If The Shoe Fits…
A reaction to "Persian Gulf"
Warning: Bad stuff and character death.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, Webb wouldn't be dating Mac. Oh, yeah… slight crossover with Smallville and NCIS.
Webb dumped his stuff on the chair in the motel room and stretched. It had been a long journey, and he was tired. Unfortunately, his plane had been delayed due to snow and ice, so he was stuck in Kansas for the night. He started rummaging through his bag, looking for his toiletries. He didn't like being stranded anywhere, much less… where was he again? Tinytown? Microscopicville? Oh, right, *Smallville*.
He grabbed his kit, headed for the bathroom, and pulled off his clothes along the way. A hot shower would feel *wonderful* on his cold skin; he'd been forced to wait in an unheated airport for over two hours. He reached in the shower and turned on the water, but didn't notice the soft, green glow emanating from the showerhead.
He climbed into the warm, steamy shower and began to lather up, washing away the accumulated grime of travel. Just as he was finishing his long, enjoyable shower, he looked down at himself only to discover that certain vital parts of his anatomy had… shrunk! He gulped hard as he examined the now microscopic body part. Mac would definitely *not* be a happy camper if she found out.
He hurried out of the shower, toweled off, and looked down again. In between getting out of the shower and drying off, it had turned *green*. "Great," he muttered. "Now I'm *really* a mutant. Webb walked into the bedroom and dressed, grimacing as he noticed how ill-fitting his jockey shorts now were.
He groaned, and finished getting dressed--he *still* had a date with Mac tomorrow night, and he didn't intend to miss it.
The next night, Webb straightened his Armani suit, silk tie, and Rolex watch before reaching in his car for the two dozen roses he had stashed inside. He grabbed them, shut and locked the door, then started walking to Mac's apartment. He had snagged the nearest parking place he could find, but it was still a good half-mile walk to her apartment.
He started whistling cheerfully along the way. Sure, things might be awkward due to his new mutant state, but it wasn't the end of the world. After all, Mac might not even care, right? Webb smiled, and began to think of the beautiful Marine that he had stolen from Rabb, heedless of his current surroundings.
"Hey mister, got some spare change?" Webb looked to see a ragged tough behind him.
"Sorry, kid, I don't," he kept walking until the kid pulled out a sharp knife, snaked an arm around him, and pressed the weapon to his throat.
"Yes you, do, Mister." The kid hissed in his ear. "I need a fix, and with your fancy-smanchy suit and watch, you got the money to spare."
"Look, kid, I haven't got more than five dollars cash in my wallet; I just don't carry it!" Webb desperately tried to extricate himself from the situation, but the kid simply tightened his hold on the knife, making it prick harder against his throat.
"Give it," the kid ordered.
Webb reached for his wallet, his fingers brushing his Company gun. As if the kid sensed what Webb was about to do, his hand spasmed, driving the knife deep in the inept spook's throat.
The kid picked up the wallet, took the cash, then stuffed it back in the man's pocket before pulling the knife out and hurrying away. Webb bled out in a matter of minutes, his bloody hand reaching for his now-useless cellphone.
Mac paced back and forth in her apartment, waiting for her date to show up. It wasn't like him to be late without calling. She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms, then reached for her white, wool coat. Maybe he had to park a few blocks away, and she should go walk with him. She grabbed her purse and hurried out the door, locking it securely behind her. She got outside and picked a direction; when he had to park away from the building her was usually parked on the east side of her place.
Determinedly, she started walking, hoping to meet him so that they could go out for steak at the Capital Grille--someplace Harm wouldn't be caught *dead* taking her to. It wasn't long before she noticed Webb's prone form on the sidewalk, blood still gushing from the stab wound in his neck.
"Webb," she gasped as she hurried over and dropped to her knees beside him. Mac pulled his head into her lap, heedless of the pooling blood that was now ruining her evening dress and coat. Webb's eyes fluttered open, then rolled back in his head.
Mac grabbed her purse and tore through it, searching for her cellphone. It wasn't there, so she started rifling through Webb's pockets in search of his. Her fingers came in contact with his wallet before finding the device. Quickly, she pulled it out and dialed 911. "This is Lt. Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, and we've got a situation…" her mind zoned out as she told the operator where she was and how she had found him. Clayton Webb, another victim of the Mackenzie Curse.
Mac paced restlessly in the interview room; she could still feel the life drain from Webb as she held him in her arms. It had been two days, and NCIS was to show up to interview her. Upon hearing of the crime, and the fact that she was the only suspect, the Admiral had placed her on indefinite leave before she was thrown into the brig. She looked up as a quasi-familiar face entered the room.
"Colonel Mackenzie," the man said with a nod. "What is it with you? First, I investigate your partner for murder, and now you."
"I just found him, Agent Gibbs," Mac said, a scowl marring her pretty features.
"What was he doing so near your apartment, Colonel?"
"He was coming to pick me up for a date," Mac said woodenly. "We'd been… seeing each other."
"That's funny, your collegues said that you'd been mad at him recently for his constant cancellations. I have affidavits from your co-workers and from Assistant Director of the CIA, Kershaw stating that you weren't too happy with him for not being around." Gibbs threw a stack of files on the table.
"So I got mad at him for his constant disappearing acts," Mac said defensively. "That doesn't mean that I *killed* him!"
"Your bloody fingerprints were found all over the crime scene, and something interesting also showed up on Ducky's autopsy report. Colonel, are you aware of Webb's… condition?"
"Condition? What do you mean?"
"Ducky found something… odd. So you *didn't* know that Webb has experienced a… mutation lately that left certain parts of his anatomy almost non-existent? And that what was left of them has turned green, as if they might eventually turn black and fall off?"
Mac blanched. "No, I didn't."
"I think you did, Colonel, and I intend to prove that you killed Special Agent Clayton Webb. You're being remanded for your Article 32." Agent Gibbs got up and left the room. Mac dropped to her chair and hid her face in her hands. She hadn't killed Webb, but it was her fault, anyway.
Mac sat on the wrong side of the defense table and watched as her lawyer sharpened yet another pencil. By some curse of fate, the SECNAV had gifted her with the same defense lawyer, Lt. Cdr. Faith Coleman, that he'd foisted off on Harm. It was rather ironic that she'd been stuck in the exact same situation that he'd been in the year before. Harm had *tried* to visit her, but had been turned away by the Marine guards outside her cell.
Other than that, she hadn't heard anything from anyone at JAG. After the first time, Harm hadn't even tried again; she supposed that he had Mattie to worry about, anyway. He hadn't even shown up for the trial, but then again, he *had* been called as a witness for the prosecution. She could see him sitting on the other side of the courtroom, as far away from her as he could get.
Looking at it from a JAG lawyer's point of view, the evidence was damning, so she really couldn't blame him; he had a family to protect and provide for. She heaved a sigh as her lawyer stood up. "The defense rests, your honor," she said clearly, then sat down.
"Very well. The court is adjourned until tomorrow for the sentencing." The judge brought the gavel down once as the guards led Mac outside and started taking her towards the brig. Perhaps this was justice for the lives hers had managed to destroy.
Mac stood at attention as the judge pronounced the verdict. "Lt. Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, the court finds you guilty of the first degree murder of Special Agent Clayton Michel Webb, and remands you to the brig for sentencing."
If you want Mac to be proven innocent, type 1. If you want Mac to be thrown in Leavenworth, type 1YE-SPL-EASE. If you want to send Mac to the electric chair for her behavior this season, type 1-800-FRY-HELL.