SquidgeWorld Archive

Additional Warnings: spoilers for Webb of Lies, and of course evil!Palmer.

Notes: The title is taken from The School-mistress by William Shenstone. 'The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day' is from Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, etc. etc. Because of the nature of this story, I've taken some liberties with the actual script of Webb of Lies. I don't believe we ever learned Yamamoto's first name, so I've given him one. It means 'intelligent' in Japanese. ::snicker:: 'Ta-pocketa' is from the Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Many thanks to Gail for her wonderful beta.

Ah, Me! Full Sorely is My Heart Forlorn
Part 1

There was a rat-a-tat-tat on his door, and when he went to open it, Harmon Rabb, Jr., commander in the United States Navy, flyer of Tomcats, and the best damned lawyer who had ever worked in JAG, saw Clayton Webb standing there, his dark brown hair in casual disarray.

"Hello there, gorgeous."

"Clay!"

The Deputy Director of Intelligence (Harm always thought of his lover's title in capitals) for the CIA was carrying a bag of take-out from The Garden of Vegetarian Delights, the newest vegetarian restaurant in the DC area, but Harm barely noticed. He threw himself into the arm Clayton held out and spread giddy kisses on his lover's upturned face.

"How's my clever darling?" Clayton's hazel eyes gleamed with passion.

Harm blushed at the complement. "Wonderful, now that you're here!" The man who stood before him was the most brilliant and handsome of all the operatives in the CIA, and he *loved* Harm. He stepped back and reached for the bag. "What are we having?"

"Wraps, sweetness, and a variety to tempt the most discerning of any palate."

Touched, as always by his lover's thoughtfulness, Harm felt a tear well up in his eye. "You're so good to me! What kind do we have?"

"Vegetarian refried beans, hummus, lettuce, tomato, onion, peppers, jalapenos, black olives, guacamole, Monterey pepperjack cheese, salsa, sour cream."

"Spicy!"

"Yes, just like I like my lover!" Clayton teased gently and pressed his lips to Harm's.

Harm melted under the skill of his lover's kiss. Finally, breathless, he drew back. "I've had such a craving for a Garden wrap!"

"Oh?" Clayton raised his eyebrow, and Harm blushed.

"Silly! You know what I mean! They make them so well! Why don't you get the plates, Clay? And would you prefer a beer or that Chardonnay I keep for you?"

"I think I'll join you in a beer, dear heart." Clayton relinquished their dinner, and Harm watched with appreciative eyes as his lover strolled into the kitchen to get the plates, eating utensils, because, after all, civilized men did not eat with their fingers, and the beer. He loved Clayton's body, almost as much as he loved the man's keen-edged mind.

Harm sighed happily. And they both belonged to him!

****

Harm rolled onto his back and stretched his long limbs in luxurious, languid movements.

"That was wonderful, Clay!" Harm knew he was going to feel the way his very well-endowed lover had filled and stretched him the next day. Each twinge, each ache and it would be as if Clayton was with him, buried deep inside.

He blushed furiously with naughty delight.

And none of his co-workers would have a clue, not the Admiral, not Mac or Bud or Gunny or Tiner...

Clayton dropped a kiss on Harm's collarbone, nibbled up his throat to his ear, then blew softly, and Harm gave a voluptuous shiver. He rolled his head to capture his lover's mouth in a kiss, then frowned when Clayton's cell phone shrilled.

"I thought you had turned that off."

"You know I have to stay in contact, light of my life." Clayton rose from the platform bed and retrieved his cell phone from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, which he'd hung in Harm's closet.

Harm found something so arousing in seeing his lover's clothes hanging next to his. He frowned when he realized Clayton was speaking into the phone in hushed tones, and he couldn't make heads or tails of what he was saying.

"Clay?" Harm started as Clayton shut his phone with a snap, returned it to his pocket, and crossed to the chair where he'd left his undergarments. "You don't have to leave already, do you? It's still early." Harm stared avidly as Clayton bent to pull on his boxer briefs, the soft, silken material hugging the firm globes of his tush.

"I'm sorry, angel eyes. I have to. That was the Company." Clayton drew on his trousers, then sat on the edge of the bed and worked the black socks with the design of hearts and diamonds woven into the material over his feet.

Harm loved the way those socks clung and emphasized each curve of his lover's masculine foot, the long toes, the high, manly arch, the rounded heel. He'd gone out to buy those socks especially for Clayton.

Harm tiptoed up his fingers up the line of his lover's spine, then followed it with warm lips, and hummed happily when Clayton leaned back into the caress.

"I wish they could leave you alone for at least one night of the week!" Harm knelt up behind the shorter man and pressed himself against the solid warmth of his back, reaching around to stroke his fingertips across his lover's pebble-hard nipples. "Where are you going, Clay?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you, darling." Clayton stood with obvious reluctance and stepped away from the bed and its tempting occupant. He crossed the room to the chair where he'd left his shirt, hung neatly over the back.

"Of course you can tell me, Clay! I'm a lieutenant commander in the Navy. I've flown Tomcats. I'm a lawyer with JAG!"

He was stunned to hear Clayton say, "I'm sorry, precious. It's strictly 'need-to-know'."

"*I* need to know!" Harm's lower lip thrust out in a pout that he was certain would melt his lover.

"Best beloved..." It seemed as if Clayton was not going to give Harm his way.

"Don't you 'best beloved' me, Clayton Webb! If I were truly your 'best beloved', you'd tell me where you were going!"

"You *are* my best beloved, my *only* beloved, Harm, but I *can't* tell you!" Clayton was looking grim, and Harm felt his heart stutter in dismay. His lover had never denied him anything before.

Harm watched with reproachful eyes as Clayton finished dressing as quickly as possible, saying nothing more. He knew his blue orbs had to be suspiciously bright, but when Clayton glanced at him, Harm made sure he was pointedly staring past his lover's shoulder.

He heard the other man sigh and begin to walk slowly toward the door. Stubbornly, the Lieutenant Commander folded his lips closed, determined to let the intelligence officer leave without calling him back for a final goodbye.

Clayton spat a curse, strode back to the bed, and took the lush mouth in a hungry kiss. Harm was thrilled, certain that now his lover would tell him what he would be doing.

"I have to go." Clayton bit back whatever other words he might have said.

"Go if you're going!" Harm's lips quivered, and his eyes welled with tears that clung to his absurdly long lashes.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, dear delight." Clayton paused at the door and looked back. Harm quickly looked away. "Always remember I love you, Harmon."

The door closed quietly.

****

Harm lay on the bed in complete and total shock.

Clayton had walked out on him!

He sniffled hard and stared in dismay at the door, through which his lover had gone without a seeming regret.

A single teardrop clung to his eyelashes, then spilled over and rolled down his check.

"Clay," he whispered plaintively, his voice breaking on the lone syllable. "Clay!"

He buried his face in the pillow that bore his lover's scent and wept.

****

Harm plunged into his work, and the first couple of days passed. Eight and ten times a day he accessed his voice mail, but never once was there a message from the man who was... who had been his lover.

Finally, unable to bear the loneliness of his loft, he called Clayton's number. He smiled in relief as he heard his lover's voice.

"This is Webb..."

"Ah, Clay, I can't stay mad at you..."

"... I can't come to the phone right now..."

Harm stared at his phone in disbelief. Clayton was still not at home? A horrible thought occurred to him. Maybe Clayton *was* home, but avoiding him! Maybe Clayton didn't love him any more!

Well, that was fine, he assured himself. He didn't need a secretive, enigmatic, inscrutable CIA spook in his life.

His lower lip trembled.

//Who was he fooling?// he demanded of himself. He might not need a secretive, enigmatic, inscrutable spook, but he needed Clayton Webb.

"Clay?" In spite of himself, Harm's tone was forlorn. "I miss you. Call me?"

But more days went by, and when there still was no word from the man who he thought loved him above all else, Harm began to feel decidedly put-upon. How dared Clayton promise he'd love him forever, and then just walk away from what they had? He'd *show* Clayton Webb! Just *see* if he didn't!

"Oh, Harm!" Sarah 'Mac' Mackenzie, the Marine colonel who was assigned to JAG, and who was his good friend, came striding up. "Did Bud... Gee, your eyes are red! Is something wrong?"

"Oh, er... " Mac wasn't the first person to remark about his reddened eyes, and he was tired of making excuses. "Allergies."

"You ought to take something for that. Antihistamines, maybe."

He gave a weak smile. "What were you going to ask about Bud?"

"Oh, yes. Did he get you those briefs?"

"Yes. I was just going to go over them in my office."

"Good. I have a sneaking suspicion this clown we're investigating has ties to the DSD. If we dig deep enough..."

"Hi, Harm." The contralto interrupting them was warm and low. "Colonel."

"Hello, Jordan." Harm was confused by how cool Mac's voice had become. He'd thought the two women liked each other.

"Lieutenant Commander Parker."

"Call me Jordan, Harm." She rested her neatly manicured nails on the back of his hand, pointedly ignoring Mac. "You look kind of upset, Harm. Maybe it would help if you talked about whatever is bothering you?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't..."

"Certainly you could, Harm. I'm a professional! You can talk to me!"

Mac stiffened. "I have work to do." She turned on her heel and stalked away.

"I wonder what's up with Mac," Harm mused.

Jordan shrugged. "Maybe she's just PMS-ing." The Naval psychiatrist brushed the other woman's behavior aside. "Why don't you let me take you to dinner?"

//Why not?// If Clayton didn't appreciate him, here was someone who obviously did. "Thank you, Jordan. It's very kind of you. I'd like that."

"Fine. I'll pick you up at your place? Say around 8? Wear something... casual."

Clayton always liked when he wore a suit. His lover had even bought him one. The very first time Harm had worn it, Clayton had stripped the trousers down off his hips, bent him over the back of the couch, and made passionate love to him while he'd still been almost completely dressed. Harm shivered in remembered heat.

"Harm?" Jordan's eyebrow was raised in question.

"All right." He put a note of enthusiasm into his voice. "I can't wait! This will be so fun!"

"Yes, it will."

He walked away, and when he glanced over his shoulder, it was to find her staring wistfully in the direction the Marine colonel had gone. His step faltered. Was this really a good idea?

Well, it didn't matter. He was going to let her take him to dinner.

But he would so much rather it was Clayton.

****

Jordan was the perfect lady, and Harm was surprised to find he had a good time with her. She took him to Raphael's, an Italian restaurant that prepared the best eggplant parmesan Harm had ever had in DC.

Clayton knew all the best places in the Capital. Why hadn't his lover taken him there?

Jordan kept both their glasses filled with the excellent house red. She was flatteringly interested in everything he had to say, from his experiences flying Tomcats to his latest triumph in court, but somehow the conversation always seemed to come back to Mac.

Finally, for want of something better to say, he found himself suggesting, "So, Jordan, would you like to come back to my place for coffee?"

"That would be nice, Harm. Thank you."

Harm visited the men's room, and when he returned, Jordan smiled and took his arm, and they strolled to her car.

Jordan was a competent driver. Harm liked that in a date. Clayton was more than competent. Harm thought of the man who had been his lover, then blinked rapidly. Clayton was not here. He had chosen the Company over him. Harm pushed all thoughts of his lover from his mind.

"You drive very well, Jordan."

"Thanks, Harm. Sar ... " She cleared her throat and slanted a glance at him. "I mean a girlfriend of mine likes the way I drive, too."

"Oh!" Harm became flustered. Was Jordan insinuating there might be something between the Marine colonel and herself? No, of course not. "That's my building right there."

"Yes, I know. I picked you up, remember? Sweet. There's a parking spot in front." She parked the car, walked around to the passenger side, and opened the door for Harm.

They went up to his loft, and he set about brewing a pot of coffee. He became a little uneasy when Jordan kicked her shoes off and made herself comfortable on the couch. She patted the spot beside her.

"Come on and sit next to me, Harm."

Harm stood there, indecision in every line, then took a step toward her, intending to sit for just a few seconds, until the coffee finished brewing, but before he could sit down, the phone rang. A frison of excitement ran up his spine. He knew it was Clayton.

Well, he would just let the machine pick it up.

//This is Harm. I can't take your call right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll get right back to you.//

"Harm, it's Clay!"

//I *knew* it!// he thought triumphantly.

"If you're there, pick up! I need to talk to you! It's an emergency!"

When he made no effort to pick up the phone, Jordan murmured, "He said it's an emergency."

"It's always an emergency with Webb." Harm tilted his chin up and sniffed.

"Harm, I know you're there! Pick up!" The sternness in his lover's voice made Harm's dick start to harden.

Jordan was looking amused, and Harm could feel a tide of red sweep up over his cheeks. "I'll just take that." He spun on his heel with military precision, picked up the receiver, giving a put-upon sigh that would be audible over the phone line. "Yes?"

But there was no answer.

****

They told him Clayton Webb was dead, his body so badly burned they'd had to identify his remains through dental records.

//He's not dead! He can't be dead!// Harm told himself over and over, a mantra that got him through that terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

But even Porter Webb, Clayton's mother, seemed to accept the news with equanimity. She was so cool, so contained. Didn't she care that her son was gone? Harm wanted to weep.

And then Markov, Mrs. Webb's butler, had interrupted them to say, "You have a phone call, ma'am."

'Take a message, please, Markov?"

"Ma'am, it's from Lt. Abby Cowen."

"Yes, of course. Harm, if you'll excuse me?" She'd left him standing there.

Later, at JAG, he complained about that to Sarah 'Mac' Mackenzie. "How could she possibly want to talk to some police lieutenant when *I* was there?"

"Hmm," Mac said. "Lt. Abby Cowen? You know something, Harm? I'll bet that's an anagram! Let me write down the name."

Harm watched in amazement as the Marine colonel moved the letters from one position to another. He'd been secretly in awe of her from the time he'd realized she could tell time in her head.

"Ah hah!" she exclaimed. "It *is* an anagram! Lt. Abby Cowen is... *Clayton Webb*!"

Harm could feel his heart swelling in his chest. Of course Clayton was still alive! And then he frowned. "I'll bet this was simply some spook trick of the CIA!" he muttered to himself. "Thanks, Mac. You're the best!"

Mac opened her mouth to say something, but Harm was already hurrying out of JAG.

*He* was going to get to the bottom of this!

****

The Kamiko Maru. That was the name of the ship his lover had supposedly died on.

He went below deck to search for Clayton. The smell of explosives and accelerants still hung on the air, making him sneeze, and then wrinkle his nose in distaste.

Abruptly he stiffened. Someone was behind him.

"What are you doing here, Harm?"

"Clay! I was looking for you!"

"You put yourself in jeopardy for a dead man?" Clayton's voice was so cold. Harm shivered.

"I wouldn't believe it when they told me you were dead."

"And you just went on gut instinct that I was still alive?"

"I had to come looking for you, Clay, don't you see? We parted so badly..."

"I thought you knew and accepted that there would be times when my work came first. I was very disappointed in you, Harmon."

"I'm sorry, Clay." He blinked rapidly to prevent tears from falling. "I..." He turned to face his lover. "Oh, no! Oh, my god! You've been shot!"

"It's nothing."

"It isn't nothing, Clay! That looks awful!" He shuddered at the sight of the ruined pants and the blood that soaked the entry wound. "I need to get you to a hospital!"

"It's just a flesh wound."

"But there's so much blood! You must be so weak! Let me carry you out of this place!"

"I'm fine, I promise you." But Clayton was smiling now, and Harm knew everything would be all right between them.

"If you say so, Clay." He sniffed hard. "It's just... Oh, I *hate* having to share you with the country!"

"Oh, my precious. But you know I couldn't love you as much as I do if I didn't love our country more!"

"I know," he said in a small voice.

"My precious darling!" Clayton took him in his arms and kissed him gently. "How did you know I was alive?"

"I was with your Mom when she got the call from Lt. Abby Cowen."

"And you figured out that it was me? Aren't you the clever one! Oh, sweetheart, I'm so proud of you!"

Too relieved that Clayton was once again calling him pet names, Harm kissed the shorter man again. He was reluctant to tell his lover that it had actually been Mac who had solved the anagram.

Finally Clayton drew back. "It's too dangerous for you to be here, my own!"

"Please, Clay! Please let me stay!"

"My, my. Isn't this sweet?"

Harm gave a start. He recognized that voice! The last time he had heard it had been in a courtroom, and he'd been prosecuting the ass off its owner.

"Clark Palmer! I thought I'd put you in Leavenworth!"

"Guess what? You thought wrong, fly boy!" Palmer, a gun in his fist, became all business. "Your gun, Webb." He waggled his fingers. Clayton's reluctance to hand over his weapon was obvious, but when Palmer pointed the barrel of his Glock at Harm, Clayton capitulated. "Good boy."

Harm hated hearing the almost flirtatious tone directed at his lover. He glared, unnoticed, at Palmer.

"All right, Webb. I want that superconductor."

"I don't have it."

"Gee, I think you're lying, but if you aren't it's going to be too fucking bad for the Lieutenant Commander's girlfriend."

"*Girlfriend*? What's he talking about, Harm?"

"Nothing! He doesn't know what he's saying! Honest, Clay!" Harm could feel his heartbeat accelerate as panic threatened to overwhelm him.

"No?" That supercilious, gloating tone from Palmer. "While you were playing least in sight, Webb, your boy Harm was playing footsie with Jordan Parker. She's waiting for him in his apartment right now!"

"No, she isn't! She can't be! I didn't tell her she could come back!"

"*Harm*???"

Harm flinched. "I'm sorry, pumpkin. But you were gone, and... and I was so *lonely*!"

Palmer laughed. "Ah, Clay, you should have taken me up on my offer. I wouldn't have bailed on you at the first opportunity."

"Shut the fuck up, Palmer!" Harm shouted, so distraught he actually used a naughty word. "Clay, it wasn't like that, I swear it wasn't! I just let her buy me dinner! I wasn't going to cheat on you! I *wasn't*!"

"She was in his loft when you tried to reach him, Webb. Did you know that? When you were bleeding all over the deck of this ship." His gaze was dispassionate as he watched Clayton sink to the deck, wincing in pain. "Wonder what they were going to do after they had the coffee Rabb was making for her."

Harm's eyes widened in alarm, and he fiercely denied any wrongdoing. "I didn't... She wasn't... We were only... Oh, I *hate* you, Clark Palmer!"

Palmer laughed harder. "This is better than a soap opera, but as much as I'd like to stay and see the outcome of this lovers' quarrel, I have more important things that need doing." He pointed the Glock at the CIA officer, dismissing Harm's presence with insulting indifference.

Harm looked to his lover. Clayton Webb would never give Clark Palmer the superconductor, Harm would have bet everything that meant anything to him on that.

Clayton's mouth, the mouth that Harm loved having around his dick, was a grim line. All his attention was focused on the tall man who confronted them.

//This is all Palmer's fault,// Harm thought, somewhat petulantly. //Clay is cross with me, and he's never, ever gotten cross with me!// Well, Harm just wasn't going to stand for it! He'd impress his lover, and he'd show Palmer he was more than just a pretty face at the same time!

No one ever thought of him carrying a gun; that was why Palmer hadn't frisked him. Harm shivered at the thought of the DSD agent's hands on his body, his gorge rising in his throat. He reached for the gun he'd tucked into his waistband. No matter what anyone might think, he wasn't dumb enough to go into a dangerous situation without some kind of weapon!

"The superconductor, Webb," Palmer was saying while he smirked, not paying any attention to Harm. "And maybe if you're really cooperative, we'll ditch pretty boy here, and I'll show you what it's like fucking a real man!"

//That wet boy and my Clay in bed together?// Harm bit back a sob and aimed his gun at Palmer. He couldn't see clearly for the tears that flooded his eyes. Palmer was laughing, though, and Harm fired in the direction of the self-satisfied sound.

There was a grunt, and Palmer went stumbling back. Harm fired again, and the tall man staggered. Somehow he regained his balance and spun away, clutching his side, and managed to make his way up a ladder to the deck above. His voice floated back to them.

"Don't think you've beaten me! I'll get you, Webb. And your little lieutenant commander, too!"

"I've got to stop him!" Clayton attempted to rise, to take a step, but his leg gave out from under him, and he fell to the deck with a stifled groan.

"You can't, Clay! Your leg!" Harm could see Clayton was gallantly trying to conceal his pain from him. "*I'll* get him!"

"Harm! NO!"

"I *must*!"

"Oh, my dearest one! Yes, someone must stop Palmer! Promise me you'll be careful! The man can't be trusted!"

Harm paused long enough to kiss his lover. "Please tell me you forgive me, first?"

"Of course I forgive you, my darling! I could never stay angry with you!"

"Clay!" One final press of lips, and then he raced for the ladder, joy and happiness carrying him up the narrow stairs as if there were wings on his heels.

However, when he reached the deck, he came to a shocked halt. Clark Palmer, who should have been lying on the deck, bleeding out his life's blood, was gone, nowhere to be seen!

Harm rushed to the railing, but he could see nothing in the dark waters below.

"Well, damn!" He stamped his foot in annoyance.

"Harm! What's wrong, precious? Where did Palmer go?" Somehow Clayton had managed to drag himself up the ladder. Harm hurried to his injured lover.

"I don't know! I know I hit him! I had to have hit him, but..."

"He was probably wearing Kevlar. He may be a sociopath, but he isn't stupid."

"Clay!" Harm had never been so shocked. "You almost sound as if you admire the man!"

"Admire him? No. But I do respect him. He knows his job, and he does it." Clayton pushed his fingers through his hair, leaving it disheveled, and Harm hurried to his side, thrusting thoughts of the DSD agent from his mind.

"You're so injured, Clay."

"I'll be all right, muffin." But he sagged, and Harm caught him before he collapsed to the deck.

"Sweetheart!" He pulled out his cell phone with one hand and dialed 9-1-1. Once he had given the operator the pertinent information and was assured that an ambulance would be dispatched immediately, he gave his lover his full attention. "I'm so sorry, Clay. He must have followed me."

"No, beloved. There was a mole in the Company, and it was through Paul Candella's doings that Palmer knew where to find me."

"Oh, I'm so glad it wasn't my fault! And I'm sorry I was such a prima donna, Clay. I'll be better, I promise, and won't tease you to tell me things I shouldn't know."

"I can tell you now, my precious one."

The two men settled themselves against the bulkhead, and Clayton began to tell his lover what had gone down.

"A superconductor was created by Akira Yamamoto, a Japanese scientist who'd been working for the Bradenhurst Corporation. It was so high tech, so *super*, that it was guaranteed to outclass everything the scientific community had come up with to date."

"Bradenhurst, Clay? Oh, no!"

Clayton nodded. "Unfortunately, he didn't realize until almost too late that working for Bradenhurst was the same thing as working for the DSD, and that once the final tests were run and word of the superconductor got out, a bloodbath would ensue for possession of it. Frantic and terrified, he put the prototype into his brief case and ran, eventually calling the CIA for help."

"And so *you* were assigned to the mission? Oh, Clay, I'm *so* proud of you!"

"Ah, my dearest one, *I* am proud of *you*! You shot at Clark Palmer in an attempt to defend me!"

Harm blushed at his lover's praise. "You're my... *my* best beloved! And I understand completely why you couldn't give that awful Clark Palmer the superconductor, even if it meant he'd shoot me."

"As to that, sweetness, the superconductor was a total failure. That was the real reason behind Yamamoto's fear."

Harm's eyes lit with comprehension. "So once the DSD learned that all the money that had been poured into the project was for nothing, that the bits and pieces of wire and metal and plastic didn't do a thing, except maybe go ta-pocketa-pocketa, Yamamoto knew he was a dead man."

"That's one way of putting it." Clayton started to chuckle, then winced and gripped his leg, and Harm could see the wound was causing him severe pain. The still night air was ruptured by the wail of an ambulance siren. "That's my ride. Will you go with me to the hospital, Harm?"

"Oh, Clay, I'll go anywhere with you!"

Clayton touched Harm's cheek with tender fingers, the gesture so loving that Harm felt his eyes fill with tears. He turned his face to press a kiss into the palm of his lover's hand, and together they waited for the EMS techs to arrive.

~End~