Imagine Mischief
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Rating: none
no pairing - it's gen, god help us! *faints*
Palmer has a visitor in Leavenworth and gets some good news.
Disclaimer: The characters herein do not belong to me, other than Dave Temple, my own character.
Please do not archive this story without asking me first. It's more than likely that I'll agree, but I want to know where my stories are.
Spoilers for the ninth season finale "Hail and Farewell", "Salvation", other Palmer episodes, and probably some Webb episodes prior to that season finale.
Warnings: character death (offstage), gloating by an expert in the field *g*
Thanks to Tinnean for encouragement and a wonderful beta.
*****
The itsy-bitsy spider went up the waterspout,
Down came the rain and washed the spider out,
Out came the sun and dried up all the rain,
And the itsy-bitsy spider went up the spout again.*****
Written in part for musesfool's psalm challenge.
My psalm was #62, King James version, the text of which is at the end of this story.
*****
I enter the visiting room with the guard right behind me and another one already in position. "You have a nice talk with your lawyer," the guard says.
Laywer, huh? Been a while since I heard from mine. Not much chance of good news, but I'd hear him out.
I cross to the seat as the guard who brought me in takes up his position. Like I'm going to make a break for it. No chance of success.
I sit down across from the man in the gray suit and stare at his eyes. I know those eyes even though the hair color's wrong and I don't know the face until I look hard enough to see through the disguise. That's no lawyer. That's Dave Temple. We trained together and worked together. When the DSD went down, thanks to the fucking CIA and JAG, we took turns going into the field and setting up the deals. Last time I saw him we'd just finished a deal and were drinking beer and swapping stories and talking about what we were going to do with the money. Then I thought up a fool-proof plan to get Rabb and ended up here like a fool.
I'm happy to see him, sure, can't remember the last visitor I had who wasn't a government guy, but he's taking a hell of a risk here. If I can see through his disguise then I have to consider someone else could too. The fucking CIA isn't entirely stupid - hell, they've got Webb - and they'd love to get some more of us to wring dry and show off like pets. I'm sure they've got enough brains to monitor my visitors. There are other ways to contact me. What's so damned important he has to come?
He's got an odd smile as he picks up the phone. Well, I won't get any answers just staring at him. I pick up the phone on my side.
"So you're my new lawyer." He nods, still smiling. "What do you want?"
"To help you." Nice to hear. He gives me his name - assumed, of course - and starts talking about a possible appeal, which has to be a cover. It can't be why he's here. We both know that the CIA guys won't let me out if they can help it. Maybe he's here to let me know to expect a message about a new escape plan. Not many people I'd believe about that now.
He stops talking and starts humming something, and it takes me a minute to get it: the itsy-bitsy spider kid's song. We used to call it 'Webb's song' since he always found a way out of the rain back up the damned spout. He's got news about Webb. I raise my eyebrow to let him know I got it, and he stops humming, then places his hand palm down on the table, pushes, talking again about judges and appeals and evidence and strategy, lifts it, brushes it clean on his shoulder, and bares his teeth in a smile that I know damned well.
So this time the spider didn't recover from the rain.
I break into his legalese. "You sure about this appeal stuff?" I walk my fingers across the table to let him know I'm talking about Webb.
"Yes." His eyes are fierce, and I have to fight to keep mine from exulting too. "The evidence I've gathered is compelling enough to convince any fair-minded judge."
So either he's seen the body or the way Webb died is too hard for anyone to get out of.
Clayton Webb dead. Damned if I don't wish I could crack a bottle of some fancy champagne. One less smart guy to worry about - time to take some risks around here if I can get the help.
"Thank you."
"My pleasure. I'll be back when I have news for you."
He stands, gives me a smile, and turns to leave. I stand too. With Dave on my side and Webb dead, I'll be out of here in no time.
I think about saying a prayer or two for him, but seeing as he always thought he was on the side of the angels, why bother? Just as well - if he were in hell he might take over and that wouldn't bode well for my arrival.
*****
When I'm locked back in my cell, I sit on the edge of my bunk and remember some lines from one of those Psalms I learned while I was Jarvis Krohn's best buddy. I've put most of them out of my mind, but these stuck.
*How long will ye imagine mischief against a man? ye shall be slain all of you: as a bowing wall shall ye be, and as a tottering fence. They only consult to cast him down from his excellency: they delight in lies: they bless with their mouth, but they curse inwardly.*
Yeah. And now one of the men who'd imagined mischief against me, who'd cast me down from my excellency when he helped disband the DSD, who'd helped put me in this fucking place, was dead on some slab.
Sweet.
The End
*****
Posted 5/31/04
Pss.62 (the King James Version) from http://www.hti.umich.edu/cgi/k/kjv/kjv-idx?type=DIV1&byte=2190116
[1] Truly my soul waiteth upon God: from him cometh my salvation.
[2] He only is my rock and my salvation; he is my defence; I shall not be greatly moved.
[3] How long will ye imagine mischief against a man? ye shall be slain all of you: as a bowing wall shall ye be, and as a tottering fence.
[4] They only consult to cast him down from his excellency: they delight in lies: they bless with their mouth, but they curse inwardly. Selah.
[5] My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him.
[6] He only is my rock and my salvation: he is my defence; I shall not be moved.
[7] In God is my salvation and my glory: the rock of my strength, and my refuge, is in God.
[8] Trust in him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us. Selah.
[9] Surely men of low degree are vanity, and men of high degree are a lie: to be laid in the balance, they are altogether lighter than vanity.
[10] Trust not in oppression, and become not vain in robbery: if riches increase, set not your heart upon them.
[11] God hath spoken once; twice have I heard this; that power belongeth unto God.
[12] Also unto thee, O Lord, belongeth mercy: for thou renderest to every man according to his work.*****
