Title: Company
Author: Beth (bethandsam@excite.com)
Series: Wild Ride (Crossover with JAG)/and Eclipse (Gail's magnificent universe)
Pairing: Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer; implied Sarah/Kelly (my ofc's)
Disclaimer: Well, let's see Bellisario owns, unfortunately, Webb and Palmer. I wish he'd just give them to Gail and get it over with already. Sorkin and company own Sam (who makes a brief appearance), and I own Kelly, Jake, and Sarah.
Archive: It's on my site. It's on Gail's site. Anyone else wants it; they'll have to get through Palmer first. Seriously, ask, and I’ll think about it.
Summary: Beware artists banging on your door during a rainstorm.
Notes: Okay, this is the tricky part. This story is set in both the Wild Ride (mine -- West Wing) and Eclipse (Gail's -- JAG) universes. This takes place after Palmer has blackmailed Clay, and the situation has been resolved. They are still happy together. It will make more sense if you have read at least some of the Snapshots in the Eclipse universe. As for the Wild Ride side, it would be wise to have read, say "The First Time" in the Wild Ride universe, so that you have at least some familiarity with Kelly and her ways. This takes place after "Life is in the Details" in the Wild Ride universe. Gail has graciously allowed Kelly entrance into her universe, and I believe the story turned out okay. Though it wouldn't have done nearly so well had it not been for Gail's thorough editing of the various versions. Nomi helped with several plot ideas, so some of the credit goes to her as well. This is for Gail for allowing me to play in her sandbox -- see, I tried not to be messy, and I've put them back when I was finished.
*****The knock on the door itself was surprising given the downpour occurring outside. Clark had arrived carrying Thai take-out thirty minutes before. After he changed into dry clothes, they had eaten, and then settled in to watch another episode of *that* show. Clark's eyes were already narrowing as Clay hit the pause button on the remote.
"He's supposed to call first."
"And he knows that, Clark. Relax - I'm sure it's not him. He's supposed to be out of the country on a case." Webb eased off the couch and started toward the door hoping that he was correct. He wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with either Rabb or Palmer if it did turn out to be Rabb.
"Check before you open the damned door."
Clay sighed, but checked. He couldn't contain the sharp intake of breath when he saw who was on the other side of the door. Clark had obviously been listening closely, because he was in the hallway - gun drawn - before Clay could begin to explain.
"Put that away," Clay hissed.
Before Clark could say anything he heard a female voice from the other side of the door. "Clayton Webb, I know you're in there. I'm soaked, and if you don't open the door right now, I'm just going to keep banging on the door until you do."
Clark had to work to suppress a grin at the tone directed at his usually unflappable lover.
"Put that thing away, and go back in the living room." Clark quickly tucked the gun back in its holster but hesitated in the hallway. "Now, Palmer."
Palmer nodded and turned on his heel. "Yes, sir."
Clay sighed quietly as he undid the lock and pulled the door open. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"
"Like my visits are ever expected?" Kelly looked at him pointedly, but when he said nothing she added, "Are you going to invite me inside and offer me a towel, or did you lose all of your manners since I last saw you?"
"Come in, Kelly. We'll see about the towel in a minute. What are you doing here?"
"Is that Thai food I'm smelling? You're going to share, right?"
"I already shared it with someone, but I suppose we could let you have the leftovers. You don't eat much anyway."
Kelly stopped halfway down the hall. "Oh god, Clay. Am I interrupting? I could come back - I mean, I just figured."
"You're not interrupting. It's quite all right. I think you'll enjoy meeting my friend actually. But, please, don't finish that thought - whatever it was."
"Still polite to a fault, aren't you?"
"I try. Now who threw you out this time? And where's your stuff?"
"I *walked* out, Clay. Nobody throws me out of anywhere."
"Fine. Who did you walk out on this time?"
"Sam."
"I see. And where's your stuff?"
"Still at Sam's."
Clay closed his eyes as he mentally revised his evening. Looked like he'd be making a late night visit to the speechwriter's - again. "You can come in past the hallway, I'm sure you're tired of standing here looking like a drowned rat."
Palmer was sitting stiffly on the couch when Webb followed by Kelly entered the living room. He had heard enough of the exchange to realize that this woman was going to be staying here this evening, and he knew that meant he wouldn't be.
Clay noticed the cool stare that Clark leveled at Kelly. **Okay, he’s certainly not happy.** Clay knew that there wasn’t much he could do at that moment to fix the situation, short of throwing Kelly out and he couldn’t do that. He decided it was better to let Kelly attempt to handle Clark her way. "Kelly, this is my . . . friend, Clark. Clark - Kelly."
Kelly cocked her head at the pause trying to read Clay's expression. He had always been something of an enigma to her - difficult to understand but worth the trouble. "Any friend of Clay's is a friend of mine. It's nice to meet you."
"Palmer?" Clay paused until Clark turned to fix his eyes on him. "I'm going to get a towel. Be nice."
"Yes sir." Clark smiled at the small frown he received from Clay. No, he wasn't happy about some strange woman showing up here, and he wasn't going to pretend he was. Damn it, they were going to have a nice, quiet evening, and now it was ruined. He realized that the redhead had been talking to him.
"What was that?"
"I asked what you're watching."
"X-Files."
Clay walked back in to see Kelly almost collapsing from giggles. She spluttered out. "*You* watch the X-Files?"
Clay tossed her the towel. "You wanna make something of it?"
"No. I just didn't think I'd. . . wait, did you just say ‘wanna’?" Kelly stopped at Clay’s grin and turned to Clark. "This has to be your influence. I think I like you already."
Clark allowed himself a small smile as he watched her attempt to soak the rain water up with the towel. "Webb, she's going to need more than a towel."
Clay didn't appear to have heard - Clark could almost see the gears turning in his head.
"Where's the big guy?"
"The big guy?"
"You know, the one who usually follows you around."
"You mean Jake. I assume he's in California where I left him."
"And that's what you and Sam argued about - correct?"
"As usual, King Friday." She bowed low to complete the joke, and water from her hair ended up all over Clark.
"She's still wet, Webb. A hair dryer and some dry clothes might be in order here." Clark grabbed the towel from Kelly and tossed it to Webb who was surprised by how wet it was and how soaked Kelly still was.
"You know where your stuff is. Make yourself comfortable, or at least dry." Kelly nodded and headed back snatching the towel out of Clay’s hand as she passed. Clay was quiet until he heard the blow dryer start. "No questions, Clark?"
Clark shrugged. "Not my business."
"Of course it's your business. She's staying here, and you don't even want to know who she is?"
**Of course I want to know who she is, and why we've been together for over a year and I've never seen her before. But that's not how this game is played.** "I assume it's need to know."
"Fine. What you need to know: she's an old friend; she's an artist; she sometimes needs a place to go when she's in town and she comes here; and, she's been in a committed relationship since before I met her."
"Okay."
Kelly appeared again. "He forgot one important piece of information – even if I weren't involved, he's not my type."
Clark frowned his disbelief. He couldn't imagine anyone not being interested in Clay - not that he wouldn't have to kill her, but still.
"She's serious, Clark. It would require major surgery for me to become her type."
"And really, I don't think that would work either. You're just too uptight for me, Clay. Though, if you're watching the X-Files, I suppose there is hope for you yet."
Clark figured out what they were both not saying, or at least he thought he had. "So Sam's a woman?"
Kelly chuckled. "Not exactly. He's my best friend, but you're on the right track, Clark."
He nodded. She wasn’t a threat, but she was still going to stay here which meant that he'd be going home. Still not the outcome he wanted.
"Clay - can I talk to you a minute?" Kelly was already walking toward the kitchen. "Alone."
Clay shrugged and followed after shooting Clark a look that should have told him not to follow. "What?"
"What am I interrupting - exactly?" Kelly asked as she stuck her head in the refrigerator to examine the leftovers Clay had offered earlier.
"Nothing."
"I think he wants to kill me. That's not nothing."
"He's like that with everybody." Clay shrugged again. "He might warm up to you."
"Yeah, right. Hell might also freeze over. What's going on?"
"Nothing."
Kelly glared at him. "I'm not stupid, Clay. I've walked on something and either you tell me or . . ."
"Or what?" Clay challenged. "You're going to go ask Clark? That'll go over like a lead balloon."
"I'll call your mother and ask her."
Clay groaned. **His mother: her trump card. Damn it.** "Give me a minute. Stay here. Eat something."
Clay went back to the living room feeling harassed from all sides. It wasn’t that he was worried that his mother wouldn’t take his side. It was that she would draw the wrong conclusion about his reasons for not telling Kelly, and it would make her unhappy with either him or Clark. He sat heavily on the couch.
"What did she want?"
Clay sighed. "She wants to know what she walked in on, and she's not going to buy that you're a colleague from work and you came over to eat some dinner and watch a video."
"What do you want to do?" Clark wasn't sure what Clay needed him to say.
"I want to do what you want me to do. She's going to call my mother if I don't give her an answer that satisfies her, and I don't want my mother upset with me - or you – about this."
"Do you want me to take care of it?" Clark's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"I want to know if you'd mind if I tell her the truth." Clay studied his hands for a long moment while he waited for Clark to say something.
"Which truth?"
"The one that says you're important to me; that we have a thing between us that works on a lot of different levels."
"If that's what you want," Clark said cautiously.
"This isn't just about what I want. If you don't want me to say anything, I won't. I'll come up with something."
"Do what you think is best."
"That's not an answer. All I can tell you is that she'd never tell another living soul if we asked her not to do it. She's not into outing people." Clay was quiet for a minute, then added, "She's got a nice place in California - if we tell her the truth, she'll let us use the guest house."
Clark shook his head in disbelief. "A bribe? That's what you offer? Or is that what *she* offered?"
Clay pushed off the couch and started to head toward the hallway. "Talk to her - tell her whatever you want. I'm going to get some of that soy milk crap she likes, so she has something to put in her coffee in the morning."
Clark snorted. "You want me to be gone when you get back?"
"No, but work this out." Clay stopped before he opened the door and came back. "Clark - I want her alive and well when I come back, got it?"
"Got it."
Kelly was still in the kitchen when she heard the front door close. She threw away the now empty food carton, and headed back into the living room quickly. "Clay, I didn't mean to . . ."
"He went out to get some soy milk." Clark's eyes were glinting dangerously as he studied the suddenly nervous woman in front of him.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
They studied each other quietly for a few minutes. Kelly was trying to decide precisely how dangerous this man actually was, while Clark just watched and assessed.
"Do you want me to leave?"
"Wish you'd never come," he muttered.
Kelly giggled. "You're honest - I'll give you that. So look, just tell Clay that I called Sam and we patched it up, okay?"
"Why do you have a bodyguard?"
"What?" This man was definitely complicated. Suited Clay well.
"You heard me."
"Some people would prefer it if I weren't breathing," Kelly said with a small shrug.
"And when you leave here, you'll go where?"
Kelly shrugged again.
Clark thought about that for a minute. "It's not a good idea to wander around alone when there are people who want to hurt you."
"Voice of experience?"
"Something like that." Not from the end she was thinking of; certainly made it easier if the target just wandered the streets.
"But you want me to leave - I can do that."
"Webb doesn't want you to leave. It's his house; he makes the decisions."
"This is not working at all." Kelly flopped on the couch with a sigh. "Clark, did you ever have one of those days where absolutely nothing went the way you wanted it to?"
Clark thought about all the times he'd almost had Rabb and lost him. He nodded.
"That's what today's been like all damn day."
"I had a couple of years like that once."
Kelly smiled tiredly. "I'm going to go before Clay gets back. Tell him I'll get his stuff back to him tomorrow or something."
Clark started to nod, but then reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "I told you he wants you here. Stay. It's okay."
Kelly hesitated for a minute. "Are you absolutely sure?"
"No, but stay anyway." Clark kept his hand on her shoulder until he was reasonably sure that she was going to do what he asked. "How did you meet Webb?"
"Oh, it was a long time ago. He was at a gallery thing with his mother and she insisted that I meet him." Kelly smiled. "He was sweet really - kind of distracted, but sweet. His mother invited me to her house for coffee. I normally don't do things like that, but Porter - well - she's hard to resist, you know?"
Clark smiled too. "She certainly is."
"Anyway, I certainly didn't expect him to be there when I went, but he was. I think it was his mother's doing, I don't know. He and I talked for a while, and we have some similar interests. Horses, in particular. I don't get to ride much - Sar thinks I'm going to hurt myself. And he likes to sail, so when Sam won't go with me, sometimes I can drag him. Am I telling you what you want to know?"
"Yeah. So you don't see him that often?"
"Not really. I call sometimes. E-mail sometimes. Drop in unexpectedly and ruin his evenings. I don't have a regular pattern though. Can't afford to." At Clark's confused look, "I try not to put my friends in harm's way."
"I don't think you have to worry about that."
"I do," Kelly said flatly.
Clark recognized the hunted look in her eyes - he used to inspire that look, before Leavenworth; before Clay. He also realized that she probably didn't know what Clay actually did for a living. Funny to think of someone trying to protect Clay from demons that couldn't be worse than the demons that Clark feared. At least, he didn't think they could be worse. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Does Webb know?"
"As little as I can get away with telling him."
"I might be able to help."
"I doubt that."
"I don't."
"Do you think he's actually making the soy milk himself?"
"Do you do that often?"
"What?"
"Deflect the conversation."
"Did I?" Kelly tried for wide-eyed innocence, but the skeptical look on Clark's face made her collapse in giggles again. "I can usually get away with it with Clay."
"He lets you."
"I figured it wasn't because he's gullible."
"Tell me."
"How about this - I won't pry if you don't."
"Meaning?"
"I won't ask any questions about anything, and I won't call Porter."
"It's not much of a deal. You've already reached a conclusion - as I have."
"Really? What conclusion did you draw?"
"That you're in a great deal of trouble, but the trouble comes from amateurs or you wouldn't be sitting here right now." Clark saw the surprise register on her face before she could mask it, but when she spoke she matched his cool tone.
"I see. Interesting. Any idea how to get out of the trouble you think I'm in?"
"Not unless you tell me more about it. I *can* help, but you'd have to trust me."
Kelly shook her head decisively. "That won't happen."
"Didn't imagine it would. How about you?"
"Clay’s not the same person he used to be. He's -" Kelly paused while she searched for the right word. " -- happier. He's content, and I think you're the reason."
"Happier?"
"Yeah, he was always so sad - in his way. But he didn't seem that way tonight." Kelly smiled at him. For someone who seemed to play everything close to the vest, he was letting his need to hear her assessment show. He was cute – she could understand what Clay saw in him. "You're good for him."
"If you say so."
"I say so." Kelly got up from the sofa and disappeared for a minute leaving Clark to wonder what she was up to. She had to get out of the room to keep from letting him realize how much he’d let show on his face. If only for a second, she’d seen how much it mattered to him that he was good for Clay. No matter what he said, that wistful look told her everything she needed to know: he loved Clay the way he deserved to be loved.
Kelly came back in the room and Clark noticed that she was holding something in the palm of her hand. "Found them."
"Found what?"
"Ear plugs."
"What do you need those for?"
"I'm going to bed. Stay or go - I won't know the difference. And as I said, I won't ask questions."
"Subtlety isn't your strong suit, is it?"
Kelly considered the question for a second looking serious. "Um, no – I don't think anyone's accused me of that lately."
"I didn't figure."
Kelly started to head for the guest room and then turned back. "Tell Clay he won't disturb me if he stops in when he gets back, okay?"
Clark nodded as he turned his attention toward the television. Kelly watched him from the hallway for a moment, and then turned to head down the hallway to the guest room.
******The knock at his door wasn't really surprising. Kelly had been so furious when she left that her keys were sitting abandoned on the coffee table. Sam went to the door and opened it without checking first - launching into his diatribe before the door was fully opened. "I still don't understand what the hell you were -" Sam stopped when he saw the familiar though not entirely welcome face. "Webb."
"Sam." Clay waited patiently while Sam figured out what his presence meant.
"She's at your place?"
"Yeah. I just came over to get her stuff for her."
"Oh."
Clay couldn't help but feel sorry for the speechwriter who clearly hadn't expected to lose this round. "Can I come in?"
Sam was startled. He hadn't realized that he had left his visitor in the hallway. "God. I'm sorry. Come in."
Clay walked into Sam's apartment and noticed Kelly's bag sitting by the sofa. "She hadn't been here long, I take it."
"Obviously."
The snide tone in Sam’s voice wasn’t lost on Clay. "Don't get hostile with me, Sam. This isn't my fault."
"It's her fault." Sam handed Clay an ad from the _Post_ for a gallery show where Kelly O'Neal was scheduled to be in attendance.
"Okay, that wasn't subtle of her." Clay passed the ad back to Sam and watched as he crumpled it up and threw it against the wall.
"She knows better. And then she left Jake in LA. It's not enough that she let them advertise. She left her protection at home. And she won't cancel, Clay. What the hell am I supposed to do?"
Clay shook his head in amusement. "You're a speechwriter, Sam. What exactly do you think *you* can do?"
"She can't do this."
"You tried that line on her, didn't you?"
"Yeah. And it would work if she were a senator."
"Maybe. But she isn't and now she won't back down for anything. Shit."
"It's not like you can talk to her about it. You're the one who is determined not to let her find out what you do for a living or that you actually know that she's in serious trouble."
"How about this? I can get someone who is significantly more lethal than the big guy to accompany her to this thing. He's good. He'll convince her he's going because he wants to, and I can guarantee that nothing will happen to her." **Of course, I'm assuming that Clark will do *this* for me.**
Sam gave Clay *that* look - the one he used on Josh or Toby or Leo when they had him over the proverbial barrel. "It won't do me any good to say no."
Clay put a compassionate hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'll take it from here. She'll be fine. I promise."
"How can you promise me that?"
"I'd trust the man I'm sending with my life and my mother's life. That's how I can promise."
Sam studied Clay's fixed expression. He never understood how Kelly missed the hint of danger that lurked in the hazel eyes of her friend. Sam sighed slowly. "Okay. Just . . ."
"We'll take care of her." Clay reached down and grabbed Kelly’s overnight bag.
"I was going to say just be careful." Sam followed the other man to his front door. "Take care of her and of you, Webb."
Clay quirked an eyebrow at Sam’s concern for his well-being, but just nodded in acknowledgment as he left Sam's apartment to head for his own.
******Clay entered his apartment about forty-five minutes after leaving Sam's. The quiet was unnerving. He set Kelly's bag down in the hallway and moved quietly toward the living room.
"You don't have a grocery bag with you." Clark didn't move from his position on the couch.
"Damn."
"So where *did* you go if you weren't buying soy milk?"
"I went to find out what this was really about."
"I see."
"How did your conversation go?" Clay was honestly curious. Kelly was a handful; Clark, unpredictable. Who knew what could have happened during the span of time he'd been gone?
"Fine."
"Could you be a little less informative?"
Clark smiled. "I could try."
"Clark . . ." The exasperation in Clay's voice was clear.
"She's sleeping, I guess. Said you could go in when you got back." Clark waited to see if Clay was going to leave, when he sat down instead, Clark asked, "So what is this really about?"
"She took a risk - a big one - and Sam told her she couldn't do something she agreed to do."
"I'm sure that went over well."
"She's here, isn't she?"
"Yeah, so what's the risk and how do you want neutralize it?"
"You."
"I'm the risk?" Clark asked, and then realized which question Clay was answering. "No, I'm the neutralizer. So what, precisely, am I supposed to do?"
"Escort her to a gallery opening tomorrow, and keep her safe." Clay frowned. "But she has to think you're going because you want to, and she can't know that you're protecting her."
"You want to make this any more difficult?"
"She can't realize you're carrying."
"I was only kidding about making it more difficult." It was hard not to laugh at the wry note in Clark's voice.
But that tone, combined with the laughter in Clark's eyes always had the same effect on Clay's cock, and he said the only sane thing he could think of in that moment. "I think it's time for bed."
After Clark checked the doors, Clay turned out the lights and they went to bed.
*****"You don't strike me as the artsy type, Clark." Kelly studied him speculatively over her cup of coffee.
"Appearances can be deceiving, Kel." Clay was in earnest, and Clark just sat watching the action - amused as hell. "He was telling me last night that he wanted to see what happened at a show opening, and I thought you might be willing to take him with you."
"I see." Kelly did not see at all, but she wasn't going to admit that for a second. She did, however, see Clark's eyebrow rise at the suggestion that he'd been talking about art the night before. "What do you think of Porter's art collection, Clark?"
Clark turned a cool, assessing gaze toward her. This was a test, but fuck if he could figure out what the right answer was supposed to be. Porter *had* an art collection? He was always too busy watching Clay to notice what was, or wasn't, hanging on the walls. "Never noticed."
"And so you think you'll enjoy going to a show because . . ."
"Didn't say I'd enjoy it."
Kelly laughed at his bluntness. "So if you don't think you'll enjoy it, why would you want to go?"
"I have a tyrant for a boss, and I could use the day off. And the company wouldn't be horrible." Clark's eyes glittered dangerously. He knew Clay couldn't challenge him on the description because this woman wasn't stupid. She would *never* believe that Clark worked for the State Department, and she would ask questions. Questions that Clay wouldn't want to answer. This might be fun after all.
"Oh well, in that case . . ." Kelly fell to her knees in mock supplication, "Would you please, please, go with me today, Clark?"
****I'd like to report that I neutralized the threat, but I'd be lying. Nothing happened that day. Not one god damned thing. Webb tells me that it was probably my presence that did it. He says I look intimidating and no amateur would willingly take me on. I think that no one was there to try.
I did learn a lot about art - and about the artist. She made it easy – show Clark the painting; explain a few details about it and then let him study it for awhile. Lots of praise when I said something insightful about the painting. She's a good teacher, and I learn quick. There's one that I really liked - would have bought it -- but it sold before I could get the chance.
And now it's days later, she's back in California - we think. Webb's picking up dinner, but it's taking a damned long time. And then I hear the door. I'm trying to look casual because I don't want him to think that I've been timing how long it took or anything.
"Sorry I took so long. I got a call just as I got to my car, and I had to go pick up something."
I'm curious, but I don't ask questions. I sniff, but there doesn't seem to be any food smells. "Are we cooking dinner after all?"
"I thought I'd just make some pasta."
I turn to look at him - he was tired when we left. He *suggested* take-out because he didn't want to cook, and now he was - don't get it. He looks - embarrassed. But he doesn't get embarrassed. Something's up. "You okay, Clay?"
"Yeah."
Add worried to embarrassed. "What's wrong, Clay?"
"Sam called. Kelly left something for *you* with him, so I went to get it."
"Okay." This could be interesting.
Clay looks uncomfortable. "If you don't want it, I'm sure Mother will take it."
I look him over carefully. No sign of a present on him, so he must have left it in the hall. Whatever it is. "So, do I get to see it before I reject it, or . . ."
"Yeah." When he comes back into the living room I understand what the problem is. She left a canvas - it's the only thing that can be that large, that awkward, and that bulky. Isn't that an interesting turn of events? Two weeks ago - never heard of her. Now, I apparently own an original. Go figure. I unwrap the canvas carefully, and look at it. "Well fuck."
"I told you if you don't like it . . ." Clay trails off as I shake my head.
"How did she know it was this one?"
"What?"
"I decided to buy one of her paintings - this one - but it was already sold by the time I got the gallery owner to listen to me."
Clay smiles for the first time since he got home. "You've learned the most important rule for dealing with Kel - never, ever underestimate her powers of observation."
I can’t help laughing at that. Clay chuckles too, and heads for the kitchen. After leaning my painting against the wall, I go to help, as much as he’ll let me, with dinner.
I'll have to call her sometime and thank her. She's not so bad, but she'd better not interrupt the X-Files next time.
End
Beth's Fiction Homepage for more Wild Ride stories
