Title: Admiral's Privilege
Author: Laurel A.
Rating: PG
Classification: Webb Vignette
Spoilers: Through Season 8's The Promised Land and a reference to We
The People.
Summary: Missing scene from Promised Land. Clay calls to check on Bud
and remembers some of their first interactions.
Disclaimer: Per usual, most everything belongs to Donald P. Bellisario and CBS, et al.
BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL
Harriet Sims hurries to the phone to answer it on the sixth ring
while a nurse aids her husband into his bed. "Hello?"
"Lieutenant Sims?" A man on the other end of the line yells over a
loud rumbling cacophony in the background.
"Yes. Can I help you?" She and Bud have just arrived at Bethesda
where her husband will spend the next several weeks learning to live
with a missing limb. They haven't even completed the hospital check-
in paperwork, so she can't imagine who could be calling directly to
Bud's room.
"It's Clayton Webb. I wanted to know how Lieutenant Roberts was
doing."
The sounds in the background get louder. There are several
concussions of noise and the line is momentarily static-y. Clay
continues to yell but his voice is more muffled than before, "I was
told he'd be transferred there today."
"Bud's doing well, Mr. Webb. I'm very proud of him. But we just
arrived, how did you know what room we'd be in?" Harriet is clearly
trying to put on a brave front for the benefit of both Clay and her
husband, who is now listening to the conversation.
"Classified. Please give him my regards and …"
Static fills the line.
"Mr. Webb? Are you still there?"
Getting no answer, Harriet replaces the receiver in its cradle and
turns to Bud, "Mr. Webb wanted to know how you were doing. He sends
his regards, Honey."
CUT TO A BOMBED OUT BUILDING – LOCATION UNKNOWN
"Lieutenant Sims? Hello? Damn." Clay flips closed his cellular
phone in frustration.
Re-adjusting his flak jacket and kevlar helmet, Clay hunkers down
between stacks of sandbags. He gathers his gear around him and
settles in for the night.
"Good night Lieutenant Roberts. God speed." It's a whispered prayer
for a fellow soldier in the war against terror.
Clay curses under his breath at the grizzly facts of the region in
which the US is now heavily involved. Afghanistan is the most
heavily mined country in the world. The majority of injuries and
deaths that have occurred as a result of those mines have been to non-
combatants. Lieutenant Roberts was trying to avoid making that kid
one more statistic in the tragic tally.
Trying to doze off into a light sleep, catching some much-needed rest
while he can, Clay remembers some of his first interactions with the
Lieutenant…
A picture of himself and Roberts flashes through Clay's semi-
conscious mind. Surrounded by investigating authorities and standing
just outside his CIA surveillance truck, Roberts had gotten the
better of him that day; had tricked him into waving a hand in front
of his eyes while staring directly at the sun. But it was Clay's own
words that made him the bigger laughing stock.
`All I'm doing is going blind.'
`Well, that's why they stopped using it, sir.'
Clay smiles with one last thought as he slips into restful sleep.
END