JAG You´re Welcome

You could see this as a companion piece to Alone, but I didn´t write it like that.

Usual disclaimers apply.

**You're Welcome**

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I know he hates these assigments, I know I did, but he has a knack for bringing them to a good end. He knows that too, so he never complains about them. All though he might this time. A knock on my door startles me from my thoughts. I turn my head to the door and respond.

"Come," I say, while swiveling my chair around, positioning myself neatly behind my desk. The door opens and he walkes in with his usual nonchalance, god he looks likes his dad. With a simple nod he acknowledges my presence. I lift my left hand and gesture to a chair.

"Have a seat." He takes it without a word and locks his eyes on mine. A small smile appears on his face and I can't resist the urge to smile back, knowing fully I have nothing to smile about. And neither will he in a few minutes. We hold each others stare for a while, a game we used to play a lot. But there's no time for games now, there's so little time for anything these days. I brake off the stare and look at the file on my desk. After picking it up I hand it to him and utter one simple word.

"Columbia"

The untrained eye wouldn't notice anything different about his demeanor, even his smile stays on his lips. But I notice his body stiffen and his eyes harden. He takes the file and stands up, never taking his eyes of me. I nod and he walks out of my office, slightly slamming the door. After all those years I still don't know him. Again I was wrong about him. Clayton Webb never complains.

It's been three days since he was send to Columbia. Correction, that I send him there. I just got a message he send yesterday morning, (why the delay?) that he found the girl and that he's trying to get her out. Good for him. I pray everything will go fine. For him and for the senator's daughter. Why did she had to go there in the first place? And pick up a boyfriend that is the prime target of the, believed to be, biggest drug boss in town. Some people just don't understand how this world is turning. Someone knocks on my door and I turn away from the window. The door is being opened and I know who it is. Only one man opens my door without waiting for my permission.

"Hi George," I say while offering the director my hand. He looks concerned.

"Tim," he shakes it and we both seat ourselfs.

"What's up?" I ask. A long time ago we would make small talk first. But I don't feel like talking about anything to anyone around here that is not bussines related. Not since Italy. I know it's not their fault, not George's either. He's got a whole board of people who make policy. Not me, not him. But that doesn't mean I have to like it.

"Trouble," nice George, what else is new. I wait for him to continue.

"We lost contact with Webb," he responds matter of factly. Why am I not surprised that I hear it from him. I was never in charge of this op. The message from yesterday was to keep me happy. They used me to break the 'good' news to Clay. It will never change.

"The girl?" I hope Clay at least got her out.

"A team is on the way." Do I have to drag every piece of information out of him?

"What happened," I reply calmly. He knows I care about Clay, that doesn't mean I have to show him that. A big sigh escapes his lips, while he turnes his eyes towards the window. He's thinking what he's going to say. I'm not really into company bussines anymore. Only my long field expertise got me back. I'm on a not need to know basis when ops a concerned. I don't care.

I do care about Clay.

"Webb mamaged to get the girl out," suddenly I'm sure George hates this situation. He hates it that he's director instead of me. He turnes his eyes back towards me and I see the struggle in them. Honesty is winning.

"He got the whole gang after him. Her boyfriend and his pals who wanted her back and several rival druglords, who wanted her as a hostage. Including Estruga." Estruga, the reason why Clay hates Columbia, I don't blame him. That day he realised that he was expendable, like everyone. It made him a better agent. Covering every hole that might come up, the only thing positive that came from the fiasco. George continues.

"Realising he couldn't get her out on time, he hid her and told us where. He was able to send out a message yesterday afternoon. He would create a diversion away from the girl and that's the last we heard from him." I wonder if it's the last we'll ever hear.

"I took us a while to figure out his message. We did about two houres ago and.." his bieper goes and I notice his irritation. Maybe we should grab a drink sometime.

"Can I use you phone?" He has his hand on it before I can respond.

"Sure," I say, while he starts to punch in the number. He looks up and realizes his mistake.

"Sorry, force of habbit," he apologizes. I give him a grin and lean back, leaving him to his conversation. I'm used to the fact that this is not my place anymore. Even my office is just for loan. I'm just riding out my time, helping where I can. George is listning to someone and I see his appearance change before my eyes. From apologatic to me, to stern and bussines-like to the guy on the phone. Do I detect shock? He finishes off with a 'good job' and replaces the phone. He looks at me. I look at him.

Why do I feel an urge to shout NO!

"They've got the girl and located Webb." I don't like that tone and I strighten myself in my chair. Tell me George.

"Estruga has him." One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Now I dare to reply.

"How is he?" The worst scenario is coming true. We discussed about the possibilty that it could happen. Except one, no one was convinced it would. I hate it when I'm right.

"We don't know, but taking his previous experience with him in consideration.." He doesn't finish his sentence and I don't want him to.

"What's the plan." But the moment I speak the words I know it are the wrong ones. There is only one plan. Leaving him. George knows I know and he hates the idea as much as I do.

"A team is already down there, why not get him out?" He can help me or not, but I'm not leaving him behind. I owe him my own freedom. As if sencing my line of thinking, he makes a comment he shouldn't.

"You don't owe him, Tim," I figured you for better George.

"I owe him my life, that's more then I owe anyone. And if I don't pay up to him, to who will I then?" He understands. I think he blames himself he couldn't get me out. I don't care about blame George, I care about action.

"I don't like it either. I want to get him out too, but we don't make policy." I'm starting to resent that sentence and I speak the words that have been on my lips for a long time.

"I know we don't make policy, but we can brake it." George looks at me. He doesn't know what to do. Betray his country or his friends? Prove yourself to me George. Are you the man I think you are?

"Let's just hope people won't think humans are running the Agency." He gives an evil grin and I smile conspireing back. Maybe we should grab dinner sometime. He picks up my phone and orders contact with the team down in Columbia. Faster then I'm used too he's talking to the leader of the team. Maybe being director has it's advantages.

"You've got a new assignment, stay were you are and await further instructions." I can't resist a laugh coming out of my lips.

"What?" George asks after putting down the phone.

"That sounded like a line out of a James Bond movie." I see his eyes lit up and I realize I like this guy. He hates a desk job. But he is director and damn good at it. Maybe we should go fishing for a weekend. I don't even know if he likes that, but at this moment it sounds good enough to me. He starts walking towards the door and when he's at it, he turnes around.

"Aren't you coming?" I shake my head negativly and start to sit down again.

"I don't think that's a good idea, you don't want to get into trouble with me around." Since when do I care about trouble?

"I don't care," George replies easy. Oh what the hell. If he wants me to come, why not. I get up again and he opens the door to let me trough. Why do I suddenly feel like I'm back, really back.

Two painstaking houres later we have all the information we need. And most important, a plan to go with it. The team can get in, get Clay and get out in fifteen minutes. Covering every detail. Every hole, every obstacel that might come in the way. George makes the call to the team, while the plan is being relayed to the fax in the Embassy. Ten minutes later the team is underway. All I now can do is hope this won't blow up in our faces. Please Clay just hang in there for a few minutes.

"He'll be fine," George replies my thoughts.

"Yeah," is all I can say. At least I tried.

"He's tough Tim, you should see his record. Did you know an admiral ones broke his nose? He risked two JAG laywers lives over a bunch of warheads."

George looks at me with a huge grin on his face.

"Naturally the guy was pissed," I reply. We laugh at the story and some of the people around us look strangely at us. They've been wondering the minute we walked in together, what was going on. I'm sure by now the whole Agency knows that George Tenet and Tim Faulks are doing something spooky together. I like that idea. I turn to George and give him the, as far as I'm concerned, best complement someone in the Agency can get from his partner.

"We make a great couple," and that aftera few hours work. George looks at me strange. He understands but doesn't how to reply without offeding me. He works best alone, so do I. But when we work together we're unstoppable. Not the least from the fact that he's director and I'm still respected. And I tell him so.

Fifty minutes later the phone rings. Someone picks it up and gives it to, who? George and I look at each other and I gesture that he should take it. He's still the boss. That and I really don't know how I will react to the news. He listens quietly and nods now and then saying 'mmm'. He ends the conversation with:

"Be careful with him and make sure a docter takes a good look at him before taking him back to the States." I sigh from relief. He's alive, otherwise a coroner would've have taken a look at him. George motions me to follow him and we stand apart from any ears that could listen in.

"He's alive, barely. He was severily beaten and the team medic thinks that about every bone in his body is broken. They'll fly him back as soon that that's possible." I notice the somber tone and realise that for Clay this trip is long from over. It will haunt him for the rest of his life. Looking George in the eye I'm starting to resent the words I'm about to speak. Why should I thank him for something that in reality should be so normal. George understands and before I can speak he has the answer ready.

"You're welcome."

The End


End file.

JAG, Drama, Tragedy