Author: Claire Vincent
Date April 2004
This is the fith chapter of what will be many chapters in a series titled: Webb Odyssey. Watch for more chapters under this title or my name. Clayton Webb has become a favorite character with me, and the story really involves him. Enjoy.
This Chapter is rated PG-13 for adult content.
Disclaimer: The Clayton Webb character, and other JAG characters, belong to Donald P. Bellisario, Bellisario Productions, CBS, et al. All other characters and situations of this story belong to the author. No copying of this material is allowed without my consent. For your reading pleasure, one copy is allowed.
WEBB Odyssey
Adventures of Clayton Webb and his friends at JAG, and certain special someone.
Rating: PG-13
Classification: JAG - Story
Webb/other Romance - Adventure
Spoilers: None, written after Tangled Webb.
See Chapters 1 - 4 for the beginning of the story.
Summary: Amy is in the hands of guerillas, and her friends struggle with the job of waiting for news. It is unclear who is suffering more.
Chapter 5 Webb Odyssey
Captivity
Amy's Apartment
Georgetown
0752 local time
The sun came through the open shades, and hit him full in the face. For a while, he just laid there, enjoying the feeling of the sun's warmth, and the soft cushions beneath him. He sighed, stretched and opened his eyes. At first he was confused, thought he was dreaming when he saw the familiar surroundings of Amy's apartment. Then he remembered coming here the night before, and all the terrible reality of the past days came crashing over him. His heart sank back down, and he worked hard to stop the memories, and imagination, from taking over. Gotta put a lid on it if I am ever going to move again, he thought to himself. Can't function if I let my mind go.
And Clay did have to function. He knew that now. But where to start? He looked around, and saw the unfinished quilt wrapped around him. Part of him wanted to stay right here forever, wrapped in her quilt, in her love. But this one wasn't for him, and he didn't deserve her love anymore. She's going to kill me if I ripped anything on this quilt, he thought. I wish she were here now to chew me out. I would welcome the yelling. But it was quiet, and lying here wishing would not help her.
Clay stood up, gently shook out the quilt and folded it back up, and placed in on the loom. He looked around the small apartment, making sure everything was back in its place. Then he moved to the door, and taking one last look around, he promised himself he would not return, until he brought her home himself. Then he closed and locked the door.
He drove himself home, and had to admit, he did feel a little better after a good night's sleep. He showered, shaved, packed a small bag with essentials and drove over to his Mother's home, in Great Falls. It was still sort of his home too, and although he was not sure he was up to facing his mother, and her questions, he did not want to stay alone at his townhouse. Too many people could find him there. He could hide awhile at his Mother's, and he didn't mind admitting that he wanted to hide right now.
When he came into the house, his mother had a few guests. It looked like one of her ladies' committees. She excused herself from her guests, and welcomed Clay with a kiss on the cheek. He liked the feel of her gentle hands on him, and the simple affectionate greeting. 'Hello darling.' She said. 'Come to stay a few days?' she asked.
'Yes, Mother. If its all right with you.' He answered.
'Of course, Clayton. You know you are always welcome.' She assured him with a smile. 'Your room is always ready. Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?' She said, taking a more critical look at her son. He looked very tired, worn out really.
'No, not right now. I'll let you get back to your guests. I'll see you at dinner.' He said, and moved toward the stairs to go to his room.
Porter watched him for a minute as he climbed the stairs. He certainly was tried. But maybe there was something more. Well, she thought, she would talk with him later. He will tell her what is wrong, when he is ready.
Clay stayed in his room for a while, but he was restless. He didn't feel like he could sleep anymore, but he was still tired. He came back down stairs, went into the study where the newspapers were laid out. He looked these over, but could not concentrate on any stories. He was relieved to see that Amy's capture had not been reported yet. He was not sure how long that would last. He paced around the study for a while, then came out and wondered around the house some more. Harrison saw him, asked if he wanted anything, but Clay said no, thank you and moved on.
He finally went outside to his mother's garden. It was still winter in Washington, though the calendar said it was spring. The grass was a dull green, and the flowers were still covered for winter. The trees were still bare. A few birds twittered in the bushes and bare trees, but Clay did not hear or see them. The empty gray garden matched how he felt inside, and he settled into chair, and put his feet up on a table. It was not very warm, and all he was wearing was a sweater, and pants, but he didn't feel the cold. He started making plans. How would he research the information they had gathered? Harm and Sarah would have to be interviewed, as well as himself. What did he remember? Could the three of them remember enough to piece together what the leader looked like to have a composite picture drawn? What weapons did they see? Could he tell anything about how well the guerillas were trained? Slowly, carefully, Clay opened the memories he had buried and locked away. He tried to look at them, without the emotions; fear, frustration, loss, and view them objectively. What could he use?
Clay sat quietly in the garden, until dinner.
Storage Room
Iraqi Base Camp
Northern Iraq
0525 local time
After the sun came up, Amy heard the bolt slide in the door. The leader and four men entered the room. She stood up, with one arm over her chest, the other at her side, trying to show a dignified figure standing in men's boxer shorts. A couple of the men looked at her hungrily. The other two just tried to look anywhere around the room, avoiding her. The leader looked her up and down, like a man ready to pounce, then he focused on her face.
'I am pleased you have survived the cold.' He said.
'I'm touched you were so worried. If you call this winter, your country's weather is as wimpy as its men are.' Amy said with a sneer.
His eyes grew large at this insult, but he kept his anger in check, for now. There was no reaction from the other men. Presumably they didn't understand English.
'Are you ready to answer my questions?' he asked. He pulled Amy's uniform out from behind him, and held it in a ball in front of her.
Amy was tempted, she had to admit. Too many more nights shivering in the dark, seeing her breath would be hard, but she would not give in no matter how blue her hands and feet became.
'What questions are those?' she asked innocently.
His voice rose, 'Where is the Marine base? How many soldiers are there? What are their orders? I will know these things or it will become very hard for you.'
Amy looked him in the eye. 'I will not answer your questions.'
The leader threw down the clothes and came at her. He struck her across the face. When he moved, two of the men moved too, and caught and held her by the arms. The leader punched and struck her several times.
Amy stopped counting the blows, only reacted to them before the next one came. Her attacker paused, as she slumped forward in the men's arms. He grabbed her hair, and pulled back her head so she could see his face.
'Do you want more? Do you think you are some man, playing at being a soldier in men's clothes? Where is the base?' he shouted. 'How many men are there? What weapons do they have?'
Amy's head was reeling, her body ached everywhere, and it hurt to breathe. His shouting came through the fog, and she couldn't think, couldn't remember anything anyway. That's good right? He kept shouting, and his hand and voice were hurting her head more. Amy's marine training kicked in, and without her realizing it she started to talk, just to quiet his pounding voice. 'Harris, Amelia, Major, United States Marine Corps. Service number 612472884.'
His knee came up and connected with her head. He gave his men orders and all four came at her, with rifles and clubs. They struck her back, her legs, her arms and shoulders. She tried to curl up to protect her head and front of her body, but the blows kept coming.
The leader shouted again and they stopped. He knelt down beside her, turned her over roughly and put his face next to hers to whisper to her. 'We are not finished, you and I. I will be back and it will only get worse for you. Answer my questions and we will give you all you need; food, water, a blanket, medical help. We will release you; you may go home. Just tell me what I want to know.'
Amy understood him. His voice pierced through the pain with the promise of comfort and help. But she knew it was empty. She was weak, and in pain, she didn't know what to do. She couldn't answer, only a sigh escaped her lips.
'I will return soon.' The voice promised.
Webb Residence
Great Falls, VA
1930 local time
Porter Webb sat quietly across the dining room table from her son. They had exchanged some words, but nothing Porter would consider a conversation. She had asked Harrison earlier if Clay had eaten anything since arriving, and Harrison had said no, not that he knew of.
Clay sat at the table, toying with his food, and staring at the plate, but he was really, very far away. 'The salmon not to your liking, Clay?' she asked. He was startled by her voice, more evidence that he was somewhere else, but he recovered quickly. 'No, everything is delicious, Mother.' He said.
To convince her, he took two bites, dutifully chewed and swallowed them, and took a sip of wine. Be careful, he told himself. She is watching very carefully. I'm not ready to get into this right now.
Porter watched as Clay ate some of the salmon, and thought that it looked like a chore for him to eat. Something was wrong, and she could tell he was hurting. She could not detect any physical injuries, so it was something else. Something a bandage was not going to reach.
'You know Clayton,' she began. 'Your father often came home after particularly difficult missions, and would pace around the house for a while. Eventually he would open up to me and tell me what was bothering him, without giving away any national secrets. Usually it was after we made love.'
'Mother...' he said with some distaste in his voice, and on his face.
Porter smiled. Finally, she got a reaction from him, even if it was negative. 'I know children don't like to think of their parents that way. Even adult children, but we loved each other Clayton, and we shared things. Your father trusted me, and he was able to talk to me. Sometimes it didn't even matter if I had the whole story. It was a chance for him to get things out in the open, share the burden with someone else. It helped.' She paused, and looked at his sad face. He wanted to say something, but it seemed he didn't know how. 'You know you can trust me, don't you?'
'Yes, I know I can. You are one of the only people I trust without question, Mother.' He said.
'Then what is it? What is troubling you so much darling? I can see you are hurting, and that hurts me.' She said, trying to urge him to open up.
'I should be hurting Mother.' He said, anger creeping into his voice. 'It's my fault. It should have been me, but here I sit,' a sad, unbelieving smile crossed his face, 'in this lovely home, eating salmon and sipping wine.' He looked around him saying these words, viewing the food and the beautiful dining room he had known all his life, with disgust.
'What kind of man am I? I use my friends. I put them in danger, and get them killed.' He stopped there, putting his hand over his mouth to stop any other confessions from escaping. He clenched his teeth, tried to hold back the tears. He had finally realized that it wasn't only guilt, and frustration he had been feeling, it was hate. Self-loathing. What kind of man was he indeed to put the woman he loved in danger, and leave her alone to die?
He took a deep breath, and swallowed back the tears, cleared the lump from his throat. Looking up, he saw his mother was fighting tears too. Tears of sympathy for him, tears for another death. He had now dumped this mess on her, and he hated himself for that too. 'I'm sorry Mother.' He said quietly. He wanted to reassure her, but had nothing left inside himself to offer. He pushed his chair back from the table, balled up his napkin and slapped it on the table. He stood and left the room. 'Good night Mother.'
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
0800 local time
Harm Rabb made his way to his office. It was his first day back since coming home from Iraq, and he was ready to get to work, and find out if there was any news on Amy. He had talked with Sarah a couple of times the day before, as they both were in their own homes trying to get over jet lag. It had been a very long day for Harm. He kept going over and over again in his mind the attack, and tried to remember every detail so he would have something to contribute to help find Amy. He was afraid it would be very little.
As he exited the elevator, the office was quiet. He saw everyone was in the bullpen, watching something on the TV monitor. As he came around the corner, he looked up to see what had grabbed everyone's attention, and there she was. A picture of Amy, a formal portrait, the kind in full dress uniform, with the flag in the background. There was a small smile on her face, and her big brown eyes twinkled. It looked like it was a couple years old. Her hair was different, shorter. It must have been taken when she made major. Seeing her face smiling down at him took his breath away. Then the picture changed to the ZNN reporter, Chuck DePalma. Harm started listening,'...no word yet as to who is holding Major Harris, or what exactly a major assigned with the Office of Home Land Security was doing in a communications truck in Northern Iraq, but the fact remains, she is listed today as missing in action.'
The picture changed again, to a man, same brown hair and brown eyes as Amy's, but there was no twinkle here. He looked sad, and worried. The name typed under his face identified him as Peter Harris, DVM, Brother. He was standing in front of a white house, with a big screened in porch, which had a US flag proudly hanging on the doorpost. At the end of the flagpole, a yellow ribbon was waving in the breeze. 'We of course hope that she is all right. She is a strong, and stubborn Marine, proud to serve her country. We ask everyone to keep her in their thoughts and prayers.' The TV went back to the reporter. 'That was Major Harris' brother who earlier today made a short statement from the family farm in Wisconsin. Her father was not available. We will be watching this story closely, and will report new developments as they happen. For ZNN, I'm Chuck DePalma, now, back to you Lynn, in the studio.'
Harm had seen enough. Now, the whole world knew. As he turned to head for his office, he noticed that Sarah had arrived, and was watching the report also. She still looked so tired, and worried. He wanted so much to gather her in his arms, and make everything all right. But he couldn't. Not here; and though he had hopes, he wasn't sure everything would be all right. They both nodded to each other, and made their way to their separate offices. As Sarah entered hers, Harm saw that Harriet had followed her in, and closed the door. Maybe Harried could offer some comfort. Harm was glad she was there for Sarah.
As Harm entered his office, Bud followed him, asking, 'Isn't that Major Harris an old friend of Colonel MacKenzie's?'
'Yes, Bud.' Harm answered.
'Sir, I'm sure you can't talk about your latest trip...but if you need to talk to someone, well, I'm here, Sir.' Bud offered. He didn't know what was going on for sure, but he could guess. He wasn't being nosey, just wanted to offer support.
'Thanks, Bud.' Harm said. 'I appreciate that.'
At this, Jennifer Coates pocked her head around Harm's office door. 'Welcome back Commander.' She said. 'The Admiral would like to see you and Colonel MacKenzie in his office ASAP, Sir.'
'Thanks, Jennifer, I'm on my way.' Harm got up, and left his office. As he walked passed her door, Sarah and Harriet both emerged from Sarah's office, wiping tears from their eyes. Sarah looked at Harm, nodded, took a deep breath, and walked with him to the Admiral's office.
They opened the door at his order, 'Enter'. Harm let Sarah go in first, then he followed, and closed the door behind him, without being told.
The Admiral barely waited for the door to close before he began. 'I don't care if it's classified for the President's eyes only, tell me what happened out there.' He demanded.
Harm answered him. 'The op was going smoothly enough, but we were not gathering too much Intel on the group, we couldn't find them. Then they just...found us, or more accurately found the truck with Amy inside. We had not planned for the numbers or amount of weapons they had with them. We were stuck on the hillside above, and could do nothing. If we made our presence known they would either have caught all four of us, or killed all of us.' Harm tried to explain. It seemed a cold description of what happened.
The Admiral continued for him. 'If all four of you were taken, CIA would have disavowed all of you, and you'd be left high and dry. As it is, they are trying to use the Iraqi Provisional Government to find her and negotiate a release.' He paused, then finally said under his breath, 'This whole thing stinks.'
The three of them sat a moment in silence, then the Admiral asked another question. 'This Webb's fault?'
'No, Sir.' Sarah answered. 'He feels terrible, and responsible, but...it's not anyone's fault Sir. There is no one to blame in situations like this.'
The Admiral nodded. He knew enough about combat that it was a waste of time trying to lay blame. Just try and fix the problem.
The Admiral was reluctant to bring up the next subject. But, maybe some good news would help today. 'I have something else to discuss with you two. I wish I could have told you on a happier day, but... I have secured a new position...for you Commander.' He said looking at Harm.
Harm and Sarah had held their breaths while he said this. They both knew this day would come, when one of them would leave JAG, so that they could be together in their private life. It was what they both wanted, but it was still a hard pill to swallow. Harm looked a little surprised, then glanced at Sarah, and back at the Admiral. 'Where am I going Sir?'
'You will be attached to the office of the Secretary of the Navy.' The Admiral stated. Harm's look of surprise deepened, but he let the Admiral continue. 'The Sec Nave was very impressed with how you handled his defense at The Hague. He feels that he will have need of legal expertise in the future in international law, as more work is done with coalition forces around the world. He thinks you are the perfect choice. He has said you may finish up any cases you are currently working on, then report to his office.' The Admiral looked at Harm and Sarah. He wasn't sure what their reaction would be, but he had not expected silence.
Harm was both happy and sad at the news. Working for the Sec Nave would keep him in the Washington area, so he and Sarah could be together. He would still be in law, but it was hard to leave JAG. Of all the times he had left this office, thinking never to come back, he knew this one was the real thing.
Sarah was stunned. She didn't know what to think. It was great news, but the reality of not seeing Harm everyday at the office; of sparing with him in the courtroom finally sank in, and she was saddened that this part of their lives together was over.
The Admiral finally continued. 'This position will keep you in D.C., I thought that was what you wanted.'
'It is a wonderful opportunity, Admiral, and I think you for your help.' Harm said sincerely.
The Admiral smiled. I guess I better let the other shoe drop, he thought. 'There is one more thing, Commander. The Sec Nav does have some items for you to look into right away, but he doesn't foresee that this position would be full time all the time. When he doesn't need you, you will be expected to be in this office, working on cases, representing clients, and investigating problems on behalf of JAG and the Sec Nav's office. So, you are not getting out of here completely. Sorry.' AJ said with a smirk.
Smiles broke out on both their faces at that statement. Lightening had struck twice. Harm would work as part of the Sec Nav's office, and could spend some of his time right here, at JAG, at home. They both said together, 'Thank you, Sir.' 'Thank you, Admiral, we appreciate your help.'
The Admiral was serious again. 'Now I expect you both to conduct yourselves as officers, with decorum and restraint here in the office. Or I will make other arrangements with the Sec Nav.'
'Yes, Sir.' 'Yes, Admiral' they answered.
'That is all I have. Dismissed.' The Admiral said. Both officers snapped to attention and answered 'Aye Aye, Sir.' Then turned to leave. 'One more thing.' The Admiral said. 'Let me know any news you hear about Major Harris.'
'We will, Sir.' Harm answered, and left the office.
As soon as the door closed behind him, he took Sarah in his arms and swung her in a circle, as she laughed and held on. 'Harm, stop. I don't think this is what the Admiral had in mind when he said decorum and restraint.'
Harm set her down and looked into her eyes. 'Marry me Sarah. Now, today. We can get blood tests and call Sturgeon's father to do the ceremony.' He was so happy, he couldn't stop. He wanted to start their life together that minute.
Sarah could stop however. She was happy too, but said. 'No Harm. I couldn't. Not until we know about Amy. I'm sorry, I...just couldn't.'
'Of course.' Harm said. 'I'm sorry. You're right. When we do know though, I am getting you the biggest rock, and widest band I can find and put them on your finger, and never allow you to take them off.'
'You have a deal fly boy.' Sarah smiled.
Their conversation was interrupted by a 'Ahem' from behind. It was Jennifer Coates. 'Commander,' she said 'there is Porter Webb on the phone for you. Line 2.'
Harm and Sarah exchanged looks, and started toward Harm's office. 'I'll take it Jennifer, thanks.'
When they had both sat down in Harm's office, he picked up line 2, and put it on speakerphone. 'Hello Mrs. Webb. I'm here with Colonel MacKenzie. I was going to call this morning. Have you talked to Clay in the past couple of days?'
Porter Webb's voice came over the speaker, 'Clayton arrived here yesterday, and asked to stay a couple of days. But, no Commander, I couldn't say that I have really talked to him. I know he came back from a mission, and something is bothering him. Then I saw the news this morning about Major Harris. Was Clayton involved with what Major Harris was working on in Northern Iraq?' She asked, though she was pretty sure of the answer.
'We all were involved, Ma'am.' Harm said sadly.
'What can you tell me Commander?' Mrs. Webb asked.
Harm began, 'Without going into details, Clay asked the Colonel, Major Harris and myself to help him with some Intel gathering. We were ambushed. We were not prepared for their numbers, or amount of weapons they had with them. Major Harris was at the wrong place at the wrong time. There was nothing we could do but watch. Clay was ready to give up his life for Major Harris, but...I stopped him Ma'am. I thought he would only be killed, or get all of us killed.'
'You did the right thing Commander. Thank you for saving my son's life.' The motherly voice came over the phone.
'Yes, Ma'am, but it may have cost Major Harris her life.' Harm paused here. Not knowing what else to say.
'Were you able to look for her?' Mrs. Webb asked.
'Only one day. We were not able to find any sign of Amy, or the guerillas.' Harm answered. 'Then we were all ordered home.'
'Clayton blames himself. He thinks Major Harris is dead. Was there anything else you could have done, do you think?'
Sarah answered this one. 'No Ma'am. No one is to blame. We did as much as we could.'
Mrs. Webb asked. 'Do you think she is alive? Do you think an agreement can be reached?'
'We hope so, Mrs. Webb.' Harm said. 'How is Clay?' he asked.
'Devastated.' Mrs. Webb said. 'He blames himself. He doesn't eat, and hasn't slept. I'm worried about him.' She stopped here. It was a hard question to ask, but she had to know. 'Does he still love Amy, do you think?'
'I am sure he does.' Harm confirmed.
They all sat quietly for a moment. Then Mrs. Webb said. 'I won't take up anymore of your time Commander. Thank you for your help. Please keep me informed if you hear anything about Major Harris.'
'I will Ma'am. And please, have Clay give us a call. We want to know how he is doing.'
'I will Commander. I'm glad my son has friends like you and the Colonel. He will need all of us right now.' And she hung up the line.
Webb Residence
Great Falls, VA
0909 local time
Porter Webb hung up the phone and let out a long sigh. Poor Clayton. Living his worst nightmare. She knew a little how this felt, but Clayton was also blaming himself for what happened. It will take a long time for him to see the truth that he did all he could. She decided that ready or not, he had to talk about it for his own good. She stood up, and walked to his room upstairs.
Clayton was up, and packing his bag, preparing to leave. Porter thought he still looked pale and tired, but not as depressed as he had yesterday. He seemed to be moving with a little more purpose. The small TV was on, tuned into the news. They were reporting on committee meetings that were scheduled on The Hill that day.
'You leaving Clayton?' she asked her son.
'Yes' he answered, not looking up from packing. 'Its time I got back to work.'
'Clayton, I wish you would tell me what happened out there.' At this, he stopped what he was doing and turned to look at his mother, but he still didn't answer her. He didn't know how. 'I've seen the news reports.' Porter continued, 'And I talked to Commander Rabb.'
'I wish you hadn't done that Mother.' He said, and went back to his packing.
'Which? Seen the news, or talk to Commander Rabb?' she asked.
'Either' he said.
'Clayton stop and look at me.' She demanded. He was still her son, and he did what he was told. 'Talk to me Clayton.'
'You said you've seen the news. They have most of the story right. They left out the part about the inept planning and cowardice of the mission commander playing a part in her capture.'
Porter interrupted him 'Stop it. It's not your fault.'
'It is Mother' he almost shouted. 'It should have been me.'
'You do still love her.' He turned away at this statement. He didn't want his mother to see how right she was.
Porter stepped closer to him. 'You have such a big heart, Clay, why do you bury it behind so many walls?' she asked him. 'Clayton, as much as you may want to, you can not protect those you love from everything bad in this world. That would be impossible. Amy didn't expect you to I'm sure. She loved you, and would have wanted you to be safe as much as you wanted her to be safe.'
Clay smiled at this, but the smile did not reach his eyes. It brought back the memory of the last words he heard Amy say to him. Stay where you are, there are too many of them. She did save him, Harm and Sarah too. 'Amy did want me to stay safe.' He said out loud as he realized his mother was right.
Porter stepped closer, and put her arms around her son. 'I knew she would. When she gets home, remind me to thank her.' Porter hoped with all her heart she could thank Amy face to face, as much for Amy's sake, as for Clayton's.
Clayton pulled away from his mother so he could look at her. 'I will call you if I hear anything.'
'Call me anytime darling.' She said, with emphasis on 'anytime'. She wanted him to know she would be here for him.
'I love you' he whispered around the lump in his throat.
'I love you too.' She told him. 'Call Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie. They are worried about you.'
'I will.' he promised, and turning, grabbed his bag, and left.
Storage Room
Iraqi Base Camp
Northern Iraq
Amy didn't know how long she lay unconscience on the dirt floor. She was stiff with cold, and it hurt to move even the tiniest part of her. She forced her eyes open, and saw that night had fallen again. How long ago? Was it early night, or close to dawn? The moon was shining in her window, from its light she could see her breath pluming from her mouth, and her body began again to shake uncontrollably with cold. She looked around the room but she was still alone. Her uniform still lay in a heap on the floor. She closed her eyes and thanked God for small miracles.
Slowly she stretched herself out, and tried to reach the clothes, but they were too far away. She had to push with her legs and slide closer to them. Every movement awoke more pain in her body as she inched across the floor, but finally she reached them. She pushed herself up onto one arm, and wrapped the jacket around her. She thought, maybe I will make it now. Over the next few minutes she slid the pants over her legs and up to her waist. She didn't have the energy to button or zip them; she left that for later. Exhausted, she lay back on the floor, and let the dark overtake her again.
Hours later, Amy heard crying, and realized it was her. She was crying, and didn't have the strength to stop the tears. 'Clay. Where are you? Please be safe, and come find me.' She cried.
Then she heard the bolt move in the door. They were back. Two men came over to her, and rolled her flat on her back, pulling her arms apart and holding her down.
Then he came in. He moved on top of her, and put his knee on her chest. He asked his questions. She didn't even acknowledge his asking anymore. She couldn't breath. He was choking her. The pain in her body was blinding her. The same words were going over and over again in her head. Can't tell. Don't tell. 'Harris, Major, USMC.' She thought the words were coming out of her mouth, but she wasn't sure anymore.
He held up a club in one hand. She saw his face. Knew he was going to hit her with it. She would die now if he hit her on the head with the club. Sarah, Harm and Clay's faces flashed in front of her eyes. I hope you are safe, her heart whispered.
Then the club came down. She moved her head to the side. The pain exploded, hot and searing on her arm. The club came down again, smashing her arm again.
He was screaming, or was she? The other men still held her down. Her throat was raw; no more sound came out. The weight on her chest came off. She took a deep breath, and there was more pain. She tried to move her arm, but it was as if it wasn't there, except the pain was there. She rolled over on that side, to try and protect it. Then everything went black.
CIA Headquarters
Langley, VA
1300 local time
Clayton Webb made his way to his office, not looking at anyone or acknowledging any greeting along the way. He just wanted to get to his office, and begin working. Maybe if they could make some progress somewhere in this case, he could feel like he was doing something helpful. He had to do something.
He made it to his office, and sat down at his desk. The first thing he saw was the picture of Amy smiling at him from behind pink sweetheart roses. Having her look at him from that picture, so alive and so happy, it drained all the strength he had stored up over the past few hours. Tears came to his eyes, and caught in his throat. He quickly put the picture in a drawer.
He opened his briefcase, and there was her cap. The one she had lost that night. The blood had dried to a brown blotch. He opened the drawer, and put the cap beside the picture.
He turned on the small TV he had in his office that he used for news updates. ZNN was showing Amy's service picture again, reporting that there was no word from the Pentagon as to why a Marine Major assigned with the Office of Home Land Security was in Northern Iraq, or how she ended up on the list of officers missing in action.
Clay turned the TV off, and rubbed his eyes. Coming back to work may have been a bad idea.
After a couple of minutes of sitting quietly, pulling himself together, he went back to his briefcase, pulled out his laptop and began the task of plugging it in. He thought he could at least begin his post-mission report, organize some thoughts and try to write down all he remembered seeing that night.
Clay worked a few hours; not realizing how much time had passed. No one called, or came into his office to disturb him.
After a while, Clay noticed the clock on his computer, and realized that hours had gone by, without his noticing. He stretched, and decided he was actually hungry. He left his office and went to the building's cafeteria. He bought a cup of coffee and a bagel sandwich, and brought them back up to his office. He ate most of the sandwich while he reread what he had written for his report so far. As he was reading, he heard a familiar voice. 'Clay?'
'Harm, come in.' Clay was glad to see Harm. 'I meant to call you, but time slipped away on me. What brings you here?'
Harm entered Clay's office, and sat down in one of the two chairs facing the desk. 'Your boss, Stillman called me in to talk with a couple of agents. I answered their questions. I hope there is something there that will help.' Harm said seriously.
Clay nodded. He hoped so too. 'Have you been debriefed Clay?' Harm asked.
'Not yet. Have they talked to Sarah too?'
'No' Harm said. 'Though Stillman said he would be calling her in soon.' Harm looked critically at Clay for a minute. Noticed the dark circles under eyes that seemed a little dull and glassy. He saw the remains of the bagel sandwich. 'See you are finally eating.'
'Yeah. My mother tried to temp me with all my favorites. Unfortunately the Blue Crab season hasn't started yet.' Clay said, referring to the Maryland Blue Crab, which was his particular favorite, and only available in the summer time.
There was another lull in the conversation. Clay asked Harm, carefully. 'You...ah, haven't heard any thing have you?'
'No, nothing. You?'
Clay shook his head. They both sat thinking of Amy. Harm broke the silence with the question he had to ask, but hated to bring up. 'What do you think are her chances Clay?'
Clay looked his friend in the eye, and gave him the truth; nothing else would do now. 'Not very good anymore. It was wishful thinking on the part of the Iraqi's that anyone would be contacted. All we an hope for anymore is that we find a body so her father and brother have something to bury.' And me too, Clay thought, but to think that made him physically ill.
'How can you say that? How can you be so cold?' Harm demanded.
'I'm being practical.' Clay shot back. 'I hope she is dead, then they can't hurt her anymore.' Clay's words hung in the air between them. Neither knew what to say.
Clay finally continued. 'You don't know what it is like. To have your world turned to pain. To feel like your head was going to explode, and you wish it would so the pain would stop.'
Harm wasn't sure if Clay was talking about the pain he had experienced under torture, or the pain he saw in his friend's eyes right now. But Harm asked 'Why torture her at all? What information could she give them?' He was grasping at anything to try and reassure himself and Clay, give them a little hope.
'We spent four days in that Marine camp. You saw things the guerillas would find useful, so did Amy. Things like the number of Marines, their weapons, and equipment. Amy was also in the communications room. She knows what weapons could be brought in by radio, how far away they were. She could tell them a lot.'
'But she wouldn't.' Harm insisted. 'Amy is a tough Marine, a smart woman.'
'You are right, she won't talk, and that will get her killed.' Clay stated coldly. 'I wish it had been me. It should have been me.' He looked up at Harm. 'You were right on the plane. I still love Amy, and wanted to be with her. I wanted to...try and be friends. I missed her.' He said quietly. 'I was selfish, and I got her killed.'
'Stop it Clay.' Harm insisted. 'I wouldn't listen to this. Doesn't do this to yourself.' He kept looking at Clay, but Clay would not look at him. 'I was right on the plane.' Harm said. 'Amy still loves you. She is counting on us and I for one am not giving up hope. Not yet. I believe in her, and you should too.' Clay looked back at him at that statement. Harm had hit a nerve. Amy was still counting on him. He had to keep working, keep hoping for her sake.
Harm let that sink in, then changed the subject. He decided he needed a break, and thought Clay needed one too. 'Why don't you come over to my place, I'll cook dinner.' Harm offered.
'Why is everyone so concerned about what I eat and whether I sleep or not?' Clay demanded.
'You look like hell, Clay, that's why.' Harm answered him. 'Not to put too fine a point on it.' He added jokingly to soften the blow. Harm stood up and turned to leave the office. 'I won't take no for an answer, and will expect you by 1900.' He ordered. Before he stepped out of the door, he turned and pointed a long index finger at Clay. 'You bring the beer.'
Clay nodded assent, and Harm was happy to see he had put a smile, even if it was a small one, on his friend's face.
Storage Room
Iraqi Base Camp
Northern Iraqi
She woke up once, had tried to move but couldn't, and the pain woke her up. It was night again. How much time had gone by?
Amy's arm throbbed with every heartbeat. Her head pounded. Each breath caused a stabbing pain in her chest.
Let it end now, here, she prayed. I'm sorry for all my sins, and hope every Marine is safe. Let Sarah and Harm and Clay all be safe too. Let Clay know I love him. Give him peace.
At dawn they made their way down the stairs to the room one more time. He had to get something from her. He was amazed this woman had lasted this long. But she must die now. They had to move on, and she would not survive the trip. She could die when she wanted to. He would leave the timing to Allah, but he had to try one more thing to get some useful information from her.
He ordered the men to take off her jacket, and hold her arms out to the side. They held her up in a kneeing position. Surprisingly she was still alive, and almost conscience. All the better, he thought.
While the men pulled her arms out from her, she let out a quiet groan of pain. He knew she would at least hear him, this last time. He came up to her, and whispered in her ear. 'This is your last chance. Tell me what I want to know and I will kill you quickly. The pain will end, and you may go to meet your God. Or, I will make your end full of pain, and anguish.'
Amy heard him, and wished she could shout her answer, use her strongest voice, but she had no breath, no strength. Her voice came out in a raspy whisper. 'Nothing.' She swallowed past the pain and tears. 'Tell you nothing.'
He was almost glad she was defiant to the end. He admired courage. 'Then you will die now. Any last words?' he asked.
The words barely came out to be heard. 'Tell Webb I won.' That struck her as funny, and she smiled at the thought of Clay being proud of what she had done. She had won, she had betrayed no one, at least she hoped so. She hoped Clay and the others were safe. She would be safe too, soon.
As she smiled, his smiled faded, and his anger returned. She had won. Had endured all he tried to do and not only survived, but prevailed over him by giving away nothing. This woman; he would show her how they treated defiant women in Iraq. He moved behind her, and prepared to kill her with as much pain as possible. He brought the short riding whip around, over his head, and struck her. He was rewarded when he heard her groan, saw her twitch, and see the tiny stripe appear on her back, drops of blood forming along the welt.
'One.' he growled.
Soup 'n Subs Restaurant
Falls Church, VA
1231 local time
Sarah made her way to the sandwich shop where she had arranged to meet Clay for lunch. She had talked to him on the phone, but this was the first time since coming back from Iraq days ago, that she was able to meet with Clay and see how he was doing. She was a little nervous about what to say to him. Harm had said Clay was very down, blaming himself, and very worried about Amy. They all were. Sarah hoped they could help one another, give each other some hope.
She arrived first. She went through the cafeteria line getting her food and found a table in the back. Just as she was sitting down, she saw Clay coming toward the table. He must have been right behind me in line she thought. Clay had a sandwich and a cup of coffee on his tray. He wasn't very hungry, but knew he had to keep eating. They greeted each other and sat down.
'So Clay,' Sarah began, but he cut her off.
'Please don't ask me how I am doing. I hate trying to answer that question these days.'
She nodded her understanding, and started eating. 'Have you heard anything?' she asked around a mouthful of ham and cheese.
That was another question Clay hated to have to answer these days. He tried to give Sarah an answer 'There is very little news coming out right now. They still haven't found any trace of the insurgent group, but they are still looking. There hasn't been any activity in the area either. I don't know if that is good or bad. There is less of a chance of finding her alive I'm afraid, each day that goes by.' He didn't add that as each hour goes by, it was harder for him to keep his hopes up.
They ate quietly for a moment, then Clay looked up at Sarah and asked. 'Usually I don't put much...I mean, I have a hard time believing...'
Sarah looked at Clay quizzically, 'What are you trying to say Clay?'
'Sarah, have you...seen...anything? Do you know if she is even...alive? Can you tell?' Clay was afraid of the answer, but he wanted the truth. Harm and Sarah both had told him at different times how Sarah had 'seen' Harm when he had crashed at sea, and how she had 'seen' Chloe too when she was lost. Maybe she could see where Amy was, or whether she was alive.
Sarah looked down at the table. She had tried, before they left Iraq, and since coming home. 'No Clay. I have not seen Amy or have a sense of where she might be, or if she is still alive.' She paused, her heart sinking as she saw one more flicker of hope fade from his eyes. 'But that doesn't mean anything has happened to her. It's not a bad thing, just, I haven't seen anything.'
'I was just wondering.' Clay said, and finally took a bite of his own sandwich. 'Thanks for trying, and thanks for talking about her in the present tense. Not too many people do right now.'
Sarah tried to reassure him. 'Clay she will be all right. She is strong. You have to believe she is still alive.'
'I don't know Sarah.'
'I won't believe she is dead.' Sarah insisted. 'And neither should you. Don't give up all hope.' Sarah took a good look at Clay. She knew he was hurting, and didn't know what to say. 'You know, Amy wouldn't like to see you like this, or hear you talk like this.'
'No. She probably wouldn't.' Clay agreed. It felt good to talk about Amy as if she was still with them. Not locked away some where far away, but maybe just around the corner. It gave his mind and heart a rest from the worry and guilt. Sarah was right; Amy would not like the way he was acting. Not taking care of himself, not having any hope. He wanted to continue, play the little game of what if, even if it was only for a little while. 'What would she say do you think?'
Sarah thought a minute, a sly smile spreading across her face at the thought of what her friend would say. 'Amy would probably make a joke, sort of yell at you. Something like...' Sarah changed her voice, as if Amy was talking to Clay. 'Get over yourself Webb. You aren't Super Spook you know. Can't save everyone.'
Clay smiled at this. 'Yeah, that sounds like her.'
Sarah continued. 'The first time you two met here in Washington, with all of us at McGlinty's Pub.' Clay nodded remembering. Sarah went on. 'She said, I know he's a spook, he practically has CIA tattooed to his forehead.' They both smiled at that.
'A tattoo like that wouldn't help much in the field' Clay laughed. 'Her spook radar was good though. It could have been handy in the field.' Then he stopped abruptly. He had just spoke of Amy in the past tense, as if she was really gone. A cold shiver went down his back.
Sarah noticed too. Clay looked at her across the table, then down at his lunch, and let the moment pass.
'Clay stop blaming yourself.' Sarah urged him, taking a hold of his hand and giving it a squeeze. 'Bad things happen, and we can't stop them. We just have to keep hoping. Amy has to be all right.'
Sarah remembered something else. 'Before we went up the hill, I saw you talking with her.' Sarah knew this was the last time any of them had talked to Amy face to face. 'What were you talking about?'
Clay had not thought of that conversation since that night. 'I asked her if she would be all right.'
'And what did she say?'
Clay smiled, remembering, 'She said...' He paused, wanted to remember her exact words, knowing how important they were now. 'She said...I'll be fine Clay. Don't worry about me.'
He had been looking far away, as if he could see her face as she said the words. Then he looked back at Sarah. She was smiling too. 'Listen to her Clay. Hold on to that.'
A few days later
Clayton Webb's Townhouse
Alexandria, VA
0140 local time
Clayton Webb was running. He was out of breath, his heart pumping, sweat covered his body, he could barely put one foot in front of the other, but he kept running.
She was calling him. Amy's voice was crying out his name in the darkness. 'Clayton....Clayton I'm here....Clayton please...Come find me.' She needed him. Needed his help. He had to get to her, but he didn't know where she was. Somewhere ahead of him, in the darkness.
He came to a door. He pushed it open, she was there, a crumpled form on the floor. He stepped to her, 'Amy' he called. 'Its me. Clayton, I'm here.' He reached her, turned her over, then.... She disappeared. The room was empty. And he heard her calling, crying again. 'Clay....Please...'
'I'm coming. Hold on Amy.' And he started running again. More doors, more crumpled forms, on the floor, tied to a chair, secured to a wooden cot. Each time he reached the form, they disappeared, and he was forced to run again. Searching, calling her name. 'Amy. Amy I'm coming. Hold on. Amy!'
Clayton sat bolt upright in his bed. He was home, his townhouse. It was dark. Amy's name was echoing back at him from his bedroom walls. He put his head in his hands, and sat in bed until his breathing calmed, and his heartbeat went back to normal. As his body relaxed, he started shaking. He had to force himself to practice the relaxing exercises he had been taught after his time in Paraguay. Lately, the shaking had returned more often. He knew it was because of the worry, the stress, and nightmares of Amy.
Sometimes she was with him in Paraguay. She was the one connected to the battery, or she was in a prison behind walls impossibly large, and he couldn't get to her. Or, one like tonight. He was searching and came close to finding her, only to loose her again.
He got out of bed, put on his robe and walked in the kitchen. He wanted to fix himself a good stiff drink, maybe several. But alcohol only made the nightmares worse, and the shaking last longer. He pulled out the little kettle, filled it with milk and warmed it up on the stove. His mother had given him warm milk as a child when he had nightmares of his father. Amy had done this task for him too when they were together and he had woke up in the night in the grip of a nightmare. She always added a little vanilla too. He did this for himself now, remembering how she always made him tell her about the dream, then how she held him until the shaking stopped and he fell asleep with her arms...He couldn't think about that now. His milk ready, he poured it into a mug, and walked out to the living room. He didn't turn on any lights. He just opened the shades and let in the light from the street. He wanted to hide in the dark, and let his feelings run free where no one would see. He looked out his window at the quiet neighborhood. No one else was up with lights on. He took a drink of the milk and it warmed him, even comforted him a little. He thought he might be able to go back to bed, and sleep again eventually. He had to try. He hadn't slept a full night since...
He took another sip form his mug. Maybe some music. He sat down at his piano. When he was recovering from his nerve damage, it was hard to play, to get his hands to follow the commands from his brain. But slowly his music had come back. He and Amy had spent many hours at his piano. She would sing and he would play. She knew every Broadway song, all the old ones anyway. She especially liked Rogers and Hammerstein. Her voice was beautiful, light and high. She could fill the room and send the notes to the stars.
She also loved West Side Story. He had bought the sheet music after they had watched the movie together, and she had sung all of Maria's parts, better than Natalie Wood, or so Clay thought. Not that he was bias or anything, he thought to himself and smiled, as he struck a chord on the keys. Remembering her voice, singing sweetly beside him, the words meant for him.
'Today, all day I had the feeling,
A miracle would happen,
I knew now I was right,
For here you are....
He stopped playing. He couldn't go on, couldn't hold it in anymore. He missed her. He had killed her. She was gone, and it was his fault. The emptiness and guilt overwhelmed him and the silent sobs came out. Tears streamed down his cheeks, the cries wracked his body. 'Please God' he prayed aloud. 'Send me a miracle. Give her a miracle. I love her. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever pushed her away or made go over there.
He had slumped over, hanging his head on his arms on the piano. When all the sobs had pasted, he lifted his head, and saw the tears on the keys. His heart seemed lighter somehow. The weight didn't seem so heavy on his shoulders. He wiped the tears from his face, and on the piano. Gulped down the last of the milk and left the mug on the kitchen counter. He made his way back to his bed, and fell into it exhausted. 'Please God. Please God.' Was on his lips as he fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.
End of Chapter 5
Sorry. Chapter 6 on the way soon.
Date April 2004
This is the fith chapter of what will be many chapters in a series titled: Webb Odyssey. Watch for more chapters under this title or my name. Clayton Webb has become a favorite character with me, and the story really involves him. Enjoy.
This Chapter is rated PG-13 for adult content.
Disclaimer: The Clayton Webb character, and other JAG characters, belong to Donald P. Bellisario, Bellisario Productions, CBS, et al. All other characters and situations of this story belong to the author. No copying of this material is allowed without my consent. For your reading pleasure, one copy is allowed.
WEBB Odyssey
Adventures of Clayton Webb and his friends at JAG, and certain special someone.
Rating: PG-13
Classification: JAG - Story
Webb/other Romance - Adventure
Spoilers: None, written after Tangled Webb.
See Chapters 1 - 4 for the beginning of the story.
Summary: Amy is in the hands of guerillas, and her friends struggle with the job of waiting for news. It is unclear who is suffering more.
Chapter 5 Webb Odyssey
Captivity
Amy's Apartment
Georgetown
0752 local time
The sun came through the open shades, and hit him full in the face. For a while, he just laid there, enjoying the feeling of the sun's warmth, and the soft cushions beneath him. He sighed, stretched and opened his eyes. At first he was confused, thought he was dreaming when he saw the familiar surroundings of Amy's apartment. Then he remembered coming here the night before, and all the terrible reality of the past days came crashing over him. His heart sank back down, and he worked hard to stop the memories, and imagination, from taking over. Gotta put a lid on it if I am ever going to move again, he thought to himself. Can't function if I let my mind go.
And Clay did have to function. He knew that now. But where to start? He looked around, and saw the unfinished quilt wrapped around him. Part of him wanted to stay right here forever, wrapped in her quilt, in her love. But this one wasn't for him, and he didn't deserve her love anymore. She's going to kill me if I ripped anything on this quilt, he thought. I wish she were here now to chew me out. I would welcome the yelling. But it was quiet, and lying here wishing would not help her.
Clay stood up, gently shook out the quilt and folded it back up, and placed in on the loom. He looked around the small apartment, making sure everything was back in its place. Then he moved to the door, and taking one last look around, he promised himself he would not return, until he brought her home himself. Then he closed and locked the door.
He drove himself home, and had to admit, he did feel a little better after a good night's sleep. He showered, shaved, packed a small bag with essentials and drove over to his Mother's home, in Great Falls. It was still sort of his home too, and although he was not sure he was up to facing his mother, and her questions, he did not want to stay alone at his townhouse. Too many people could find him there. He could hide awhile at his Mother's, and he didn't mind admitting that he wanted to hide right now.
When he came into the house, his mother had a few guests. It looked like one of her ladies' committees. She excused herself from her guests, and welcomed Clay with a kiss on the cheek. He liked the feel of her gentle hands on him, and the simple affectionate greeting. 'Hello darling.' She said. 'Come to stay a few days?' she asked.
'Yes, Mother. If its all right with you.' He answered.
'Of course, Clayton. You know you are always welcome.' She assured him with a smile. 'Your room is always ready. Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?' She said, taking a more critical look at her son. He looked very tired, worn out really.
'No, not right now. I'll let you get back to your guests. I'll see you at dinner.' He said, and moved toward the stairs to go to his room.
Porter watched him for a minute as he climbed the stairs. He certainly was tried. But maybe there was something more. Well, she thought, she would talk with him later. He will tell her what is wrong, when he is ready.
Clay stayed in his room for a while, but he was restless. He didn't feel like he could sleep anymore, but he was still tired. He came back down stairs, went into the study where the newspapers were laid out. He looked these over, but could not concentrate on any stories. He was relieved to see that Amy's capture had not been reported yet. He was not sure how long that would last. He paced around the study for a while, then came out and wondered around the house some more. Harrison saw him, asked if he wanted anything, but Clay said no, thank you and moved on.
He finally went outside to his mother's garden. It was still winter in Washington, though the calendar said it was spring. The grass was a dull green, and the flowers were still covered for winter. The trees were still bare. A few birds twittered in the bushes and bare trees, but Clay did not hear or see them. The empty gray garden matched how he felt inside, and he settled into chair, and put his feet up on a table. It was not very warm, and all he was wearing was a sweater, and pants, but he didn't feel the cold. He started making plans. How would he research the information they had gathered? Harm and Sarah would have to be interviewed, as well as himself. What did he remember? Could the three of them remember enough to piece together what the leader looked like to have a composite picture drawn? What weapons did they see? Could he tell anything about how well the guerillas were trained? Slowly, carefully, Clay opened the memories he had buried and locked away. He tried to look at them, without the emotions; fear, frustration, loss, and view them objectively. What could he use?
Clay sat quietly in the garden, until dinner.
Storage Room
Iraqi Base Camp
Northern Iraq
0525 local time
After the sun came up, Amy heard the bolt slide in the door. The leader and four men entered the room. She stood up, with one arm over her chest, the other at her side, trying to show a dignified figure standing in men's boxer shorts. A couple of the men looked at her hungrily. The other two just tried to look anywhere around the room, avoiding her. The leader looked her up and down, like a man ready to pounce, then he focused on her face.
'I am pleased you have survived the cold.' He said.
'I'm touched you were so worried. If you call this winter, your country's weather is as wimpy as its men are.' Amy said with a sneer.
His eyes grew large at this insult, but he kept his anger in check, for now. There was no reaction from the other men. Presumably they didn't understand English.
'Are you ready to answer my questions?' he asked. He pulled Amy's uniform out from behind him, and held it in a ball in front of her.
Amy was tempted, she had to admit. Too many more nights shivering in the dark, seeing her breath would be hard, but she would not give in no matter how blue her hands and feet became.
'What questions are those?' she asked innocently.
His voice rose, 'Where is the Marine base? How many soldiers are there? What are their orders? I will know these things or it will become very hard for you.'
Amy looked him in the eye. 'I will not answer your questions.'
The leader threw down the clothes and came at her. He struck her across the face. When he moved, two of the men moved too, and caught and held her by the arms. The leader punched and struck her several times.
Amy stopped counting the blows, only reacted to them before the next one came. Her attacker paused, as she slumped forward in the men's arms. He grabbed her hair, and pulled back her head so she could see his face.
'Do you want more? Do you think you are some man, playing at being a soldier in men's clothes? Where is the base?' he shouted. 'How many men are there? What weapons do they have?'
Amy's head was reeling, her body ached everywhere, and it hurt to breathe. His shouting came through the fog, and she couldn't think, couldn't remember anything anyway. That's good right? He kept shouting, and his hand and voice were hurting her head more. Amy's marine training kicked in, and without her realizing it she started to talk, just to quiet his pounding voice. 'Harris, Amelia, Major, United States Marine Corps. Service number 612472884.'
His knee came up and connected with her head. He gave his men orders and all four came at her, with rifles and clubs. They struck her back, her legs, her arms and shoulders. She tried to curl up to protect her head and front of her body, but the blows kept coming.
The leader shouted again and they stopped. He knelt down beside her, turned her over roughly and put his face next to hers to whisper to her. 'We are not finished, you and I. I will be back and it will only get worse for you. Answer my questions and we will give you all you need; food, water, a blanket, medical help. We will release you; you may go home. Just tell me what I want to know.'
Amy understood him. His voice pierced through the pain with the promise of comfort and help. But she knew it was empty. She was weak, and in pain, she didn't know what to do. She couldn't answer, only a sigh escaped her lips.
'I will return soon.' The voice promised.
Webb Residence
Great Falls, VA
1930 local time
Porter Webb sat quietly across the dining room table from her son. They had exchanged some words, but nothing Porter would consider a conversation. She had asked Harrison earlier if Clay had eaten anything since arriving, and Harrison had said no, not that he knew of.
Clay sat at the table, toying with his food, and staring at the plate, but he was really, very far away. 'The salmon not to your liking, Clay?' she asked. He was startled by her voice, more evidence that he was somewhere else, but he recovered quickly. 'No, everything is delicious, Mother.' He said.
To convince her, he took two bites, dutifully chewed and swallowed them, and took a sip of wine. Be careful, he told himself. She is watching very carefully. I'm not ready to get into this right now.
Porter watched as Clay ate some of the salmon, and thought that it looked like a chore for him to eat. Something was wrong, and she could tell he was hurting. She could not detect any physical injuries, so it was something else. Something a bandage was not going to reach.
'You know Clayton,' she began. 'Your father often came home after particularly difficult missions, and would pace around the house for a while. Eventually he would open up to me and tell me what was bothering him, without giving away any national secrets. Usually it was after we made love.'
'Mother...' he said with some distaste in his voice, and on his face.
Porter smiled. Finally, she got a reaction from him, even if it was negative. 'I know children don't like to think of their parents that way. Even adult children, but we loved each other Clayton, and we shared things. Your father trusted me, and he was able to talk to me. Sometimes it didn't even matter if I had the whole story. It was a chance for him to get things out in the open, share the burden with someone else. It helped.' She paused, and looked at his sad face. He wanted to say something, but it seemed he didn't know how. 'You know you can trust me, don't you?'
'Yes, I know I can. You are one of the only people I trust without question, Mother.' He said.
'Then what is it? What is troubling you so much darling? I can see you are hurting, and that hurts me.' She said, trying to urge him to open up.
'I should be hurting Mother.' He said, anger creeping into his voice. 'It's my fault. It should have been me, but here I sit,' a sad, unbelieving smile crossed his face, 'in this lovely home, eating salmon and sipping wine.' He looked around him saying these words, viewing the food and the beautiful dining room he had known all his life, with disgust.
'What kind of man am I? I use my friends. I put them in danger, and get them killed.' He stopped there, putting his hand over his mouth to stop any other confessions from escaping. He clenched his teeth, tried to hold back the tears. He had finally realized that it wasn't only guilt, and frustration he had been feeling, it was hate. Self-loathing. What kind of man was he indeed to put the woman he loved in danger, and leave her alone to die?
He took a deep breath, and swallowed back the tears, cleared the lump from his throat. Looking up, he saw his mother was fighting tears too. Tears of sympathy for him, tears for another death. He had now dumped this mess on her, and he hated himself for that too. 'I'm sorry Mother.' He said quietly. He wanted to reassure her, but had nothing left inside himself to offer. He pushed his chair back from the table, balled up his napkin and slapped it on the table. He stood and left the room. 'Good night Mother.'
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
0800 local time
Harm Rabb made his way to his office. It was his first day back since coming home from Iraq, and he was ready to get to work, and find out if there was any news on Amy. He had talked with Sarah a couple of times the day before, as they both were in their own homes trying to get over jet lag. It had been a very long day for Harm. He kept going over and over again in his mind the attack, and tried to remember every detail so he would have something to contribute to help find Amy. He was afraid it would be very little.
As he exited the elevator, the office was quiet. He saw everyone was in the bullpen, watching something on the TV monitor. As he came around the corner, he looked up to see what had grabbed everyone's attention, and there she was. A picture of Amy, a formal portrait, the kind in full dress uniform, with the flag in the background. There was a small smile on her face, and her big brown eyes twinkled. It looked like it was a couple years old. Her hair was different, shorter. It must have been taken when she made major. Seeing her face smiling down at him took his breath away. Then the picture changed to the ZNN reporter, Chuck DePalma. Harm started listening,'...no word yet as to who is holding Major Harris, or what exactly a major assigned with the Office of Home Land Security was doing in a communications truck in Northern Iraq, but the fact remains, she is listed today as missing in action.'
The picture changed again, to a man, same brown hair and brown eyes as Amy's, but there was no twinkle here. He looked sad, and worried. The name typed under his face identified him as Peter Harris, DVM, Brother. He was standing in front of a white house, with a big screened in porch, which had a US flag proudly hanging on the doorpost. At the end of the flagpole, a yellow ribbon was waving in the breeze. 'We of course hope that she is all right. She is a strong, and stubborn Marine, proud to serve her country. We ask everyone to keep her in their thoughts and prayers.' The TV went back to the reporter. 'That was Major Harris' brother who earlier today made a short statement from the family farm in Wisconsin. Her father was not available. We will be watching this story closely, and will report new developments as they happen. For ZNN, I'm Chuck DePalma, now, back to you Lynn, in the studio.'
Harm had seen enough. Now, the whole world knew. As he turned to head for his office, he noticed that Sarah had arrived, and was watching the report also. She still looked so tired, and worried. He wanted so much to gather her in his arms, and make everything all right. But he couldn't. Not here; and though he had hopes, he wasn't sure everything would be all right. They both nodded to each other, and made their way to their separate offices. As Sarah entered hers, Harm saw that Harriet had followed her in, and closed the door. Maybe Harried could offer some comfort. Harm was glad she was there for Sarah.
As Harm entered his office, Bud followed him, asking, 'Isn't that Major Harris an old friend of Colonel MacKenzie's?'
'Yes, Bud.' Harm answered.
'Sir, I'm sure you can't talk about your latest trip...but if you need to talk to someone, well, I'm here, Sir.' Bud offered. He didn't know what was going on for sure, but he could guess. He wasn't being nosey, just wanted to offer support.
'Thanks, Bud.' Harm said. 'I appreciate that.'
At this, Jennifer Coates pocked her head around Harm's office door. 'Welcome back Commander.' She said. 'The Admiral would like to see you and Colonel MacKenzie in his office ASAP, Sir.'
'Thanks, Jennifer, I'm on my way.' Harm got up, and left his office. As he walked passed her door, Sarah and Harriet both emerged from Sarah's office, wiping tears from their eyes. Sarah looked at Harm, nodded, took a deep breath, and walked with him to the Admiral's office.
They opened the door at his order, 'Enter'. Harm let Sarah go in first, then he followed, and closed the door behind him, without being told.
The Admiral barely waited for the door to close before he began. 'I don't care if it's classified for the President's eyes only, tell me what happened out there.' He demanded.
Harm answered him. 'The op was going smoothly enough, but we were not gathering too much Intel on the group, we couldn't find them. Then they just...found us, or more accurately found the truck with Amy inside. We had not planned for the numbers or amount of weapons they had with them. We were stuck on the hillside above, and could do nothing. If we made our presence known they would either have caught all four of us, or killed all of us.' Harm tried to explain. It seemed a cold description of what happened.
The Admiral continued for him. 'If all four of you were taken, CIA would have disavowed all of you, and you'd be left high and dry. As it is, they are trying to use the Iraqi Provisional Government to find her and negotiate a release.' He paused, then finally said under his breath, 'This whole thing stinks.'
The three of them sat a moment in silence, then the Admiral asked another question. 'This Webb's fault?'
'No, Sir.' Sarah answered. 'He feels terrible, and responsible, but...it's not anyone's fault Sir. There is no one to blame in situations like this.'
The Admiral nodded. He knew enough about combat that it was a waste of time trying to lay blame. Just try and fix the problem.
The Admiral was reluctant to bring up the next subject. But, maybe some good news would help today. 'I have something else to discuss with you two. I wish I could have told you on a happier day, but... I have secured a new position...for you Commander.' He said looking at Harm.
Harm and Sarah had held their breaths while he said this. They both knew this day would come, when one of them would leave JAG, so that they could be together in their private life. It was what they both wanted, but it was still a hard pill to swallow. Harm looked a little surprised, then glanced at Sarah, and back at the Admiral. 'Where am I going Sir?'
'You will be attached to the office of the Secretary of the Navy.' The Admiral stated. Harm's look of surprise deepened, but he let the Admiral continue. 'The Sec Nave was very impressed with how you handled his defense at The Hague. He feels that he will have need of legal expertise in the future in international law, as more work is done with coalition forces around the world. He thinks you are the perfect choice. He has said you may finish up any cases you are currently working on, then report to his office.' The Admiral looked at Harm and Sarah. He wasn't sure what their reaction would be, but he had not expected silence.
Harm was both happy and sad at the news. Working for the Sec Nave would keep him in the Washington area, so he and Sarah could be together. He would still be in law, but it was hard to leave JAG. Of all the times he had left this office, thinking never to come back, he knew this one was the real thing.
Sarah was stunned. She didn't know what to think. It was great news, but the reality of not seeing Harm everyday at the office; of sparing with him in the courtroom finally sank in, and she was saddened that this part of their lives together was over.
The Admiral finally continued. 'This position will keep you in D.C., I thought that was what you wanted.'
'It is a wonderful opportunity, Admiral, and I think you for your help.' Harm said sincerely.
The Admiral smiled. I guess I better let the other shoe drop, he thought. 'There is one more thing, Commander. The Sec Nav does have some items for you to look into right away, but he doesn't foresee that this position would be full time all the time. When he doesn't need you, you will be expected to be in this office, working on cases, representing clients, and investigating problems on behalf of JAG and the Sec Nav's office. So, you are not getting out of here completely. Sorry.' AJ said with a smirk.
Smiles broke out on both their faces at that statement. Lightening had struck twice. Harm would work as part of the Sec Nav's office, and could spend some of his time right here, at JAG, at home. They both said together, 'Thank you, Sir.' 'Thank you, Admiral, we appreciate your help.'
The Admiral was serious again. 'Now I expect you both to conduct yourselves as officers, with decorum and restraint here in the office. Or I will make other arrangements with the Sec Nav.'
'Yes, Sir.' 'Yes, Admiral' they answered.
'That is all I have. Dismissed.' The Admiral said. Both officers snapped to attention and answered 'Aye Aye, Sir.' Then turned to leave. 'One more thing.' The Admiral said. 'Let me know any news you hear about Major Harris.'
'We will, Sir.' Harm answered, and left the office.
As soon as the door closed behind him, he took Sarah in his arms and swung her in a circle, as she laughed and held on. 'Harm, stop. I don't think this is what the Admiral had in mind when he said decorum and restraint.'
Harm set her down and looked into her eyes. 'Marry me Sarah. Now, today. We can get blood tests and call Sturgeon's father to do the ceremony.' He was so happy, he couldn't stop. He wanted to start their life together that minute.
Sarah could stop however. She was happy too, but said. 'No Harm. I couldn't. Not until we know about Amy. I'm sorry, I...just couldn't.'
'Of course.' Harm said. 'I'm sorry. You're right. When we do know though, I am getting you the biggest rock, and widest band I can find and put them on your finger, and never allow you to take them off.'
'You have a deal fly boy.' Sarah smiled.
Their conversation was interrupted by a 'Ahem' from behind. It was Jennifer Coates. 'Commander,' she said 'there is Porter Webb on the phone for you. Line 2.'
Harm and Sarah exchanged looks, and started toward Harm's office. 'I'll take it Jennifer, thanks.'
When they had both sat down in Harm's office, he picked up line 2, and put it on speakerphone. 'Hello Mrs. Webb. I'm here with Colonel MacKenzie. I was going to call this morning. Have you talked to Clay in the past couple of days?'
Porter Webb's voice came over the speaker, 'Clayton arrived here yesterday, and asked to stay a couple of days. But, no Commander, I couldn't say that I have really talked to him. I know he came back from a mission, and something is bothering him. Then I saw the news this morning about Major Harris. Was Clayton involved with what Major Harris was working on in Northern Iraq?' She asked, though she was pretty sure of the answer.
'We all were involved, Ma'am.' Harm said sadly.
'What can you tell me Commander?' Mrs. Webb asked.
Harm began, 'Without going into details, Clay asked the Colonel, Major Harris and myself to help him with some Intel gathering. We were ambushed. We were not prepared for their numbers, or amount of weapons they had with them. Major Harris was at the wrong place at the wrong time. There was nothing we could do but watch. Clay was ready to give up his life for Major Harris, but...I stopped him Ma'am. I thought he would only be killed, or get all of us killed.'
'You did the right thing Commander. Thank you for saving my son's life.' The motherly voice came over the phone.
'Yes, Ma'am, but it may have cost Major Harris her life.' Harm paused here. Not knowing what else to say.
'Were you able to look for her?' Mrs. Webb asked.
'Only one day. We were not able to find any sign of Amy, or the guerillas.' Harm answered. 'Then we were all ordered home.'
'Clayton blames himself. He thinks Major Harris is dead. Was there anything else you could have done, do you think?'
Sarah answered this one. 'No Ma'am. No one is to blame. We did as much as we could.'
Mrs. Webb asked. 'Do you think she is alive? Do you think an agreement can be reached?'
'We hope so, Mrs. Webb.' Harm said. 'How is Clay?' he asked.
'Devastated.' Mrs. Webb said. 'He blames himself. He doesn't eat, and hasn't slept. I'm worried about him.' She stopped here. It was a hard question to ask, but she had to know. 'Does he still love Amy, do you think?'
'I am sure he does.' Harm confirmed.
They all sat quietly for a moment. Then Mrs. Webb said. 'I won't take up anymore of your time Commander. Thank you for your help. Please keep me informed if you hear anything about Major Harris.'
'I will Ma'am. And please, have Clay give us a call. We want to know how he is doing.'
'I will Commander. I'm glad my son has friends like you and the Colonel. He will need all of us right now.' And she hung up the line.
Webb Residence
Great Falls, VA
0909 local time
Porter Webb hung up the phone and let out a long sigh. Poor Clayton. Living his worst nightmare. She knew a little how this felt, but Clayton was also blaming himself for what happened. It will take a long time for him to see the truth that he did all he could. She decided that ready or not, he had to talk about it for his own good. She stood up, and walked to his room upstairs.
Clayton was up, and packing his bag, preparing to leave. Porter thought he still looked pale and tired, but not as depressed as he had yesterday. He seemed to be moving with a little more purpose. The small TV was on, tuned into the news. They were reporting on committee meetings that were scheduled on The Hill that day.
'You leaving Clayton?' she asked her son.
'Yes' he answered, not looking up from packing. 'Its time I got back to work.'
'Clayton, I wish you would tell me what happened out there.' At this, he stopped what he was doing and turned to look at his mother, but he still didn't answer her. He didn't know how. 'I've seen the news reports.' Porter continued, 'And I talked to Commander Rabb.'
'I wish you hadn't done that Mother.' He said, and went back to his packing.
'Which? Seen the news, or talk to Commander Rabb?' she asked.
'Either' he said.
'Clayton stop and look at me.' She demanded. He was still her son, and he did what he was told. 'Talk to me Clayton.'
'You said you've seen the news. They have most of the story right. They left out the part about the inept planning and cowardice of the mission commander playing a part in her capture.'
Porter interrupted him 'Stop it. It's not your fault.'
'It is Mother' he almost shouted. 'It should have been me.'
'You do still love her.' He turned away at this statement. He didn't want his mother to see how right she was.
Porter stepped closer to him. 'You have such a big heart, Clay, why do you bury it behind so many walls?' she asked him. 'Clayton, as much as you may want to, you can not protect those you love from everything bad in this world. That would be impossible. Amy didn't expect you to I'm sure. She loved you, and would have wanted you to be safe as much as you wanted her to be safe.'
Clay smiled at this, but the smile did not reach his eyes. It brought back the memory of the last words he heard Amy say to him. Stay where you are, there are too many of them. She did save him, Harm and Sarah too. 'Amy did want me to stay safe.' He said out loud as he realized his mother was right.
Porter stepped closer, and put her arms around her son. 'I knew she would. When she gets home, remind me to thank her.' Porter hoped with all her heart she could thank Amy face to face, as much for Amy's sake, as for Clayton's.
Clayton pulled away from his mother so he could look at her. 'I will call you if I hear anything.'
'Call me anytime darling.' She said, with emphasis on 'anytime'. She wanted him to know she would be here for him.
'I love you' he whispered around the lump in his throat.
'I love you too.' She told him. 'Call Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie. They are worried about you.'
'I will.' he promised, and turning, grabbed his bag, and left.
Storage Room
Iraqi Base Camp
Northern Iraq
Amy didn't know how long she lay unconscience on the dirt floor. She was stiff with cold, and it hurt to move even the tiniest part of her. She forced her eyes open, and saw that night had fallen again. How long ago? Was it early night, or close to dawn? The moon was shining in her window, from its light she could see her breath pluming from her mouth, and her body began again to shake uncontrollably with cold. She looked around the room but she was still alone. Her uniform still lay in a heap on the floor. She closed her eyes and thanked God for small miracles.
Slowly she stretched herself out, and tried to reach the clothes, but they were too far away. She had to push with her legs and slide closer to them. Every movement awoke more pain in her body as she inched across the floor, but finally she reached them. She pushed herself up onto one arm, and wrapped the jacket around her. She thought, maybe I will make it now. Over the next few minutes she slid the pants over her legs and up to her waist. She didn't have the energy to button or zip them; she left that for later. Exhausted, she lay back on the floor, and let the dark overtake her again.
Hours later, Amy heard crying, and realized it was her. She was crying, and didn't have the strength to stop the tears. 'Clay. Where are you? Please be safe, and come find me.' She cried.
Then she heard the bolt move in the door. They were back. Two men came over to her, and rolled her flat on her back, pulling her arms apart and holding her down.
Then he came in. He moved on top of her, and put his knee on her chest. He asked his questions. She didn't even acknowledge his asking anymore. She couldn't breath. He was choking her. The pain in her body was blinding her. The same words were going over and over again in her head. Can't tell. Don't tell. 'Harris, Major, USMC.' She thought the words were coming out of her mouth, but she wasn't sure anymore.
He held up a club in one hand. She saw his face. Knew he was going to hit her with it. She would die now if he hit her on the head with the club. Sarah, Harm and Clay's faces flashed in front of her eyes. I hope you are safe, her heart whispered.
Then the club came down. She moved her head to the side. The pain exploded, hot and searing on her arm. The club came down again, smashing her arm again.
He was screaming, or was she? The other men still held her down. Her throat was raw; no more sound came out. The weight on her chest came off. She took a deep breath, and there was more pain. She tried to move her arm, but it was as if it wasn't there, except the pain was there. She rolled over on that side, to try and protect it. Then everything went black.
CIA Headquarters
Langley, VA
1300 local time
Clayton Webb made his way to his office, not looking at anyone or acknowledging any greeting along the way. He just wanted to get to his office, and begin working. Maybe if they could make some progress somewhere in this case, he could feel like he was doing something helpful. He had to do something.
He made it to his office, and sat down at his desk. The first thing he saw was the picture of Amy smiling at him from behind pink sweetheart roses. Having her look at him from that picture, so alive and so happy, it drained all the strength he had stored up over the past few hours. Tears came to his eyes, and caught in his throat. He quickly put the picture in a drawer.
He opened his briefcase, and there was her cap. The one she had lost that night. The blood had dried to a brown blotch. He opened the drawer, and put the cap beside the picture.
He turned on the small TV he had in his office that he used for news updates. ZNN was showing Amy's service picture again, reporting that there was no word from the Pentagon as to why a Marine Major assigned with the Office of Home Land Security was in Northern Iraq, or how she ended up on the list of officers missing in action.
Clay turned the TV off, and rubbed his eyes. Coming back to work may have been a bad idea.
After a couple of minutes of sitting quietly, pulling himself together, he went back to his briefcase, pulled out his laptop and began the task of plugging it in. He thought he could at least begin his post-mission report, organize some thoughts and try to write down all he remembered seeing that night.
Clay worked a few hours; not realizing how much time had passed. No one called, or came into his office to disturb him.
After a while, Clay noticed the clock on his computer, and realized that hours had gone by, without his noticing. He stretched, and decided he was actually hungry. He left his office and went to the building's cafeteria. He bought a cup of coffee and a bagel sandwich, and brought them back up to his office. He ate most of the sandwich while he reread what he had written for his report so far. As he was reading, he heard a familiar voice. 'Clay?'
'Harm, come in.' Clay was glad to see Harm. 'I meant to call you, but time slipped away on me. What brings you here?'
Harm entered Clay's office, and sat down in one of the two chairs facing the desk. 'Your boss, Stillman called me in to talk with a couple of agents. I answered their questions. I hope there is something there that will help.' Harm said seriously.
Clay nodded. He hoped so too. 'Have you been debriefed Clay?' Harm asked.
'Not yet. Have they talked to Sarah too?'
'No' Harm said. 'Though Stillman said he would be calling her in soon.' Harm looked critically at Clay for a minute. Noticed the dark circles under eyes that seemed a little dull and glassy. He saw the remains of the bagel sandwich. 'See you are finally eating.'
'Yeah. My mother tried to temp me with all my favorites. Unfortunately the Blue Crab season hasn't started yet.' Clay said, referring to the Maryland Blue Crab, which was his particular favorite, and only available in the summer time.
There was another lull in the conversation. Clay asked Harm, carefully. 'You...ah, haven't heard any thing have you?'
'No, nothing. You?'
Clay shook his head. They both sat thinking of Amy. Harm broke the silence with the question he had to ask, but hated to bring up. 'What do you think are her chances Clay?'
Clay looked his friend in the eye, and gave him the truth; nothing else would do now. 'Not very good anymore. It was wishful thinking on the part of the Iraqi's that anyone would be contacted. All we an hope for anymore is that we find a body so her father and brother have something to bury.' And me too, Clay thought, but to think that made him physically ill.
'How can you say that? How can you be so cold?' Harm demanded.
'I'm being practical.' Clay shot back. 'I hope she is dead, then they can't hurt her anymore.' Clay's words hung in the air between them. Neither knew what to say.
Clay finally continued. 'You don't know what it is like. To have your world turned to pain. To feel like your head was going to explode, and you wish it would so the pain would stop.'
Harm wasn't sure if Clay was talking about the pain he had experienced under torture, or the pain he saw in his friend's eyes right now. But Harm asked 'Why torture her at all? What information could she give them?' He was grasping at anything to try and reassure himself and Clay, give them a little hope.
'We spent four days in that Marine camp. You saw things the guerillas would find useful, so did Amy. Things like the number of Marines, their weapons, and equipment. Amy was also in the communications room. She knows what weapons could be brought in by radio, how far away they were. She could tell them a lot.'
'But she wouldn't.' Harm insisted. 'Amy is a tough Marine, a smart woman.'
'You are right, she won't talk, and that will get her killed.' Clay stated coldly. 'I wish it had been me. It should have been me.' He looked up at Harm. 'You were right on the plane. I still love Amy, and wanted to be with her. I wanted to...try and be friends. I missed her.' He said quietly. 'I was selfish, and I got her killed.'
'Stop it Clay.' Harm insisted. 'I wouldn't listen to this. Doesn't do this to yourself.' He kept looking at Clay, but Clay would not look at him. 'I was right on the plane.' Harm said. 'Amy still loves you. She is counting on us and I for one am not giving up hope. Not yet. I believe in her, and you should too.' Clay looked back at him at that statement. Harm had hit a nerve. Amy was still counting on him. He had to keep working, keep hoping for her sake.
Harm let that sink in, then changed the subject. He decided he needed a break, and thought Clay needed one too. 'Why don't you come over to my place, I'll cook dinner.' Harm offered.
'Why is everyone so concerned about what I eat and whether I sleep or not?' Clay demanded.
'You look like hell, Clay, that's why.' Harm answered him. 'Not to put too fine a point on it.' He added jokingly to soften the blow. Harm stood up and turned to leave the office. 'I won't take no for an answer, and will expect you by 1900.' He ordered. Before he stepped out of the door, he turned and pointed a long index finger at Clay. 'You bring the beer.'
Clay nodded assent, and Harm was happy to see he had put a smile, even if it was a small one, on his friend's face.
Storage Room
Iraqi Base Camp
Northern Iraqi
She woke up once, had tried to move but couldn't, and the pain woke her up. It was night again. How much time had gone by?
Amy's arm throbbed with every heartbeat. Her head pounded. Each breath caused a stabbing pain in her chest.
Let it end now, here, she prayed. I'm sorry for all my sins, and hope every Marine is safe. Let Sarah and Harm and Clay all be safe too. Let Clay know I love him. Give him peace.
At dawn they made their way down the stairs to the room one more time. He had to get something from her. He was amazed this woman had lasted this long. But she must die now. They had to move on, and she would not survive the trip. She could die when she wanted to. He would leave the timing to Allah, but he had to try one more thing to get some useful information from her.
He ordered the men to take off her jacket, and hold her arms out to the side. They held her up in a kneeing position. Surprisingly she was still alive, and almost conscience. All the better, he thought.
While the men pulled her arms out from her, she let out a quiet groan of pain. He knew she would at least hear him, this last time. He came up to her, and whispered in her ear. 'This is your last chance. Tell me what I want to know and I will kill you quickly. The pain will end, and you may go to meet your God. Or, I will make your end full of pain, and anguish.'
Amy heard him, and wished she could shout her answer, use her strongest voice, but she had no breath, no strength. Her voice came out in a raspy whisper. 'Nothing.' She swallowed past the pain and tears. 'Tell you nothing.'
He was almost glad she was defiant to the end. He admired courage. 'Then you will die now. Any last words?' he asked.
The words barely came out to be heard. 'Tell Webb I won.' That struck her as funny, and she smiled at the thought of Clay being proud of what she had done. She had won, she had betrayed no one, at least she hoped so. She hoped Clay and the others were safe. She would be safe too, soon.
As she smiled, his smiled faded, and his anger returned. She had won. Had endured all he tried to do and not only survived, but prevailed over him by giving away nothing. This woman; he would show her how they treated defiant women in Iraq. He moved behind her, and prepared to kill her with as much pain as possible. He brought the short riding whip around, over his head, and struck her. He was rewarded when he heard her groan, saw her twitch, and see the tiny stripe appear on her back, drops of blood forming along the welt.
'One.' he growled.
Soup 'n Subs Restaurant
Falls Church, VA
1231 local time
Sarah made her way to the sandwich shop where she had arranged to meet Clay for lunch. She had talked to him on the phone, but this was the first time since coming back from Iraq days ago, that she was able to meet with Clay and see how he was doing. She was a little nervous about what to say to him. Harm had said Clay was very down, blaming himself, and very worried about Amy. They all were. Sarah hoped they could help one another, give each other some hope.
She arrived first. She went through the cafeteria line getting her food and found a table in the back. Just as she was sitting down, she saw Clay coming toward the table. He must have been right behind me in line she thought. Clay had a sandwich and a cup of coffee on his tray. He wasn't very hungry, but knew he had to keep eating. They greeted each other and sat down.
'So Clay,' Sarah began, but he cut her off.
'Please don't ask me how I am doing. I hate trying to answer that question these days.'
She nodded her understanding, and started eating. 'Have you heard anything?' she asked around a mouthful of ham and cheese.
That was another question Clay hated to have to answer these days. He tried to give Sarah an answer 'There is very little news coming out right now. They still haven't found any trace of the insurgent group, but they are still looking. There hasn't been any activity in the area either. I don't know if that is good or bad. There is less of a chance of finding her alive I'm afraid, each day that goes by.' He didn't add that as each hour goes by, it was harder for him to keep his hopes up.
They ate quietly for a moment, then Clay looked up at Sarah and asked. 'Usually I don't put much...I mean, I have a hard time believing...'
Sarah looked at Clay quizzically, 'What are you trying to say Clay?'
'Sarah, have you...seen...anything? Do you know if she is even...alive? Can you tell?' Clay was afraid of the answer, but he wanted the truth. Harm and Sarah both had told him at different times how Sarah had 'seen' Harm when he had crashed at sea, and how she had 'seen' Chloe too when she was lost. Maybe she could see where Amy was, or whether she was alive.
Sarah looked down at the table. She had tried, before they left Iraq, and since coming home. 'No Clay. I have not seen Amy or have a sense of where she might be, or if she is still alive.' She paused, her heart sinking as she saw one more flicker of hope fade from his eyes. 'But that doesn't mean anything has happened to her. It's not a bad thing, just, I haven't seen anything.'
'I was just wondering.' Clay said, and finally took a bite of his own sandwich. 'Thanks for trying, and thanks for talking about her in the present tense. Not too many people do right now.'
Sarah tried to reassure him. 'Clay she will be all right. She is strong. You have to believe she is still alive.'
'I don't know Sarah.'
'I won't believe she is dead.' Sarah insisted. 'And neither should you. Don't give up all hope.' Sarah took a good look at Clay. She knew he was hurting, and didn't know what to say. 'You know, Amy wouldn't like to see you like this, or hear you talk like this.'
'No. She probably wouldn't.' Clay agreed. It felt good to talk about Amy as if she was still with them. Not locked away some where far away, but maybe just around the corner. It gave his mind and heart a rest from the worry and guilt. Sarah was right; Amy would not like the way he was acting. Not taking care of himself, not having any hope. He wanted to continue, play the little game of what if, even if it was only for a little while. 'What would she say do you think?'
Sarah thought a minute, a sly smile spreading across her face at the thought of what her friend would say. 'Amy would probably make a joke, sort of yell at you. Something like...' Sarah changed her voice, as if Amy was talking to Clay. 'Get over yourself Webb. You aren't Super Spook you know. Can't save everyone.'
Clay smiled at this. 'Yeah, that sounds like her.'
Sarah continued. 'The first time you two met here in Washington, with all of us at McGlinty's Pub.' Clay nodded remembering. Sarah went on. 'She said, I know he's a spook, he practically has CIA tattooed to his forehead.' They both smiled at that.
'A tattoo like that wouldn't help much in the field' Clay laughed. 'Her spook radar was good though. It could have been handy in the field.' Then he stopped abruptly. He had just spoke of Amy in the past tense, as if she was really gone. A cold shiver went down his back.
Sarah noticed too. Clay looked at her across the table, then down at his lunch, and let the moment pass.
'Clay stop blaming yourself.' Sarah urged him, taking a hold of his hand and giving it a squeeze. 'Bad things happen, and we can't stop them. We just have to keep hoping. Amy has to be all right.'
Sarah remembered something else. 'Before we went up the hill, I saw you talking with her.' Sarah knew this was the last time any of them had talked to Amy face to face. 'What were you talking about?'
Clay had not thought of that conversation since that night. 'I asked her if she would be all right.'
'And what did she say?'
Clay smiled, remembering, 'She said...' He paused, wanted to remember her exact words, knowing how important they were now. 'She said...I'll be fine Clay. Don't worry about me.'
He had been looking far away, as if he could see her face as she said the words. Then he looked back at Sarah. She was smiling too. 'Listen to her Clay. Hold on to that.'
A few days later
Clayton Webb's Townhouse
Alexandria, VA
0140 local time
Clayton Webb was running. He was out of breath, his heart pumping, sweat covered his body, he could barely put one foot in front of the other, but he kept running.
She was calling him. Amy's voice was crying out his name in the darkness. 'Clayton....Clayton I'm here....Clayton please...Come find me.' She needed him. Needed his help. He had to get to her, but he didn't know where she was. Somewhere ahead of him, in the darkness.
He came to a door. He pushed it open, she was there, a crumpled form on the floor. He stepped to her, 'Amy' he called. 'Its me. Clayton, I'm here.' He reached her, turned her over, then.... She disappeared. The room was empty. And he heard her calling, crying again. 'Clay....Please...'
'I'm coming. Hold on Amy.' And he started running again. More doors, more crumpled forms, on the floor, tied to a chair, secured to a wooden cot. Each time he reached the form, they disappeared, and he was forced to run again. Searching, calling her name. 'Amy. Amy I'm coming. Hold on. Amy!'
Clayton sat bolt upright in his bed. He was home, his townhouse. It was dark. Amy's name was echoing back at him from his bedroom walls. He put his head in his hands, and sat in bed until his breathing calmed, and his heartbeat went back to normal. As his body relaxed, he started shaking. He had to force himself to practice the relaxing exercises he had been taught after his time in Paraguay. Lately, the shaking had returned more often. He knew it was because of the worry, the stress, and nightmares of Amy.
Sometimes she was with him in Paraguay. She was the one connected to the battery, or she was in a prison behind walls impossibly large, and he couldn't get to her. Or, one like tonight. He was searching and came close to finding her, only to loose her again.
He got out of bed, put on his robe and walked in the kitchen. He wanted to fix himself a good stiff drink, maybe several. But alcohol only made the nightmares worse, and the shaking last longer. He pulled out the little kettle, filled it with milk and warmed it up on the stove. His mother had given him warm milk as a child when he had nightmares of his father. Amy had done this task for him too when they were together and he had woke up in the night in the grip of a nightmare. She always added a little vanilla too. He did this for himself now, remembering how she always made him tell her about the dream, then how she held him until the shaking stopped and he fell asleep with her arms...He couldn't think about that now. His milk ready, he poured it into a mug, and walked out to the living room. He didn't turn on any lights. He just opened the shades and let in the light from the street. He wanted to hide in the dark, and let his feelings run free where no one would see. He looked out his window at the quiet neighborhood. No one else was up with lights on. He took a drink of the milk and it warmed him, even comforted him a little. He thought he might be able to go back to bed, and sleep again eventually. He had to try. He hadn't slept a full night since...
He took another sip form his mug. Maybe some music. He sat down at his piano. When he was recovering from his nerve damage, it was hard to play, to get his hands to follow the commands from his brain. But slowly his music had come back. He and Amy had spent many hours at his piano. She would sing and he would play. She knew every Broadway song, all the old ones anyway. She especially liked Rogers and Hammerstein. Her voice was beautiful, light and high. She could fill the room and send the notes to the stars.
She also loved West Side Story. He had bought the sheet music after they had watched the movie together, and she had sung all of Maria's parts, better than Natalie Wood, or so Clay thought. Not that he was bias or anything, he thought to himself and smiled, as he struck a chord on the keys. Remembering her voice, singing sweetly beside him, the words meant for him.
'Today, all day I had the feeling,
A miracle would happen,
I knew now I was right,
For here you are....
He stopped playing. He couldn't go on, couldn't hold it in anymore. He missed her. He had killed her. She was gone, and it was his fault. The emptiness and guilt overwhelmed him and the silent sobs came out. Tears streamed down his cheeks, the cries wracked his body. 'Please God' he prayed aloud. 'Send me a miracle. Give her a miracle. I love her. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever pushed her away or made go over there.
He had slumped over, hanging his head on his arms on the piano. When all the sobs had pasted, he lifted his head, and saw the tears on the keys. His heart seemed lighter somehow. The weight didn't seem so heavy on his shoulders. He wiped the tears from his face, and on the piano. Gulped down the last of the milk and left the mug on the kitchen counter. He made his way back to his bed, and fell into it exhausted. 'Please God. Please God.' Was on his lips as he fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.
End of Chapter 5
Sorry. Chapter 6 on the way soon.