Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.
August 2007, Monday
- Somewhere
The air was sticky, almost simmering and maybe that wasn't far from the truth. Webb's breathing had become labored and short. He felt dizzy. A slow drum was beating in his ears in step with his heartbeat. He almost missed the gentle knocking on the trunk lid over it. But as he finally sorted it out he didn't have the strength to prop his body up and answer.
"This is taking too long." Mel. Or was it Viv? He couldn't tell any more. "It's so quiet. I haven't heard anything for minutes. We've got to do something!"
"They should be here soon. We've got to be patient."
"But it's dying in there!"
Webb blinked tiredly against sweat burning in his eyes. Dying. Was he dying? Somehow it didn't seem to matter any more. God, how he wished for a sip of water. How he wished it was over. But at the same time he knew with strange clarity that he didn't want to die. He never had.
Even in the tightest situation - shot, tortured or finding himself in a wheelchair for the rest of his life - he had never stopped fighting. Oh, he had thought about the possibility. Had actually methodically written down reasons for and against suicide after his accident - in code so his mother wouldn't have a fit if she ever stumbled across it... Well, at least not right away considering her abilities. He had kept the list for more than half a year in a book in his room before he had torn it to little pieces and flushed them down the toilet. Maybe he was just too stubborn to give up.
Or maybe the price for that kind of peace was always too high. No matter how often it had felt like it ... he wasn't alone in this world. He wasn't living in a vacuum. His death would hurt or affect people in a myriad of ways - his mother and Harrison, AJ ... yes, even some servants who would suddenly lose their jobs and income or his horses. And Sarah.
Webb closed and opened his eyes but now they weren't burning just because of the sweat. Sarah. He didn't know if or how much Sarah would mourn over his death; he didn't know a lot of things when it came to her, not lately, not any longer. But Johnson would try to kill her too. And Rabb didn't know, couldn't know, had no possibility to find out before it would be too late.
He wouldn't allow that to happen. He wouldn't. Not again.
Webb drew strength out of this train of thought. Methodically measured out his breathing - in, out, in and out - just as he had written down the list why to go on. The voices outside had started to blend with the noise from the street quite some time ago but suddenly some rose above it. Light and excited.
"Excuse me! Excuse me! Might I... Thanks! Here, here, pull it over!"
Other voices chimed in. "Whew, hand it over, sister. Gotcha. Hey, man, ain't no stupid girl over there! - Lift it up! Higher! That's it! - Here, I'll help you! - Pull a bit more at that edge, good!"
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Webb frowned confused at the strange sounds over his head.
People started clapping their hands but a male voice was complaining: "That's a nice effort but it will not lead to much. The tarpaulin is putting the trunk in shade but it will not really reduce the temperature inside."
Somewhat surprised Webb felt a sob well up in his throat. He didn't care that the man was probably right. But just to KNOW that the sun wasn't burning directly on the lid any longer made the temperature go down at least ten degrees. Sometimes it was so easy to be grateful for little things.
JAG headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia
Mac fought against another wave of dizziness. Had she caught the flu? She sure felt hot enough for that. Quickly she reached for her glass of water only to feel another stab of pain in her arm. Where on earth had she bumped it against?
Feeling eyes on her she pulled herself together. This was neither the time nor the place for fainting. Not in the courtroom. Not in this trial. Not with that man sitting in the back.
Involuntarily her gaze wandered in his direction. Today she had paid for the first time real attention to this constant visitor in the courtroom and the way the man was staring back at her made her uncomfortable. Maybe Harm was right after all. Maybe she should not have dismissed his instincts no matter how angry she still was at him. His work related instincts had always been the one thing she had never doubted. She had fought against them, yes. Questioned them, yes. But she had never doubted them.
As strange shiver ran down her spine as Johnson answered her glance with something she could only describe as a smug smile that barely moved his lips. If he really was behind the threats against her, the man had amazing nerve ... or an extraordinary ego. In fact it was a little bit surprising that Rockwell's men had allowed him to enter the building... Well, maybe he had stationed some extra guards right outside instead because they had no solid proof yet.
Mac sipped again at her water to clear her head. She nodded towards the guard, put the glass aside and folded her hands. Lifting her eyes she focused on Private Vendell.
"Private Vendell. I've heard and took into consideration the arguments of defense and prosecution. And maybe I would have agreed to a minor punishment in this case if I had seen at least a tiny sign of regret from your side." She noted that Vendell's stiff posture started wavering. Emotions changed quickly on his face. "But I wasn't able to see anything like this. Sometimes I even wondered if you realize at all what you have done wrong. Destroying military equipment because of an accident is one thing. Destroying it because of a temper and on purpose another." Vendell shifted and Tiner hissed something. "Under these circumstances I don't have any other choice than to follow the suggestions of the prosecution and-"
"Stupid cow! All I ever wanted was a second chance!"
Everybody in the courtroom froze for a second after Vendell's outburst. Then Sturgis jumped to his feet, Tiner lost any color and grabbed the arm of his client, the guard made a step forward and Mac banged her gavel.
"Privat Vendell! You will be charged with disregard of this court! Lieutenant Tiner, I suggest you advise your client how to behave in a courtroom before he'll find himself in even more trouble!"
"Yes, ma'am - your honor, I'm sorry, ma'am - your honor!" Tiner's face was now very red.
In the turmoil nobody noticed that the door of the courtroom opened and shut quietly.
Somewhere
"Now, what do we have here? This car?"
"Yes, yes!"
"Well, should be done in a minute. Step back, please."
Webb's eyelids fluttered at the voices over his head. He moaned softly. Did he faint for a moment? Too exhausted to move he allowed his eyes to fall shut again. The scratching sounds from outside seemed so far away; he couldn't put them in logical context. A horn started blaring followed by surprised shouts.
"Looks like the alarm was set," the new voice commented calmly. Another screeching sound and the car shook slightly. Then the trunk popped open and Webb jerked backwards as light hurt his sensitive eyes. "There, here we... Oh my God! Frank! Over here! Harry, call an ambulance! Quick!"
"Jesus! Who can...? Mister, can you hear me? Can you hear me? Oh, damn it!"
Webb blinked up at the shadows bending over him as a hand patted his cheek then wandered down his throat to feel for a pulse. He tried to move his head but failed.
"Harry, the blanket in our car! The blanket! We've got to lift him out, the air is boiling inside! Sir! Sir! Can you hear me? Sir!"
Somehow Webb managed a feeble nod. Hands touched his body. Once more he lost track of things for a while but was painfully jerked back to reality as the duct tape was pulled off his mouth. Far away the sound of breaking glass and the blaring horn stopped abruptly. People were talking to him, shouting, but he didn't pay attention. At some point a competent voice took over and he felt needles pushing in his arm after the duct tape had been cut loose. It hurt as they tried to pick it off his fingers. Then a wet cloth cooled his hot face and he blinked slowly.
The sky was pink.
With the trace of a frown he blinked again and managed to turn his head a tiny bit. Now he was able to see the edge of the pink sky and arms and faces holding it: Black, white, brown, housewives, men, a gang of ragged teenagers he would normally not have liked anywhere near his car, girls in neat clothes - maybe a little bit short though - definitely a bit short - probably doing the shopping for their mothers... A hand pulled his face back and he found himself staring into concentrated eyes. The mouth was moving, had probably been for quite some time and he tried to focus.
"... hear me? Can you hear me? Please blink once if you can."
Webb did. Slowly.
"That's very good. I need your assistance here, do you understand? Do you understand? Can you feel that? Can you feel my hand on your leg?"
Webb opened his mouth but his throat refused to cooperate. So he rolled his eyes.
"You don't feel that? And that? That?" The man looked suddenly very concerned and exchanged a glance with his partner. He lowered his voice. "His feet have not been tied."
"You think of a back injury?"
"Probably. Maybe the hit on the forehead wasn't the only one."
Groaning Webb rolled his head from one side to the other. Again he tried to speak but all he got out was a hoarse sound.
"It's all right, sir. We'll take care of it just stay calm. Give me the water, Tom."
"... not..." The word was barley understandable but the best Webb could manage. "P - P..."
At least the man had a quick brain. "Paralyzed? You want to tell me you're paralyzed?"
Exhausted Webb managed one more nod. Gasps were heard around them and if he had had the energy he would have chuckled sarcastically. Obviously it was considered more disgusting to tie up and stuff a cripple into the trunk of a car than to do the same thing to a perfectly healthy man.
"Drink a little bit. Good ... no, no, not that much. OK, now get the stretcher over here. You, we need-"
Somehow Webb got hold of the man's arm as he turned away and tugged. He gathered all his strength. "Need ... cell ... phone."
"It's all right, mister, we'll bring you to the hospital now and..."
Webb tugged harder.
"Cell ... phone," he insisted and tried to glare at the other man. "... in ... there ... for ... reason... Kill ... kill..." He coughed. The men exchanged worried glances and turned to the police officers. Webb grimaced and panted. "... damn! Work ... for ... government..."
"He had no ID," mumbled one of the officers. But he pulled out a cell phone.
Webb closed his eyes for a second and tried to think. Then he whispered some figures. The police officer talked a second, almost snapped to attention and held the cell at Webb's ear. Webb smiled faintly and rasped out a few sentences before his head fell back and things got hectically again.
"In the ambulance. - Get the stretcher over here. - Careful, careful! - Take the infusion."
A silent crowd was watching as the man out of the trunk was lifted into the back of the ambulance. Some clutched the ugly pink tarpaulin to their chests. Mel and Viv had taken Timmy - who looked rather bored - between their massive bodies. The blond girl who had bought the tarpaulin was crying softly and a thin black teenager with a fierce scar in his face patted her back with surprising gentleness. Some men were nodding for no particular reason. Just before the doors closed the first police officer was called in, stayed there a few seconds and climbed back out. He scratched his head as the vehicle started moving then put his cap back on and turned.
"Uhm... He told me to tell you: The dog says thank you."
They blushed but smiled. A crowd of embarrassed heroes ... every single one of them.
