Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no
copyright infringement is intended.
---
- USS Seahawk, much later this evening
Harm hesitated in front of the heavy iron door leading to his room. He had stayed away as long as possible but he didn't want to skip his entire night sleep. Not because of Webb. He sighed. Oh, well, maybe Webb was already sound asleep that would spare them a lot of trouble. He pushed the door open and stepped into the small room.
Webb was sitting at the tiny table, shoved into the right corner opposite to the narrow bunk beds on the left-hand side, and immediately looked up. He had shed the jacket of his dark suit but vest and tie were still in place. His fingers rested on the keyboard of his laptop.
The two men considered each other for a long moment.
Then Harm shut the door with a little more force than necessary. Webb turned back to his computer and continued tapping away. The silence besides the clicking sound of the keys was deep and telling.
Harm walked to one of the narrow metal lockers left to the table and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. He threw them on the lower bed then started to unbutton his uniform-shirt. Webb's fingers kept moving steadily over the keyboard. The spy held his gaze firmly glued to the screen.
Harm stepped out of his shoes and changed into the sweatpants and another T- shirt before carefully hanging his uniform up. The little sounds of the keys seemed to get louder and louder. Harm pressed his lips together. He knew it was imagination but still... The sound was starting to get on his nerves.
"I just hope you don't want to keep this up all night," he suddenly spat out.
"I have to finish this," Webb answered without looking up or even a pause in his tapping.
"I'm sure you do," Harm growled. He straightened his uniform to avoid wrinkles. "Planning some new hair-raising operation you can drag innocent people into and then leave them hanging? Intending to use the Navy once more?"
Webb's fingers stilled abruptly. He shot Harm a short glance without turning his head.
"Oh, yeah, now we're back to 'the big bad CIA is spoiling the good old Navy', aren't we?" His voice was sharp.
"That's what the CIA is usually doing if I remember correctly. You're the best example, don't you agree?"
"Well, you were all gung-ho of becoming a member when you were offered a plane to fly, don't *you* agree?" Webb shot back.
Harm gritted his teeth. He slipped his shoes back on.
"Maybe," he admitted finally, "But you were really in a hurry to get rid of me again. Afraid I could endanger your job?"
Webb snorted. "Sorry to destroy your illusions but you'd never be able to do my job."
"For once I agree with you." Harm made a face. "I don't like to intrigue against co-workers. I'm sure you had a lot of fun talking them into kicking me out."
Webb looked straight ahead. "The boss called me into his office, showed me a tape of your little TV appearance and asked me if things like that were going to happen again in my opinion. What should I have done - lie?" He snorted again. "Believe me, you were as wrong for the Agency as the Agency was for you."
"As if you are the right person to assess that!"
"Better than you are!"
"I see," Harm scoffed, "And next you'll tell me I have to be grateful for what you did." He reached for his washbag and a towel. "For having the great opportunity to experience unemployment first hand."
"Don't be silly. Unemployed when AJ was already craving to get his golden boy back?" Webb turned on his chair and glared at him.
"Good God, you're really thinking I owe you a favor for this." Harm shook his head in disbelief.
"I don't. But it wouldn't matter anyway. You already owe me more than you'll ever be able to repay." Webb clenched his fists. He imitated Harm's voice: "Webb, I need information about this and that. Oh, I know it's classified but can't you annoy your boss and give it to me anyway? It's a matter of morality." He continued in his normal voice, although it was barely more than a hiss. "If it wasn't a simple: Webb, I need this information or you'll regret it!"
"*I* owe *you*?" Harm laughed out loud. "All debts I ever had were paid when you dragged Mac into that mess in Paraguay."
Webb drew in a sharp breath. "Leave Paraguay alone. That the mission went south wasn't my fault!"
"Poor planning, poor judgment - sounds pretty close to your usual modus operandi."
Hurt and anger fought in Webb's eyes.
"Sorry to remind you," he hissed, "but Mac was there on her own free will. She knew what she was doing and how dangerous it could get."
"Like you told her *everything* and held nothing back." Harm could tell he had hit a soft spot and it felt damn good to turn the knife. He walked to the door. "She could have been killed!"
Webb's look snapped back to the wall.
"She knew what she had signed up to," he repeated but he sounded defensive. "And I paid for my mistakes. I paid dearly."
"Oh, yes, I almost forgot." Harm turned in the open door. "But you used your payment pretty well to crawl for some compensation, don't you?"
"Well, now we come down to the core," Webb narrowed his eyes at him, "Jealous, Harm?"
"Jealous of what? Mac's pity? No, thank you!" Harm slammed the door behind him.
---
- USS Seahawk, much later this evening
Harm hesitated in front of the heavy iron door leading to his room. He had stayed away as long as possible but he didn't want to skip his entire night sleep. Not because of Webb. He sighed. Oh, well, maybe Webb was already sound asleep that would spare them a lot of trouble. He pushed the door open and stepped into the small room.
Webb was sitting at the tiny table, shoved into the right corner opposite to the narrow bunk beds on the left-hand side, and immediately looked up. He had shed the jacket of his dark suit but vest and tie were still in place. His fingers rested on the keyboard of his laptop.
The two men considered each other for a long moment.
Then Harm shut the door with a little more force than necessary. Webb turned back to his computer and continued tapping away. The silence besides the clicking sound of the keys was deep and telling.
Harm walked to one of the narrow metal lockers left to the table and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. He threw them on the lower bed then started to unbutton his uniform-shirt. Webb's fingers kept moving steadily over the keyboard. The spy held his gaze firmly glued to the screen.
Harm stepped out of his shoes and changed into the sweatpants and another T- shirt before carefully hanging his uniform up. The little sounds of the keys seemed to get louder and louder. Harm pressed his lips together. He knew it was imagination but still... The sound was starting to get on his nerves.
"I just hope you don't want to keep this up all night," he suddenly spat out.
"I have to finish this," Webb answered without looking up or even a pause in his tapping.
"I'm sure you do," Harm growled. He straightened his uniform to avoid wrinkles. "Planning some new hair-raising operation you can drag innocent people into and then leave them hanging? Intending to use the Navy once more?"
Webb's fingers stilled abruptly. He shot Harm a short glance without turning his head.
"Oh, yeah, now we're back to 'the big bad CIA is spoiling the good old Navy', aren't we?" His voice was sharp.
"That's what the CIA is usually doing if I remember correctly. You're the best example, don't you agree?"
"Well, you were all gung-ho of becoming a member when you were offered a plane to fly, don't *you* agree?" Webb shot back.
Harm gritted his teeth. He slipped his shoes back on.
"Maybe," he admitted finally, "But you were really in a hurry to get rid of me again. Afraid I could endanger your job?"
Webb snorted. "Sorry to destroy your illusions but you'd never be able to do my job."
"For once I agree with you." Harm made a face. "I don't like to intrigue against co-workers. I'm sure you had a lot of fun talking them into kicking me out."
Webb looked straight ahead. "The boss called me into his office, showed me a tape of your little TV appearance and asked me if things like that were going to happen again in my opinion. What should I have done - lie?" He snorted again. "Believe me, you were as wrong for the Agency as the Agency was for you."
"As if you are the right person to assess that!"
"Better than you are!"
"I see," Harm scoffed, "And next you'll tell me I have to be grateful for what you did." He reached for his washbag and a towel. "For having the great opportunity to experience unemployment first hand."
"Don't be silly. Unemployed when AJ was already craving to get his golden boy back?" Webb turned on his chair and glared at him.
"Good God, you're really thinking I owe you a favor for this." Harm shook his head in disbelief.
"I don't. But it wouldn't matter anyway. You already owe me more than you'll ever be able to repay." Webb clenched his fists. He imitated Harm's voice: "Webb, I need information about this and that. Oh, I know it's classified but can't you annoy your boss and give it to me anyway? It's a matter of morality." He continued in his normal voice, although it was barely more than a hiss. "If it wasn't a simple: Webb, I need this information or you'll regret it!"
"*I* owe *you*?" Harm laughed out loud. "All debts I ever had were paid when you dragged Mac into that mess in Paraguay."
Webb drew in a sharp breath. "Leave Paraguay alone. That the mission went south wasn't my fault!"
"Poor planning, poor judgment - sounds pretty close to your usual modus operandi."
Hurt and anger fought in Webb's eyes.
"Sorry to remind you," he hissed, "but Mac was there on her own free will. She knew what she was doing and how dangerous it could get."
"Like you told her *everything* and held nothing back." Harm could tell he had hit a soft spot and it felt damn good to turn the knife. He walked to the door. "She could have been killed!"
Webb's look snapped back to the wall.
"She knew what she had signed up to," he repeated but he sounded defensive. "And I paid for my mistakes. I paid dearly."
"Oh, yes, I almost forgot." Harm turned in the open door. "But you used your payment pretty well to crawl for some compensation, don't you?"
"Well, now we come down to the core," Webb narrowed his eyes at him, "Jealous, Harm?"
"Jealous of what? Mac's pity? No, thank you!" Harm slammed the door behind him.