Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: Who would claim it?
Summary: Webb is still in a hospital in Uruguay; AJ/Meredith/Gunny/Porter/Harm interact (pretty angsty); saved the Comatose Clay fantasy for the very end---I�m apologizing ahead of time for the metaphor.
Author�s Note: Just let me know when I need to end the agony.
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May 25, 2003
MUSA Hilton, Executive Suite
Port City of Montevideo, Uruguay
AJ held Mac for a long time, comforting her as best he could. He never asked her a question or expressed any emotion as the tale of Clay�s torture emerged. He held back all comments that came to mind when he heard her account of the plane crash with Rabb. She finally cried herself out and AJ didn�t know if this was a good thing or not.
Pausing only to remove her running shoes, AJ flipped the counterpane from the other side of the bed over Mac�s sleeping form. He gave a cursory glance to the small mound of clothes that had fallen to the carpet and decided to leave them there. Easing himself out of the room, he snapped off the light and left the door ajar.
�AJ, how is she?� Meredith asked in a subdued voice.
AJ looked down at his fianc�e and considered how to respond. Sensing his uncertainty, she revised her question and hugged his arm to her chest.
�No---how are *you,* hon?�
AJ broke away from her loving hold and stalked into the common area of the suite. �Well, Meredith, *I�m* doing just fine. It�s my people who�ve gone all to hell. Which reminds me: where�s Rabb?�
Gunny spoke up from a deep armchair near the window. �He�s with Mrs. Webb, sir. She wasn�t doing so well when they got back from the hospital so he took her out for some fresh air and a meal.�
The Admiral hadn�t noticed Gunny sitting in the shadows of the room. He looked over at the rugged young man�s composed face and eased up on his rising temper. Throwing a �forgive-me� look at Meredith, AJ approached Gunny�s chair and held out his hand. Gunny hesitated, looked up at the admiral, then raised his right arm.
AJ grasped Gunny�s elbow with his left hand and shook his hand with his right one, �It�s really good to see you, Victor. I heard you�d been captured as well.�
Victor Galindez hung his head as the admiral pulled over another armchair. �Yes, sir. But not for long. In fact, it�s all my fault Colonel Mackenzie and Mr. Webb got into that mess.�
�Really? Explain yourself, Gunnery Sergeant.� AJ sighed as he evaluated yet another traumatized Marine. Kershaw had shared the action reports filed by Rabb and Galindez two days ago. The Gunny was guilty of nothing more than having better luck than Webb and Mackenzie. �But keep in mind, I�ve read your action report. Rabb�s, too.�
�Then you know, sir, that Faad�s men got the jump on me at the hacienda. It was a stupid mistake, sir. The kind Marines shouldn�t make.� Victor shook his head in remembered exasperation at his own actions.
�I never should have called home base while I was at the hacienda. It could�ve waited. We�d been after those stingers for over three months; we were so close. But I didn�t wait. Then Mr. Webb came on the horn and ordered me out. Thinking back, he was really insistent, but I�,� Victor finally looked up at the admiral. �Admiral Chegwidden, sir, I think you should know that the Colonel and Mr. Webb were captured because they were rescuing me.�
AJ looked in his eyes and could tell that the burden Victor carried was tremendous. Sometimes logic had nothing to do with guilt, but AJ decided to give it a shot.
�How do you figure that, Gunny? You think those two were putting your sorry ass ahead of national security?� AJ threw out.
Gunny didn�t hesitate, �Yes, sir, they did. They were my backup. Mr. Webb is real serious about backup, especially with all the leaks down here. And the Colonel, well, she�s a Marine, sir. You know the Colonel, sir. Yes, sir, they came back for *me*.�
AJ just sat there for a minute, proud of the confidence these three had had in one another; proud of the Gunny for trying to take responsibility for an impossible situation; angry with the bastards who had created these circumstances.
�Son, I know they went back for you. I know you went back for them. You all did the best you could. Not a damn soul has the right to go back and tell you how you should�ve done it, �cause they weren�t there. They didn�t live it. Goddamnit son, it took all of you---Webb, Mac, Rabb, AND Galindez---but you did it. You put your lives on the line for your country and completed your mission. Who knows how many lives you saved just by getting the job done? And make no mistake about it: you got the job done. AND no one was left behind. Hell, Gunny, you�re a damn hero!�
AJ watched as the proud Marine covered his face with his hands, the burden of his emotions overwhelming him. AJ placed a consoling hand on Victor�s shoulder as Rabb and Mrs. Webb entered the suite. Abruptly, Victor scrubbed both hands over his face, rose from the chair, and escaped to his bedroom door. He opened the door and stood for a moment with his back to the admiral, �Understood, sir. Thank you, admiral.�
AJ found himself staring at Gunny�s closed bedroom door and whispered, �You�re welcome, son.�
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Harm was introducing Meredith to Mrs. Webb when the admiral walked across the room to join them. AJ sat down beside of Meredith on the overstuffed couch and placed his right arm over her shoulders. Meredith leaned into his chest, crossed her legs, and continued her conversation with Mrs. Webb.
�Yes, our flight got in this evening. AJ was going to take a military transport, but when I insisted on coming we booked a flight out of Dulles.�
�Are you staying at this hotel, dear?�
�On the third floor, yes. We haven�t seen the room yet---there was some confusion with the phone at the front desk---but we�ve got the keycard.� Meredith was hoping they�d get to use that keycard fairly soon, too. She was exhausted, and by the looks of AJ, he was drained as well. The past two weeks had been hair-raising, to say the least.
AJ�s *family* had been falling apart and Meredith had been at a loss as to how she could help him deal with it all. It was especially difficult since he claimed not to *need* any help in dealing with them. Had it not been for intercepting a call from Harriet Simms, she might still be in the dark. AJ was damn lucky she had been able to talk the very pregnant lieutenant into re-thinking that transfer request.
Meredith placed her hand on AJ�s knee and smiled over at Harmon Rabb. She definitely did not want AJ to deal with *that* situation tonight.
�Mrs. Webb, are you all checked in, ma�am?� AJ asked.
�Yes, I�m right next door to this suite. Harmon was nice enough to set that up for me,� Porter turned toward Harm and smiled her thanks, but it was a weary smile.
Porter placed both hands on the arms of her chair and struggled to a standing position. �AJ, Meredith, I hope you won�t consider me ungracious, but I don�t believe I can hold up much longer.� Porter threw them an apologetic smile and tilted back her head in an autocratic manner, �In fact, I�m going to claim �Senior Privilege� and suggest we all get some rest so that we can face tomorrow.�
�That anything like Admiral�s Privilege, ma�am?� AJ stood and helped Meredith to her feet, glad someone had suggested retiring for the night.
�Well, AJ, there�s one major difference, I believe.� Harm had already escorted Mrs. Webb to the hallway. He took her keycard from her and unlocked the door. AJ and Meredith followed them out and pressed the call button for the elevator.
�Oh, what�s that Mrs. Webb?�
�Admiral�s Privileges are for those who�ve grown old enough to know better; Senior Privileges are for those who�ve grown old enough to know better and do it anyway. Therefore, I probably outrank you, AJ.� It was said with such elegance, no offence could possibly be taken.
A brief laugh was startled out of AJ and Meredith as they stepped into the elevator. �No question about it, Mrs. Webb. You definitely outrank me! Good night, now.�
Mrs. Webb gave them all a wave and closed her door. A small grin curved Harm�s face as he headed for his own bed. It had been one helluva day.
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Number 5
ICU of MUSA Medical Center
Port City of Montevideo, Uruguay
Delia Monfuego was about to go off her shift for the night. As she took Clay�s vitals, she thought she detected some REM movement. She stared intently at his eyelids, willing a confirmation, but gave up after several minutes passed. He had come so far in so little time, she thought.
As she adjusted his drainage tube and lowered the backlight, Delia considered Mr. Williams from a purely feminine perspective. Now that his bruises were fading and his mother had shaved him, she noticed the boyish attractiveness of his Anglican features. The deep-set eyes and high cheekbones lent him an aristocratic air, while his chiseled mouth had a sensuous cast to it. Standing back, she took into account the taped nose and lock of hair that fell over his brow. Yes, she could definitely see how he had attracted someone like Sarah Williams.
From her point of view, the scars above his nose and left brow would only make him more intriguing---but most people opted for the plastic surgery these days. Delia patted his shoulder lightly and rushed out to update the next shift nurse, thinking about her own husband. By now, Miguel would be at home, safe in their bed. Thank the God above.
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Back in Room 5, the constant buzz of the backlight and the periodic click-and-hiss of the blood pressure/heart rate monitor created a monotonous symphony. It was a soothing sound that blocked out the activities of the busy ward. Periodically, the door would glide open, vital statistics would be recorded, tubes would be cleared, and meds would be administered.
It was 4:10 in the pre-dawn hours of Memorial Day, when the pressure cuff on Clay�s right arm automatically inflated for it�s hourly recording. There was an almost imperceptible flicker of his eyelids as the cuff deflated. An intern, standing at the foot of the bed, was making notations on Mr. Williams� chart. Covering a slight yawn with his hand, the intern scribbled out his observation of Clay�s progress and signed off. It had been a long night, and he still had four hours to go. He waved to the shift nurse as he exited the room and entered Number 3. Outside of Number 5, the shift nurse glanced at Eduardo�s latest notation: NSC. <no significant change>
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Clay slowly realized how wonderful he felt. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the grass was green, the air smelled---well Eau d�Pine Sol would never be his favorite---but everything else was just fabulous.
There was a bounce in his step as he entered the portico of the Olde Town Athletic Club, and why not? Even the elongated bag on his shoulder seemed weightless today. Waving to a few acquaintances, he headed for the changing rooms and donned his white calf-pants and tank top. He swung the protective gear, jacket and gloves over his shoulder and headed for the weight room.
Hearing the constant click-click of the matches taking place in the other rooms heightened his anticipation, but he decided to take his time. Why hurry? It all felt so good, especially his warm-up exercises. As he was lying on the mat, beginning his sit-ups, he casually noted that the roof was missing from the building. Smashing idea, really---he had a craving for all the fresh air and sunshine he could get.
Clay rotated from the free weights to the crunch bar without being at all winded. He adored feeling the clean stretch of all his muscles as he sprinted on the treadmill. Finally feeling ready for a match, Clay wiped down his arms and shoulders, and pulled on the rest of his gear.
He was just pulling out his epee when a call went out for a practice match. Hauling up his quip-bag, he entered one of the two fencing rooms and accepted the challenge. His opponent had already pulled down her---there was really no mistaking her gender decked out in this garb---helmet.
Clay pulled down his helmet, crossed points with his new partner, raised his left arm and waited for the call. It wasn�t long in coming. Man, this felt so good! The woman was quite a match for him. At first, she charged him back, challenging his balance until he decided to become more aggressive.
Once he felt he could play rough with her, they parried back and forth, cleanly stroking the blades. Every so often, they encouraged one another by exchanging good-natured shouts as they covered the entire floor with various advance-and-retreat patterns.
Clay�s breath was coming in short pants as he fought off her furious rounds of feints and thrusts. Her energy levels were amazing! He really didn�t care who won the match---he was practicing his favorite sport with a beautiful woman: could life get any better?
Without really realizing it, he suddenly gained a clear opening. Clay charged forth with a series of quick thrusts that had her crying out in mercy. Laughing, he tapped the center of her chest with the tip of his epee, and she fell to the floor in an overly dramatic fashion.
He could feel the sweat rolling down his face as he gave her a hand-up from the floor. They stood, visor-to-visor, trying to control their breathing. Clay hadn�t felt this happy in ages.
As their panting leveled out, Clay suddenly hoped that this moment would never end. It felt right. It felt inevitable. He raised his hand, intent on removing the barrier their helmets had formed between them.
She had the same idea. Stopping his hand in mid-air, the woman removed her glove and reached for Clay�s headgear. Slowly raising the visor, she slid it off his head, raking her fingernails through his damp hair.
Clay nearly purred from the sensation. The cool air hit his heated skin like a caress. Her hand was at the back of his head and he desperately wanted to stay in this position. Thinking over his options, Clay absently licked the moisture from his upper lip and gazed intently through the mesh of her helmet.
�Kiss for the victor?� he demanded mischievously.
She tossed her head to the side and blithely removed her helmet. �Anytime, Clay. Any. Time.�
As their lips met, Clay pulled Sarah closer, claiming his spoils and much more.
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Memorial Day, 2003
Mac�s Bedroom
Port City of Montevideo, Uruguay
Mac jerked awake, breathing hard. Sitting up on the bed, she pulled down the hem of her white tee and concentrated intently on the last snatches of her dream. Anxious to make sense of it, she slowly whispered, �To the victor goes the spoils.�