AN: I started this right after A Tangled Webb aired, and the bulk of it was written before A Tangled Webb II aired. My goal was originally to get this out before the season started, but real life interfered. I wanted to fill in the blanks for some missing scenes, and then put my spin on how the whole thing would end. I’ll post one part a day until it’s done. Don’t worry, they’re long, and this story is kind of angsty. Far more than what I usually write. As always, thanks to my fabulous beta team.

“Landscape of Lies” by Peter Watson is a fantastic book. It’s kind of hard to find, but it’s a great mystery, and I highly recommend it. The song at the end “Turn Me On” is from Norah Jones’ fabulous album, Come Away With Me. I highly recommend that as well - I own it myself, and I am making no profit off the song.

Clayton Webb walks into JAG Ops for his 0730 meeting with Admiral AJ Chegwidden, hoping he won’t run into any of the lawyers, or at least not yet, anyway. The only one he *wants* to run into is Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, and, with any luck, he’ll be seeing her a lot over the next several days and, perhaps, weeks. Petty Officer Jason Tiner, who’s already at his post, ushers Clay into the Admiral’s office right away, then leaves to get coffee for both men.

“Good to see you back, Mr. Webb,” AJ says, surprised that he sort of actually means it. Even he has to admit that Clayton Webb did a good thing, leaking the Angel Shark tape.

“Thanks, Admiral, but I’m not exactly back permanently.” As soon as Clay addresses him by his rank and not with his first name, AJ gets a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. “That’s why I’m here, actually. I’m requesting that you assign Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie TAD to me for an undercover operation in Paraguay.” Clay waits for the questions he knows AJ’s going to start barking.

“Why do you need her? And I want *full* disclosure.”

“Here’s the situation. I’ve been undercover as an arms dealer, trying to get to Sadik Fahd, a known terrorist, through Raul Garcia, a known drug dealer. Garcia trades weapons, including his latest acquisition, to Fahd in exchange for cocaine.” Webb pauses for effect, annoying AJ. “In the recent past, Garcia’s essentially given Fahd 100 or so Stinger missiles, by giving him loads of parts. Fahd cobbled them together, although he’s missing some crucial pieces.”

“Stinger missiles? Shit. What pieces are missing?” AJ asks, concerned.

“Circuit boards that make them fly straight. Anyway, I’ve let Garcia know that I have what he needs. He’s got his own code of ethics, and, long story short, I ended up concocting a wife. A pregnant wife, actually,” Clay sort of runs that last part together.

“You want Mac to play your pregnant wife?” AJ asks incredulously.

“Um... Yes.”

“Why Mac?”

“She’s a Marine, a crack shot, she speaks Farsi, I trust her, and she’s not in the CIA. The pregnancy and diamond expertise I can handle from my end.” AJ gives him such a look that Clay realizes that he just implied he’d *actually* be impregnating the Lieutenant Colonel. “I mean, the CIA will give her what she needs for her cover. Plus I’m on a compressed time frame here, and she’s smart enough to learn and remember all of the information I’m going to be throwing at her.” Suddenly, Clay pictures himself, for about the tenth time already today, in bed with Sarah, in the throes of passion which could result in a baby. ‘Focus, Clay,’ he tells himself sternly.

“Webb,” AJ says in an irritated tone. “Surely there are women in the CIA who have these same skills.”

“There are leaks, AJ, and I don’t know exactly where they’re coming from. We’ve lost three agents this year in Paraguay. This is too important to take chances. I’m sure you’re familiar with Sadik Fahd and his penchant for U.S. military targets.” AJ nods. “He has a hundred Stingers, AJ. Plus, as an added bonus, we can take out Garcia. He’s a major drug lord, and the world would be better off without him, surely.”

“Well, I’ll spare her, *if* she agrees. What kind of time frame are we talking about?”

“I need her today.”

“Today! Webb!”

“AJ, I just got in myself. I’d prefer that we have more time to prep, but that’s one of the reasons I want *her.*” Clay’s almost pleading, but manages to keep himself in check. “I’ve got a meeting scheduled with Garcia already, on his timetable. I’d told him my wife’s a diamond expert, so he’s going to be paying me in diamonds. He’s been pressuring me as to where she was anyway, and when he insisted on making his payment in diamonds, it became necessary to find that wife.”

“Honestly, Webb¼” AJ decides not to finish the sentence. He knows full well that things happen when you’re undercover and you sometimes have to fly by the seat of your pants. “I assume you plan on bringing her back in one piece?”

“Of course I do,” Clay says with annoyance. “I’ll do everything I can to protect her, but I’m not going to lie to you; this is dangerous. I doubt it’s any consolation, but if she dies, I’m sure I’ll be dead, too.”

“That’s comforting,” AJ says sarcastically, but Clay knows the former Seal understands.

“Okay, then, let’s ask her.”

Clay gets up and walks over to stand by the window. He’s not sure how much proximity to Sarah he can handle just yet. It’s been months since he’s seen her, but he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her. He hopes she’ll be willing to go on this assignment with him. On the other hand, given Fahd’s involvement in the bombing of the Marine barracks in Lebanon, he’s almost certain she’ll go for it. ‘She really *is* the best choice. She can handle herself, speaks Farsi, is a great shot, is very smart, and she’s used to learning about things fast, so she should be able to process and remember all of the information I’ll be throwing at her. And she’ll back me up,’ he tells himself. ‘Obviously the best choice.’

Clay steels himself as Tiner announces Sarah into the office, looking casually out the window after catching a glimpse of her. She’s even more beautiful than he remembers. AJ and Clay give her the rundown on Fahd and Garcia, and, once she hears about Fahd’s terrorist background, Sarah’s immediately on board. It’s at that point that AJ explains that Clay needs a wife -- a pregnant wife.

Clay lets out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and gives her a brief rundown of what he’s been doing, and why he needs her. As AJ did, Sarah wonders why he’d tap her and not someone in the CIA. Instead of explaining why, Clay tells her he’s not at liberty to say. She doesn’t particularly like that answer, but she accepts it.

“There’s one glitch in your plan, though,” Sarah informs him. “I’m not pregnant.”

Clay can’t resist the opening she’s given him. “I can take care of that.” She narrows her eyes, but he can’t tell if she’s mad or not. Sarah can’t believe she left herself wide open for that remark, but she doesn’t laugh, as much as she’d like to. She’s in the Admiral’s office, after all. Plus, in all honesty, she’s a little bit apprehensive about this mission.

“Okay, then, when do we leave?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night! I have some things to finish up¼” Sarah’s worry ratchets up a notch. That’s not a lot of time to prepare, and she knows this is going to be very dangerous.

“I realize that, Colonel.” Clay’s careful to use her rank, although, in actuality, he can’t wait to start calling her Sarah. “When you’re done here, please, get together the things you want to take with you, then come here,” he hands her a piece of paper with an address and directions, “and we’ll go over our cover. I’ve tried to make it as simple as possible, in terms of details, but there’s still a lot to do. We’ll be spending tomorrow, starting early, at Langley. Since you’ll be pregnant, we’ll give you the clothes you need, and luggage, but go ahead and pack whatever you want for when you’re not wearing the pregnancy suit and whatever will, uh, go underneath it. I’ll be at that address in about two hours.”

“Okay. I’ll be as fast as I can. I gather this is one of those ‘as long as it takes’ operations?”

Clay nods. “Any other questions?”

Neither AJ nor Sarah speaks up. “I’ll be at this number until we leave,” he says to AJ, handing him a card. “See you later then,” he says to Sarah, heading for the door. Clay carefully looks around for Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., and, not seeing him, quickly makes his way to the elevator. While he waits, he takes a peek towards Harm’s office and notices he’s in there with someone. Clay breathes a sigh of relief. Harm is the *last* person he wants to see on this brief trip to DC. Although Clay realizes he made his own bed with the DCI by leaking the Angel Shark tape, he can’t forgive Harm for talking to him the way he did in front of the Memorial Wall. He’d always thought that he and Harm were friends, despite their constant bickering, and it’d truly been a slap in the face to realize that Harm cared so little about his feelings by saying the things he did. Clay’s well aware that Harm knows the story about Neville Webb’s disappearance in Vietnam, although it seems he conveniently forgot that fact.

Clay’s startled out of his reverie when the elevator doors open. Harriet Sims is standing there, and she says, “Mr. Webb!” in a voice that indicates she might actually be glad to see him.

“Lieutenant Sims, it’s good to¼ congratulations,” Clay says sincerely, noticing her pregnancy. “That’s really great. How’s Bud?”

Harriet’s a bit taken aback by this overt friendliness. “Bud’s doing great. He’s back to full duty now. You’d hardly notice he’s wearing a prosthesis.”

“I’m really glad to hear it. Well, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not in town for very long, and I have a ton of things to do¼” he trails off.

“So, you’re not back?” she asks.

“No, still working on that,” he says, as they switch places, Clay getting into the elevator, which is starting to protest the fact that its doors are still open.

“For what it’s worth, sir, your boss sucks,” Harriet says sincerely.

“Thanks, Harriet, and congratulations again on the baby.” She smiles at him, and Clay smiles back as the doors close.

Not for the first time, Harriet marvels at the enigma that is Clayton Webb. Sometimes he’s so brusque, but he was really¼ nice, just now. For his part, Clay’s feeling a little pang of jealousy at what he senses Bud and Harriet have together. He forces himself to push that aside and concentrate on all the things he needs to accomplish before tomorrow night. Although he’s looking forward to working with Sarah, he’s also wishing that he hadn’t opened his big mouth about a wife, in light of the timetable he has to work with. Of course, if he hadn’t opened his big mouth, he wouldn’t be about to spend a lot of time with Sarah MacKenzie, either.

On his way to Langley, he considers the pros and cons of giving Sarah full disclosure on the reason behind her involvement in the op. He’ll have to evaluate things over the next two days, to see how good her acting is. She’s so sincere that, if she knows about the leaks, she might be obvious. He sighs, knowing he’s making himself unnecessarily crazy, trying to make a decision without sufficient facts. Clay arrives at Langley, ensures that everything will be in place for Sarah tomorrow, and confirms with the Deputy DCI he’s working with that he’ll have the resources he’ll need in Paraguay. This particular DDCI has authorized Clay to work alone as much as he needs on this op, in light of the leaks. They go over Clay’s check-in schedule before Clay takes his leave.

While he’s on his way out, Clay laughs ruefully to himself as he realizes that the one thing he has going for him, as far as the Agency is concerned, is that he’s independently wealthy. This makes him pretty invulnerable to the temptation that money has given to other double agents. Clay’s almost positive that money was the prime motivator behind whoever’s the source of the leaks. And, although he enjoys playing the spy game, his motives for doing the job have more to do with the notion that it’s a dirty job keeping the world safe, but someone has to do it, rather than the game being the thing. He knows his superiors know this, and he plans to milk it for all its worth. This op has to be his ticket home, it just *has* to.

For her part, Sarah tries not to think about this operation and how dangerous it is; instead, she dives into the cases on her desk and prepares brief reports on each, then prioritizes the stack of files, placing the one with the earliest deadline on the top. She delivers them to the Admiral.

“Thank you, Colonel, I’ll get these redistributed. I think it’s probably best if you leave without telling anyone where you’re going.”

“In other words, don’t say goodbye?” She’s a little distressed by this.

“I’ll take care of an explanation. I’m sure you know how dangerous this is.” He pauses. “Listen, you make sure Webb is straight with you, although I have a sneaking suspicion he’s pretty much on his own with this one.” Sarah’s a little surprised by this, and she’s amazed that, if what the Admiral says is true, Webb would trust her with this op.

“I will, sir. I have every confidence we’ll get him, sir.”

“So do I. Dismissed.” Sarah comes to attention. “Be careful, Mac,” she hears as she walks out the door.

“I will, sir, thank you,” she says without turning around. Sarah collects her things from her office and takes off, not telling anyone where she’s going, or saying goodbye. She only feels mildly guilty for not saying anything to Harm. She’s still not sure what to even say to him; they haven’t spoken in some time, since before his arrest for Singer’s murder. She’d been sure he didn’t do it, but she’s never understood why he made himself look so guilty.

She can’t think about that now, though; it’s already been three hours since Webb left, and she’s got to run home and change, and gather together the things she’s going to want for the trip. She’s really glad she set up automatic bill pay after she got back from the Guadalcanal; there’s no telling how long she’ll be gone this time.

After Sarah changes clothes and gets her things together, she looks at the paper Webb gave her. At the same time, she realizes she needs to start calling him by his first name. She doesn’t really know why she hasn’t, up until now. He’s always been just “Webb” to her. She admits to herself that at least part of it’s been to keep a professional distance with him; he has a way of disconcerting her. She can’t figure him out. He pretends to be ruthless and not care about anybody, but his actions have always belied his words, so she knows that’s not true. Otherwise, why would he have risked his own life to get Sergei out of Chechnya? And he saved her life, too. There was no mistaking the relief she saw in his eyes when it was all over at the Darya Bulkh Camp. Plus, if he really was that ruthless and uncaring, he never would’ve leaked that tape. That was the action of a pretty caring person, willing to put other people’s interests before his own. He must lead a lonely existence, she suddenly realizes, and she feels really bad for not acknowledging, to him, the sacrifice he made so those families could get some closure. Maybe she can get a few more clues to the puzzle that is Clayton Webb on this journey. Strangely enough, she’s looking forward to that.

Sarah realizes she’s been staring at the paper he gave her without really seeing it. He appears to be directing her to a house, and it’s pretty far from her apartment. Sarah’s suddenly not sure if she’s going to be able to come back home, that they might well be up all night, so she throws a few additional items of clothing into her bag, just in case. She flips the air off, makes sure everything else that can be turned off is off, and locks the door. She makes a call to the landlord on her way to the car, to let her know she’ll be away, and to contact her office if there are any problems. Sarah makes her way out of the District and into Virginia, following the directions closely. She finds herself getting into a very ritzy area, and, when she pulls up in front of the house Clay’s directed her to, she sees his car in the driveway. Harm said he was rich, but she had no idea. The Tudor-style house is *huge.* Sarah suddenly realizes it’s probably his mother’s. Leaving her bag in the car, she makes her way to the front door.

The door almost immediately opens, surprising her, and she hears Clay yelling, “Coming” from someplace. He’s moving fast, and stops dead.

“James, I didn’t realize you were here,” he smiles.

“I just got back. It’s good to see you.” Sarah’s stunned to see them hug each other.

“You too. I’m sorry, Sarah, come in. This is James Threadgood.”

Sarah shakes his hand, and he asks if he can get them some drinks. Sarah had assumed James was Clay’s stepfather, or something like that, but now she’s not so sure. She decides it’s better not to ask, although she does request coffee.

“Coffee would be great, please,” Clay says. Sarah finally notices that Clay’s changed clothes, too, into worn khakis and a t-shirt that reads ‘Maladjusted.’ She almost laughs at the sentiment, but stops herself. Clay motions for her to follow him, and she realizes from the back of the shirt, that it’s a concert t-shirt for Morrissey. She can’t believe he likes Morrissey, and that he’d been to a concert recently, because Sarah’s familiar with the album, and it’s his most recent, if her memory serves. As she walks, she notices his feet are bare. Clay purposely dressed this way, both to be comfortable, but also to gauge her reaction. The choice of t-shirt was sort of test, too, to see if she was familiar with one of his favorites, although it’s one he’s had to force himself not to listen to lately, it only makes him more depressed. As Clay leads Sarah through the house, he says, “Sorry to make you come all the way out here. It’s my mother’s place, and I hope you understand if I spend some time with her while we get our cover together.”

“No, that’s quite all right. How long have you been back?”

“I got in yesterday.”

“That doesn’t leave you any time at all,” she says sympathetically. “So, are you staying here?”

“No, it doesn’t, and, yes, I’m staying here. I sublet my place to someone at work, an old family friend fresh off the Farm.” They reach their goal, a large family room, with papers spread all over the large coffee table. The room is very elegantly appointed, yet comfortable looking at the same time. There are oversized pillows on the floor in addition to a large, oversized couch and a couple of large chairs with ottomans.

“So, you grew up here?” Sarah’s suddenly really curious. She’s tempted to ask to see his room, but she holds her tongue. She’s noticed he doesn’t particularly like to be the focus of attention.

“Yeah.” Clay motions for her to sit down.

“This house is huge,” Sarah says appreciatively, but also trying to get him to open up a little. ‘Yeah,’ while responsive, wasn’t a complete enough answer for her.

“I know. I mean, I know why Mother stays, but it’s so big for just her. And James. Two people on opposite ends of this enormous house, but I’d probably be really upset if she sold it.” Clay’s suddenly a little uncomfortable with the conversation, although this gives Sarah a little insight into him. “Not to change to the subject, or anything, but we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah. Okay, so, what do I need to know about our marriage?” They stop talking as James brings in the coffee, along with some snacks.

Clay gives her the details, which are actually remarkably few, all things considered. When Sarah asks about this, he says, “I always knew I might have to actually produce this wife, and I deliberately kept the details fairly minimal. I’m glad I did, because we don’t have much time for you to learn an elaborate backstory. Okay, it’s time to review.” Clay begins grilling Sarah on the pertinent details, when they were married, how long they dated, how they met, and some questions about her pregnancy. She feels like she’s back in the first year of law school, the way he’s drilling her with questions, except far more is riding on it this time. Sarah gets frustrated when she can’t remember, but Clay gives her gentle reminders. In that respect, she muses, it’s not unlike law school. Finally, she manages to remember it all.

“Okay, now we need to think about things a couple would know about each other, in case it comes up. So, tell me about our wedding.” Although, on one level, Clay knows he’s right about this, he’s also anxious to know more about Sarah, and he figures knowing these kinds of details will be a subtle way to do it. He doesn’t realize that Sarah’s just as curious to get to know him a little better. She tells him they eloped, which surprises him.

“So, where did you take me on our honeymoon?” She discovers that Clay seems to like beaches.

They’re interrupted by Porter Webb at about 1830.

“Clayton¼” she says expectantly. Clay stands, and Sarah follows suit.

“Mother, this is Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie. Sarah, this is my mother, Porter Webb.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Webb.”

“Please, call me Porter. And I’m happy to meet you, Sarah. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Would either of you like a drink?”

“No, thank you,” they say in unison.

They follow Porter back to the kitchen, and Sarah sort of hangs back so that Porter and Clay can talk, although she answers questions when asked, occasionally venturing a comment or two. For her part, Porter’s trying to figure out what’s going on. She knows that this meeting, and Clay being home, is work-related, but she’s also picked up on the fact that Sarah is in the military, since Clay used her rank in the introduction. She’s figured out that he’s doing something undercover, but she can’t imagine why he would choose to work with a partner who’s not part of the CIA. The fact that he’s not makes her worry, but she also wonders whether he might have had ulterior motives. Sarah’s a beautiful, intelligent woman and, from what Porter can tell, would probably make a great match for her son; far better than some of the women he’s dated. Clay, however, is being his enigmatic self, and Porter can’t tell whether he’s interested in Sarah.

When dinner’s over, they chat a little while longer, until Clay reluctantly tells his mother they need to get back to work. He leads Sarah into a different room, and starts quizzing her about their cover story. This time, Sarah remembers all the answers, and, breathing an internal sigh of relief, he tells her she’s a quick learner. After that, they test each other on the information they’d shared before, on favorite books, movies, music, etc. Clay teases Sarah when she confesses that her first concert was Culture Club, although she doesn’t tell him she snuck in. She threatens to start calling him “Fred” when he tells her he’s a closet fan of ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s.’ Although neither had particularly thought about it earlier in the evening, they have a fair amount in common, and they’re becoming increasingly comfortable with each other.

At about midnight, Clay says, “You’ve got a lot more information you’ll need to digest tomorrow. Let’s call it a night.”

“Okay,” Sarah yawns.

“We’ve got plenty of room here, if you want to stay.”

“That’d be great, thanks. I actually wasn’t sure if I’d get home or not; I have all my stuff in the car.” At his look of surprise, she smiles, “They teach us to always be prepared. The Marines, I mean. Don’t they teach you to prepare for contingencies at the Farm?”

“What Farm?” he smirks, making her laugh.

“The Farm you mentioned earlier,” she shoots back.

“Touché. They do, in fact, but this time you were thinking further ahead than I was. If you give me your keys, I’ll go get your bag.” She hands them over with a twinkle in her eye, knowing she’d gotten the better of him, this time.

After coming back inside, Clay leads Sarah up to one of the guest rooms. They silently make the bed, then say a cordial good night. Sarah falls into bed and sleeps like the dead. Down the hall, Clay stays awake, trying not to think about Sarah. He finally falls into a fitful sleep and dreams of her, awaking the next day feeling distinctly un-refreshed.

After asking Sarah if she’ll drive, Clay sends her outside so he can say goodbye to his mother in private

“We’re leaving tonight, so I should say goodbye now,” he starts.

“Clayton, what’s going on?”

“You know I can’t tell you. I’m going back to South America to try and catch a bad guy. Two bad guys.”

“Why are you taking Sarah? She’s not CIA.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why her? You’ve talked about her before.”

Clay ignores the question. “Mother, you know I can’t talk about it. I’ll call you when I can, and you know the drill if something happens.” She blanches. “If it does, I’ll get word to you the usual way.”

“Clayton, I really wish you’d give up field work.” He opens his mouth, and she raises her hand. “I know, I know why you do it, but I’m your mother.”

“Sarah’ll have my back, and I’ll have hers. It’ll be fine. I love you.” Clay pulls her into a big hug.

“Look both ways before you cross the street.” That’s always been her code to tell him she loves him and to be careful to. She kisses him on the cheek and lets him go.

The first order of business at Langley is to get Sarah outfitted with a pregnancy suit. While Rosa’s working with Sarah behind a privacy screen, Clay begins to fill her in on the background for the mission. He tells her how he made contact with Raul Garcia, about the Stingers, and the plan for the exchange of Stinger parts for diamonds, and that Garcia will exchange the parts for cocaine. Clay walks around the room as he speaks, but his eyes are constantly drawn back to the screen behind which Sarah is silhouetted.

Sarah had been feeling fairly comfortable with Clay yesterday, so much so that she teases him when he tells her the Stingers need the circuit boards to fly straight.

“Always an advantage, with a missile or a man.” Although she can’t see it, Clay smiles at the joke, both in appreciation for her wit, and because she’d say something so suggestive to him.

“The upgrade package leads us to Sadik. First, we get the Stingers back; then we eliminate both Raul Garcia and Sadik Fahd. Simple in concept, difficult in execution.”

“I feel like the Goodyear blimp,” Sarah says, coming out from behind the screen. She turns to Rosa, thanking her in Farsi.

“Thank you, Rosa,” Clay says, somewhat abruptly, sending her away. He then thanks Sarah for, theoretically, getting them both killed. At her confusion, he clarifies that he wants her to listen but not respond, and she takes the point. There’s no need to tell her twice. Clay then shows her the diamond necklace, assuring Sarah the stones are real. Her eyes get wide when she realizes that she, Sarah MacKenzie, who grew up wearing secondhand clothes because her father spent all the family’s money on alcohol, is going to be wearing such a necklace. She wonders if she can pull off acting like it’s natural for her to be wearing such an expensive piece of jewelry.

“They ought to be, dragging your pregnant wife through the jungle, it’s the least you can do,” she jokes, covering her sudden anxiety.

Clay puts the necklace on her, the proximity with her affecting the ability of his fingers to function. It takes him far longer than it should to get it fastened, but he manages, then touches her bare arm to turn her around. He stops himself from looking into her eyes, afraid of what he might see there, or what he might inadvertently reveal to her. Sarah thinks that it won’t be too bad playing Clay’s wife. He has nice, soft hands, and she’s never worn anything as nice as this necklace. In fact, never in her wildest dreams did she ever think she’d ever know someone who’d think to give her something even one-tenth this nice, even if they are just pretending. She quickly snaps her focus to the man telling her about the stones and settings in the necklace.

Clay tells her to remember the details as if her life depended on it, because, of course, it does. She asks him why they’re trading in diamonds, and he and the CIA expert both answer her. Sarah listens intently.

During the course of the discussion, both Sarah and Clay become aware that he’s saying her name a lot, far more than he probably needs to. He likes being able to call her Sarah, and she finds she really doesn’t mind. The diamond expert pulls out an enormous solitaire diamond ring, demanding her concentration, and explains about the stone.

Clay takes it from the man, and, taking Sarah’s hand, solemnly says, “With this ring, I thee wed.” He meant to say it as a joke, but it comes out mostly serious. ‘Stop this,’ he tells himself, knowing he needs to stop focusing on the fantasy he’s been building all those months in exile, first in Paramaribo, then Tierra del Fuego.

“You do know how to treat a girl,” Sarah says mildly, before Clay takes her elbow and leads her over to have her picture taken for her new identification.

“Diamonds are like people, Colonel. Very often, the imperfections are hidden,” the CIA expert says, then starts pelting her with information about diamonds and the diamond trade, as her photographs are taken.

“Could we take a brief break?” Sarah asks, after about twenty minutes. She has to use the bathroom, but, more importantly, she needs a minute or two of silence.

“Of course,” Clay says. “Before I forget, if anyone asks why you’re wearing the same thing in your passport photo and driver’s license, tell them you had it all done the same day, after the wedding, when you changed your name.”

“Oh, so now you’re assuming I’d take your name.”

“It’s *my* cover story, I can do what I want,” Clay says, smiling.

Laughing, Sarah heads off to the restroom, after asking if it would be possible to get a cup of coffee.

When she comes back into the room, Clay’s not there, but the diamond expert calls her over and begins “Diamonds 101: The Short Version.” He shows her different stones, explaining the difference between color, cut, clarity, and everything she’ll need to know. Clay brings her coffee, then leaves her alone with the expert again. Sarah concentrates really hard on what she’s being told, and she’s incredibly grateful when they finally break for lunch. Clay had come back for her, seemingly by magic, and they spend their lunch with him quizzing her on their cover as man and wife, until she begs him for a few minutes of silence.

Clay manages to keep his mouth shut for five minutes and five seconds, before he asks, “Do you need to go by your apartment before we leave tonight? They’re putting us on a private plane out of National.”

“No, but I do have something I need to do in the District.” At his puzzled look, she explains, “I have to stop by Harm’s. I haven’t spoken to him in a long time.” Clay’s eyebrows seem to shoot up into his hair. “It’s a long story why, but it won’t take long. I’d be happy to take you to the airport,” she answers his unspoken question, “if you don’t mind waiting in the car for a few minutes.” She means no offense, and she’s happy to drive him, but he can’t come up to Harm’s with her.

Clay’s heart sinks. He feels both physically ill at the idea of what her goodbye to Harm might mean and intense curiosity at why they haven’t spoken in a while. He’s well aware that he’s constructed quite the little fantasy world for himself over the past few months, but he’d gotten the distinct impression, during the few times he’d seen Sarah and Harm in Afghanistan, that they weren’t together and were really no longer all that interested in each other romantically. He’s about to have another stern lecture with himself about Sarah MacKenzie, when he realizes she’s waiting for an answer. He’s not that enthused about the idea of waiting in her car outside Harm’s apartment, but it’d be far easier to go with her, from a logistical standpoint.

“No, I don’t mind. It’d be better if I didn’t have to get driven there by someone here. I’m sure my former assistant would do it, but it’s kind of a lot to ask. It’s late, and she’s got kids at home.”

“Clay,” Sarah says gently, “it’s not a problem for me. It won’t take long at Harm’s.” The diamond expert comes looking for her. “Like I said, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it on the plane. I have to go learn more about diamonds now.” Clay looks so forlorn, but it just lasts a few seconds before the mask falls back into place. She’s not sure what the look on his face was all about, but, somehow, she feels kind of bad leaving him right then.

She spends the rest of her time at the CIA with diamonds, ending with a test. She passes with flying colors, and the diamond expert hands her a little kit that she’ll need to examine stones, as well as a thick book called “Diamonds from A to Z,” telling her good luck. Sarah had been concentrating so hard, that she starts when she turns and sees Clay standing behind her.

“It’s time,” he says. Clay has additional luggage, and it takes a few minutes to get it all situated in the trunk of Sarah’s Corvette. Soon enough, she’s speeding off into the city. It’s a little out of the way to go to Harm’s place, but he’s not that far off the highway. As they get close, Clay regrets telling her that he’d catch a ride with her. On the other hand, he’s getting more and more curious to know the story, because she seems a bit on edge about her visit. Unless it’s the mission. He doesn’t really think so, though, because her nervousness, or edginess, or whatever it is, increases the closer they get to Harm’s apartment. That’s not a reaction he’s ever really known her to have around Harm, and, as they pass Union Station, his dread turns almost entirely into curiosity, despite his own nervousness. He’s a spy after all, and loves a good puzzle.

She parks the car outside of Harm’s building. “I promise I won’t be long,” Sarah says. She gives big sigh, and leaves Clay in the car. Sarah is, indeed, nervous, and very on edge. She hasn’t seen Harm since he got arrested, both because she needed to stay out of the situation, in light of her status as a witness, but also because she couldn’t comprehend his behavior. He’d been behaving as if he wanted to get arrested. Plus, when she found out that he’d been investigating the father of Loren Singer’s baby behind her back, and enlisting Tracy Manetti’s help in doing so, she was a little pissed off. Sarah thinks back to Bud’s accident, and realizes she’s spent the majority of the time from then up until now upset at Harm. He’d seemed troubled before they knew Singer was murdered, but he’d stopped talking to her about things long before that, even though they’re supposed to be best friends. And he’d said and done some incredibly hurtful things.

She needs to do this, try to make some peace with him. She knows that this mission is incredibly dangerous, but she believes she can help, and she’s starting to sense that Clay really needs her to be there. She’s not quite sure what’s going on, but she knows she needs to be there 100%, and, to do that, she’s got to talk to Harm.

She hears his guitar through the door, and, hesitating for a second, wondering whether he has a guest, she knocks. She hears the music getting a little closer, before it stops and the door opens. Suddenly realizing she’s still wearing her pregnancy padding, Sarah gets a bit of a wicked smile on her face. She does like messing with Harm.

“Are you entertaining?” she asks.

“I’m just entertaining myself.” Sarah walks over to the kitchen island and removes her coat. Harm immediately concludes she’s pregnant, then seems to think better of it, reaching out tentatively to touch her stomach. Although she’d been smiling, she suddenly turns serious.

“I’m going away.”

“Where?” Harm asks.

“Can’t say.”

“For how long?”

“Don’t know.”

“This has Webb written all over it,” Harm says testily.

He asks if it’s dangerous, and, having no intention of lying to him, she tells him it is. “Very.”

“I needed to know that you were okay. You’ve been through a lot lately,” she says.

“I don’t want you to go, Mac,” he says. Sarah realizes that Clay hasn’t had any problem using her first name the past few days, or she his, and, unwittingly it helped to drop some of the walls they both have. Not that they’re gone, not by any stretch of the imagination. But, even now, Harm can’t call her by her name. Although, the fact that he doesn’t want her to go has very little to do with her being in danger, she thinks. Rather, he’s decided he doesn’t want to be alone, and she happened to knock on the door tonight. Something suddenly clicks.

“Why is it that you’re only like this when I have one foot out the door? Your interest always fades when I might actually be in a position to return it,” Sarah says, very matter-of-factly, as she dons her coat. Having said this to his face, she can really let go of the last tiny vestiges of romantic feelings she still had left. She really did come by to make sure he was okay, but, in reality, this visit has served to let her know that *she* is. Harm seems to sense something slipping away.

“Mac¼” he says, when she’s halfway into the hallway. She just looks at him, and, when he doesn’t say anything else, she shuts the door gently, after almost physically restraining herself from shaking her head at his utter predictability. She feels sorry for him; he’s going to end up old and alone, with no idea why. With a lighter step, Sarah hurries back outside, and takes off for the airport. The ride is silent, though, except for the softly playing radio, because both she and Clay are lost in thought.

Sarah’s feeling empowered, but Clay’s not feeling all that sure of himself, or his motives. He’s asked Sarah to take a huge risk for him, and, while he knows how capable she is, he’s wondering if he did the right thing. Ultimately, he thinks he probably did, because he just wouldn’t be able to trust anyone else in this situation, particularly with the Company leaking like a sieve in South America. The lack of trust on his part might well show, which could blow the cover, putting everyone in danger. He hasn’t told her anything about the leaks, and he still hasn’t quite decided whether he should. He may change his mind, but he’s not certain enough of her acting skills to know whether he should trust her with the information.

They finally speak again when she asks where to put the car. He directs her to a private parking area in a hangar in the “General Aviation” wing of the airport. The General Aviation wing is, of course, reserved for VIP private flights and law enforcement. There’s a few minutes to wait, and they end up in a lounge. Clay excuses himself to go change clothes.

“Williams doesn’t really wear three piece suits,” he explains. He pulls out the first two things in the bag, happy that they match so he doesn’t have to dig deeper. He’s not sure he has the energy to unpack then repack; he’s suddenly really, really tired. And hungry. Dinner wasn’t something he’d thought about. Sarah’s not where he left her, so he asks whether there’s any food on the plane. “Only breakfast stuff,” he’s told. He determines that there’s time to get something from the main terminal. He knocks on the women’s bathroom, and when Sarah responds, he tells her he’ll be back in a bit. Sarah hopes Clay is going in search of food. She suspects he may be, realizing he must be as hungry as she is. Unless not eating is part of spy training, she laughs to herself.

Clay comes back with California Pizza Kitchen, making Sarah’s eyes light up. The pilot and co-pilot walk up into the area just as they’re sitting down to open up the pizza boxes, so they close them up and walk out to the plane. It turns out they have the plane to themselves, and, once they’ve eaten dinner, they sit back, facing each other. Both are happy to be able to speak freely.

“So, do you want the long story about Harm I mentioned earlier?”

“Sure,” Clay says. He’s in that place where he’s a little too full and just tired enough for his eyelids to be getting really heavy.

“Okay, but brace yourself. Well, maybe not. I don’t think you know any of this, but if you do, just stop me.” Clay nods, letting his eyes close. “Well, uh, Harm was on trial for murdering Loren Singer and her unborn child.”

Clay’s eyes fly open. “Excuse me? Loren Singer was pregnant? And now she’s dead? And they thought Harm did it? Obviously, he didn’t. Who did? He wasn’t the father, was he?”

Sarah can’t help but laugh at his rapid-fire questions. She doesn’t know if she’s ever seen him surprised by anything. “Yes, she was pregnant, and she is dead. They thought Harm did it, but then it became clear that he’d been set up by Commander Ted Lindsey. And, no, Harm’s not the father. Neither’s Lindsey. Harm’s brother was a candidate too, but we don’t know who it was. Although, at this point, it doesn’t really matter. Whoever he is, he either didn’t know, or he didn’t care enough to figure out what happened to her. No one even reported her missing.” Clay’s still staring at her in disbelief. Sarah laughs again. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you speechless. I need to write this down somewhere. Mark the occasion.”

“Ted Lindsey, the SecNav’s minion?” he finally says.

Sarah laughs at the description. “Yes. It seems he and Loren had been having an affair since the Christmas before last, when you brought Sergei back. She may’ve leaked him a bunch of information about our office, actually, for this nasty report he wrote, trying to break up JAG HQ and ruin everyone’s career. Anyway, it seems she tried to blackmail him over the baby, which wasn’t even his, although she may not have known that. The day she died, they apparently met in Rock Creek Park over the falls, in the ice and snow; why, no one knows. It seems she slipped and hit her head and got knocked out. So, Lindsey did the gentlemanly thing and helped her over the side.”

“She drowned?” Clay can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Yep. Then the river froze, and her with it. She ended up lodged in a tree, where some poor Boy Scout found her, during an archery trip. He was looking for his arrow, which had hit the body. That poor kid. It was apparently pretty bad, the crows¼ Anyway, they identified her with DNA and dental records. It was kind of sad, actually, since, like I said, no one even noticed she was gone.”

“So, how does Harm¼ Wait. Did you say Sergei was a potential candidate for the father?”

“I don’t know *what* Sergei was thinking. But, yes, he slept with her. So he says. He had some fascination with her. I think it was her hair.”

“He’s a Rabb, all right,” Clay says, making Sarah burst into laughter again. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know the woman, except by reputation. I know what she looks like, but I never got introduced.”

“Well, Sergei apparently said it was a one night thing, and she struck him as the type to juggle more than one guy. Apparently, there were at least three.”

“So, how did Harm get mixed up in all of this? I gather he wasn’t involved with her?”

“He apparently suspected that Sergei was the father. Let me back up¼ Singer was pregnant when she got stationed on the Seahawk, but I don’t think she knew it then. The captain found out, and, around the same time, she had recommended court-martialing, like, half the flight crew after a mishap. So Harm got sent out to investigate the mishap, and the Admiral sent me there to investigate her. Harm suspected that Sergei was the father, and started investigating her, too. Of course, I didn’t find this out until he was arrested.

“In any event, no one on the ship would claim to be even remotely interested in her, much less being the father. Although I didn’t know it at the time, Harm was apparently convinced Sergei was the father. It turns out he was kind of harassing her about it when they were both back at JAG, grabbing her in the bullpen. Petty Officer Jen Coates overheard him yelling at her at a restaurant. He was definitely inserting himself into her life.

“When NCIS was investigating, Harm was just acting really suspiciously, and they found a cover washed up in the riverbed and traced it back to him, although it turns out Lindsey had switched with him and planted it. They figured out it hadn’t been there long enough to have gone in the water with her. But, Harm was acting *so* guilty. And we were all witnesses, so we had to stay away from him. Although, he hadn’t contacted me at all, or even tried. Anyone else, either, as far as I can tell. He’s damn lucky something was niggling at the NCIS guy, or he’d have been convicted. For someone so smart about the law, he was acting like the biggest dumbass. He’s been acting odd since Bud’s accident, actually. I think it’s a midlife crisis.”

“I can believe the thing about the midlife crisis – I was hoping to be around to watch it, though,” Clay laughs. “But a murder accusation. What was he thinking?”

“I think he felt like he needed to protect her privacy or something. Why, I don’t know. He really didn’t like her, but maybe he felt guilty. Whatever it was, I’m sure it was more about him than about her.”

“Yeah, it’s always all about him. Nothing matters but his opinion, his pain, his needs, his wants, or those of his client or whoever else he’s transferring to at the time.” Sarah looks at him in shock. “I’m sorry,” he says immediately. All that just kind of slipped out.

“No, don’t be. After what he did with the Angel Shark, you should be upset. He told me about his little speech to you in the lobby at Langley. He was so smug, like he’d scored this huge point with you, made you understand. I just stared at him. Your father’s on the wall, right?”

“Yeah,” Clay says softly, then ends the conversation, although he’s dying to ask her about her true feelings about Harm. Thinking about Harm makes him think about the Angel Shark; the two things are inextricably linked in his mind. He’d spent a lot of time angry, when he first got to Paramaribo, blaming Harm instead of himself. His attitude got him further exiled, and he realized he needed to get over it enough to do his job. With the Angel Shark, the choice had been his to make, and he’d decided to give the families closure. Harm’s little talk had nothing to do with it, although Harm certainly thought it did. His “exile” doesn’t make him angry at Harm anymore. What does upset him, though, are all the times he’d gone out of his way for Harm, when Harm just didn’t care enough about him to remember such an important detail about his life. He feels like a total fool, actually, where Harm’s concerned.

When Clay speaks again, he turns the conversation back to the case, and they quiz each other about their cover, and he asks her about diamonds. They talk some more about books, movies, and music, after that. They find they have more and more in common, as well as rather eclectic tastes. Sarah confesses that she reads multiple books at a time, and he doesn’t laugh at her.

They chat comfortably until they land in Ciudad del Este, both relieved it’s possible for them to have a conversation about things other than work, and feeling much more confident that they can successfully play a married couple.

They’re met at the airport by a driver named Alvaro, and Clay points out various sights to Sarah on the way to the hotel, trying to keep her from talking too much. He’s been working with Alvaro, but, although, Clay’s very suspicious of him, he’s said nothing to Sarah. He doesn’t want her to start acting strangely. They finally get into the hotel room, both exhausted, and Clay’s suspicions about Alvaro are heightened even more when Alvaro calls him Webb instead of Williams. Clay reminds him, and he’s taken a bit by surprise when Alvaro also makes a point of addressing Sarah. He can’t tell if Alvaro’s trying to get a reaction out of her, or what. She says nothing, though, which is a good sign, from Clay’s point of view.

As soon as Alvaro’s gone, Clay draws the drapes and checks for the weapons Alvaro was supposed to have hidden. He’s relieved that they’re in place, although he checks the clips to be sure. Sarah grabs their suitcases and hoists them on the bed.

“Keep in mind your condition, *darling,*” Clay says.

“Yes, how could I forget. Why did you make up a story like this?” she asks. She’s been curious, because it does seem like a fairly odd cover story, under the circumstances.

He explains that he needed to explain his wife’s absence, and then he realized it made him look better to Garcia. Clay goes on to give her his opinion that people in South America seem to find children more special than in America, that they don’t put their kids straight into day care, practically from the moment of their birth. It wasn’t his intent to sound sexist, although he immediately realizes it might have come off that way. He doesn’t know about Sarah, but he’s seen too many people have kids because they liked the thought of having them, only to refuse to sacrifice any of their lives to those same children.

“You ever want kids?” he asks Sarah, covering a little bit.

“Funny time to ask,” she jokes. Then turning serious, she starts putting clothes away and says, “You have to find the right man. Right time and place.”

“Well, you have the right man don’t you?” Clay decides there’s no time like the present to find this out. He can’t take not knowing any more.

“You really believe that?” Sarah’s a little curious about what he thinks.

“Rabb wouldn’t be my choice. He’s too oblivious. But you do need someone who can stand up to you.”

“There’s a difference between stand up to and run right over the top of.” Clay’s surprised at her answer, and Sarah’s surprised herself by being so blunt, but there’s no reason not to be straight with Clay. He probably understands, better than anyone else, about Harm. Of all the people she knows that also know Harm, there’s no one she can really have a frank conversation with. He’s everyone’s hero. But there are times she just needs to vent to someone who understands.

“You shouldn’t have any trouble drawing the line,” he says.

“Really? How much luck have you had with Harm?” Sarah starts to brush her teeth. “And why all the relationship advice? I don’t see any women in your life,” she challenges. She walks back out into the room and stands near the bed.

“Except you.” Clay gets up and walks towards her.

“I’m just a rental,” she teases. She didn’t mean it to come out quite that flirty, but she’s kind of liking that they can talk to each other this way. Harm doesn’t seem to get her jokes, most of the time.

“I’ve had my share of women,” he informs her, walking into her personal space. He’s not boasting, she knows it’s a fact. She also knows none of those relationships have worked out.

“Yeah, I counted three when Harm and I were in Australia. They were all taller than you, and their bust size was larger than their IQ.” He can’t help but smile at her pronouncement. She’s right, although, he was actually working. That didn’t mean he couldn’t take advantage of a situation, if it arose. Sarah notices that he has dimples, and wonders why she’s never noticed that before. “Are you close to *anyone,* Webb?” she asks, mouth full of toothpaste.

“My mother,” he retorts.

“Just what every girl wants to hear,” she teases, then goes into the bathroom to spit.

Clay senses danger with this line of conversation, and, unashamedly looking into her suitcase, notices the book about diamonds. So he changes the subject by telling her he hopes she knows her stuff tomorrow. Sarah walks out of the bathroom and starts fumbling with the necklace. Clay tells her he’ll do it, and she walks over to him, presenting him with her neck. This gives him a chance to touch her again, albeit briefly, although he has to squelch the urge to kiss that spot where her neck meets her shoulders.

“You look good with half a million dollars hanging around your neck,” he says softly. Sarah takes the necklace and puts it in her bag, then looks at Clay.

“Would you mind turning around?” she asks sweetly.

“Yes,” he challenges.

“Suit yourself,” she says, ripping her shirt over her head. Shocked, he smiles, turning quickly, although he really wouldn’t mind seeing her in her bra. He could live without the pregnancy suit, but still¼

“Which side do you want?” he asks, changing the subject.

“Of what?”

“The bed.”

“The one that you’re not in,” she says, trying to be funny, but he feels like she just stabbed him. She grabs something out of her suitcase and closes the bathroom door. Clay starts to put his clothes away, and he hears the shower go on.

He decides that he’ll sleep on his normal side of the bed, and she can just deal with it if she doesn’t like it. And he’s going to wear what he normally wears to bed: underwear. Clay’s always worked out a lot, but he knows he’s very toned at the moment because he’s had a lot of spare time down here in South America, which he’s filled up with playing various sports. Clay’s one of those men who doesn’t watch much sports on television, because he prefers doing to watching. He’s been playing a lot, lately, particularly soccer. If she wants to play games with him, he can play, too.

He quickly gets his things put away, then strips down, finds his book, and crawls into bed to read, pushing her suitcase over onto her side. He hopes he’ll be able to sleep, what with Sarah in the same bed, but, before that becomes a major concern, he needs her to get out of the bathroom so he can brush his teeth and wash his face.

While Sarah’s in the shower, she thinks back on their conversation and laughs to herself. She finds it strange that she’d have that kind of sexually charged banter going on with Clayton Webb. It was fun, though, she muses. She’d forgotten that male/female interaction can be light and funny. Sarah likes Clay’s sense of humor – she doesn’t have enough humor in her life, either. She regrets that her last comment was so snarky, but she feels a little off kilter, since she’s seeing sides of Clay she’s never seen before. She likes what she’s seeing, but she just knows he’s going to be doing something to piss her off. There’s no way he could’ve possibly told her everything, even if he was so inclined. There just hasn’t been enough time. She finishes up quickly, so she can unpack and get to bed.

When Sarah contemplates her nightgown, she wonders if she shouldn’t have just brought t-shirts and shorts. Her flannel PJs tend to be kind of funny, with patterns, but her summer stuff, which she needs here, is strappy and mostly short. Maybe a little too sexy. ‘Oh, well, it’s this or nothing,’ she thinks, pulling it on and padding back out into the room. Clay’s sitting up in bed reading, with no shirt on. ‘Holy cow, he has a beautiful body!’ Sarah thinks to herself. She hopes he’s wearing underwear under the covers, since he’s clearly decided to wear what he’d normally wear to bed, without regard to her presence. She can’t really tell, and she’s not about to ask. Clay looks at her out of the corner of his eye, and notices her noticing him. Then he picks up on what she’s wearing. Sweet Jesus, how’s he going to make it to the bathroom without embarrassing himself?

“What are you reading?” she asks, as she puts clothes away, trying to keep her mind off of his body. She’s really not sure what to do about these feelings, which have come out of the blue. Well, that’s not entirely true; she’s felt attracted to him before. After all, he’s a good looking guy, but it was never like this.

“It’s called ‘Landscape of Lies,’ by Peter Watson. Please, excuse me, I’ll be right back,” he says abruptly, setting the book down, and grabbing his shaving kit on the way to the bathroom. Sarah starts, until she realizes he is, in fact, wearing underwear, although she has to force herself not to check out his crotch. He’s wearing grey boxer-briefs that only accentuate his legs and butt. Sarah just has to look at his rear end. She’s only human, after all. It’s very nice, she decides.

She’s just finishing up hanging up her dresses when he comes back, and he’s picked up her book off the bedside table. “’House of the Spirits,’” he reads the title. “Is it any good? I’ve been meaning to read it. Eventually.”

“I haven’t started it yet. I thought that, even though we’re not in Chile, reading a book by a South American author while in South America would be good. What’s your book about?”

“The short version is it’s a mystery, about a sort of treasure hunt, using a medieval painting as the map. The people in the book have to decipher the clues in the painting to find the loot, and, of course, more than one person is after it. It’s really good.”

“It *sounds* really good.”

“You can borrow it when I’m done.”

“Thanks, Clay,” Sarah says, sliding into bed. She’s asleep after reading just two pages, and Clay ends up having to get up and walk around the bed to turn her light off. It takes him a little while longer to get to sleep, but he manages. He wakes a few hours later, dying of thirst, and he starts when he realizes how close to Sarah he’s gotten. He’s pressed against her, with one arm crossing her body at the shoulder, just above her breasts. Then there’s the matter of his raging erection. He very carefully moves his arm and slides away from her. She rolls over towards his side of the bed, unconsciously seeking out his body heat. It’s a little chilly in the room, now that the air conditioner has been working full blast. He pulls the covers up over her, and pads into the bathroom to get a drink, then squints at the air conditioner in the dark, to see if he can raise the temperature in the room at all. Being absent from the bed has helped calm him down a little bit, and he’s in a better physical state when he lies back down. He turns towards Sarah, and looks at her as he listens to her breathe. He falls back to sleep.

Sarah sleeps soundly until 0513, when she starts awake to Clay’s snoring. She can’t believe the amount of noise he’s making. She tries to coax him to roll over, to no avail. He’s sleeping like the dead. Well, except for the noise. She pulls the pillow close around her head and turns away from him, then thinks about the specifications of her diamond necklace, to try to fall back to sleep. She ultimately can’t, but she stays in bed for a while longer.

Once they’re both up, they order room service, but don’t talk much. They’re both well aware of how vital this meeting is, and Clay senses that Sarah wouldn’t like him asking her a bunch of questions, so he leaves her be. She spends the time studying diamonds and gulping down coffee. Clay had ordered herbal tea, to keep up the appearances of the pregnancy. Before they leave, he washes out Sarah’s cup, pours a little tea into it, then dumps the rest. He pours out most of the tea, as well.

Sarah looks on in fascination. “You guys think of everything, don’t you?”

“We try to. It keeps us alive.” He’s perfectly serious, and she gets very sober. “You ready to go?”

Continue to Part 2