Title: Declaration

Disclaimer: They're not mine. If they were, the show would be called "Webb-a-palooza."

Spoilers: Anything up to "Hail and Farewell" is fair game. Some key points of "Hail and Farewell" will be hinted at.

Warnings: Angst a-plenty.

Author's Notes: I'm posting this as a lead-up to the season opener. I know where I want to end up with this story, but I'm not sure if I can get there and be true to the canon. I should know soon. If not . . . we don't need no stinkin' canon.

Chapter 11

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I don't know why I'm standing in front of AJ's house, dripping wet. I really don't. Still, here I am, at one in the morning, no less.

Letting out a breath, my rain-soaked hand reaches up and bangs on AJ's door.

"About damn time, Webb," AJ's booming voice says as he swings open the door, "I was wondering how long you were going to stand out here. What do you want?"

What do I want? Comfort? Nothing about Admiral AJ Chegwidden screams comfort. And if I did want comfort, wouldn't Sarah have been a better choice? Or Mother? Or even Victor? No, I don't suppose I'm looking for comfort. I suppose I just wanted to talk to someone who's been where I am.

"Hi, AJ," I say cordially.

AJ narrows his eyes at me. Then he takes a step back and holds open the door. "Well, come on. Get in here. It's pouring."

I take a step inside, crossing my arms tightly across my chest in a vain attempt to ward off the cold.

"You look like a wet dog," AJ says.

"Yeah, well, I feel like one."

Grimacing, AJ says, "I'll get you a towel. You look like you're freezing." As he marches off to the linen closet, he cocks his head over his shoulder. "And Webb? If you get my furniture wet, I'll toss you back outside."

I grin to myself. At least there's no pretense about AJ.

While I wait, I glance around Chegwidden's house at the various photographs that adorn the walls and shelves. There are one or two pictures of scowling Naval officers, but most of the photos are of AJ's only daughter, Francesca. One of Sarah's criticisms of my townhouse is the lack of personal artifacts. In my own defense, my rooms used to teem with family photographs and knick knacks. But after I returned home from my Agency-imposed exile, I guess I just didn't have the will to hang them back up.

It's a good thing I didn't.

In a few minutes, AJ returns with two large towels and a cup of coffee. "Here," he says, "Get your pants and shirt off."

"Sorry, AJ," I say with a smirk, "I'm taken."

AJ glowers at me. "Funny, Webb. Strip."

After I reluctantly discard my wet clothing, AJ tosses one towel around my shoulders. Then he shoves the other towel into my hands, ushers me to his couch, and hands me the mug of coffee.

"Sorry to bother you so late," I say.

This all feels like a dream. Everything was fine. Life was perfect.

"You and Mac have a fight?" AJ asks.

"No," I say, "Actually, things between us are great. She was sleeping when I left."

Maybe this is all a dream. I'll wake up in the morning and everything will be fine.

"So," AJ says knowingly, "What's going on?"

"Life has been great lately," I say, shaking my head, "I stopped drinking. Did you know that?" What am I saying? He probably doesn't know I was drinking in the first place.

He nods. "Yeah, I heard."

I narrow my eyes. With a hoarse chuckle, I say, "What? She confides in you?"

AJ stares intently at me. "You're not the only one with contacts, Webb."

I swallow. "Well, what do your contacts say about Sarah's feelings?"

"You could ask her, Webb."

Rubbing my left temple with the ball of my hand, I let out a staggered breath. "I love her, AJ."

"I know," he says, "You and I would've already had a talk if I thought otherwise."

Without warning, my whole body begins to tremble. "I'm pretty sure she loves me," I say, "But honestly, it would be easier if she didn't."

AJ leans forward and takes the mug out of my shaking hand. "So, you're being sent away," he says calmly.

I nod, covering my face. I've been sent away before, but this is different.

"Where are you being sent?" AJ asks.

He knows I can't tell him. "Officially," I say, "Germany."

"Unofficially?"

I look up at AJ. "Germany."

'Where after that?"

"I don't know," I say honestly.

I don't know anything.

"So, the stakes are high on this one?" AJ asks soberly.

I straighten my body. "They're always high, AJ."

He nods. "So, what are you going to tell her?"

Biting my bottom lip, I mutter, "That I'm going to Germany. What else can I say to her?"

"She's going to be pissed."

"Let's just hope she gets the chance to be pissed at me." Letting out a breath, I lean back on the couch and pull the towel more tightly around my body. "AJ, when you were a SEAL," I say, swallowing, "Did you ever feel like a part of you was withering away?"

"Yeah," AJ says, nodding, "There were times I couldn't remember who I was. Sometimes, I thought I was turning into this . . . creature. To do the things I had to do, I guess I had to be somebody else."

I close my eyes. "So, did you ever get the real you back?"

"Clay," AJ says quietly, "I don't know if I ever knew who I really was."

We sit there for a minute, just staring uncomfortably at the coffee table. Finally, I clear my throat. "I'm not sure I'm going to make it back from this one."

"Dammit, Webb," AJ says, "If you go in with that attitude, you won't make it."

Rubbing my face with my hands, I say, "Sometimes you just know, AJ."

AJ gazes at me. "If something does happen, is there anything you want me to tell her?"

"There's a myriad of things, AJ," I say, "But my life is classified. More than likely, my death will be, too."