. He hoped above all that whatever phase two entailed, it didn't go through until he had a chance to do something about it.
Minutes later, he felt the car slowly decreasing speed, and an old abandoned warehouse greeted his eyes as he looked out the window. It was dark, cold and humid as he set one foot out the door, leaning heavily on the door frame, trying desperately to make his head stop spinning enough to take the first step. His extensive military training told him to look around, take in his surroundings, try to recognize anything familiar, but he could do none of those. There was nothing to see. It was dark, so he couldn't even use the sun to figure out the time. Miles and miles of hard roughed up land extended to all sides, and there was only the warehouse to look at. Deciding it was better than nothing he raised his eyes as best as he could, knowing it could be a long time before he saw the outside of anything again.
There were three windows on what appeared to be the top floor. Seemed like a two story old building. Probably had a basement, he mused. He couldn't tell the color or texture of the walls. Everything seemed too blurry for him to pick apart one thing from the other. Not even his own memories were clear. His recent memory still wasn't affected. Well, he remembered everything except those gaps in time that were surely from the drugs. How did he go from 35,000 feet to a basement apparently 100 feet below the surface? How did he get into that car? What happened to Skates? Did he leave her alone? Did she die like the others?
The minute he entered the building the rush of warmth enveloped him, and he finally registered why he'd felt so uncomfortable walking outside. He was freezing. Things seemed to be looking up now. At least this place seemed to be bigger, probably more possible escape routes. He knew his body was nowhere near where it needed to be for him to attempt an escape, and all the thinking apparently took his toll as he felt himself drift off again, landing hard on the floor; blackness once again.
Hours later, the sound of muffled voices awoke him, and slowly opening his eyes he searched the room. His vision rested across the place where he now lay; there was another bed there; another person who looked like another victim. Someone who knew what if felt like to be in his shoes. Well, at least physically. He knew that no man on this Earth could ever feel the same he felt inside for Sarah Mackenzie, but having some company didn't sound that bad at the time.
Gingerly, he moved his legs trying to get them over the edge of the bed. It wasn't that uncomfortable, the bed at least. It beat the hell out of sleeping in the floor with all the injuries he was sporting. Finally able to stand in his two feet, he tentatively moved one foot in front of the other, afraid of too much movement, afraid his body might not have strength enough to support him. It was times like these that he wished he had inherited his mother's height and weight, instead of his father's full 6'4 frame. Dizziness attacked once again, and he quickly lowered his head and planted his hands on his knees, determined to overcome it. Something told him he needed to get over to that other bed and see who that person was.
Still a good five feet from the bed, he stopped dead in his tracks when his "roommate" stirred in his sleep. It looked like a nightmare, but after a few seconds he settled back on his pillow, his back still towards Harm. There was something strangely familiar about this person sharing his fate, at least as far as he knew. The stranger shifted once again and this time his face was left uncovered, unshielded from the tall Commander's eyes, which quickly filled with rage, hurt, revenge, and fury. Harm's eyes widened in horror and he launched himself at the stranger with all the force his body could muster. There was no thinking about consequences or a rational plan formed in his brain. His instinct was about the only thing working properly in his advantage and he went with it, determined to end the life of the stranger once and for all. Harm's big roughed up hands landed on the stranger's neck as his knees hit the floor, wild pain shooting through him uncontrolled, but he didn't care. His mission at the moment was taking the life of another human being.
The stranger felt as if his nightmare was coming true, and he opened his eyes, staring frantically at the figure of the man he'd considered a friend for so long, now hell bent on strangling him. There was pure fury in his features, fueled without a question by the circumstances and the assumptions under which he was operating. The stranger knew he had to do something quick. Harm was a heck of a lot bigger than he was, but the once seemingly unstoppable Naval Officer was currently on his knees, heavily drugged, and that had to play to his advantage.
Harm hadn't stopped yelling and screaming since his hands had landed on his target. "I'm gonna kill you, bastard. I hate you!!" along with other obscenities, was heard constantly over and over from the usually stoic Commander. Harm felt like he was in another world; one filled with anger, pain, wrath, as his hands applied increasing pressure on the neck of his victim and his brain subconsciously tried to come up with reasons to avoid any blood shed. His head swung frantically in the air as he jerked the body of his prey with such ferocity that he started feeling the internal pain on his stomach from the grinding against the side of the bed where it rested.
In his hysterical state, Harm caught site of a shadow toward the side. He turned momentarily towards it, as his hands still held the death grip he had on the neck of the stranger.
"Let him go, Rabb" the voice from the door said. He was sure it had to be Webb standing there, but if that was Webb then who...
"Harm..." he heard the faintest of whispers from the person on the bed, and looked down quickly at where his hands lay on his neck, then back up to his face. At once, his grip loosened and a force born of his own fear and desperation yanked him away from the bed, crawling urgently on the floor, trying to get away this time; as far away as possible from him... from them
Back on the bed, Clayton Webb watched with astonishment and regret at the form of his friend splayed on the floor, trying to grasp the difference between nightmare and reality, truth and lies. From the door, Jason Webb looked on, an evil smile plastered on his face, enjoying the display of emotion apparently brought on by his wicked plan to get his revenge.
"Clay?" Harm said softly, his eyes still as wide as before, breath quickening as the implications of this new discovery swirled around in his half-there mind.
"Yes, Harm. It's me, Clay" Webb answered from his place across Harm. He wasn't sure what drugs Harm was under the influence of, but whatever it was had to be powerful. Harmon Rabb looked like hell, and he couldn't imagine he looked much better himself.
"Then who..."
"Me? I'm Jason Webb. Nice to meet you Commander Rabb" Jay answered from his place at the door, where he still rested against the frame, sarcasm dripping from every word, a triumphant expression shrouding his face.
"Stay out of this. You are not a Webb damn it!" Clay hissed at his look-a-like, glaring at him the way only a real CIA agent could.
"Sure I am" Jay rebutted "Do I not look like you? Have I not been doing your job? Talking to your people? Sleeping in your bed?"
"Damn you, no you are not a Webb and you will never be!"
"Oh yeah? Says who? Once I get you both taken care of who's gonna stand in my way huh?"
"You miserable son of a ..."
"Oh, spare me the flowery spy language will ya?" and with that Jay Webb left the room, closing the door and leaving Harm and Clay to their long overdue chat.
Harm was still stunned. So much he wanted to say, but he didn't know where to start. Clay sensed his discomfort and quickly launched in with his explanation.
"I didn't know about him until two weeks ago, Harm" Clay said, breaking the icy silence that had settled between the two.
"I believe you, Clay" Harm answered sincerely, his injured leg stretched out on the floor, while his other leg rested underneath it. At least the temperature was a little more comfortable here than it had been at the other hell hole he'd been held at.
"I tried, Harm. I swear. I did everything I could to convince him not to bring you into this. I told him he could kill me if he wanted to, but that's not what he's after. He wants to kill me all right, but he wants revenge first"
"Revenge from what? What happened Clay?"
"I don't know exactly what, Harm. I know what he told me, but I'm not even sure that's the truth."
"Seems like someone's been playing you all this time Webb. For God sakes, you're a spy Clay. You can know the lottery numbers that will win the next three years with a simple phone call"
Clay simply looked at Harm with a deflated expression on his face. Harm would probably never understand what it was like to do his job. He'd never have to, really. Harm had a safety net. All military people did. They had JAG. Court Martials. Things in the military were usually done the right way. Granted, there were always exceptions, but nothing's really perfect in this world. The CIA was different. Sure there were teams, and colleagues and all, but when it really mattered, there weren't many people around that could be trusted. Every man for himself, and back to square one. Honor and truth weren't valued nearly as much in his world.
"Harm, there's only one person I've trusted since I became an agent" Clay said somberly. Years of memories, conversations, hardships, pain flashed before his eyes, and Harm instantly recognized it. Not because he knew about any of it, but because he'd seen that look in his own face so many times when he stared at the mirror.
"Who?" Harm couldn't find anything better to say, so he opted for information.
"The DCI. Donald Trent"
"What? But isn't he..."
"That's what Jay told you isn't it? He told you it was Trent leading the terrorist threats against the USS Theodore Roosevelt. He told you the two Lieutenants he killed during that last mission were terrorists, didn't he?" Clay's voice had steadily risen in volume almost to yelling. For a person who made a living out of staying away from confrontation, Clay sure looked like one pissed spook.
"Yeah. That's exactly what he said. I figured the SecNav approved the mission so..." Clay sensed the defensive tone Harm's voice had taken and quickly interrupted him.
"It's not your fault Harm. No one could've known. No one but me and Trent"
"What happened Clay?" Harm asked, softer this time, moving back towards his bed to rest his back against it. The effect of the drugs was slowly diminishing, but he was still not nearly as well as he needed to be.
"Three weeks ago, before I was kidnapped, Don Trent sat down with me and told me the story. He heard rumors that Jay had been spotted around. I don't know who he heard it from, but I trust him. So, we sat down and he told me. The day I was born..."
TBC
Author: LeE
e-mail: lee_81881@yahoo.com
Classification: Romance H/M
Disclaimers: JAG doesn't belong to me. It belongs to DPB and CBS. I'm just having some fun while procrastinating on homework...
*From Part 5*
"You mean Lt. Moore had something to do with this?" AJ demanded.
"Don't bluff with me Admiral. I'm the DCI remember? I read that message you got from the Skipper before it left that ship" Trent answered evenly, no pride or smugness noticeable; simply a sense of urgency palpable in the air that surrounded him.
"We don't have much time. I'll explain everything once we're safe. Let's go" Rising from his chair, he made sure his face was covered once again before he departed. Leaving instructions for them to follow on an envelope on the desk, Trent walked out of JAG.
*Part 6*
AFGHANISTAN
ON THE ROAD
SAME DAY
The repetitive bumping against the cool glass surface finally brought him back to reality as Harm opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. He was in a car; that much he could tell. Turning his head, which now hurt worse than before, he tried to identify the place. He'd been in the Middle East before. There had to be something he could remember, something he could recognize and store away in his mind for when the time came for him to make his escapade. There was no doubt in his mind that he had to at least try to get away from Webb. Strange. He was the only one in the car, other than Webb, who was driving in silence, as Harm had apparently dozed off from the effect of whatever drug he'd been given on the back seat of the Jeep.
The bouncy ride seemed only to intensify the aches that had become so familiar to him. Quickly adjusting in his seat, his hand flew to his left arm, breathing a sigh of temporary relief that his wound had been apparently attended to. How? He had never seen anyone in that hell hole other than Webb. He faintly remembered passing out after attempting to stand at Webb's order. After that, a big gap on his memory prevented him from even an educated guess as to where he'd been or where he was being taken. The last thought on his mind before he fainted had been of Sarah. His Sarah.
Visibly shaking his head, he tried to focus on the situation at hand once again. He had to figure out a way to let someone know where he was. Mac was probably dying of worry. Why now, God? Why now after the dreams we've had were standing at our doorstep? Nothing he thought, said, or did could take him back in time before the... crash? Once again he made an effort to remember how he'd gone from his Tomcat to where he was now.
"Skates" he murmured softly and this brought Webb's attention towards him. Turning his eyes from the road, Webb regarded him, a devilish grin on his face.
"I see you're awake, Harm"
"What do you want, Webb?" he answered, the hatred quickly growing inside him allowing him to forget the many times Webb had been there for them. The many times him and Mac had been there for Webb.
"Shut up" Webb answered defensively and turned back, his eyes concentrating on the road once again, a frown now visible on his features. Harm could see his face through the mirror, and once again wondered silently what phase two was all about. He'd heard Webb talking about it with Lt. Moore on the phone the day before. He hoped above all that whatever phase two entailed, it didn't go through until he had a chance to do something about it.
Minutes later, he felt the car slowly decreasing speed, and an old abandoned warehouse greeted his eyes as he looked out the window. It was dark, cold and humid as he set one foot out the door, leaning heavily on the door frame, trying desperately to make his head stop spinning enough to take the first step. His extensive military training told him to look around, take in his surroundings, try to recognize anything familiar, but he could do none of those. There was nothing to see. It was dark, so he couldn't even use the sun to figure out the time. Miles and miles of hard roughed up land extended to all sides, and there was only the warehouse to look at. Deciding it was better than nothing he raised his eyes as best as he could, knowing it could be a long time before he saw the outside of anything again.
There were three windows on what appeared to be the top floor. Seemed like a two story old building. Probably had a basement, he mused. He couldn't tell the color or texture of the walls. Everything seemed too blurry for him to pick apart one thing from the other. Not even his own memories were clear. His recent memory still wasn't affected. Well, he remembered everything except those gaps in time that were surely from the drugs. How did he go from 35,000 feet to a basement apparently 100 feet below the surface? How did he get into that car? What happened to Skates? Did he leave her alone? Did she die like the others?
The minute he entered the building the rush of warmth enveloped him, and he finally registered why he'd felt so uncomfortable walking outside. He was freezing. Things seemed to be looking up now. At least this place seemed to be bigger, probably more possible escape routes. He knew his body was nowhere near where it needed to be for him to attempt an escape, and all the thinking apparently took his toll as he felt himself drift off again, landing hard on the floor; blackness once again.
Hours later, the sound of muffled voices awoke him, and slowly opening his eyes he searched the room. His vision rested across the place where he now lay; there was another bed there; another person who looked like another victim. Someone who knew what if felt like to be in his shoes. Well, at least physically. He knew that no man on this Earth could ever feel the same he felt inside for Sarah Mackenzie, but having some company didn't sound that bad at the time.
Gingerly, he moved his legs trying to get them over the edge of the bed. It wasn't that uncomfortable, the bed at least. It beat the hell out of sleeping in the floor with all the injuries he was sporting. Finally able to stand in his two feet, he tentatively moved one foot in front of the other, afraid of too much movement, afraid his body might not have strength enough to support him. It was times like these that he wished he had inherited his mother's height and weight, instead of his father's full 6'4 frame. Dizziness attacked once again, and he quickly lowered his head and planted his hands on his knees, determined to overcome it. Something told him he needed to get over to that other bed and see who that person was.
Still a good five feet from the bed, he stopped dead in his tracks when his "roommate" stirred in his sleep. It looked like a nightmare, but after a few seconds he settled back on his pillow, his back still towards Harm. There was something strangely familiar about this person sharing his fate, at least as far as he knew. The stranger shifted once again and this time his face was left uncovered, unshielded from the tall Commander's eyes, which quickly filled with rage, hurt, revenge, and fury. Harm's eyes widened in horror and he launched himself at the stranger with all the force his body could muster. There was no thinking about consequences or a rational plan formed in his brain. His instinct was about the only thing working properly in his advantage and he went with it, determined to end the life of the stranger once and for all. Harm's big roughed up hands landed on the stranger's neck as his knees hit the floor, wild pain shooting through him uncontrolled, but he didn't care. His mission at the moment was taking the life of another human being.
The stranger felt as if his nightmare was coming true, and he opened his eyes, staring frantically at the figure of the man he'd considered a friend for so long, now hell bent on strangling him. There was pure fury in his features, fueled without a question by the circumstances and the assumptions under which he was operating. The stranger knew he had to do something quick. Harm was a heck of a lot bigger than he was, but the once seemingly unstoppable Naval Officer was currently on his knees, heavily drugged, and that had to play to his advantage.
Harm hadn't stopped yelling and screaming since his hands had landed on his target. "I'm gonna kill you, bastard. I hate you!!" along with other obscenities, was heard constantly over and over from the usually stoic Commander. Harm felt like he was in another world; one filled with anger, pain, wrath, as his hands applied increasing pressure on the neck of his victim and his brain subconsciously tried to come up with reasons to avoid any blood shed. His head swung frantically in the air as he jerked the body of his prey with such ferocity that he started feeling the internal pain on his stomach from the grinding against the side of the bed where it rested.
In his hysterical state, Harm caught site of a shadow toward the side. He turned momentarily towards it, as his hands still held the death grip he had on the neck of the stranger.
"Let him go, Rabb" the voice from the door said. He was sure it had to be Webb standing there, but if that was Webb then who...
"Harm..." he heard the faintest of whispers from the person on the bed, and looked down quickly at where his hands lay on his neck, then back up to his face. At once, his grip loosened and a force born of his own fear and desperation yanked him away from the bed, crawling urgently on the floor, trying to get away this time; as far away as possible from him... from them
Back on the bed, Clayton Webb watched with astonishment and regret at the form of his friend splayed on the floor, trying to grasp the difference between nightmare and reality, truth and lies. From the door, Jason Webb looked on, an evil smile plastered on his face, enjoying the display of emotion apparently brought on by his wicked plan to get his revenge.
"Clay?" Harm said softly, his eyes still as wide as before, breath quickening as the implications of this new discovery swirled around in his half-there mind.
"Yes, Harm. It's me, Clay" Webb answered from his place across Harm. He wasn't sure what drugs Harm was under the influence of, but whatever it was had to be powerful. Harmon Rabb looked like hell, and he couldn't imagine he looked much better himself.
"Then who..."
"Me? I'm Jason Webb. Nice to meet you Commander Rabb" Jay answered from his place at the door, where he still rested against the frame, sarcasm dripping from every word, a triumphant expression shrouding his face.
"Stay out of this. You are not a Webb damn it!" Clay hissed at his look-a-like, glaring at him the way only a real CIA agent could.
"Sure I am" Jay rebutted "Do I not look like you? Have I not been doing your job? Talking to your people? Sleeping in your bed?"
"Damn you, no you are not a Webb and you will never be!"
"Oh yeah? Says who? Once I get you both taken care of who's gonna stand in my way huh?"
"You miserable son of a ..."
"Oh, spare me the flowery spy language will ya?" and with that Jay Webb left the room, closing the door and leaving Harm and Clay to their long overdue chat.
Harm was still stunned. So much he wanted to say, but he didn't know where to start. Clay sensed his discomfort and quickly launched in with his explanation.
"I didn't know about him until two weeks ago, Harm" Clay said, breaking the icy silence that had settled between the two.
"I believe you, Clay" Harm answered sincerely, his injured leg stretched out on the floor, while his other leg rested underneath it. At least the temperature was a little more comfortable here than it had been at the other hell hole he'd been held at.
"I tried, Harm. I swear. I did everything I could to convince him not to bring you into this. I told him he could kill me if he wanted to, but that's not what he's after. He wants to kill me all right, but he wants revenge first"
"Revenge from what? What happened Clay?"
"I don't know exactly what, Harm. I know what he told me, but I'm not even sure that's the truth."
"Seems like someone's been playing you all this time Webb. For God sakes, you're a spy Clay. You can know the lottery numbers that will win the next three years with a simple phone call"
Clay simply looked at Harm with a deflated expression on his face. Harm would probably never understand what it was like to do his job. He'd never have to, really. Harm had a safety net. All military people did. They had JAG. Court Martials. Things in the military were usually done the right way. Granted, there were always exceptions, but nothing's really perfect in this world. The CIA was different. Sure there were teams, and colleagues and all, but when it really mattered, there weren't many people around that could be trusted. Every man for himself, and back to square one. Honor and truth weren't valued nearly as much in his world.
"Harm, there's only one person I've trusted since I became an agent" Clay said somberly. Years of memories, conversations, hardships, pain flashed before his eyes, and Harm instantly recognized it. Not because he knew about any of it, but because he'd seen that look in his own face so many times when he stared at the mirror.
"Who?" Harm couldn't find anything better to say, so he opted for information.
"The DCI. Donald Trent"
"What? But isn't he..."
"That's what Jay told you isn't it? He told you it was Trent leading the terrorist threats against the USS Theodore Roosevelt. He told you the two Lieutenants he killed during that last mission were terrorists, didn't he?" Clay's voice had steadily risen in volume almost to yelling. For a person who made a living out of staying away from confrontation, Clay sure looked like one pissed spook.
"Yeah. That's exactly what he said. I figured the SecNav approved the mission so..." Clay sensed the defensive tone Harm's voice had taken and quickly interrupted him.
"It's not your fault Harm. No one could've known. No one but me and Trent"
"What happened Clay?" Harm asked, softer this time, moving back towards his bed to rest his back against it. The effect of the drugs was slowly diminishing, but he was still not nearly as well as he needed to be.
"Three weeks ago, before I was kidnapped, Don Trent sat down with me and told me the story. He heard rumors that Jay had been spotted around. I don't know who he heard it from, but I trust him. So, we sat down and he told me. The day I was born..."
TBC