Clayton Webb was happy to have helped Rabb on this one. He'd been a thorn
in Harmon Rabb's side one too many times, he knew that, and it was well
past time for him to present Rabb with some good news. It made him feel
especially good that he could bring the good news about Sergei on this
special night, in this special place.
Rabb turned one more time after the sustained hug with his brother to thank the CIA operative. No matter how many times Webb may have misdirected, or for that matter flat out lied to him, this night there was no way he could feel anything but grateful for Clayton Webb to be in his life. He noticed that Webb had made it very near to the end of the monument.
"I gotta go thank Webb properly, Sergei," he said, hoping that Sergei wouldn't mind the brief detour of their brotherly celebration.
"I think that would be good. I follow," Sergei replied, moving a little slowly.
"You're okay?" Rabb asked, love and concern discernable on his handsome, happy face.
"I'm okay. Mr. Webb is in worse shape than me."
"What do you mean? He looked okay to me." Well, he looked tired, for sure, but Rabb didn't notice any obvious injuries on the spy, though he knew that if Clayton Webb didn't want him to know something, he had the cunning to withhold that information when necessary.
"Let's go see," Sergei answered, following his brother down the path that Webb had followed.
Rabb lightly jogged to catch up with Webb. He yelled Webb's name, and noticed a slight hesitation in the man's stride, though Clay continued walking away from him. Rabb put his hand out to stop the agent's forward motion when he heard a hiss, and noticed Webb flinch as his hand made contact. Something was definitely wrong with Clayton Webb.
Rabb removed his hand quickly, and then charged ahead briefly to get the agent to stop. "Slow down, will ya."
"Rabb, I'm tired. I need to get some sleep. So does Sergei."
"I'm okay. It's you Mr. Webb who needs a doctor." Webb looked with disdain at Rabb's younger brother. He couldn't fault the kid for being so tired that he wasn't picking up on the signs, but Webb was pretty sure he couldn't have projected enough that he needed to get out of there. Now.
"I'm," Webb started, only to be interrupted by Rabb.
"Why does Sergei think you need a doctor, Clay?" Clayton Webb knew he was in for it now - Harmon Rabb had resorted to using his first name. Webb hated to admit it, but the bonds that started growing from their first meeting, the bonds that Webb tried with all his intelligence and skills to avoid, with the firm knowledge that it was the right thing to do - those bonds had developed way beyond anything he could control. While Webb had been using his brain and learned skills to avoid developing that relationship, he had forgotten about the strongest part of himself: he had forgotten that his heart would have other ideas.
"He's tired. I'm tired. We both just need some sleep." Webb tried one more time to use eye contact to get Sergei to back off, knowing that Rabb would follow his lead. But Sergei wasn't having any of that. Stubborn Rabb blood, Clayton Webb thought as he tried to maneuver around the two brothers.
Unfortunately, Webb's attempt to get past the larger man resulted in his temporarily losing his balance, more from exhaustion than from any injuries sustained while managing the perilous journey to get he and his charge home for Christmas. Harm reached out to stop the downward movement and Webb was unable to prevent the groan from escaping.
Harm let Webb down to the ground with an ease and gentleness that spoke loudly of his concern for his friend.
"Hey, easy, Clay. What's going on here?"
Webb sat on the ground, breathing through the sharp pain he was feeling in the injured shoulder. During their adventures to get out of Russia, an explosion had occurred that knocked both Webb and Sergei off their feet and through the air. Webb had been helping the weak, slightly injured man and he had seen the gas tanks as the fire approached. He shielded Sergei's body from the brunt of the collision with the side of the building, but Webb ended up paying the price for that as the force of the explosion that sent their bodies hard into the wooden structure crushed his shoulder.
"Mr. Webb had a shoulder separated from him."
Rabb saw Webb smile weakly at the description of his injury, but Harmon Rabb found no humor in that moment.
"You've got a separated shoulder, Clay?" he asked, now kneeling down next to his injured friend.
"No, I HAD a separated shoulder. It was re-set in a field hospital." Webb couldn't stifle the yawn that came. "I'm okay."
"The doctor said he should keep it in a sling and not travel."
"Sergei," Webb started, the irritation becoming harder to mask between the pain, the exhaustion, and the small crowd that seemed to be gathering near them, despite the late hour.
"Sergei?" Harm warned quietly, the pleading tone all that his brother needed to know that he should be quiet. Rabb could tell that Sergei's continued loose tongue was starting to aggravate Webb, which was the last thing Harm wanted to do at the moment.
Rabb knew Clayton Webb pretty well, so he knew that Webb's decision to disregard the doctor's orders had everything to do with getting his brother out and home safely, with little or no regard for his own welfare. The selflessness that Webb had shown with this one act would place Rabb in his debt for a long time to come. Rabb knew the least he could do was not make Webb any more uncomfortable with the situation than he already was.
"Can you get up?" Harm asked gently, looking Webb in the eye to determine the truthfulness of the spy's next answer.
Webb looked at Harm and then lowered his head in defeat. The fact is, there was no way he would be able to get up without assistance. He was THAT tired. And his shoulder had been aching now for almost twenty-four hours. He needed a painkiller, a stiff drink and a bed for the next twenty- four hours. Maybe thirty-two.
"I may need your help on that one," Webb admitted.
"You bet." Harm smiled as he helped Webb to his feet.
Webb found himself leaning into Rabb, not realizing until that moment just how tired he really was. He doubted he'd be able to make it to his car, let alone drive home.
"Here, sit." They found an unoccupied bench. Rabb lowered Webb tenderly, trying not to jostle Clay's upper body. Harm had experienced his share of separated shoulders, and he knew they could be very painful, even when you could rest up right after sustaining the injury. With the way Webb and Sergei must have been on the run, Webb's entire upper body and left arm must be feeling like Clay would rather it just fall off.
The light sheen of sweat was another telltale sign that his friend wasn't feeling very good.
"Sergei, I'm going to go get the car. Clay, where's your keys? We're not all going to fit in mine."
Clayton Webb struggled to find the keys. He felt like he was moving in slow motion, his body ignoring the instructions his brain was sending.
Harm took Clayton's hand and set it back on the bench, fishing in the coat pocket for the key ring. Once he'd found the keys, he convinced Webb to tell him where the car was parked.
"What're you driving?" Rabb asked, needing to know what to look for.
"Company issue Buick. Blue."
"Good. Your car wouldn't have done us any good." Harm smiled at the irony of two red sports cars just waiting to be stolen from the streets of DC in the middle of the night. He shuddered to think of going through that again.
Clay closed his eyes, riding out an especially painful, stabbing ache in his shoulder. "What's wrong with your car?" he asked finally, opening his eyes with the query.
"Same problem we would have had with yours," he smiled, knowing that Webb would understand.
"Ah, you got her on the road. Good for you." Webb closed his eyes and leaned gingerly into the back of the bench. Harm decided it was time to get moving.
"Stay here with Clay for a minute," Harm instructed Sergei, the wonder of seeing his brother inhabiting Harmon Rabb's very soul.
"Okay. Brother." Meaningful looks were passed as the brothers smiled widely at each other, just in time for Webb to witness.
"Oh, brother," Webb said. "I'm already feeling sick to my stomach. If I'd known I was going to have to witness this, I'd have dumped you at the sidewalk." Harm was happy to see the Webb sense of humor, such that it was, still in tact.
"I'll be right back," Rabb said as he headed to retrieve Webb's car. He quickly pulled out his cell phone and contacted Turner. It looked like Sturgis would be spending more time with his baby after all. The car was important to him, but looking back toward the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial, it was apparent the things that really mattered in his life.
The End.
Rabb turned one more time after the sustained hug with his brother to thank the CIA operative. No matter how many times Webb may have misdirected, or for that matter flat out lied to him, this night there was no way he could feel anything but grateful for Clayton Webb to be in his life. He noticed that Webb had made it very near to the end of the monument.
"I gotta go thank Webb properly, Sergei," he said, hoping that Sergei wouldn't mind the brief detour of their brotherly celebration.
"I think that would be good. I follow," Sergei replied, moving a little slowly.
"You're okay?" Rabb asked, love and concern discernable on his handsome, happy face.
"I'm okay. Mr. Webb is in worse shape than me."
"What do you mean? He looked okay to me." Well, he looked tired, for sure, but Rabb didn't notice any obvious injuries on the spy, though he knew that if Clayton Webb didn't want him to know something, he had the cunning to withhold that information when necessary.
"Let's go see," Sergei answered, following his brother down the path that Webb had followed.
Rabb lightly jogged to catch up with Webb. He yelled Webb's name, and noticed a slight hesitation in the man's stride, though Clay continued walking away from him. Rabb put his hand out to stop the agent's forward motion when he heard a hiss, and noticed Webb flinch as his hand made contact. Something was definitely wrong with Clayton Webb.
Rabb removed his hand quickly, and then charged ahead briefly to get the agent to stop. "Slow down, will ya."
"Rabb, I'm tired. I need to get some sleep. So does Sergei."
"I'm okay. It's you Mr. Webb who needs a doctor." Webb looked with disdain at Rabb's younger brother. He couldn't fault the kid for being so tired that he wasn't picking up on the signs, but Webb was pretty sure he couldn't have projected enough that he needed to get out of there. Now.
"I'm," Webb started, only to be interrupted by Rabb.
"Why does Sergei think you need a doctor, Clay?" Clayton Webb knew he was in for it now - Harmon Rabb had resorted to using his first name. Webb hated to admit it, but the bonds that started growing from their first meeting, the bonds that Webb tried with all his intelligence and skills to avoid, with the firm knowledge that it was the right thing to do - those bonds had developed way beyond anything he could control. While Webb had been using his brain and learned skills to avoid developing that relationship, he had forgotten about the strongest part of himself: he had forgotten that his heart would have other ideas.
"He's tired. I'm tired. We both just need some sleep." Webb tried one more time to use eye contact to get Sergei to back off, knowing that Rabb would follow his lead. But Sergei wasn't having any of that. Stubborn Rabb blood, Clayton Webb thought as he tried to maneuver around the two brothers.
Unfortunately, Webb's attempt to get past the larger man resulted in his temporarily losing his balance, more from exhaustion than from any injuries sustained while managing the perilous journey to get he and his charge home for Christmas. Harm reached out to stop the downward movement and Webb was unable to prevent the groan from escaping.
Harm let Webb down to the ground with an ease and gentleness that spoke loudly of his concern for his friend.
"Hey, easy, Clay. What's going on here?"
Webb sat on the ground, breathing through the sharp pain he was feeling in the injured shoulder. During their adventures to get out of Russia, an explosion had occurred that knocked both Webb and Sergei off their feet and through the air. Webb had been helping the weak, slightly injured man and he had seen the gas tanks as the fire approached. He shielded Sergei's body from the brunt of the collision with the side of the building, but Webb ended up paying the price for that as the force of the explosion that sent their bodies hard into the wooden structure crushed his shoulder.
"Mr. Webb had a shoulder separated from him."
Rabb saw Webb smile weakly at the description of his injury, but Harmon Rabb found no humor in that moment.
"You've got a separated shoulder, Clay?" he asked, now kneeling down next to his injured friend.
"No, I HAD a separated shoulder. It was re-set in a field hospital." Webb couldn't stifle the yawn that came. "I'm okay."
"The doctor said he should keep it in a sling and not travel."
"Sergei," Webb started, the irritation becoming harder to mask between the pain, the exhaustion, and the small crowd that seemed to be gathering near them, despite the late hour.
"Sergei?" Harm warned quietly, the pleading tone all that his brother needed to know that he should be quiet. Rabb could tell that Sergei's continued loose tongue was starting to aggravate Webb, which was the last thing Harm wanted to do at the moment.
Rabb knew Clayton Webb pretty well, so he knew that Webb's decision to disregard the doctor's orders had everything to do with getting his brother out and home safely, with little or no regard for his own welfare. The selflessness that Webb had shown with this one act would place Rabb in his debt for a long time to come. Rabb knew the least he could do was not make Webb any more uncomfortable with the situation than he already was.
"Can you get up?" Harm asked gently, looking Webb in the eye to determine the truthfulness of the spy's next answer.
Webb looked at Harm and then lowered his head in defeat. The fact is, there was no way he would be able to get up without assistance. He was THAT tired. And his shoulder had been aching now for almost twenty-four hours. He needed a painkiller, a stiff drink and a bed for the next twenty- four hours. Maybe thirty-two.
"I may need your help on that one," Webb admitted.
"You bet." Harm smiled as he helped Webb to his feet.
Webb found himself leaning into Rabb, not realizing until that moment just how tired he really was. He doubted he'd be able to make it to his car, let alone drive home.
"Here, sit." They found an unoccupied bench. Rabb lowered Webb tenderly, trying not to jostle Clay's upper body. Harm had experienced his share of separated shoulders, and he knew they could be very painful, even when you could rest up right after sustaining the injury. With the way Webb and Sergei must have been on the run, Webb's entire upper body and left arm must be feeling like Clay would rather it just fall off.
The light sheen of sweat was another telltale sign that his friend wasn't feeling very good.
"Sergei, I'm going to go get the car. Clay, where's your keys? We're not all going to fit in mine."
Clayton Webb struggled to find the keys. He felt like he was moving in slow motion, his body ignoring the instructions his brain was sending.
Harm took Clayton's hand and set it back on the bench, fishing in the coat pocket for the key ring. Once he'd found the keys, he convinced Webb to tell him where the car was parked.
"What're you driving?" Rabb asked, needing to know what to look for.
"Company issue Buick. Blue."
"Good. Your car wouldn't have done us any good." Harm smiled at the irony of two red sports cars just waiting to be stolen from the streets of DC in the middle of the night. He shuddered to think of going through that again.
Clay closed his eyes, riding out an especially painful, stabbing ache in his shoulder. "What's wrong with your car?" he asked finally, opening his eyes with the query.
"Same problem we would have had with yours," he smiled, knowing that Webb would understand.
"Ah, you got her on the road. Good for you." Webb closed his eyes and leaned gingerly into the back of the bench. Harm decided it was time to get moving.
"Stay here with Clay for a minute," Harm instructed Sergei, the wonder of seeing his brother inhabiting Harmon Rabb's very soul.
"Okay. Brother." Meaningful looks were passed as the brothers smiled widely at each other, just in time for Webb to witness.
"Oh, brother," Webb said. "I'm already feeling sick to my stomach. If I'd known I was going to have to witness this, I'd have dumped you at the sidewalk." Harm was happy to see the Webb sense of humor, such that it was, still in tact.
"I'll be right back," Rabb said as he headed to retrieve Webb's car. He quickly pulled out his cell phone and contacted Turner. It looked like Sturgis would be spending more time with his baby after all. The car was important to him, but looking back toward the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial, it was apparent the things that really mattered in his life.
The End.