A Diamond Ring
Spoilers: Up to and including the Season 8 finale, "A Tangled Webb;" Webb and Mac have already spent one night in Paraguay via "Lawyers, Guns, & Money."
Rating: PG-13 (primarily for language that might be utilized; these characters have some strong thoughts)
Disclaimers: None of it belongs to me; in fact, Wynken, Blynken, and Nod shared these visions with me as I was fantasizing about Clayton Webb.
Summary: From Porter Webb's POV, it's about time JAG Ops & the CIA acknowledge her son's contributions to national security and their well-being by getting him out of harm's way and back to the United States.
Author's Note: I made some alterations to the ending of Chapter 1 and must thank Alex for correcting my Italian. Chapter 2 was mostly written on an airplane with a severe head cold. As always, feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated.
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1323 Zulu
Route Nine
Trans-Chaco Highway, Paraguay
Webb and Mac have just concluded their first joint meeting with Raul Garcia and are traveling back to their hotel. Their earlier uneasiness is forgotten as they argue back and forth about the possibilities of an early supper. As Alvarro observes them from the rearview mirror, he can almost believe they are truly husband and wife. Unfortunately, such banter reveals no new information about the mission. Edward would get no new intel this day.
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1630 Zulu
Vienna, VA
Meredith Cavanaugh's Residence
The atmosphere around the small kitchen table was tense with anticipation. Meredith had finally excused herself to the den so that AJ and Porter Webb could talk openly.
"A lovely woman, AJ." Porter commented as she sipped some of the coffee Meredith had just poured. Making a slight mou� of distaste, she placed her cup in its saucer and folded her hands over the buff-colored folder she had placed on the table.
"Yes she is. And so is Colonel MacKenzie. Made a damn fine judge, too, before your son decided to involve her in this---!" AJ began, but Porter headed him off.
"My son will protect her with his very life, Admiral. You know that, I know that, and I'd wager that Sarah knows that, too. She agreed to this mission? It was voluntary?"
"Yes, she agreed. She could have opted out, but she's a Marine and she wouldn't even consider it. Webb knows that and---," the Admiral began again, but Porter would give no quarter. She, too, was swiftly losing patience.
It had been a long day for all involved. After pulling in favors to assure Avery Watts' political demise, then following the Admiral's barely legible map to Ms. Cavanaugh's home, Porter was definitely feeling every one of her hard-won years tonight. It had even taken a tremendous effort to park her sedate Buick Riviera at the end of Ms. Cavanaugh's narrow drive. A woman could only take so much, but the Admiral's bluster was wearing thin. Porter was willing to go to any lengths to figure out her son's whereabouts, and it was time to dispense with finesse.
"Look, Admiral, shake it off, and concentrate on the task at hand. I can understand your worry. I can understand your need to blame Clayton for placing your officer in harm's way. I can even understand your need to vent your emotions right now. Truly, I do. However, you and I both know that clear heads must prevail if we are to help them succeed and bring them both home safely. Do we agree on this point, at least?
AJ took a deep breath and conceded the point. Hell, several points. The combined stress of the past two months was finally taking its toll. Singer dead, Harm accused of murder, his fluctuating relationship with Meredith in jeopardy, Harriet's pregnancy, the internal review of JAG Ops, Mac alone on an op with Webb---all of it was coalescing into an implausible anger at whomever was in his firing line. Porter Webb, however, was not a possible target. Putting his military training to the forefront, a new resolve stiffened his spine as AJ nodded at Mrs. Webb and took a large sip of Meredith's coffee.
Muttering an oath of acute distaste, AJ pushed his cup and saucer to the other side of the table and grudgingly smiled in commiseration with Porter Webb. "Well, AJ, I'm certain she has other fine qualities. Years ago when I married Clayton's father, I had a similar reaction�not to his coffee, mind you But God alone knows, I had to search for what I thought were his finer qualities!" Porter chuckled lovingly. At any other time, AJ would have probed further into this revelation of Clayton Webb's background, but time would not allow him the luxury and Mrs. Webb was already beginning to analyze their combined situational data.
Five hours and many arguments later, AJ and Porter had an extremely healthy respect for the other's professional capabilities. Once they had eliminated the misinformation generated from their various sources, they were left with the following "Big Ten" suppositions:
1. Stinger missiles were in the hands of al-Qaeda backed terrorists in Paraguay.
2. The stinger missiles needed guidance system boards in order to operate effectively.
3. Clayton Webb had been pulled in from Suriname to coordinate this current op. for the CIA.
4. Raul Garcia was Clayton Webb's contact source for a diamond/system board exchange.
5. Sadik Faad was the big fish, the leader of this particular terrorist cell: the op counted on going through Garcia to get to Faad.
6. Faad's terrorist cell was surely planning an attack on Americans and their holdings.
7. Someone at CIA headquarters had authorized the op that Clayton Webb and Sarah Mackenzie were currently undertaking, but no one could or would confirm the convening authority.
8. The CIA had set Clayton Webb and Sarah MacKenzie up as Jane and Clay Williams, an arms dealer and his diamond expert spouse who was several months pregnant: neither had been heard from in the past eighteen hours.
9. Rumors of catastrophic intel leaks were running rampant at Langley.
10. Commander Rabb could compromise the op if he continued his current fishing expedition: Kershaw and Chegwidden would have to re-route the resourceful Commander.
Quickly deciding upon an immediate course of action, AJ and Porter gathered up their crockery and debris. AJ leaned heavily on the counter as Porter washed the last cup and placed it in the draining cage to dry.
"So how long have you been in the spy game, Porter?"
In a manner reminiscent of her son, Porter's eyes twinkled as she asked, "Who says that I am?"
AJ rolled his eyes to the ceiling and helped her with her jacket. "We'll find them Porter. They're experienced professionals: great instincts and sharp minds. They'll find a way."
Porter's spurt of levity was short-lived. "Without backup, AJ, without backup," she sighed. "And none of my people can confirm a location." Then, almost as though she was speaking to herself, "He won't quit, you know. He won't quit until he's secured that terrorist cell. His conscience won't let him."
"You're right. Mac won't quit either. But they do have backup, Porter." At her questioning look, AJ confirmed their oddly formed partnership: "I believe that we're going to be quite a formidable backup team, don't you?"
Porter gifted him with a grateful look and patted his left hand in an almost maternal fashion. He was still standing at the counter when she eased out of the backdoor, unlocked her car door, and settled herself into the driver's seat. At the sound of the Buick's strong motor, AJ roused himself and began scrambling to find some tape. Shortly thereafter, AJ scribbled out a note for Meredith and followed Porter out the driveway.
Dawn was fast approaching when Meredith staggered into her kitchen. She had fallen asleep in the den but had awakened when she heard the click of the dead-bolt on her back door. She arrived at the door in time to see AJ drive off in his black Escalade. Glancing over at the now spotless table, she spied a note taped to the freezer door:
"Thanks for allowing us to invade your kitchen. Heading home for fresh whites & shave. Will call from office. AJ"
Sighing in resignation, Meredith headed for the bathroom.
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1106 Zulu
Outdoor Cafe
Ciudad Del Este, Paraguay
Webb and Mac shared a large plate of soft burritos as they discussed Clay's meeting with Edward. Taking out Alvarro certainly hadn't endeared them to the local station director, but there hadn't been any alternative. Even Mac had to concede that her original reaction to Alvarro's demise was a combination of strained nerves and Clay's annoying habit of leaving out certain "need to know" details. It was a relief to know that their op would be over after tonight. Both of them were looking forward to their return to the States.
As he was taking a long draught of his bottled water, Mac quickly grabbed the last burrito out of Clay's left hand and began yet another personal question. "Claaaay?"
Webb was still staring at his empty hand. "Gonna share that Sarah?
"Nope," was her quick response as she shoved almost one-third of the gooey burrito into her mouth. "Cway, hab you daways habba pwobem widdat howwabble snawing?" she asked around the aromatic mess.
Clay stared at her in appalled wonder, grabbed the hand with the remaining burrito, and guided it towards his own mouth. After taking a neat and precise bite that nearly finished of the entire mess, he released her hand and chewed thoughtfully.
Looking over at her as she industriously licked her thumb and index finger, Clay answered her with a decidedly brief, "No."
"C'mon, Clay. Snoring that bad doesn't develop overnight. You sounded like the second coming," she laughed.
It was hard to stay annoyed at Sarah when she was presenting him with that lilting laugh of hers. Handing over a paper napkin to wipe off her dripping chin, Clay considered ordering dessert. He was still hungry, especially since Sarah had eaten all but one of the burritos she had insisted they share. He was pretty certain Sarah didn't know the meaning of the word `share' when it came to food. He smirked as he observed her enjoyment of the simple fare. He couldn't help but think that she was taking the pregnancy act a little too far with these huge meals she insisted on ordering. He wouldn't mind so much if he could ever get more than a bite or two from his own plate.
As he mentally debated the merits of fried ice cream and egg custard as opposed to bananas in a caramel sauce, he actually answered her question. "Never snored before AJ decked me in Russia. I lost some major cartilage that day, Sarah."
Clay chuckled briefly and finally confessed, "I never actually thought he'd bust my nose, though!" Sarah smiled at the memory and marveled over Clay's natural ability to laugh at himself. *When had he stopped taking himself so seriously? Why am I just now noticing? He can really be quite hilarious�if you can take that type of humor!
*
"By the time those Ukrainian surgeons got done with me the end result was an irreparable septum. Mother tried to talk me into seeing some specialists when we came back on that military transport AJ got for us---remember that flight? Man, were you Marine green!" The look on his face exactly mirrored hers at the reference to their combined misery. A beat later and they were both gasping for breath as they laughed in remembrance. Their laughter gradually died down as both of them recalled how truly ill they'd both been. Mac was the first shake herself back to the present.
"So�.what'd the specialists say, then?" Sarah smartly tapped the bridge of his nose.
"Don't, don't know-- Didn't have time to see `em. I believe I was sent to�yes, Rwanda. The political uprising of�well, uh, doesn't matter now. After that, ah, well, what was the point? It's not like my looks are my livelihood or anything. It's just a nose. In fact, I've had it broken, what, twice since then." He could see she wanted to ask about the circumstances surrounding those other breaks, but he just shook his head. Luckily, she understood that he didn't want to discuss those circumstances. Most of the time Clay tried not to dwell on any of his past missions, particularly the ones where he came out with a better appreciation for American hospitals. He decided to end this discussion about his nose. It was starting to make him self-conscious.
"It's okay, Sarah. I know how bad I can get. When I'm really exhausted I can snore loudly enough to startle myself awake." They shared another smile at this admission and Clay continued, "On the whole, though, I'm usually a light sleeper and can control it."
Sarah snorted at the reference to his "control." Clay was pretty blunt in his self-assessment. Not that he held back when it came to pointing out her shortcomings, either. One more word about her eating for two and the gloves were off. Ready to make fun of his "light" sleeping, she became aware of the sincere _expression in Clay's eyes. *Were they green? Blue? Grey? They look really green right now *
Lost in his eyes, she nearly missed his next disclosure. "Sarah, I'm sorry about keeping you up last night. If it makes you feel any better, I'm usually not trusting enough to sleep that deeply around other people."
Clay looked as though he already regretted revealing that much about himself. Before he could close off that line of questioning, Mac waved over the waiter and ordered the caramel bananas and the custard for herself. Clay rounded out the order by requesting the fried ice cream. He wondered just how much of the confection he'd be allowed to eat before his expectant wife experienced another craving.
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1306 Zulu
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
*Well, at least Kershaw was willing to play his part.*
AJ stared at the phone and considered his next course of action. Harrison Kershaw had been an easier sell than the Admiral had expected. Although still claiming the title of Deputy Director, those in the know already acknowledged Kershaw as the acting DCI�a DCI who was desperately trying to plug a major leak in his organization.
It had been almost too easy for Kershaw to track Harm down to one of his own operatives. AJ had listened in on a secure line while Kershaw had informed the Commander to "pluck on his sleeve" for any further information about Colonel MacKenzie. AJ was a bit concerned at Kershaw's seemingly sincere offer of a job, but he'd let that go for now. He'd call on Porter if Kershaw tried to recruit from JAG Ops.
It had been a long day and they finally had a break in locating Webb and Mac. AJ wearily rubbed his eyes as Meredith entered his office. Her strong hands worked his shoulders as he reviewed the latest data.
Gunny Valindez, of all people, was assisting Webb in this op. Kershaw had just received the intel from CSS. Porter and her crew had intercepted some encrypted satellite communications. So far they had determined that the Gunnery Sergeant, under the pre-determined handle of "Baby Huey" had complimented a "Colonel" on her "bun in the oven." Unfortunately, the satcom also implied that the stingers were on the move. An unidentified voice had made some vague reference to "what you want is not here," but the crypt crew were still working on it. The rest of the transmission was impossible to decypher since its emanation point was a CIA tower.
The CIA station director had been contacted and had reported his successful elimination of Garcia's group, but no knowledge of Webb and Mac. Although unconfirmed, various sources were reporting that Webb and an unidentified pregnant female had been captured and killed by Sadik Faad about ten minutes ago. Satellite photos were currently being examined; explosions and gunfire around the area had already been confirmed. Right now communications were fast, furious, and fallible.
AJ gently halted Meredith's left hand on his shoulder and grasped it lightly in his own left hand. The phone rang. AJ listened intently as Porter told him that General Hayden had called in the request for the Air Force recon team to be on scramble alert. GPS was on a one-hundred-mile radius of the lat known contact point. As he vigorously
manned all of the incoming calls, AJ absently played with the diamond solitaire on Meredith's ring finger. This connection to his earlier happiness kept him grounded as he processed the last call: Kershaw was personally negotiating with the Paraguayan Army for military clearance.
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0113 Zulu
Somewhere Outside Sadik Faad's Hacienda
Chaco Highlands, Paraguay
Sarah MacKenzie stirred from her position on Clay's chest and slowly raised her trembling finger to his nose. It was broken again. She gently probed the broken bridge of his bloodied nose as her ears continued to ring from the blast of the explosion. So far as she could tell, they were flipped over onto the driver's side of the SUV. Clay's body and the padding from the pregnancy suit had saved her from any major impact injures, but she was having a difficult time maneuvering off Clay. Finally, clutching the steering wheel for leverage, she eased over towards the dash and began a cursory inventory of Clay's injuries.
"Okay, darling, you have at least---ooh, I'm sorry, take it easy---at least two broken ribs, various cuts and bruises. A large lump right above the left eye---easy, easy, just stay there a moment---a broken nose, stitches, definitely stitches---and�."
"Stop. Doesn't matter. Get out. Get out. Out!" Clay tried to make her understand, but she just ignored him. So he grabbed her arms and pushed her towards the windshield. He could barely see for the blood dripping into his eyes, but he laboriously flipped the ten windshield clips until he could flip out the protective glass with his feet. Although it took only seconds, it felt like hours. Once out of the SUV, he pushed Sarah towards the cover of the trees: "Go, go, go!"
She just stood there with a look of dawning horror on her face. Before she could voice a warning, a rifle butt caught him from the rear, squarely in the left kidney. Thrown to the side, he prayed for a miracle to get Sarah to some semblance of safety. When he opened his eyes, she remained steadfastly by his side.
*Damn, it was a mistake to stalk off after Galindez without a plan. Edward was right. I knew better, I knew better, I knew better! Should've stopped her, not joined her. Should've known I wouldn't leave her on her own. She should've known! No choice, we had no choice. Should've waited. My op, my fault. My choice, my fault. My God, it's all my fault! Keep Sarah safe, keep Sarah safe, keep Sarah.*
Clay finally passed out from the pain as they were both hauled to their makeshift prison. Sarah gazed down at where they had thrown Clay and wondered at their barely-rough treatment of her. She carefully lowered her cumbersome form to the floor and cradled Clay's abused form in her arms. *It's the pregnancy, they hesitate to abuse a pregnant woman. Clay must've known, he must've been anticipating any outcome. Clay, wake up. Wake up, Clay. Help me figure this out. Tell me you're okay!*
Outwardly, Sarah calmly evaluated their situation. It didn't look too good right now. As she eased Clay's head to a more accessible position, he opened his eyes. "Hi, beautiful. How'd you like our evening stroll?" Clay attempted a smile, but it was more of an intense grimace.
"Hey, handsome. You win hands down in the excitement department, okay? For future reference, let's just stay in next time. What d'you think?" He tried to nod his agreement, but gave up and just stared at her in apology. Sarah brushed the bloodied hair out of his eyes and kept her warm hand on his forehead. She could feel his blood pumping beneath the damp skin. As she studied his pain-wracked features, a flash from her ring finger caught her attention. *With this ring, I thee wed�Oh, Clay, c'mon. It started out as such a heroic adventure. We're the good guys. We're supposed to defeat the bad guys. We're going to survive this thing. Together we can do it. We're a team, c'mon.*
"Clay?"
Clay struggled to lift his gaze to her face, "Hmm?"
"You know, I do trust you." He looked into her eyes to acknowledge her sincerity, then made a vow of his own.
"Sarah, I will never betray your trust. Never. And that's a tall order for a Company Man," he bit out.
Sarah was just beginning to grin at his ill-timed sense of humor when the door slammed open.
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0715 Zulu
National Security Agency
Fort Meade, Maryland
Porter Webb continued to sit in the ancient leather desk chair. Neville had requisitioned it for her many, many years ago---before she had even agreed to go out with him for the first time. *Cocky bastard.*
A slight smile graced her face as she remembered the slightly awkward youth from the 805th Signal Service Company. She never could remember the first time they had encountered one another. Neville had always claimed it was in this office, but Porter honestly didn't remember. Back then, Neville had worked at being the type of man who stayed in the background, not bringing notice to his presence. Porter sure hadn't noticed him---at first.
*When did I first notice that man? Bad attitude. Constant smirk in place. Dark blonde hair flopping onto his forehead. Arms crossed to shut people out. Oh, my! It was his mouth. That speak-before-you-think mouth. I fell in lust with that snide voice berating me�*
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April 1, 1955:
"Guess there might be a brain behind that beauty, but we'd never know it, now would we? Exactly how long do you think it'll take you to figure out how that contraption works? Oh, I know! Wait, it's just a theory, but I'll bet if you turn that object here---we'll call it a knob---then push that object there---how's "door" sound?---the door will pivot to such an extent that an opening will be created. Then the rest of we lesser mortals will await your permission to exit through the blasted door. Get a move on it, honey! Open. The. Door. It's easier than you think." The tirade was accompanied by several slashing hand movements, but the young lady they were directed towards seemed impervious to the biting tones of the Unit Director.
Porter was startled from her intense concentration of the OpRoom door. She had almost figured out the encryption sequence, it was right on the tip of her brain! Then this oaf had to�
"What did you say, Mr�.," the young woman icily demanded.
"Webb. Neville Webb. And that is a door. D-double oh-r. Our exit to the future. Our portal to Pandora. Which you are blocking. Expecting a toll? A "pretty please," maybe? Eternity to pass over us, perhaps?" The mocking man was on a roll. He had tried every method short of physical force to ease the elegant beauty out of the way. Normally a placid man, very few of the crypt crew had ever experienced the acid tongue of their senior agent. But the young lady he was lashing into had been on loan from Georgetown for the past five months. It was possible she hadn't been briefed on the normally aloof Agent Webb.
"Mr. Webb, you odious toad. By all means, exit to the outside world. May they all be forewarned of your arrival. Actually, I have more important things to do than act as your personal doorman. Open the damn thing yourself," and perfectly composed Porter Durham sailed past a pleasantly startled Neville Webb to continue a decryption of a very difficult Russian code.
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Porter's smile faded as she came back to the present and read the message from the DCI:
PRODIGAL & BRIDE CONFIRMED GUESTS. DEATH UNCONFIRMED. TAPE OF MISSIONARIES REVIEWED: SAME HOST CONFIRMED. BABY HUEY'S DEATH UNCONFIRMED. BEES ARE FLYING NORTHWEST. STATUS FOR RETRIEVAL POOR.
NO JOY.
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0800 Zulu
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
AJ snapped on the intercom button: "Mr. Tiner, please ask Commander Rabb to report to my office when he arrives."
"Aye, aye, sir." Was the Ensign's prompt response.
Rising from his desk, AJ walked over to his office window and gazed out at the perfect May morning. They were almost certain they had covered all possible outcomes. Most people were so damn predictable.
As he stared out at the trees, he remembered a conversation he had conducted with Bud Roberts over a year ago. Lt. Roberts hadn't wanted to leave his position at JAG for sea duty, but the Admiral had convinced him that the change was preferable to a stale life. Change would mean a promotion and a better financial life for his growing family. He'd truly believed what he'd told Bud. And everything had gone to Hell.
So much had changed over the year. He was engaged, Harriet was pregnant again, Gunny had transferred, Singer was dead, Tiner was graduating from law school, Coates had joined the staff, Sturgis was up on charges, Mac and Webb were probably dead somewhere in Paraguay, and he was about to push the emotional strings of a man he considered a friend. Kershaw was correct: NO JOY in this situation.
The knock on his door would complete the change.