Trade
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Rating: adult
Palmer takes Webb and tells him he wants something from him, but if he can get through what he has planned and not tell him, fine, great, he'll let him go. But of course there's a catch.
Disclaimer: Neither Clark Palmer nor Clayton Webb nor Harmon Rabb (only referred to) belong to me, and I really do know better than to do this, but sometimes I have to. Sorry, DPB and CBS. Cathy is my creation, poor darling.
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.
Warnings: This story has knives, cutting, blood, and character death. And it's gen, very evil gen.
The Ikari project is a reference to Neon Genesis Evangelion, an anime and manga series. I have no idea what it is. For all I know, it's the Instrumentality Project. It's not like either Webb or Palmer's going to tell *me*.
Thanks to Tinnean and Greg for reading this story and not thinking it was a clear sign I'd gone insane. I had my doubts. Not beta'd.
*****
Palmer got me this time. Tied to a chair, nobody knows where I was going, which I'm sure isn't where I am, and I don't even know what he wants. He hasn't said a word to me. I don't even know what happened. I was walking over to the fountain to sit and wait for my informant, and then I was out. Drug? Probably. I feel fine, if a little fuzzy. That has to be it.
"Comfortable, Webb?" He's leaning against the wall, right in my line of sight, and he's giving me an intense look. At least he's not smiling. "You'll be here a while."
"What's the game, Palmer?" There's always a game with him.
"Game? I'm hurt, Clay. You been talking to Rabb again?" He straightens and comes closer until he's leaning over me. I just stare at him. "I got Rabb like this, you know. Should have just killed him." He smiles now. "But you're too much fun to kill."
"You have to want something." My voice is calm. I'm not going to amuse Palmer by panicking. "Tell me what it is."
"I do have a question for you, but you're right; there is a game, since I'm sure you won't answer it without some incentive."
Incentive. That sounds bad. Especially since Palmer's smiling even more now.
"Don't worry, Clay; you're not going to get hurt," he purrs, and I see that goddamn madness in his eyes. "Someone else will, and even she won't need to be hurt if you'll just play nice."
She. I'm not going to ask.
"Nobody you know, although it would have been fun to get a girlfriend of yours. They don't seem to stick around too long; pity about that, but then maybe none of them are good enough for you. I know it couldn't be because you're not good enough for them."
He's got that damned amused look in his eyes, and he's trying to distract me. I'm not going to fall for it. I need to figure out this game. "What do you want to know?"
He laughs. "Why, Clay, you sound eager to play. Nice to know you're less predictable than I thought. This looks like it's going to be a lot of fun. Just a minute, and we'll start. Then I'll tell you what I'm after."
He's not after information, no matter what he says. This is about whatever game he's thought up. I have to remember that.
I watch him walk a few steps and pull away a screen to show a woman bound to a chair, just like me, but with her arms out on the arms of the chair, palms up. Mine are palms down. He takes off the headphones that were over her ears, and I hear tinny music for a moment, then it's gone. She's staring at him, looks scared. But this could be someone Palmer's briefed. It could all be a trick. Palmer loves tricks and games.
"Meet Clayton Webb, baby," he says after a minute, and her eyes come to meet mine. If she's a plant, she's a damned good one. She's got serious fear in her eyes. Damn. No. I'm not responsible for this woman. I'm only responsible for me. "He's the one who's going to decide what happens to you." He grins at me. I know the difference between his smile and his grin, and his grin is worse. "It's easy, Clay. Tell me what I want to know, and the game's over. I let you go, and I let her go, too."
She's not saying anything, too quiet. Maybe she is one of his. If so, that will make this a lot easier. "You'll let me go." I let my voice say what the words don't, contempt and disbelief, but he just laughs.
"Yeah. Come on, Clay, killing you gets me nothing." He reaches down to the small table that's beside the woman, throws back a cloth, and picks up something. A knife. I see the woman freeze, and I get still myself. "But she's dispensable. At least I think so. I'll bet you won't be so..." he lowers the knife until I can see it touch her skin, "cold."
"Please," I hear her choke out, then his laugh.
"Please, what, baby? As I recall, you were willing to do anything. Changed your mind?" He's running the flat of the blade over her skin, and she's shaking. Palmer's playing with more than just my mind here.
"I thought you were going to tell me what you wanted to know," I say coolly. I don't want knowing that I don't like seeing him do that.
He stops, although he's still got the knife in his hand. "Right, I was. Tell me about the Ikari project."
The Ikari project. Of course he wants to know about that. It would be worth a hell of a lot of money to him. And of course I can't tell him. "The Ikari project," I say thoughtfully. Maybe I can convince him I don't know what he's talking about. It will take some doing, but I've fooled people before. "I don't know if I should do that." If Palmer's reading me the way I want him to, he'll decide that I'm bluffing about knowing anything.
"Ah, Clay, you're good, but I have proof that you know about this one, so stop the little game. Nice try. You do it better than anyone I've ever seen, if that helps. But that's going to cost you. Sorry, not you, but little miss precious here." He lowers the knife, and this time I hear her cry out. What the hell is he playing? He lifts the knife, and after a moment I see red ooze from the cut. "See, Clay? Blood."
"Your point?"
He laughs. "Isn't blood a point in and of itself?" She's quiet again, but I can see her trembling. "Hey, baby, did that hurt?"
"Yes." Her voice is so strained, and she's looking at him now like 'please help me'. Clark Palmer won't help her, but it's a little late to tell her that.
"There's more where that came from, but that's up to Clay here. Going to tell me about the Ikari project now? I know some. We can trade information, Clay. That game would be fun, too."
And he'll have me go first, of course, and we won't end up trading at all. "No."
"Then I guess we play my game." He cuts her again, but this time she just sobs. "Poor baby." He strokes her hair with his free hand and grins at me. I'm glad she can't see that. "Clay, look what you're doing to her."
"What you're doing to her," I correct him. I'm not going to let him play that game. This cut's deeper. The first one looks to have stopped bleeding, but this one might not for a while.
"All right, what I'm doing to her, because you won't play."
He cuts her again. Goddamn him. I can't tell him anything about the Ikari project. It's out of the question. He knows that, and he also has to know that this isn't going to work. It would be easy for him to set this up, have some kind of way to make it look like she's bleeding. I have to remember that. It's too easy for me to want to stop this. She really looks like she's hurting there. But I don't know for sure.
He's laughing again. He likes this. I'm surprised he's not cutting me, but then the goal of this game seems to be to see if I'll crack, and he must have reports of my tolerance for pain, which is high.
"Well, I'll leave you two alone together to let you get acquainted. If you decide to tell me anything, you just yell, Clay."
"You're going to leave her like that." A flat statement.
"She'll be fine. For now. Hope you like Clay, baby, because it looks like he's the last guy you're going to be alone with."
He leaves, still laughing. Motherfucking bastard. She's shaking now.
"What does he mean?" she says after a moment.
I have to treat her like a person. Even if she's a plant, she deserves that. "I'm not sure."
"It hurts," she whispers, and god, I have to think she's not faking it. "I'm bleeding, and it hurts." She looks at me with those pitiful eyes, and I don't know what to do. I have to do something. And of course this is what Palmer's counting on. But I have an idea.
"I want you to look at me and concentrate on breathing," I say very calmly and smile. She smiles back, then winces. "What's your name? I'm Clay."
"Catherine. Cathy."
"All right, Cathy, look at me and breathe in, out, in, out..." I see her relaxing. That's something. I know that I can't do anything much, but that will have to help some, even if it's just for now.
After a while she's smiling. "It doesn't hurt now. Thanks."
"Good." I smile back at her.
"Clay?"
"Yes?"
"This project is important, isn't it?"
Maybe she is a plant. I shrug. "Sort of."
She looks down. "He's not very nice."
"I know." I wait. What game is she playing?
When she looks up, I can see the tears. "I don't think he's going to stop until he gets what he wants."
I almost hope she is a plant, because I don't like thinking anyone's that innocent. "Probably not."
She looks down, and then the door opens, and Palmer's back.
"Oh, baby, you've stopped bleeding. Not good." He's over by her now, and he picks up the knife and slashes in the same motion. Is he paying any attention to what he's doing? This one is bleeding more than the others. Did he get a vein? That would be bad. "And crying, too, how pretty. So, Clay, ready to talk?"
"Don't tell him anything." She's still crying, but when I look at her, her face looks determined. "Don't, Clay."
"How very sweet." He puts the knife down and strokes her hair again. "So you're ready to die, baby? Because if Clay doesn't tell me what I want to know, that's what's going to happen."
I wish I hadn't seen this coming, but I did.
"You know the game now, don't you, Clay? Either you tell me what I want to know, or I keep cutting, and sooner or later I'm bound to hit something vital, or the blood loss over time should kill her." Like she's some kind of doll.
"I know the game." I can't tell him anything. It doesn't matter what he's doing to Cathy, doesn't matter what he does to me. It has to stay secret.
"Good." His eyes are shining. "Then we can enjoy the show together. It'll be fun watching her die, don't you think, Clay? Have you ever stayed around long enough to watch someone you've killed die?"
He obviously has. I'm not surprised. "No."
"Oh, it's fun. You'll like it. Of course, if you change your mind, you know how to stop it. But it's up to you. Here." He pulls her chair closer to me, and he's grinning again. "Now you can see everything." And he cuts her again. Goddamn him. I want to stop this so much, and she's in so damned much pain.
She's not making a sound now. Shock? Maybe. It's a hell of a lot to take to hear someone say you're going to die.
"You're no fun, baby. I guess I'll let you and Clay have some more time together. Be nice to her, Clay."
He's laughing as he goes out, and I just stare at her. She's going to die if I don't do something. I can't do anything. Palmer's not going to stop this unless I tell him what he wants to know, and maybe not even then.
I don't want to be here.
*****
She starts crying after a while. "I wish you could hold my hand," is about all she says, and I manage to twist and get my fingers over to touch hers. She smiles then, but it doesn't last long.
She's getting pale. I know she's losing too much blood. It's coming out steadily from all the cuts. Then Palmer comes back and doesn't even ask, just looks at me, at my hand, laughs, and comes over. One cut, two, three, four, and she's not quiet now. She's trying to be, though. Damn him for doing this to her, to anyone.
"Beg him to tell me what I want to know, baby," he breathes. "You don't want to die, I know you don't. You don't have to, if Clay will just answer the question."
She looks at me, and I can see that she wants to ask, but she screws her eyes shut and just cries, and Palmer shrugs. "How brave. Clay, how is it that you inspire such devotion?"
"She knows I'm a human being. Unlike you." My voice has all the anger that I'm feeling.
"Are you? You could end this, and you don't." He leans over, his face right in front of mine. "You like it, Clay?" he whispers. "Did I have you pegged all wrong? Should we be talking about how we can work together? If this is your thing, I can give it to you."
I know my horror at that shows on my face, and he doesn't move. He's probably enjoying that as much as her suffering. Palmer is a monster.
"Please stop." Her voice is so weak.
Palmer looks over at her and grins. "Good girl. See, Clay?"
"No. You. Please stop." She's panting between words. "Go away."
"But baby," I can't believe it when he kisses her cheek, "if I do, you'll die. You don't want to die, do you? I know you don't."
She's too weak to do anything more than breathe now. Blood is dripping down, soaking into her dress and puddling on the floor. If I don't stop this, she'll die.
I can't stop this. Forgive me, Cathy. I wish I could ask her to, but that would be self-indulgent. I am killing her. If I'd been smarter, Palmer wouldn't have gotten me, and she'd be fine. How much would it hurt to lie to Palmer? At this point, it wouldn't.
"What do you want to know about the Ikari project?" I don't recognize my voice.
He glances at me and shrugs. "Start talking. When I hear enough, I'll take care of pretty Cathy here."
I'm very glad then that I'm a good liar. If I weave truth together with some lies, it should fool him.
After a few sentences, he's listening. "She's bleeding," I say coldly, and he shrugs.
"You're not telling me anything I don't know yet. Give me something good, and I'll take care of her."
Palmer has always been too fucking smart for anyone's good. I keep talking, but after a few more sentences, he stands.
"Nice try, Clay. Even I know what the Ikari project's really about. I'll leave you two alone together until it's over. Oh, just one more cut to be sure."
And the fucking bastard takes her by the hair and holds her still as he draws a line across her throat. She can't fight him. He's doing this to get to me. This isn't about the information at all. He wanted to make me watch this. Wanted me to see someone die. Wanted to see how I'd take it.
I will get Clark Palmer if it takes all I have.
He leaves, thank god.
"Cathy." She doesn't even open her eyes. "Cathy, please."
"I hope," talking makes that last cut bleed more, goddammit, "he lets you go."
All I can do is watch her die. It doesn't take that long. I want to shut my eyes and deny it, but I don't allow myself that luxury.
I don't even know her full name.
"Cathy." She blinks at that. "Tell me your last name."
"Simmons."
"I'm sorry, Cathy." I have to say that, self-indulgent or not.
She gets out a smile. "Not your fault."
That's the last thing she says.
*****
When I wake up, I'm in my car. It takes me a while to get awake enough to remember how I got here. Right. Palmer came back and shot me up with some drug. I breathe some more and stretch. That's when I see it. A piece of cloth, soaked with blood. Cathy's blood. The bastard wanted me to have that.
I start up the car and pull out of the parking space. I know where I am, but I'm not going home. This is evidence. I'm getting it to Langley, and I'm going to put an account of this into Palmer's file.
I wonder if Palmer understands that he's made me his enemy. Probably.
If I can, I'm going to make sure he dies like Cathy died. Very slowly.
The End
Posted 6/10/01
For Palmer's pov of these events, go to Blood Ties
