Consumed By Either Fire Or Fire

by Gail

(gem225@hotmail.com)

Harmon Rabb/Clayton Webb

Rating: NC-17

Harmon Rabb and Clayton Webb finish their talk.

Part 3 of the Solstice series

Disclaimer: No, the guys don't belong to me, but they do seem to be around a whole lot. Guess CBS and Belisarius Productions have let them out on a bit of a vacation. Glad they came over to see me. (And they seem to be happy about it, too.)

Please do not archive this story without asking me first. It's more than likely that I'll agree, but I want to know where my stories are.

Spoilers: Webb of Lies, Wilderness of Mirrors, Contemptuous Words.

Notes: Mareen, Katja, and Jennifer did my beta work out of sheer kindness and generosity, and Amanda, bless her heart, read an earlier version and made me feel great about it, even though I'd totally screwed it up. Many, many thanks to all of them. I do not deserve such wonderful people in my life. But maybe again I do.


Consumed By Either Fire Or Fire
by Gail

We only live, only suspire
Consumed by either fire or fire.
~T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets

We drive the short distance in silence. I'm still trying to recover from those kisses in the parking lot, and he seems engrossed in driving. When we get there, we stick to the original plan. Harm goes in and registers, then calls me to tell me the room number. For some reason I'm close to breaking out in laughter. Harmon Rabb is playing spy games so that he and I can be in the same hotel room. And I still don't know what the hell's going to happen there. Or why he's decided to do this now.

I know I'm missing things. I know that. And I can't just ask Harm what's going on. He's got this glamour around him, not the Hollywood kind, but the kind they write about in fairy tales. More like magic, like being able to enchant anyone and everyone.

And he's definitely enchanted me.

I walk through the lobby and into the elevator. He's on the seventh floor and I'm glad that I've never been into lucky numbers or anything like that. I might actually care. But all I really care about is getting into that room and finding out if kissing Harmon Rabb in some chain hotel room is as good as it was in the parking lot.

Of course, that's assuming I'm going to get to kiss him. Or do anything else. He's been acting like that's the whole point, but what if this is all about getting me somewhere private he can tell me off? I can feel myself tensing. I'm still so stupid about him.

The elevator reaches the seventh floor and I get off before I realize that I don't have to. I have my license. But I don't have a car. And he still has my wallet with all my money and credit cards. I could call the Company, but how am I going to explain it to them without sounding like a complete idiot? I had enough trouble today with all the questions I was throwing at people about Palmer. I don't need any more. All right. I'll go, tell him I want my wallet back now and get a cab and go home. Rabb may not like that, but he's not stupid enough to try and keep me there against my will. He's a lawyer, for god's sake. He knows all about coercion and harassment. Then I'll call Palmer in the morning and tell him that his game is off, that Rabb doesn't give a damn about him. Which it seems he doesn't, not now. And find some way to deal with whatever Palmer comes up with next. I'll handle him. Somehow. I'm beginning to think that Palmer wants to listen to me, wants me to turn into some kind of friend for him. It's a frightening thought. But it's not the worst one I've had. There's always a chance he'll change. It seems he already has.

I get to Room 717 and knock on the door. Harm opens it.

"Took you long enough," he says calmly and lets me in. He's got a towel in his hand and uses it to wipe the water off his face. "Did you walk up those stairs? I hope not. I don't want you exhausted. I was looking forward to taking care of that myself."

His smile looks just the way it did in the parking lot, full of seductive promise, and I can feel that I'm losing it again. He can't be that certain of me. But he seems to be.

"Rabb, give me my wallet." I have to take control to get myself back under control.

He sighs and tosses the towel into a corner. "I leave you alone for ten minutes and you turn right back into that repressed CIA agent we all know so well. Well," he's walking toward me, "I know how to deal with that."

He's going to kiss me again. I back up. This is well past insane. Then I think of something that might get him to pay attention to something outside this room.

"What about Palmer? You were ready to go after him with a gun before." I hate doing this, evoking his obsession. But this is necessary. "You have to be worried about what he's up to."

"Palmer's not here right now." He doesn't seem to care at all. And Palmer was betting on his obsession. Something's changed with Harm, too. "You are. And you don't seem worried about him, so I think it's all right. For now."

And he keeps coming, his eyes laughing as I keep backing up. How can he be like this with me? This is what he does with women.

"Scared? Of me? Come on, Clay. I'm not going to hurt you. You'll live through it. Hell, you already have tonight. Just relax."

He takes a couple of those big strides and has his lips on mine before I can get away. And I'm not sure he's right.

I may not live through this. It's even more intense than I remember.

Somehow when he breaks the kiss we're on the bed. I can't believe that he managed that without me knowing at all. This is not good.

"See? You're just fine."

This is not just fine. This is out of control. And I don't like being out of control. I pull away from him and put on my best stern agent face. He tilts his head and watches me, his dark eyes amused. But there's something underneath, a touch of fear that tells me that he's afraid. Of Palmer? No. I really believe that he's put the other man out of his mind for now. That I'll leave? Maybe. And if that's true, this really matters to him, too.

That makes me even more determined to take control of the situation.

"Rabb, we need to talk."

It's time to get this over with. I wasn't ready in the bar, but I am now. I want him, but I don't want to get hurt again if this is just going to be revenge for last time. Or, if I'm going to, I'd just as soon get it over with now and go home.

His mouth tightens, and I think that I'm going to get my wish right now. He looks as though he's getting in the mood to hit me. I brace myself. That is definitely not what I came here for. And I'm not going to take it.

"Oh? You were the one who said that there was nothing to talk about. And I agreed. So I brought us here."

"This is avoiding the issue, Rabb. You know that as well as I do." Although avoiding the issue sounds really good if it means more kissing, I know what is right. What is fair to both of us.

He's leaning forward now, his face hard and angry. "So you can suck me off, fuck me, turn away from me every time I try to talk to you about it," he's emphasizing every few words, "but now that I've accepted how things are with you, which I have, and come on to you, you decide to open a discussion? God, Clayton. You really have a problem with what you are. How do you manage to look in the mirror to get that tie of yours straight every morning?"

I don't need to hear this. "*I* have a problem?" I smile at him coldly. "You were the one who came back for more, then left without a word. I would say that demonstrates a problem."

I know I'm not being fair, but he's not going to get away with saying that I have a problem. I know who am I. What am I. I have for a very long time.

"Would you." His voice is very soft. "That's very interesting, Clayton. Very interesting indeed." And he's got me pinned against the comforter before I can do anything. "But I don't want to talk to you about it, Webb," he breaths in my ear.

I can't move. Whatever the Navy taught him about hand-to-hand combat, he's remembered very well. Or maybe he learned it back in the Boy Scouts. I always end up back with him in uniform.

"Right now I'm a hell of a lot more interested in seeing what I can do with you here in this very private hotel room. That I'm paying for. Which I'd say means I get to do what I want. Unless you're going to try and tell me that Palmer's got it bugged too?"

I wouldn't put it past him. Harm should have used a pay phone. But it's not that likely. Not enough time. I resist the urge to take that easy way out and shake my head. It is time to deal with what Harm and I have done, what we are doing, what we might do.

His eyes are still hard as he stares at me. "All right. Now, if you'd like to try and tell me you're not interested, I suggest you do so now. And, just so you know, I'm not interested in having a discussion about how screwed up I am. Or about how screwed up you might be, either."

"All right." I stare at him and make myself keep breathing, remember that he wants me here. For something, sex, revenge, both, something else entirely. I don't know what any more.

"Good."

And he lets me up. I get up and smooth my jacket, but Harm's eyes catch mine again and I know that we're not finished yet. I sit back down to show him that I'm not going anywhere. His eyes aren't so hard now.

"Here's your damned wallet." He shifts onto one buttock and pulls it out of a back pocket in a gesture so effortless that it makes my mouth dry to watch it, then tosses it to me. I stow it in my inside jacket pocket this time. "So what is going to be, Webb? Staying, or going?"

"I need you to answer a question first." I need to know this. I want to stay, but not just to even a score on his part. And right now that's what it's looking like to me.

He shrugs. "I'll think about it. But I was really looking forward to something more from your mouth than just talking." And he runs his tongue over his lips in such a sensual gesture that I feel like I could come in my pants. God. I haven't felt that way in years. And his smile tells me that he knows just what's going on.

I do not know this Harmon Rabb. Maybe Jordan does, or Annie, or Bobbie Latham, but I doubt it. I think this Harmon Rabb woke up just for me. And I don't know if I can handle him. But I want to try.

"When you came to my place the second time, did you come to have sex with me?"

What I really want to ask if he's here tonight just for sex and nothing more, but I know that if he says he is, I'll turn into that damned pathetic thing I was in the bar and I don't want him to see that. I think I can handle any answer he might give about that time.

Because I know that I'm staying here, no matter what the reason is.

His hard gaze turns into one that's more open. "I'm still not sure, Clayton. I think so. But I did come to talk to you." He blew out a long breath. "You are very hard to talk to.

I know. But I don't want to say anything, so I just nod.

He doesn't seem to mind my nonverbal response. "If what you're asking is if I regret having sex with you, the answer is yes and no."

"Oh." That's all I can manage. That really was what I was asking, I realize. I just didn't let myself know that.

"Yes, because afterwards I got treated like shit by you, and no, because that was just about the most incredible sex I've ever had."

He really didn't say that. Did he? I look at him. His eyes are calm. Yes, I think I heard right.

"Does that answer your question, Clayton?"

I nod again.

"For someone who works at State, you're not very good with words," he says dryly. "All right, talking's over." He leans forward, his tongue sweeping over his lips. "If you're going, you'd better go now, Clay." And for a moment his eyes are uncertain. He is afraid that I'll leave.

I don't want to go. And I know now that Harm wants me, and I've always known that I want him. So I lean over and kiss him for my answer. Words aren't what I'm up to right now. But I can manage a kiss.

His arms wrap around me and pull me against him. And I know that tonight is going to be just fine. Tomorrow might be a disaster, but I can't worry about that now, with Harmon Rabb's body against mine, his lips open for me.

The kiss just keeps on going as we take turns being in charge, our tongues dueling, and one point I almost break out into laughter at how ridiculous this is, Harmon Rabb and I kissing in a hotel room like a couple of kids after the senior prom, but then his hands slide down my back and I forget about laughing, about everything but him.

This time we both know what we want. And that makes it so much better than before.

He breaks the kiss. "I have too many clothes on." He's breathing hard, and smiling. "And you definitely do."

I look down at my suit. He's got a point. And I smile back. Strange to be so friendly with him. But it feels right. We settled a lot of things tonight. I hope we did.

"I can take care of that," I say and show him I mean it by unbuttoning my jacket. He's staring at me as I take off the jacket, then start on my vest. It's flattering, how his eyes don't leave my body as I take off piece after piece of clothing, but I don't want to be the only one naked, and it's looking like I'm going to be if I don't do something about that soon.

"Come on, Harm. Your turn," I say and lean over to take off my shoes and socks.

He blinks and reaches for the buttons of his shirt. Finally. While he's taking that off, I get up to hang the jacket, vest, and shirt. I see when I come back that he's thrown his shirt on the floor and smile. Somehow I thought that Harm would be a little neater than that. But then, if I had anything but one of my best suits on, I might just be doing the same thing. Clothes don't seem so important right now, with the man I've been longing for right there on a bed, waiting for me to get back and do more kissing, touching, everything, I hope. But if he's not ready for that, I won't try to make him. Tonight nobody's going to do anything they don't want to, I vow to myself. Not him, not me. This time it's going to be clear.

His eyes are back on me as I reach for my belt, and I open my mouth to say something about his jeans and shoes, but I like having him watch me. I unbuckle my belt, take it off, then reach for the fastening of my pants, then see him move.

"I'd like to do that," he says so low that I can hardly hear him. I swallow and take my hands away. His fingers are right there, releasing me, taking my cock and stroking it, so much like the first time. I feel my leg muscles tense and know I'm not going to be able to stand much longer, but I don't want to say a word, to take any chance of stopping him. He's staring at what his fingers are doing, and they're doing it really well.

I let out a moan and buck forward and he stops.

"You probably don't want to come right yet, do you?"

I shake my head. I do want to come, but not yet. Not all by myself. This isn't going to be like that first time. I won't let myself make the same mistakes again.

He lets go of my cock, but I can see he doesn't want to. His fingers keep curling on his thigh like he's trying to stop himself from taking it again. He's breathing hard, and when I flick my eyes down to his crotch, I can see he's hard, too. I want to feel that.

I reach for his waistband. "My turn," I say quietly, and he leans back, wetting his lips and spreading his legs. I forget about undoing the jeans and instead mold my hand over the bulge. He lets out a low groan.

"Clay, please..." And his voice dies off.

He wants me, and that gives me the focus to let go and give him what he wants. And then I have my fingers wrapped around his hardness, and it makes me want to make him come, give him so much pleasure. But I stop when I hear him tell me to.

We stare at each other, both of us with our pants on but undone, hard cocks sticking out. Finally I stand and skim off my pants, this time just putting them over a nearby chair. He strips out of his jeans without getting off the bed and throws them near the shirt, then positions himself in a way that I know he has to have done before, for women. But now it's for me. The eagerness in his eyes tells me that.

He's right there, inviting me with all of him, and I don't have to think about what I want to do now. I get on the bed and lower my mouth on to him, just like I wanted to last night while watching the video Clark Palmer brought. The moan he lets out is long and low, and I wonder if later we're going to have to deal with irate people banging on our door. I hope not.

I push that out of my mind and concentrate on making sure that he gets what I want to give him. I love being surrounded by his smell, having my mouth filled with his hardness and hearing him moan as I suck on him. I keep swallowing, getting more of that special taste of his. It hasn't changed in the last year. Incredible.

He's talking to me, his voice low and rough. "Clay. Please, Clay. No more."

I look up at him and see how tense his face is, how he's struggling to keep control. I pull away and sit up. I wonder if he's going to do the same for me, but it's all right if he doesn't. Maybe he just wants to wait a little longer before coming.

"I want to fuck you." The rough tone and words are almost too much. I don't do that any more. It's been years. It's out of the question.

And then I look at him, see the passion and pleading in his face, and understand that he needs this for balance. And that he wants to do this with me. Not anyone, me.

I take a deep breath.

"All right."

We'll need lubricant, so I swallow and take hold of my cock. He puts his hand down to stop me.

"I'll go look in the bathroom," he says quietly, and I'm relieved that he's thinking further ahead than I am. Come isn't the best lubricant. I'd rather have something more viscous.

When he comes back, he's frowning. "Just this bottle of hand lotion. I don't know about this."

He holds it up to show me. It's small, and I don't like it, either. But I'm willing to try, even though that bottle does not look like enough to get him inside me. I don't want him to think I'm a coward. He took it with just his come. I can manage with the lotion.

"It'll be fine, Harm." I try to sound knowledgeable and reassuring, but he sits back down on the bed.

"Come on, Clayton." His voice is quiet. "This is ridiculous. I'll go out and get something more appropriate." Suddenly he looks a little sheepish. "Should have stopped on the way, but I thought that you'd escape me."

I smile at that. I might have.

"This really will be all right."

It's stupid for him to get dressed and go somewhere when we've gotten this far. I'll be fine.

He shakes his head. "No. This isn't how I want this. I want it to be good." He stands. "I won't be long." He gets his shirt and jeans and tosses them back on.

"Thank you."

He turns before opening the door and gives me a grin. "I'll get enough for more than one time. We can take turns. Sound good?"

I nod, and he's gone. I give myself a minute to take that surprising statement in, that he's interested in more than just getting what he didn't before, that he wants me inside him again. That makes me feel good. Very, very good, in fact. I know that I've got a big smile on. I can feel it stretch the corners of my mouth. That feels good, too. I don't do enough smiling.

When he comes back, he's got a tube of K-Y jelly and I do feel better. That will work just fine.

He gets out of the clothes in a few impatient motions, then sits down on the bed beside me again. His lips take mine, and I'm lost in that ocean, going down, so far down, and I really don't care if I ever come back up. His hands are roaming all over my body, and my erection is back in full force, just like his.

When he breaks this time, I look right at him. "Yes, Harm."

He takes a quick breath, and smiles. I know just what I'm agreeing to, and so does he. His hands are helping me get on my hands and knees, then I see him pulling out pillows. He stuffs them under me, giving me something to rest against.

Then I can feel him behind me, and the cool lubricant is being spread over my hole, then into it. His fingers make me gasp, both with the coolness and the intimacy. He's gentle and careful and thorough, and I'm beginning to wonder just how much I don't know about Harmon Rabb. I could swear he'd done this before. Or maybe it's just that he's been thinking about it, planning it out. I like that idea.

I forget about this when the head of his cock presses up against me. "Ready, Clay?"

I open my mouth to tell him I need longer, but then I realize that I don't. I want this. I'm ready for it. "Ready."

I feel his hands slide over my back, then down over my ass. I shiver. I really want this. Him.

"I wish you could see yourself. You look incredible. Even better than I thought you would."

And then he presses into me, and I groan. God, it's been too long. I've forgotten how good this is, how right. And he's slow, taking his time, giving me time to adjust. I hope I made it this good for him.

He hits my prostate and I don't care any more how it was for him then, just how it is for me, which is incredible. He keeps thrusting and thrusting and it's so good. I can hear him getting louder too, although I think he's trying really hard not to be. I bite into my lip to keep from crying out. No knocks yet. Maybe the walls are soundproofed. I hope so.

"Clay," I hear him moan. Yes, he knows it's me. "God, this is so good. Did I," he takes a breath, "feel this good to you?"

The question gets me to smile. "I'm," I have to breathe, too, "a little busy here. Can I get back to you on that?" I squeeze my muscles and have the satisfaction of hearing him groan.

"All right," he gasps, and goes back to fucking.

I'm braced and supported and lost in this, another ocean that Harmon Rabb has gotten me into. And I don't care if I drown, just as long as he's there with me. And he is.

He keeps nudging into my prostate and I know I won't last much longer.

He's talking again, or trying to. I'm so close, but I make myself concentrate.

"No more silence, Clay."

His voice is rough, and his body is shaking as he thrusts, mine too. He's breathing hard, and I'm so close, so damned close, but I have to wait, have to listen, he wants me to. His hips snap into me, once, twice, then he stills, and I hear a whimper, from me, and I'm pushing back, trying to get him to move, but he grabs my hips and I can't. I don't want him to stop, I need him to keep going. He has to be almost there. I don't know how he's managing to hold it off. I don't even know how I am.

"Talk to me. Please. Next time."

I know what he's saying, what he wants, and I manage a few words. "Yes. I will."

I can't think. I need him to finish. I can't wait, can't wait any longer.

"Good." He snaps his hips into me. "Deal."

It sounds like he's saying he wants this again. Wants me.

And then his thrusts bring me off as I tighten around him. He lets out the most helpless sound I've heard out of him tonight and comes in me. Oh, it's so good to hear him scream and know that it's because of me.

We collapse on the bed, Harm pulling me off the pillows and over so that he's not on top of me, but holding me as I lie on my side.

I really hope that this isn't some kind of dream. But I can feel Harmon Rabb's arms around me, and smell his sweat mixed in with mine, and I can hear his breathing. And I cannot stay awake any longer, even though I really want to go and clean myself off. I just can't move.

I hear him murmur something but I'm already gone. It sounds gentle and nice. Just what I've always wanted to hear from him.

************************************************

I wake up to his face over mine. "Clay," he says quietly. I blink my answer. "Clay, wake up. Please."

It wasn't a dream. I blink again and try to think of something to say. But I don't have any words. He smiles and I feel his finger stroke down my face, just like when he came over to me in my kitchen and made me burn my Chinese food.

"It's morning. Can you call someone, have them go over and take out those bugs? If they're really there, that is." A look of contempt crosses his face. "I think Palmer was bluffing, Clay."

He wants me to think. He's stroking my face and he wants me to think. And I can't tell him that those devices are going to be hell to find, since Clark Palmer put them in. I'm going to have to think of something. I certainly can't tell him that I have some real proof that Palmer's telling the truth about this. Some things we are not going to talk about. Ever.

"I'd really like to go home, Clay. And take you with me. Talk some more. If we get going, we'll have time before I have to go to work. I can make you some pancakes."

I swallow and manage to say something. His face is so calm, so sure. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you." And he leans over to kiss me. "Hotels are fine," he whispers when he lifts his head, "but I prefer my bed." There's a flicker of something over his face, but I don't know what it is. "I'm sure you like your bed, too. Or maybe you don't bring guys there."

Oh. He's actually upset that we never made it to my bed. I can see that now in his eyes. "I bring friends there," I say very carefully, and he's grinning now.

"We're just friends? I thought after this we had to be lovers." And he leaves it at that, and I do, too. That's something we can talk about later. After coffee. Maybe even after food. "Can I still show up at your door after a long walk in the rain?"

I sit up. "I'm not always there, Harm. You might want to start calling."

He did mean what he said last night. This isn't over.

His laugh is warm and happy. "I could do that, especially if it means I'd get something to eat. Something not burned." He's teasing me, and I smile. Of course it won't be burned.

"It might. If you can stand picking out the meat." I don't tell him that I'm already thinking of looking into vegetarian dishes. He doesn't need to know. I'll surprise him. If he does show up.

"I'll manage." Then his smile dims. "I still want to know what's going on with Palmer's pardon. Something's wrong there. I have to get to the bottom of this."

I know this time that he's not trying to get me to do what he wants with sex. So it doesn't bother me that he brings up Palmer. It's just how his mind works. "I'll find out. And let you know." I hope there's something I'll be able to tell him.

He nods, his eyes worried and angry. "There's something really wrong, Clay. Clark Palmer pardoned? You know what I mean."

"I know, Harm." I don't tell him that if Clark Palmer got a pardon, it means he's got some very influential people on his side and that he's going to be fairly untouchable. He doesn't need to hear that right now. "I should have something for you soon."

I see his face relax. Nice to know that he trusts me. "You tell me if there's anything I can do on my end. I've got friends." He smiles again, the other feelings gone for now. "Like you."

"Your friends know about storming hills and filing briefs," I return drowsily, leaning against his shoulder. His hand slides down my back, a comforting pressure. "Mine know about getting information."

I could ask Clark. Maybe that's what I should have done in the first place, just asked him why the pardon, who, what strings he pulled and what he's been told. It's worth a shot. Clark's been very willing to talk to me. And it looks like I'm going to have to be dealing with him again, at least occasionally. I need to find the best way to do that.

"Clay." I pull myself out of my thoughts and look at him. "There's something I'm curious about. How did you find out Palmer was out, but nothing more?"

I pull away. I don't want to be close enough for him to hit me when I say this. "He came over to see me. The other night." I'm not going to say anything more. That's a secret I'm keeping, at least for now. I don't want him to know how stupid I almost was.

His eyes search mine. I hope they're not seeing everything that happened. "Oh," he says finally. "I didn't know you two were friends. Are you?"

His voice is light, with an edge that might be cutting. But I refuse to panic. He's going to have to get used to me, how I am, if we're going to be this kind of friends.

I make myself look straight at him. "It's not friendship. We're in the same profession. It's a bond. You wouldn't understand, but I could have been Palmer. I know that." And in many ways, I am.

"You could never be Palmer," he says passionately. "My god, Clayton, that's insane."

I just shake my head. Some things Harmon Rabb will never understand.

He pulls me back down with him, holding me against his chest. Very muscular. I'm glad I've been riding a lot lately. I wonder if he'd like to try that. He'd look good on a horse. I'd pick him out a good one, not too gentle. Don't want to insult a proud fighter pilot.

"Don't argue with a lawyer," he advises me.

I start laughing. All we've ever done until now is argue, in one way or another. "Don't argue with a spook," I tell him. And he laughs too.

I hear a phone go off, and Harm shakes his head when I check with him, so it must be mine. I get up and fish it out of my pants. Harm goes off to the bathroom when he sees my face go blank as I snap out a "quiet" to the caller. He must think it's business.

As soon as I hear water running, I start talking, very low and intense. "What the hell do you think you're doing calling me? I said I'd call you."

Clark, of course. And I don't ask how he got my cell phone number. There are dozens of ways. It's a matter of reasonably public record. And he's at State now. Which means he'll probably be CIA as well. Clark Palmer in the Company. I don't know if I can handle the shock.

Clark's voice is interested, and pleased. "You got him to a hotel? Good work, Clay. Very nice idea. I should have thought of that. You get what you want, and I get nothing. Well played. Oh, it is fun having the chance to see you work. I always knew I could learn more from you."

Damn, damn, damn. He knows. He was probably in the bar, and followed us here. I didn't even see him.

"You don't need to talk much. Don't want to blow this for you." He really does sound pleased. And he's not angry. "I just called to let you know that I'm going out of town for a few days. Didn't want you to worry. And I cleaned out his place, as a favor to you, since we're going to be working together." Yes, I thought so. "No more bugs, Clay. He can go home."

Something's strange about this. He's sounding so much like the young agent I knew that I'm believing him, against my better judgment. "Out of town?"

"Just a little job for State. I'll stop by when I get back, and you can tell me all about this. Wish I could hang around, but I doubt you two will be available."

I am not getting into that with him. Not now, maybe not ever.

"You knew you'd be leaving?" This is turning out to be very strange. "So why did you push this now?" We both know that I'm talking about Clark's plan for 'revenge' on Harm, which is looking more and more like nothing of the kind.

"Sorry I pushed you at him, but I just wanted you to be happy, Clay. That's all."

Crazy as it is, I believe him, again. Only for the moment, however. This is Clark Palmer and it's smart to be careful.

"Check your messages, Clay. I thought you'd want to know more about my whole deal, so I got it to you."

He's not reading my mind, he's being a good agent.

"All right. Thank you." It's hard to say those words.

"See you when I get back. Don't screw things up with the guy."

I hear him hang up. I am going to have a very long talk with Clark Palmer when he comes back. A talk about what he thinks he's doing. And he's going to tell me some kind of truth. I'll find a way to get to him. There has to be a way.

Harm comes out of the bathroom. "Did you find out anything about the bugs?"

I nod. "Your place will be fine by tonight."

I'm assuming Clark's telling the truth, but I want to do another sweep, see if there's any change in the readings. And I don't want Harm to know about that.

"So they were real."

"Yes." I wait for more. It's clearly coming.

"Damn Palmer," he mutters, before he starts frowning. I can actually *see* how the thoughts start moving in his mind, how he tosses them around, thinks them over, then puts them together and tosses them around some more before they fit into a puzzle and the realization of just what that puzzle means grabs him. His face turns ghostly white and I know exactly why, because I know what he's just remembered. I saw the tape of it. Much more seriously, I *heard* what he said on that tape. "You're sure he just put them in?" he says between clenched teeth.

I don't want to lie, but I can't tell him that it's all right because I have that tape. It might not be the only copy. And then I'd have to tell him *how* I got it, and I am not going to do that. I can't.

"I don't know." I'm not really lying. Not really.

His eyes narrow. "Find out." It's the voice he uses to order people around, but I'm not falling for it.

"I'll do what I can." He's going to have to settle for that. I hope he will.

He does accept that. "Well, no homemade pancakes then. I'll buy you breakfast somewhere. I know a couple of places that are open."

I begin to shake my head, to tell him that I've got to get back and get ready for a day of spy games, then realize how idiotic I'm being and change the shake into a nod.

He smiles. "Great. You going to shower now?"

"Sure."

I head into the bathroom. I make it a quick one, even though what I want is just to stand there in the hot water and think about everything that's happened. It looks like I'm going to be seeing more of Harmon Rabb. Very amazing.

He slants a look at me when I come out in a towel. "I'd like to make you dinner tonight. My good veggie burger recipe," he wheedles, and I laugh.

"I doubt that there is such a thing."

He laughs, too. "You'll be sorry you said that when you're on your second one. I'll never let you forget it." A nice thought.

I know that it's not going to be an intimate dinner. He's going to remember about Palmer, have a million questions, want an answer to every single one. I've seen how good a prosecutor he is, how good an interrogator. I'm going to have to have my story straight if I'm going to give him what he still needs, and I'm sure that I'm not going to be able to tell him the whole truth. That's the problem with talking about Company matters. There's always something that needs to be hidden, that someone who isn't of the Company just won't understand. I hope that Harm can accept that Palmer, for now, is a good guy, or at least someone who's acting like a good guy. I need him to accept that, just like I need him to accept me the way I am.

He takes another long look at me. "Is anything wrong?" I know he's talking about the phone call.

"No. Just something unexpected."

He nods and reaches for his clothes.

I stand there. I haven't lied to him. Not really. But I'm on dangerous ground, and I know it.

Clark Palmer has always been something unexpected. I just need to figure out how to make sure that he doesn't end up doing something so unexpected that it ruins everything that Harm and I have managed to fix. Even though I'm not really sure what we're going to do, I do know that this isn't going to be the last time I end up in the same bed as him.

A smile spreads over my face. If this works out, I'm going to have to find a way to thank Clark. How very strange.

"Hey, Clay. I'm starving. And I really don't want to have to pay for another night." His voice is teasing as he throws my shirt at me. "Get dressed."

I catch it and do what he wants. This is going to be an interesting relationship. Maybe even a beautiful friendship. I wonder if I'll ever get to be Bogart. I can't really see Harm as Claude Rains, though. And on that thought I start laughing so hard that Harm looks at me, then starts laughing too.

I might even tell him why, later.



The End