Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

THE PRESENT

"Mr. Roberts? Mr. Roberts."

"Yes, I - I'm here... I ... just need a second."

"I know it's hard but I want you to continue."

"I..."

"Please, Mr. Roberts. Tell me what happened next. You had fixed your prosthesis and hurried downhill? What happened then?"

"We - just kept moving ... stumbling is more like it ... the snow was hiding branches and holes... We - we just tried to bring as much distance between us and - and the rifle as possible. We ... crossed the road and kept going ... waited for the next shots... But - they didn't come."

"But there were more shots, weren't there?"

"Yes. Oh, yes..."

"Mr. Roberts, are you still with me?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry, I was... I just realized... It's - it's kind of funny, you know?"

"What, Mr. Roberts?"

"That ... all these years we - I, Commander Rabb, even Colonel Mackenzie ... have been so engrossed in our own problems and needs that somehow we missed that ... Mister Webb was a man who had to battle his own demons. And eventually lost."

THE PAST: January 2005

- Somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains

"Did we lose him?" Bud gasped for air. He had got a stitch and pressed his hand against his ribcage in a useless attempt to soothe the pain.

"Don't - know- DAMN!"

The echo of a shot rolled downhill. Before it faded completely they had dived into the snow behind the next tree. Webb nearly knocked Bud's head to the ground as he worked frantically to free his gun from his pocket. A second shot shattered the silence. They scrambled closer to the rough bark.

Seconds passed. A minute. The forest itself seemed to hold its breath. Webb leaned carefully to the side and risked a glance around the tree. Everything was silent. He furrowed his brows.

"Something's wrong."

Bud looked up at Webb's muttered remark.

"What do you mean?"

"It was too far away. What was he shooting at?"

"Maybe he confused us with something else?"

"That would be almost too much to ask for... Wait! You hear that?"

"A car." Bud felt a sudden stab of hope but it died quickly as the sound grew stronger. "It's coming downhill."

The distant sound of the engine rose and fell. It passed slowly above them, faded, circled around, got louder. Without a word they stood and changed to the other side of the tree, peering carefully around both sides. Through the high trunks they caught glimpses at the moving silhouette of the Jeep(TM) barely fifteen yards below their position. Bud stole a glance to the side as he heard Webb cock his gun. The agent was following the progress of the creeping car with intense concentration. For a second metal and glass reflected the sun and Bud thought he made out the face of their pursuer. They didn't move. The sound went on, slowly, started fading again ... and was suddenly gone. Too suddenly.

"Did he-" Bud had to clear his throat before he was able to continue in a whisper. "Did he take the next turn ... or has he stopped?"

Webb's eyes were glued to the spot where they had seen the car last. His voice was barely audible. "I'm not sure."

They listened to the quiet of a lonely winter forest, trying to catch any sound. Nothing but their own ragged breathing, overly loud in the silence. Finally Bud shook his head, the lawyer in him gaining the upper hand.

"Why should he drive away? There's no sense in that. He gave too much away; we know his name, can describe him. He simply can't allow us to talk to the police."

"He must have seen our footprints where we crossed the road."

"You think he is waiting for us? That he was checking if we had crossed the road a second time?"

Webb indicated a grim nod.

Bud swallowed. "Can we make it back uphill? To our car and your cell phone? What?"

Webb had groaned softly. "Darn it. I guess I know what he shot at."

Realization hit Bud like a slap in the face. "The tires."

"If he's smart he's searched the car before that." Webb narrowed his eyes. "Either destroyed my cell or simply threw it out in the snow - impossible to find it there."

They glanced at each other.

"He took a rather long time," observed Bud reluctantly. "Even if he followed us first and then returned to his car..."

"Yeah."

"And if we want to make sure, we'd have to stay on the road. Otherwise I'll pull my prosthesis off again. The - the damn thing simply isn't made for deep snow." He swallowed dryly. "Of course I could wait between the trees ... you'd be able to move more freely without me anyway..."

"No. Last thing I need is to shoot you by mistake." Webb sighed to take the edge off his stinging words. "I don't like the idea of being in open terrain again. And even if we try to escape uphill the Parker's didn't mention any houses near the second crossing. Heaven only knows how far it is to the village they described."

"And if we just wait for a car? Eventually someone HAS to come up here."

"Where? The forest isn't thick enough to hide properly. Besides..."

Involuntarily they turned both and looked back the way they had come and at their footsteps: A clear, rough violation of the virgin snow. A track impossible to miss even for inexperienced eyes. Looking away Bud nodded in bitter acceptance.

"So it's downhill?"

"Downhill," Webb confirmed slowly. He checked his small automatic, took the magazine out and grimaced. "Five bullets." He rammed the magazine back in. "We better not get into another gunfight."

Bud felt a cold shiver down his spine.

They continued their way much more careful and slower than before. In silent agreement Webb started to cross the slope to the right, away from the direction the car had been driving in. It meant that they would have to get over the road a second time but seemed to be the lower risk nevertheless. The crunch of their feet on the snow seemed very loud. At first sight, the wooded ground looked plain and monotonous but reality was very different. It was the blanket of snow that betrayed the eye, coating small elevations and hollows and merging them into one another. Whenever a branch cracked sharply under their steps they tensed nervously.

Looking around anxiously Bud tugged at his coat. Although they moved almost faster than could be considered safe he was getting cold. Physical exercise of their wild flight, adrenalin and panic had made him sweaty. Now that he had calmed down a bit he started to feel his damp clothes clinging to his skin. Sneaking a glance at Webb he caught the other man rubbing his arms. Of course. If he was slightly wet the spy had to be literally soaked through and through. And if his own throbbing legs were any indication then Webb's muscles had to be painful knots.

In dead silence they crossed the road in its turn, slipping on ice they hadn't even noticed in their car. Their nerves were strained to the utmost. Minute after minute passed. Dividing his attention between their surroundings and his feet Webb aimed a bit more to the side in order to avoid the road from now on. But at the same time they didn't dare to leave the curved band too far out of sight. It was their only point of orientation in a forest where every tree somehow looked the same - and the thought of getting lost wasn't quite amusing.

They had just climbed down a short, steep part of the slope when they spotted the car. And because they were almost sitting anyway they simply remained there, holding their breath.

Again the loneliness of the forest overwhelmed them. The Jeep(TM) sat innocently in the snow beside the path the snowplow had cleared on the road, halfway between two turns. Its front was pointing at them and the driver's side hung over the slope. As hard as they looked around nowhere was a trace of the dreaded red coat or any movement at all.

Bud shifted uneasily as he watched Webb's eyes wander back and forth between the car, the road and the wooded slope. The agent's face was hard as he pressed his lips together.

"Damn, damn, damn." He was muttering more to himself than Bud. "Even if we slip past him now ... as soon as he picks up our track he'll drive further down and start searching again. And if we avoid him a second time he'll just repeat this little game."

For a second his gaze flickered down at Bud's legs. There was no need to explain. They knew both all too well that any clearing - more so - any place with deeper snow would slow them down or be an impassable barrier. And Bud was more than aware that he was too heavy to be carried for long under these conditions. Glancing at the car he felt his stomach tighten as he understood Webb's train of thought.

"Would he ... be stupid enough to leave his keys in the car?"

"That's the least of my worries. When push comes to shove I'll hotwire the damn thing."

"You can hotwire a car?"

Webb shot Bud's raised eyebrows a sore look before turning away. "If we are lucky he decided to check the opposite turn first to make sure we didn't pass there."

Bud would have liked to slap himself. He took a deep breath. "If he did then we are wasting precious time."

Without an answer Webb got to his feet and stood there for a heartbeat, slightly ducked. Gripping his gun faster he gave Bud a quick nod. They hurried across the snow, no longer pausing in the cover of trees. Again there was a ditch along the side of the road to catch any water coming downhill. But in addition the slope got steeper the nearer they got to the car and in the end they were forced to step on the open road, endless fifteen yards in front of the Jeep(TM). Involuntarily hunching their shoulders they quickened their pace. Their eyes darted from left to right and back again. Twelve yards. Ten. Eight.

"Nice try, Navy!"

The sharp voice stopped them short. Bud's panic-stricken gaze flew to Webb who squeezed his eyes shut and mouthed a silent curse. Very slowly he turned his arms outwards and removed his finger from the trigger, showing any action very clearly. Bud swallowed and lifted his trembling hands at shoulder height.

"Put the gun down," came the harsh command.

Webb's lips were pressed tightly together but he shifted his thumb, secured his gun. Moving painfully slow he took a step back, bent his knees and placed the weapon carefully on the ground. Equally slow he stood back up.

"This is not necessary." His voice was of deadly calm. "It's still not too late to stop this."

"Yeah, sure." A sarcastic snort completed the angry spat. "God, I can't believe you came hunting for me after all these years! I would have thought the Navy's got more important things to do."

"Stan." Webb started turning slowly. Bud closed his eyes for a second then followed his example. "We didn't come after you. We didn't come after anybody. I already told you this is a misunderstanding."

Finally they were face to face with the sandy-haired man. How or where he had been hiding was beyond them but there he was, standing right behind them on the road not more than a few steps away. Instead of the hunting rifle he was aiming a shotgun with two barrels at them - just as dangerous at this short distance. A strange, almost desperate determination was on his face as he stared at Webb.

"Misunderstanding? You really think I'm stupid! MISUNDERSTANDING! How did you find me? Who tipped you off?"

"Nobody tipped us off," Bud said quickly as he saw the man's hands tighten around his weapon. Webb stood rigid. "Please! He's telling you the truth. We are NOT here because of you. We are not your enemies. Whatever you have done, there has to be a way to-"

"Shut up!" Something unpredictable flickered in the burly man's eyes as he took two steps forward. "You! Kick your gun over here! Now!"

"OK, OK." Webb showed his palms in a soothing gesture. For a heartbeat his eyes darted over to Bud. "Keep cool. There is no reason to do something you'll later regret."

He placed one foot behind his gun and gave it a shove. Too gentle. Turning slowly around itself the weapon skidded a few steps over the icy surface, moving slightly to the side. It ended up right between Bud and the sandy-haired man.

"Very funny!"

Webb shrugged nonchalantly. "Sorry, I've never had a thing for soccer."

And Bud caught his second glance. His heart jumped into his throat. Making a step he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind: "It's all right, no problem, I've got it covered!" and kicked against the gun, sending it towards the burly man. And the split second the man's eyes - and the shotgun - involuntarily turned in his direction Webb lunged forward.

He hit his adversary the very moment he jerked the shotgun back around and pulled the trigger, knocking the barrels to the side. A shot went off in the woods. The next second the weapon was wrenched out of their hands as they fell hard and Webb suddenly found himself pinned to the ground by a man who had at least ten pounds on him. For a heartbeat they rolled, fighting tooth and nail and with the same desperate strength, none giving a damn about fair play until Webb somehow twisted a knee up and threw the other man off.

They pushed up in the same motion - and an invisible hand jerked Webb back down, knocking the wind out of him for a second. The shocked realization that he had stepped on his own coat was a crystalline, frozen drop in time as he saw the burly man's hand dive into his clothes, pulling at something, PULLING at something, his face a wild grimace, and instinctively threw himself around, jumped, leaped desperately for his own gun. He landed too short, flat on his stomach but his outstretched hand was over it, closed around it and he brought it with him as he rolled on his back, the large .45 the other man finally freed from his coat filling his entire vision. They cocked the weapons in the same heartbeat, aiming -

The blast of the shotgun was deafening.

Webb blinked as the burly man was suddenly gone, hurled off his feet and into the deep snow beside the road. But at that time he was already moving - reacting without any coherent thought - got to his feet, made two long strides, gun firmly raised with both hands. His eyes darted over the fallen man and the ground around him, not for one second giving up his aim until he spotted the hole in the snow almost three yards away where the .45 had landed. Then - and only then - he turned slightly and stared at Bud who stood still frozen in shock. The smoking shotgun clasped in his hands.

For a very long moment nobody moved.

Then Webb abruptly turned his head away and finally lowered his gun, secured it. Tucking the weapon under his coat he waded into the snow and bent over the lying man.

"Can you hear me? Stan?" Wide, glassy eyes followed his movements in passive confusion as he patted roughly over the man's pockets. "You've got a cell? Maybe MY cell?" He pulled out some car keys and threw them in Bud's direction. They landed on the road. "Go and look if there's a first-aid kit in the car. And for a cell phone."

Bud just kept staring, stunned, still trying to comprehend what had happened. A first almost questioning moan escaped Stan's lips. Webb's head snapped up.

"Bud!"

Jumping Bud dropped the shotgun as if it had burned his fingers. He grabbed the keys, turned and stumbled to the car, slipping on ice and snow. Fumbling with the lock he dropped the keys, picked them up, dropped them a second time before he was able to open the passenger's door. Inside the car wasn't what he had expected. It was ... tidy. No dust or dirt. A little water and mud in the legroom but it was winter, after all. It smelled clean too. No cold smoke. No alcohol. Not even sweat just a hint of wet clothes.

Giving himself a shake Bud reached for the glove compartment. Things tumbled to the floor as he rummaged through it. His hands started trembling and he clenched his fists, fighting for control. He hurried to the back. There everything was neatly fixed and well kept too. Two empty places for guns. An ammunition box that could be secured with a heavy padlock. A big first-aid kit strapped to the side. He ripped it out and limped back over the road.

"Here! There was no cell phone but I found this..." He held out the opened kit. "How - how bad is it?"

Webb didn't bother with an answer as he looked up from where he was kneeling in the snow just gestured for Bud to come closer. He had bunched up Stan's coat and was pressing it against the man's side as hard as he could. A barely audible whimper was floating through the quiet air. Peering into the kit Webb rifled quickly through its contents with one hand, snatched up a package of antiseptic dressing and used his teeth to rip it open. As he peeled the coat down Bud's stomach turned.

"Oh - God-" Quickly he looked away, gulping rapidly. Something on the road caught his attention and his eyes widened. Tiny red dots were scattered all over the white surface. They seemed to grow as he stared at them in shock. Tearing his eyes away he gritted his teeth for a second, took deep calming breaths and tried to pull himself together. Tried to ignore the gut-wrenching fear he felt building deep inside.

"What - what can I do? Drive down to the village and - and get help? Or can we - can we transport him? Please, what can I do?"

Webb finished bundling everything up and leaned forward, applying as much pressure as possible on his improvised compress. Then he lifted his head and looked at Bud. His face was bare any expression. He knew how this was going to end. And as he dropped his gaze back down at the wounded man he could see the same knowledge in the pain-filled eyes staring back at him. One of Stan's hands moved aimlessly over the snow like a small, frightened animal. Reaching out Webb took it in his own with surprising gentleness.

"Go and wait in the car, Bud."

"But I - I- There has to-"

"GO AND WAIT IN THE CAR!"

Bud fled. Stumbled back to the car, climbed in the passenger's seat and slammed the door, threw the keys on the seat to the left, stared blankly at the dashboard. The glove compartment was still open and in a daze he started scooping things up from the floor and shoving them inside. He got more and more agitated as they kept falling back out and finally just crumpled everything in with brute force, slamming the compartment shut. His own ragged breathing filled the air as his heart hammered in his chest.

Outside Webb slowly got to his feet.

Bud started shaking violently; a feeling of overwhelming disorientation swept over him. His teeth chattered as he kept his eyes desperately glued to the dashboard. But he couldn't help seeing on the edge of his vision how Webb stepped back on the road. He couldn't help seeing how he bent down and scooped up some snow...

Bile rose in Bud's throat and he swallowed desperately again and again. The world started spinning and he squeezed his eyes shut, refused to open them again until he heard the driver's door and then felt the car tip as Webb climbed in. A cold he would never have thought possible closed around him. But he still had to ask, had to know because a tiny part of him was hoping so violently that it wasn't true, that it - this - wasn't real...

"Is - is he - is he dead?"

Webb paused before he slammed the door shut, considering him for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then he nodded once.

Bud closed his eyes again. The cold inside of him was chilling. "Oh - oh - no..."

"Bud..." Interrupting himself Webb pressed his lips together. He bent forward and put the key in the ignition but sat back again without turning it, staring through the windshield. Finally he sighed. "Bud, I know this is not making it easier but ... you saved my life. That guy was armed for a war. He would have killed me. He would have killed us if he had had any chance to."

Bud just clasped his hands tighter in his lap. Too numb to think. It was as if he was suddenly watching himself from a distance, everything blurry and dull and unreal. Only from far away he heard the engine start and then felt the car move as Webb maneuvered it carefully downhill.

"I didn't want that." He barely whispered. "I didn't want that to happen."

The car shook slightly as Webb took another turn and accelerated a bit.

"It happened so fast. It - it happened all so fast. I never - I never thought... I simply never considered... Oh, God. I didn't ... expect I'd ever..." Bud rubbed his hands over his face. He tried to slow his breathing. His analytic mind clung desperately to the shattered pieces of his world as the words spilled out of him. "Damn it, I'm in the Navy or not? I should have - I should have been prepared ... that something like that could happen some day. I - I mean I know Commander Rabb has killed - as a pilot and face to face and he's - he's doing fine. Colonel Mackenzie did it too and she handled it. Admiral Chegwidden even was a SEAL on combat missions..."

Webb's gaze was concentrated on the road ahead. Bud swallowed and forced almost a laugh. Almost. It sounded more like a shuddering sob. He felt strangely light-headed.

"Oh, I'm - I'm sorry. Who am I talking to? Of course you know everything about that. I'm - I'm sure you have too... Sometime... And I'm sure you've seen a lot and you have never - never made such a fuss like I do now. You must - you must be thinking I'm a pathetic baby." He nodded encouragingly to himself, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. "I'm - fine. I'm fine. I was - I was a shipboard JAG; I had to make d-decisions - and I l-learned to live with them... So - it's all right. I can handle it. No problem. I'm - I'm getting over it-"

"I HOPE YOU NEVER GET OVER IT!" The car skidded to a halt as Webb slammed on the brakes, stalling the engine in the process. His eyes were blazing. "I hope you never stop feeling like this! I hope you never forget! I hope you never look down at the pain and fear of a dying man and feel NOTHING!"

Bud stared at him in shock.

Webb's knuckles had turned white from the force of his grip around the steering wheel. Pain and desperate anger was in his eyes as he continued bitterly: "I hope you always remember that there are LIVES behind nameless figures and that you're never able to sacrifice them with nothing but a shrug! It makes you less human if you do. It - it makes you less human."

And all Bud could come up with was: "Is - is this what has happened to you?"

Webb exhaled slowly and dropped his head, closing his eyes for a second. Agony almost too intense to look at flickered across his face. Then he looked out of the windshield again and reached for the ignition. His voice was suddenly very tired.

"You ask too many questions, Bud."