First chapter disclaimer

Yes, it is the same Meg

2. Obviously, Meg would have been promoted during her time away, so I've advanced her rank to Lt. Commander.

Clayton Webb fidgeted with his tie. There had been plenty of times in his life when he had felt uncomfortable, but this was the first time it could have easily been avoided. All he would have had to do was give Meg a bad e-mail address or never respond to one of her e-mails or stage a whole internet fight and never speak to her again. Yet, he did not.

Instead, he sunk deeper and deeper into his self made pit. Inch by inch she was digging out a carefully hidden personality. Clayton Webb did not let people get to know him; he made people wish he did not exist. But Meg Austin kept pushing away his snide comments and getting him to be truthful.

She was also making him sloppy. Normally, he always did a full background check done on anyone he spent any amount of time on. He always did it himself to make certain there were no mistakes made. He had skipped his normal procedure for her. The guy he had called to do her check said she was clean, and he believed. He did not even do a secondary check. It seemed somehow wrong to doubt her like that.

That, he mused, was one big problem. He trusted her for absolutely no good reason. She was just so personable, so bright, so cheery. He almost felt like he was using her to supply him with his next hit of happiness. His job was depressing. Heck, his whole life was mostly one discouraging international crisis after another. The sad thing was he loved it. He loved it, and he was using Meg's optimism like a steroid for a body builder. And if he was going to use Meg like that, the least he could do was trust her to be a good little naval officer.

Of course, there was the slight problem that he totally and completely lied about his job, name and family background. He could not even give her his standard State Department excuse. Nooo, he was a stupid salesman. His false identity did not keep him from discussing with her, after all, he could always alter the details of his life into and acceptable format. It did, however, make for incredibly uncomfortable moments.

As far as Meg knew, he was a middleclass guy. As a result, she had absolutely no qualms about talking about the snotty upper-class and their arrogance. She was required to attend her fair share of political functions as a navy lawyer, and she never failed to write to Clay complaining about the stupid snobs and their discussions about dancing and softshell crab. She apparently had a strong dislike for snotty people who had inherited their money. She said that they did not have the first concept about how other people lived. They only cared about themselves.

Clay could not help but be hurt by that comment. If the only person he cared about was himself, he would not be out there everyday trying to track down crime bosses or trying to stop weapons smuggling. Meg had said he hid behind a false exterior; would she think differently if she found out he was just a rich kid? Then again, it really did not matter. If she ever found out that he had lied to her, she would not be around long enough to tell him. She trusted him and he was actively betraying her trust by his mere presence in her life.

Clay shook his head. Rabb would probably kill him for doing something so mean to such a sweet person. Then again, Rabb should be happy he had kept up relations with Meg. Her optimistic outlook on life had affected how Webb reacted with the JAG staff. As a result of her interference, he was currently standing on the Admiral's doorstep delivering information that he was supposed to deny existed.

The door creaked open as Chegwidden popped a suspicious head out of the door.

"Webb, what are you doing here?" he asked in a highly annoyed voice.

"I'm delivering the information you requested, remember?" Clay responded in his typically snippy and superior tone.

The Admiral's eyes widened, "You got it?"

"Yeah, and if you want to catch the guy before he leaves the country, you'll have to make it to the airport in half an hour."

"Thanks Webb. Oh… I'm babysitting little AJ for Bud and Harriett. Could you…"

"You are babysitting for the Roberts's urchin? You'll excuse me if you aren't the first person that pops to mind…"

The rest of Webb's diatribe was cut short as he was hauled through the front door by the lapels of his coat.

"Webb, I will owe you a big favor if you'll look after AJ for me."

That was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Of course I'll take care of him. Don't worry I had a training class on how to care for traumatized children that are important witnesses. I can adapt from there."

Chegwidden gave Webb a suspicious look before he bolted from the house.

Clay looked around to see young Roberts staring at him. Blast, he forgot to ask when Bud was going to pick up the little urchin.

"So, AJ, when do you normally go to bed?"

The young toddler look up at him, "You don't look scary."

"I, thank you."

"Daddy says you're a spook, but you don' look like a ghost."

Wonderful, just wonderful, "Yes, well that is something adults say and not something for young ears to repeat."

The child stared blankly at him, "Why?"

Oh no, he was not falling for that, "Because, and that is all the answer you are getting."

"Why?"

Clay rolled his eyes. His expression froze when he smelled something from the kitchen. Chegwidden must have been fixing supper. By the time he reached the stove, whatever canned substance had been cooking was burned.

Even better, now he had to cook something appropriate for a young child.

He smiled down at the small boy staring up at him, "How do you feel about pasta?"

A supper of barely seasoned and soft noodles later the Roberts had still not returned to claim their child, nor had Chegwidden returned from capturing the bad guy. Little AJ did not appear ready for bed, and Clayton Webb had to do something to occupy the inquisitive child.

In the span of time following, Clayton Webb had explained in as much detail as was possible for a young child to understand about proper manner for being introduced and the proper way to become an accomplished equestrian. When those courses of action failed, he sought to bring true pain into Bud Roberts' life. He introduced young AJ to the joys of classical music.

He had drifted off to sleep on Chegwidden's couch somewhere between concertos. Young Roberts had fallen asleep in his arms earlier when Clay had first put his music cds into Chegwidden's player.

At midnight, he heard a soft footstep. A second later, his gun was pointing at the heart of the owner of the foot.

He really wished that he had a picture of Bud's face at that moment. Clay did not know whether it was the shock of seeing a gun pointed at him, or the shock of seeing a nemesis holding his son, but Bud's mouth was positively gaping.

"Bud? Is there something wrong?" Harriett asked as she entered the living room behind her husband.

Bud was not to the point of coherent speech, so Webb took over for him, "Simms, I mean Roberts. Admiral Chegwidden was unexpectedly called away. I, ah, took care of your son for him."

"Thank you Mr. Webb," Harriett smiled.

"What did you do with him?" Bud's suspicious voice finally issued out from his mouth.

"Roberts, I'm insulted. I've merely infected him with the evil Webb cooties. By tomorrow morning he'll be walking around in expensive suits and reading classified information. I'm surprised you don't know. It's how we breed our young."

"Very funny," Bud frowned at Webb.

"Bud, Mr. Webb was very generous to take care of AJ," Harriett reprimanded her husband.

"I was indeed. I believe this belongs to you," Clay said as he handed the still sleeping AJ to his father. "What were you two doing out so late anyhow?"

"Bud took me to the ballet and dinner for my birthday. The Admiral volunteered to take care of AJ for the night. What happened to him anyway?"

"That is classified information. If you'll excuse me, I have to get home."

With that, Clayton Webb pushed himself out towards Chegwidden's front door. Tonight was not a good night for his persona. First, he had done something nice. Then he had done something almost giving towards the dreaded Bud Roberts. Drat that Meg. Next thing he knew, he would probably be saying 'please' and 'thank you.'

The woman was a disease. The only problem was, he had the sinking feeling the name of the disease was love.