Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: Who would claim it?
Summary: Webb is still in a hospital in Uruguay; Mostly expository, but couldn�t help another coma fantasy.
Author�s Note: Oops, I mis-numbered the last installment on the post reference. That�s why I called this one 5XXX (Sorry, the rating hasn�t changed ;-).
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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.�
As she was thinking it through, Mac stood up and pulled herself together for the day. Glancing at the floor, she picked up her small bundles of clothing and placed them on top of the hotel�s flat chest of drawers. Donning fresh jeans, socks, underwear, and a red tee, she felt a bit better. Styling her hair was a chore, especially without any mousse, but the frustration brought back a sense of normalcy she had been sadly lacking for quite some time. Giving in to another bad hair day, Mac secured the sides with a couple of plain clips she�d found inside her new toiletry bag.
She also found a Bugs Bunny toothbrush and some bubblegum flavored toothpaste. She stared at them a moment before smiling at the whimsy of a certain gunnery sergeant, then began brushing her teeth. �How in the world could Clay have thought it was okay to use my toothbrush?� she asked herself. She shook her head at the mysteries of men and finally decided that her dream was nothing more than an overactive imagination. Okay, a really great imagination. Regardless of her nighttime fantasies, one thing was certain: she felt a lot better today.
�Mac, you up?� Harm called from her open door.
�Just a sec!� Mac spat and rinsed her mouth with water one last time. Wiping her face on a white hand towel, she re-entered her room to find Harm standing in the doorway checking his watch.
�Morning, Mac. Uh, look, last night I sort of promised Mrs. Webb I�d bring you over for breakfast. Gunny�s there now and---,� Harm began.
�Okay.�
�---I know you�ve been off your feed lately, but I really think it would be a good idea,� he explained, obviously expecting a refusal. He stood for a moment, appreciating her fresh appearance, then nodded. As Harm was shutting the door, he finally realized she�d accepted.
�Oh, hey! Great. That�s great. Well, c�mon.� He held out his arm and Mac preceded him out the door.
As they passed through the common area of the suite, Harm stopped and gave a slight tug on her elbow. �Something happened last night,� he stated. �You�re gonna be okay now, aren�t you?�
Mac looked up with a reassuring smile. �Yeah, Harm, I�m fine. I was under it all for a while, but the Admiral�s got me back on track.�
�What�d *he* do?� Harm was relieved, but puzzled. To his mind, the Admiral hadn�t been altogether rational lately. In fact, he�d come close to decking his former commanding officer a couple of weeks ago. Last night they�d both avoided one another as much as possible.
Noting Harm�s guarded question, Mac carefully considered her response. �It�s hard to explain. He�I think he sheltered my soul last night. I�d forgotten I had one for a while,� a sad smile briefly passed over her face. �To put it bluntly, I cried my fool head off and he just was there to catch the fallout�a pretty thankless task,� she laughed.
�He---I don�t know Harm---I felt like I was receiving absolution or something. It all came crashing down in that one moment and he let me find myself again.� It was an apology, an explanation, and something else that Harm found slightly damning.
Mac was looking fairly uncomfortable at this point, but Harm felt he had to remind her, �I tried to be there for you, Mac. I---.�
She gently cut him off, �I know, I know, and I appreciate it more than you could know, but you just�You weren�t the right one Harm. I don�t know why, but you just weren�t.�
Harm looked down at her for a tense moment, then jerked open the door. �And I guess that says it all.�
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East Wing Dining Room
Montevideo Hilton, Uruguay
It was a quiet meal. Both Marines chowed down in a hearty fashion while Porter Webb glanced on in amusement. The stacks of pancakes were quickly disappearing and more had been ordered. She carefully lifted her coffee cup to her lips and considered Harmon Rabb.
He was methodically eating his fruit salad, not looking at anyone. Lost in his own thoughts, he barely even acknowledged the waiter�s attempt to top off his coffee. Her own son often displayed this kind of mood at the table, so she wasn�t offended. She also wasn�t fooled. Something had greatly disturbed Harmon and her best guess was that her new �daughter-in-law� was at the heart of the matter---in more ways than one. Sighing at the implications, Porter decided to monitor the situation. She was quickly growing fond of the young man, but not at the detriment of Clayton�s recovery.
Just as they were pushing away from their table, AJ and Meredith approached. They, too, had obviously just finished their breakfast.
Greetings were exchanged as they walked towards the dining room doors. As they entered the hotel lobby, they made arrangements for visiting Clay, before checking in with their various offices. Crossing the street to the hospital, AJ directly addressed Harm as the others walked ahead:
�We need to talk, clear up some things.� AJ stated.
�We do, sir?� Harm raised his eyebrow questioningly.
AJ looked over at Harm and kept walking. �You proved me wrong, Commander; you did find Mac. You did find a way.� It was obvious from his tone that Admiral Chegwidden had doubted this possibility.
�Yes, and all without any risk whatsoever.� Harm�s voice was flat and hard.
�Thought you shot her out of there and crashed that biplane,� the Admiral reminded him.
�Huh? Oh, yeah, standard operating procedure, Admiral,� Harm briefly grinned. He sobered quickly as he added, �No, I was referring to your that last question you asked me.�
The Admiral did not even pretend to misunderstand. �Well, what�s your conclusion? You�ve apparently changed *careers* and you�re still alive---for now---any more risks you�re thinking of taking?�
�No point to it, sir. No damn point to it.� AJ watched as Harm�s longer legs carried him through the automatic doors. AJ met up with Meredith at the elevators and noted the bitter look Harm gave Mac. *Poor bastard. Always was a day late and a dollar short when it came to MacKenzie.*
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Number 5
ICU of MUSA Medical Center
Port City of Montevideo, Uruguay
The doctors had already made their rounds for the morning by the time Clay�s visitors had arrived. The shift nurse was happy to tell them that his condition had been cautiously upgraded and that he was allowed an additional person in the room.
Clay had passed an uneventful night, but was still in a comatose state. Dr. Morayti had ordered an MRI for ten o�clock and the lining of his mouth and esophagus were currently being irrigated. Similar to a dentist�s hydrovac, a clear solution was pushed through one tube while another sucked up the residue. The process was loud, but very soothing to the patient. Porter and Mac watched from the window as technicians completed their task.
All too soon, Clay was being wheeled down for his MRI. As his bed was passing, the rest of the group saw Clay for the first time since his hospitalization. For Gunny and Harm, Clay�s appearance was a relief: he looked much better than he had a few days ago in Paraguay.
For AJ and Meredith, it was a shock. Meredith had never met the special agent, but it was apparent that he had greatly suffered at the hands of the terrorists. She felt, more than heard, AJ�s sharp intake of breath as the gurney paused at the bank of elevators. AJ left her side and approached the sleeping man.
Not a word was spoken as AJ looked down at Clay. All in one glance the admiral took in the remaining drainage tube, bruising, and cuts. AJ also noted the bright blue gel dressings that barely covered Clay�s wrists, chest, and ankles. The nurse had told them that the burns were so deep they reached the muscle tissue.
A slow anger burned in the former SEAL at the evidence of such brutality. He took a deep breath and remembered the cautious agent who had requested Mac�s reassignment just weeks ago. He was a good man. He�d never doubted for a moment Clay�s promise to protect Mac with his life. He also knew that Clay was a highly effective field agent. It must have been excruciating to know that the terrorists would start on Mac next. Clay must have held on long beyond his own endurance just to protect her as long as he could.
AJ glanced over at Porter Webb and his gut wrenched. She knew. If her son survived physically, the mental recuperation could take a lifetime. The elevator doors opened and the gurney was expertly maneuvered into the car.
When the doors closed Porter walked over to AJ and took his arm. �You know, Admiral, I�ve heard a lot about you over the years. Why don�t you come over here and tell me about your propensity for threatening my son with physical violence?�
They all looked alarmed as they heard Clay�s mother make the request. A bark of laughter escaped the admiral as he escorted the gutsy former operative over to the waiting room. �There�s a lot to tell, ma�am! Should I begin with the time he lied to me or the time he lied to me? How about the time he lied to me? Oh, there was also the time he just *mislead* me,� AJ began as they sat down.
A twinkle entered Porter�s eyes as she pronounced, �How about the time you broke his nose and I had to hear about some �hot-headed old mule with a Caesar complex� for over a month?�
For over an hour, as they waited for Clay�s return, the Admiral and Porter held court as they recalled various situations Clay had shared with his mother over the past seven years. As AJ jokingly cleared up many of her misconceptions, he also inadvertently revealed how his respect for Clay had grown over the years. Meredith was fascinated, but Harm was dumbfounded: the admiral spoke of Clay more as a wayward family member than an experienced CIA operative.
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Magnetic Resonance Imaging Chamber (MRI)
3rd Floor of MUSA Medical Center
Port City of Montevideo, Uruguay
The radiologist and technicians were busy at their controls as the machines circled around Clay, recording various images. Carlotta hummed along to the muzak constantly being piped into the room. Although a whirring noise periodically interrupted the classic tunes, Carlotta persevered. She preferred these old American songs to the Latin rhythms many of the other radiologists played.
�Martin, could you please adjust Mr. Williams� arms so that they are flat?� she called through the mic.
As Martin complied, Carlotta focused on the colorful images emerging on her screen. Twenty minutes, tops, and they could all go to lunch.
From the imaging chamber, Clay�s lips twitched.
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Clay was home from work at a decent hour for a change. Quickly pulling off his suit and tie, he decided to leave on his white shirt. Dragging a pair of indigo Levi�s from a hangar, he fastened the metal buttons of the fly and slid some leather mocs onto his bare feet. Feeling human once again, he clomped down the stairs and began dinner.
He wasn�t the best cook in the world, but he could get by. Anyway, it was mostly common sense. The hardest part was picking out the fresh stuff at the grocer�s. Luckily, he had a good eye for color, if he did say so himself, and was able to pick out the basic fruits and veggies with growing ease. Considering the items on hand, Clay decided to lay out the ingredients for a chicken stir-fry.
Order, that was the key to cooking. Sweet peppers, lemon grass, a small can of water chestnuts, tomatoes, spring onions, and a package of boneless chicken breasts were soon adorning the spacious counter. Slicing and dicing was a snap, he decided. An added plus was that it also released the remaining tension from the day. Humming an old tune, Clay pulled out the red wok, drizzled in some sesame seed oil and checked his watch.
Just as he was opening the refrigerator to extract a bright yellow lemon, he heard the engine approaching the driveway. Closing the fridge door with his hip, Clay wiped his hands on the cloth tucked through one of his belt loops. Taking a last swipe at his sticky fingers, he pushed open the back door and approached the low-slung sports car.
Before he could grab the handle, the driver�s door swung outward and long, bare legs hit the ground. Smiling appreciatively, he helped Sarah out of the car.
�Lose another pair of hose?� He didn�t really care, but knew how to get a rise out of her.
�Y�know, men have no idea how constrictive those things are. I swear to God they begin to bind the blood from my hips by midday. Besides, my legs need to breathe in this heat. All those nylon things were doing was squeezing the sweat out of my legs!� Mac�s tirade died down as she saw the grin on Clay�s face. Smacking him on the arm and noticing the dishcloth attached to his baggy jeans, she asked the obvious, �So? Dinner ready?�
Clay absolutely loved that imperious look on her face. Guiding her into the kitchen, he set down her briefcase and gestured towards the stove. �Chicken stir-fry coming up. Wanna help?�
�Sure, Emeril, what can I do?� she teased.
�Pour the iced tea and we�ll call it even for now,� he directed, then got busy at the wok.
�Can do. Be back in a sec!� Sarah�s voice died away as she climbed the stairs to the bedroom.
Clay glanced up from the kitchen table as Sarah came back down five minutes later. The stretchy orange tank dress hid her figure while exposing her creamy skin. As he surveyed her shapely form, he briefly smiled at the bare feet sticking out from the t-shirt material.
�Sit, Sarah, or I�ll eat your half,� he joked, pulling out her chair.
�Hold on, oh-bottomless-pit, and I�ll get the tea.� Clay laughed as she reached for the glasses and poured their drinks. This was his favorite side of Sarah, the one where she let loose and laughed at the ordinary, everyday stuff. Smiling throughout their meal and pleased it had turned out so well, Clay was content.
A couple of hours later, they had decompressed, cleaned up the kitchen and entered the music room. Arm-in-arm, they approached the old baby-grand piano. One of Clay�s favorite rooms, it was airy and bathed in the aroma of the honeysuckle bushes that were just visible through the screened-in windows. Although it was after eight, a faint light filtered through the windows. A breeze worried the light muslin curtains as Sarah turned the switch on the colorful tiffany lamp.
�Clay, play for me,� Sarah softly requested as she sat on the bench with her back to the keyboard. Clay sat beside her and ran an experimental scale down the keys. Sarah turned towards him, raising her right knee onto the bench. Looking up through her lashes at him, Sarah brushed his hair behind his left ear.
Savoring the familiar touch, Clay began the intro to an old Nat King Cole song. His nimble fingers needed no guidance as he stared in to her slumberous eyes and almost whispered the words to the old standard:
�Unforgettable, that's what you are / Unforgettable though near or far��
Sarah stroked his cheek and the next lines came out raspier than the last:
�Like a song of love that clings to me / How the thought of you does things to me�� Clay nodded his head with the truth of the words and ended the first verse with a barely audible, �Never before has someone been more.�
By this time, Sarah�s hand was at the nape of his neck, and he couldn�t stop his voice from giving away the depth of his emotions. Still playing the melody, Clay�s throat was working and Sarah pulled his head down for a tender kiss. As their lips clung and Sarah raked her fingers through his hair, Clay�s hands dropped from the keys. Slowly lifting his head, Clay gazed down at her. Seeing the love in her eyes and hoping he could finish this small gift to her, he gradually continued playing. Clay had just reached the bridge again when he heard her strong contralto:
�Unforgettable in every way / And forever more, that's how you'll stay,� Sarah touched the tip of his nose with her finger, sensuously trailed the pad down to his lips, and continued:
�That's why, darling, it's incredible / That someone so unforgettable / Thinks that I am unforgettable too�� Sarah�s voice trailed off with the last note and they smiled mistily at one another. Wallowing in the moment, Clay lifted his right hand from the keyboard and placed it on Sarah�s rounded stomach. In response, Sarah�s hand covered his and moved it slightly to the side. Clay�s happiness was complete as he felt the slight kick from his wife�s womb.
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Carlotta shut down the imaging system once their work was complete. Giving Martin and Etienne the thumbs-up sign, she gave verbal confirmation to the technicians, �Okay, we�re good to go. Let�s unhook Mr. Williams and get some lunch. I�ll page the second floor to let them know.�
Clay was just being removed from the MRI chamber when the convulsions began.