Together

by Gail

JAG

Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer

Rating: R

Clark and Clay talk about important and not-so-important stuff.

Part 2 of the Nadir series, which is a sequel series to the Eclipse series and the PWPs/Snapshots

Disclaimer: If I owned them, they'd have their own show, and it would have to be on HBO or Cinemax or Showtime, because there'd be a lot of sex. *g*

Spoilers: Webb of Lies (JAG), Musings of a Cigarette Smoking Man (the X-Files).

Beta'd by Scarlet and Elizabeth, both of whom are wonderful to take so much time to work on my stories. This was written for Isilzha, who wanted it posted, and so it shall be.

Together

by Gail

We've finished eating the peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches Clark made for lunch, and are sitting in the living room with our respective books when Clark tosses his on the floor and throws out his bomb.

"How long did you spend on that ship?"

For a moment I don't know what he's talking about and just look at him.

"When you were trying to keep that superconductor away from me," he adds very casually. "A couple of days, right?"

"Something like that," I say back just as casually as I get that he's talking about the room-temperature superconductor developed by a scientist funded by the DSD's Bradenhurst Corporation that I got into the country, along with the scientist. I don't want to talk about that time when I hid it and me on the Japanese freighter Kamiko Maru after the scientist was killed by another agent who was after it. "I thought I'd go to the grocery store after I finish this chapter. Why don't you come with me?" I'll let him decide what we eat for dinner. He likes doing that.

"No, Clay." His eyes are fixed on mine. "I want you to know what was going on with me then."

"It was a long time ago, Clark. It doesn't matter." It doesn't. He was a different person then. I know that he wouldn't shoot me now. We're on the same side.

"It matters to me. You're fucking a guy who was going to kill you once. That doesn't bother you?"

He has a way of going for the jugular. Maybe he should have been a lawyer, but I can't see him having that much patience for someone else making up their minds if he's won or not. "Not really."

He snorts. "You're an idiot, then. I have nightmares sometimes I shot you."

He grimaces then and looks down, and I know he doesn't want to talk about his nightmares, that he's regretting bringing them up, so I don't ask him more about that. This is hard for him, and I need to help.

"You didn't shoot me. Rabb shot you."

"Yeah, fucking Rabb," he mutters, and I can't help smiling. That's one person that will always get to Clark. I try not to use it against him. "He gets so lucky, Clay. I had him, every time, and then he just..." His hands go up helplessly.

"Gets out of it," I finish. "I know, Clark. But you're not after him any more, are you?"

"If he'd just sell some secrets to the Japanese, or something," he mutters, answering my question. He's still after Harm. I'm not surprised. Clark doesn't believe in forgiveness. He believes in revenge. "Why won't he play nice and let me shoot him?" Now he's looking at me hopefully. "You'd tell me if he did something like that, right?"

"I wouldn't tell you a thing," I say firmly. "You'd be out of here before I could talk to you about how we were going to handle it."

It's not likely to happen, but if it did, I'd want Clark to help me figure out what to do. He has good ideas. Of course, the first one in that case would be to kill Rabb. That would not be a good idea, no matter how happy it would make Clark to do so.

"Help him, you mean. Yeah, Rabb could shoot the president, and you'd be thinking about getting him off."

"No, Clark. If he shot the president, I'm sure the Secret Service would get him. And I would not try to get him off." Rabb would be on his own then, and it wouldn't matter what Chegwidden demanded, I'd stay out of that disaster.

His eyes get a dreamy look. "I don't suppose he'd be dumb enough to do that?"

"Rabb is a naval officer, Clark. He's not going to do that." This is an insane conversation, but at least we're not talking about that night on the Kamiko Maru.

"Mulder would," he says solemnly, and I scowl at him. He keeps bringing that show up at the damnedest times. "If he thought the president was on the side of the aliens. But then Mulder never shoots Cancerman, either. I think he's got a thing for him, Clay. That would explain a lot about that show."

I just look at him.

"You're not still pissed about Existence, are you?"

"It was a show. I overreacted. Of course I'm not pissed." I can't believe I got so upset about *television*.

"I think you identify with the X-Files." Clark is trying to get to me, I can tell. I keep quiet and let him talk. "Mulder reminds you of Rabb, and I remind you of Krycek. I'm a lot like him, don't you think? You can be Skinner. Yeah, I like that. You're Skinner. But then I should be Mulder, but I don't want to be."

I'm laughing. "You? Clark, you're more like Jeffrey Spender." I know that's out of the question, since he's dead, and in my opinion was never as smart as Clark, but I like saying it. It should get Clark going.

"No, no, I'm Krycek if I'm anyone," he says stubbornly, then changes subjects without warning. Who's playing whom here? "I wouldn't have killed you. Just a shot to get you down, to make you think next time about coming after me. I swear it."

I'm not laughing any more, and neither is he. "I believe you, but it doesn't matter."

"That's why they're not putting us in the field, you know. Because they don't trust me to watch your back. I got into some files, and it's pretty damned clear that I'm never getting out of Langley." He swallows. "Some fucking field agent I am. The whole DSD would laugh."

"You're not in the DSD any more." He has nightmares about them, but we don't talk about that. We will someday, when he's ready. I tried on New Year's Day, but it wasn't right for him. But he hasn't gotten rid of the idea that he has to make them proud, doesn't feel like he's part of the Company. "You're my partner."

"Yeah. I know. I want it that way. But shit, Clay, I'm supposed to be out there doing things. I'm not a fucking desk jockey."

I try to decide what to do. I could drag him off to bed, but then he'd think I was trying to avoid it. I don't want that now that I know how big this is. "Listen, Clark, I don't know what to say. The Company is a shit of a place to work."

"I never thought I'd hear you criticize them. Won't they take away your secret decoder ring?"

He recovers quickly, or pretends to. Probably the latter. "We'll switch to cereal for breakfast and get enough box tops to get a new one." He snorts at that, and I smile at his honesty. He never used to put down the CIA in front of me, and I'm glad he feels like he can now. I don't mind. "I know what it's like there. But don't let it get you down. You're doing fine, and in time, you'll feel like you belong there." I'm not sure that's true, but I'd like it to be.

"You don't." His eyes are angry. "Why the hell should I?"

"I do. Not all the time, but you can't expect that. It's not my whole life."

"It used to be. That, and Rabb."

"We are not going to talk about him again. He has nothing to do with this."

"Yeah? Prove it."

I can't prove it to his satisfaction. I know that. It's going to take time to convince him I'm not longing after Rabb. I'm not. I'm happy with Clark. "Clark, Rabb is getting married. He's happy."

"Rabb, happy?" He snorts again. "Come on, Clay. He won't be happy until - I don't know."

"What would make you happy, Clark?" Maybe that's the point right now. What does Clark need to be happy? Is it possible? Do I really want to know? Yes. If I know, I can deal with it.

He's quiet a moment. "I want to go back and kill Rabb, right then," he whispers. "I want to knock you out, take you somewhere safe, and never let you go. I want more time with you and no Leavenworth." I look in his eyes, haunted now. "I hated it there, Clay. I want that time back."

It is definitely time to hold him, and I do. "Clark, I can't give it to you. But I'm here now. It's all right that you tried to kill me then. I would have killed you. I told Rabb to kill you next time he saw you."

He laughs, and I hear the strain in it. "He didn't listen to you, did he?"

"I'm glad now he didn't." I feel him shake and hold him closer. " Clark, we're fine now. Stop hurting yourself."

"I'm not hurting me; it's these memories. They won't stop."

"In time they will." I damn every fucking idiot that hurt him, all the people I don't know who must have hurt him to turn him into what he used to be. I damn the DSD for existing, I damn myself for not fighting the DSD, for not fighting the Company. Then I realize I'm beating myself up over things I can't change and stop that. "Clark, we'll watch some TV."

He lifts his head at that, and I watch as he gets himself back under control.

"In the daytime? You sure you can handle that?"

I set him back against the couch and stand, then go around and close the curtains and the blinds. He knows I don't like television during the day, unless it's ZNN. But he needs something to distract him, and I need him to be better. "I'm flexible, Clark."

"I'm so fucking stupid." I turn around at that. "I don't know what the fuck's going on with me. I'll work it out."

"We'll work it out together." I think I just said the right thing, because it feels right, and he's giving me a look that's not too far away from a smile. "Together, Clark. That's how we do things now."

He takes a long breath and nods. "Yeah." At the blink of an eye, he looks like nothing happened. I'm sure he's not all right yet, but he's trying, and I'm not going to push him if he doesn't want to be pushed unless I have to. "I want to see that one about Cigarette Smoking Man again. Maybe I'll do some research into the conspiracy that killed JFK and RFK. I could be the one to find the Consortium."

"There is no Consortium, no conspiracy within the United States government..." I trail off when I see his grin. He's baiting me. "How about a new one about him?" I take out a tape. "I taped this for you."

"You taped the X-Files?" He's looking at it in disbelief. "What is the world coming to?"

I turn on the system and put the tape in. "As long as neither of us are working for Mr. Spender, I'm sure it'll be fine."

He laughs and moves closer to me. "Yeah, guess so. Thanks, Clay."

"You're welcome, Clark," I say very softly, and hope that the episode and whatever I'll end up saying about it help him. Help us.

I want there to keep being an us.

The End