Tropical Blues



By: Alexis Steven 
alexis_steven@hotmail.com



Type: Webb POV / Thoughts of Mac / Harm Bashing



Rating: PG-13



Spoilers: Up to most current episode



Summary: Our dear Webb arrives in Suriname, and ponders the choices he
has made



Feedback: yes!



Archival: not without permission



=====================================================================



1130 hours

Zanderij Airport

Suriname



My first thought as I step off the plane is, "Oh my god it is hot!" And
it is a wet hot to boot. Great, already my shirt is sticking to me. On
the tarmac, I see the man here to pick me up holding a poorly made sign.
It says "Web." Honestly.



"I'm Webb, with two b's," I say to the man. Since he doesn't answer
back, I repeat myself in Dutch. It works.



Next thing I know we are heading toward Paramaribo in a beat up car that
is running on a spare tire. God I hope we make it there.





1300 hours

CIA Field Office

Paramaribo, Suriname



I enter the building, and am transported back to the forties. I am
shown my office by a grumpy secretary, who leaves abruptly. An old
wooden desk, chair, and filing cabinets, with papers and files scattered
over them, take up most of the small room. The walls are white, or
beige, or maybe yellow. Who can tell? The paint is peeling in places,
and I am praying it isn't lead based. I also have an old metal fan with
strips of cloth tied to the front. How detective like. At any moment I
expect some dolled up babe to walk in asking for my help. Nope, just
the grumpy secretary.



"I am Clay…" I start to say, trying to properly introduce myself. She
drops the box on the floor, and closes the door on her way out. Maybe
someone ran over her cat this morning.



I open up the box to find my office things. It has all made it,
thankfully, even my photo of Colonel Sarah MacKenzie. Cleaning off a
spot on my desk, I put her photo there. Then quickly place a photo of
mother next to her. After all, I miss them both. 



Turning on the fan, I remove my jacket and vest, and roll up my sleeves.
My wardrobe is in dire need of help. It is too hot for this much
clothing. I try to open the window, but am startled by the voice from
behind me.



"They don't open. I am William Alexander, head of exile. Glad to have
you with us," he chuckles.



"Thank you, sir."



"Please, call me Will. This is a very informal office."



I gathered that from his outfit. Tropical print shirt, khaki pants,
sandals, and sunglasses.



"Yes, it isn't what you are used to," Will replies, motioning to his
clothes.



"I am sorry. I did not mean to stare."



"It is ok. You need to go shopping. Son, you do not want to wear those
clothes around here. You will be a target for muggings for one. Two,
you'll boil to death. Oh, it also happens to be the second rainy season
of the year. The humidity gets pretty bad."



"That's great. Any other good news?"



He laughs loudly, and for some reason, I immediately like this guy. He
is tall, and mostly bald. Very formidable looking. Oh wait. Did I
just describe AJ?



"It is not as bad as you think. After a while, you will get used to it,
and I like for my people to keep in touch with those in the states. As
long as it doesn't become a problem. Make yourself at home, and avoid
Johanna. She is perpetually unhappy. Jules will take you to your
apartment later. Did you have anything shipped?"



"Not really. I was hoping to pick some things up here."



"No problem. We'll get you a company car also. Part of the 'executive
package'," he laughs.



I catch myself laughing with him, and hoping for something to drink at
the same time. As Will leaves, I hear him order Johanna to bring me
some bottled water. Does this guy read minds? 





1700 hours

Webb's Suriname Residence



I tried to set myself up for the worst, and found it to be a pleasant
surprise. Not very large, but perfect for me. I don't plan to do any
entertaining, so the small kitchen with the wrap around counter is nice.
You can have bar stools on the other side. There is also room for a
small dining table near the French doors. They lead out to the deck. I
am on the eighth floor of "luxury apartments", and I have a view of the
ocean. The living room is large enough for me to put in a small desk in
addition to the regular items. The bedroom and bathroom are sufficient
as well. Noticing that Jules is getting impatient; I tell him I am
ready to head to the hotel. I have tomorrow off to complete necessary
personal errands, and really need some sleep.



Jules is not much of a talker, so I concentrate on the outside passing
by, and see a lot of happy people. I sigh as we pull into the hotel
drive, and get out of the car. I grab my luggage, and bid farewell to
Jules. There is a quiet restaurant/bar off to my right, and I think I
will come back down to relax.



Once I am in my room, however, I settle on a shower and room service.
Dumping my luggage on the floor, I open the case with my undergarments
in it. There is no way I am wearing more than boxers to sleep in. I'll
fry in this heat. The air is on, but barely.



Grabbing my shaving kit and fresh undies, I head to the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes of ice water later, I am refreshed and hungry. Grabbing
the remote and menu, I drop into bed and prop the pillows up behind my
head. I order lots of bottled water, a shrimp dinner, chocolate cake,
and a carafe of white wine. That should satisfy me till morning.
Settling into the pillows, I flip through the channels. Not much
choice. I am guessing satellite for the apartment if at all possible.
I need my CNN. 



Looking at the clock for the fifth time in three minutes, I sigh deeply,
and close my eyes. I find myself longing to hear the soothing gurgle my
fish tanks make, and the dog across the street barking at nothing.
Never have I had such a feeling of homesickness before. It isn't like
this is my first station assignment. I've had many. It just seems
strangely lonely this time around. 



There is nothing different in my life. I have no wife or girlfriend.
No children. Just mother, my fish, and my horses. It could be due to
the sacrifice I made. A sacrifice I made for someone who isn't exactly
deserving. Nor was he particularly thankful. I do not want to end up
like Rabb. He will never settle down. Never. His ego and pride won't
let him. Stupid bastard.



And poor Mac. She is being lead around by that SOB like a little puppy.
If he loves her, then why can't he just marry her? God I miss her. I
probably won't see her any more than I did before, but there were always
those glimpses of her jogging near her Georgetown apartment. Shopping
out at Tyson's Galleria. Commanding attention as she strutted through
the Pentagon. Sure Mac never saw me. It wasn't like I planned it. I
had things to do.



Mother isn't getting any younger either. If anything were to happen to
her while I am down here in hell, by god, I'll never forgive myself. I
know she is taking that blood pressure medicine, and doing yoga. Only
because her doctor ordered her to do something more than horseback ride
and garden. Can't think this. Must not think this.



Tomorrow, I will send mother some roses. As a matter of fact, I will
send Mac some roses at JAG ops. It will throw Harm off if nothing else.
She may like having a secret admirer. Oh good. Dinner is here. Oh
shit. I am only wearing underwear.



"Just a minute!"



*~*The End*~*

    Source: geocities.com/webbmacfic