And Aftermath...
Certain Methods
Word Count: 2,948
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Characters: Should I get back to you on that one? If I don't keep it gen, then... Dani/Nico, Harm/Mac, and a possible bit of Harriet/Bud. But Chegwidden features heavily/centrally to the story, too.
Spoilers: Although I reference something from 1x12, I'm actually going to set this after 1x10 for Necessary Roughness. For JAG? Um... season two, definitely related to that season. Specifically "Secrets" and "Ghosts," and a lot of this won't make sense if you don't know those eps. Otherwise, the spoilers/timeline from JAG is kind of... vague.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I just break things.
Summary: Direct, indirect. Legal, illegal. Military, Civilian. Every person has a different method for handling situations. Some are better than others.
Author's Note: I have to admit, exploring this side of Nico is kind of... fascinating...
Blame in the Aftermath
"What the hell was that?" Someone shouted as the front of the restaurant shook a little. The doors wanted to come off their hinges. Glasses rattled, some falling over and shattering. Dishes banged together, silverware clattered, and people near the door almost lost their balance.
"Call the police!"
"Nico," Chegwidden said, pushing his way past the crowd in the entrance way and going out the doors. The night sky was filled with smoke and the bright light of a fire, a car burning like a humvee in a war zone. AJ ran toward it, stopping when he felt the heat of the flames.
"Sir?"
AJ looked back. Rabb and Mackenzie had reached his side. Roberts made it a second later, looking winded. Perhaps he needed to have his physical status reevaluated. "Were they... inside it when it blew? We were only a minute behind them..."
The admiral ignored them. A car bomb would have been too damn easy. He'd known that man to pull himself out of situations far worse without a scratch. He didn't care how long ago that was. "Nico! Damn it, Careles, answer me!"
A warped piece of metal flipped over, and AJ could see someone moving slowly. "Stay back, AJ. He's still here. Still watching. Waiting to take out anyone that tries to help us."
The admiral let out a breath in relief. "You hurt? Give me a sit rep."
"Bruised, possible concussion," Nico answered slowly, pushing himself up on one arm, keeping the other cradled against his chest. "Mostly just shaken. Some bruising. Easy, Danielle. Stay still, just a bit longer."
"Sir?"
"If Nico says Osborne is watching, then he is," AJ said, scanning the area. "With this darkness, the buildings around here... He could be anywhere."
"Not where the CIA is watching, right, Webb?"
Chegwidden turned and grabbed Webb by the jacket. "You listen to me, and you listen good. I don't care what agency you work for or what that agency thinks is for the greater good, if you put any of my people at risk like this again, you will find out just what a SEAL is truly capable of doing."
"This isn't my operation," Webb objected. "Careles would have protection if he would have been willing to hear me out. We have-"
"You have nothing. You let a killer go free, a man I gave to you because you assured me that he would be dealt with. Now that killer is after a friend of mine and a woman that has nothing to do with any of this. That woman has two children. Does any of this get through to you, or do I need to beat it into your skull?"
"I was just as much in the dark as the rest of you were," Webb said, shaking his head. "I was told months ago that Careles was a dead man who'd resurfaced, extremely dangerous, and that if I heard anything or located him, to send it further up the food chain. I didn't know this had any connection to Osborne until after the operation moved to New York."
"You know, it is illegal for you to operate within the US," Roberts piped up, and AJ looked at him. He lowered his eyes to the concrete.
"Roberts has a point. None of this should be happening."
"Even you have to admit that taking care of Osborne requires... bending the rules," Webb said, and AJ dumped him on the ground. The man was useless. "Admiral, I swear, I would never have allowed a civilian to be involved in this if I'd known."
"I think the CIA has gotten close enough to force Osborne to back off for now," Nico said, causing everyone to look at him. He was a mess, but he hadn't lost his touch. They hadn't heard him coming, and that was all the more impressive since he was injured and not alone. Santino had her shoes in her hand and was leaning on him heavily.
"We should get you both to a hospital-"
"No hospitals," Nico said. "You don't want to know the kinds of things he can do in one of them. As for you, Webb, couldn't you have asked one of them to teach you how to build a damn perimeter?"
"I didn't set this up-"
"Yeah, I would deny it, too. It's sloppy," Nico interrupted. "Someone give me a phone."
Mackenzie passed his phone over. Nico entered a number and made the call. "It's me. How many did we lose? Damn it. No. I'll handle the notifications myself. Save it. I'm fine."
He gave the phone back and turned to Webb. "I lost five of my people. You tell whoever had the brilliant idea to let that bastard live that I will find them and they will wish that Osborne dealt with them."
"You know that you should be getting some kind of treatment, don't you?"
"Now is not the time to annoy me. I get kind of touchy when someone tries to kill me, and I'm a trained assassin. Drop it," Nico muttered darkly, leaning against the back of the chair. He closed his eyes for a moment. The man was tired, should have been in a hospital, but he was stubborn. He wouldn't give in, not for a second.
Dani watched the commander walk away, shaking his head. She knew that the others were moving around in the other room. They were making plans. Nico should be a part of them, and at the same time, he shouldn't. This wasn't like him. He was hurt-and he was hurting. "The men, Nico, the ones that died-were they protecting my family?"
His eyes opened, and he looked at her. "You didn't get them killed."
She recognized the sound of his guilt talking. "You didn't, either."
"I hired them. They worked for me. I brought this into all of their lives. I put them in the position. They were there to protect people, and they had no idea the true nature of the threat. If I had made sure they were better prepared, then this would not have happened."
"Nico, the men who worked for you knew what they signed up for," she reminded him. He was clearly unconvinced, and she knew it would take a lot to convince him. "They work security. They give protection. They realize that-as unlikely as it might seem for professional football players, it could happen that they have to put their lives on the line. No, it's not the same as a firefighter or a cop or someone in the military, but it is still possible."
"Kindly stop rationalizing it for me, Doctor. The facts will not change no matter what they may or may not have realized. As good as the men were that I hired, none of them knew that a rogue former SEAL who worked most of his life as a covert operations cleaner was on their tail. They were not prepared for this."
"And if you let the guilt eat at you, what good are you going to be?" Dani demanded. She had to use another tactic, maybe the responsibility card. He felt responsible for their deaths, so he would feel responsible for the people he still had to protect, the people still in his employ. "You can't blame yourself for this. I like the idea of blaming it on the guy who set you up to be this guy Osborne's bait."
"How big is the bruise on your hip from where you landed? How much does it hurt?"
It hurt like hell, but she wasn't going to admit that right now. It would only fuel his guilt. "Is this another attempt to push me away? It's not going to work. Yes, I almost got blown up. Yes, my car is now a toasted wreck. I'm aware of both of those facts. I am also aware that if you hadn't been there, I would be dead."
"You would also not be a target if not for me. I don't see why you fail to accept that."
"Because you know better than this and because I won't let you drown in guilt. It's not fair to destroy yourself, and it's counterproductive," she said, shaking her head. She didn't like to see him like this-wanted to believe it was just the fact that he was hurt. "Being like this... it's not like you."
"This is me on a concussion, Doctor Santino. I can't move without getting nauseous, and I don't like sitting still."
"Why is it 'Danielle' when I'm getting blown up, but as soon as that's over, it's back to 'Doctor Santino?' I think if I'm going to get blown up because I'm close to you, I get to be called 'Danielle.' I'd prefer 'Dani,' but I'll take 'Danielle.'"
"Danielle," he began slowly, and she looked at him. "I think you may have to get me a bucket."
She started laughing. She couldn't stop herself. It was so unlike him, and yet so strangely... right. He didn't like to ask for help, and she knew that. That he'd asked for her help while using her name-it almost seemed like he had to be joking. Only he wasn't. She moved a bowl close to him, and he leaned over it. Nothing happened, and he sat back again. "I hate concussions. It's not the headache. It's the nausea."
"You know, you could have swelling in your brain, and it could kill you."
"And then Osborne would be so disappointed."
"Please don't joke about you dying. Or anyone dying. I'm not military. I do morbid humor, sometimes, I know I've said the words kill me now. I've threatened murder before. Of my children. Right now, though, I don't want to hear anything about death. I don't want to think about something happening to you or any more of your men or anyone in my family," she said. She stopped. "I don't mean we can or should ignore the men that died. I didn't mean that. I don't-I want to know what I can do to help them-their families."
"Nothing right now, other than staying alive."
"But if they were protecting my family or me at the restaurant-"
"You need to stay alive. Don't let Osborne win and get what he wants. It doesn't matter if they were protecting anyone you know or not. The main target was you. That was your car that was rigged to explode, not mine. I don't get to die until he's taken everything he can from me."
"Why you, though? You said he trained you, but... if he did-you chose to turn down what he taught you and it made him angry?"
"Something like that."
"I'll keep asking, you know that, right?"
"Yes. But as I said before, I was an assassin. Think about that before you ask. There are plenty of details that you don't want to know. I'm not an innocent man. What I do now is tame compared to what I was, and you don't even like what I do now. Magicians or killers, Doctor. You know which one of them I am."
"Sir, I don't know that we can run any real kind of protection detail here. I don't want to ask Webb or the CIA for anything, but we're going to need a lot more people if we're really going to protect everyone connected to Careles. He's got a whole football team that Osborne could pick off. He already took out part of Careles' security staff. He almost got Careles and Santino at the restaurant," Harm began, shaking his head. He didn't know what they were going to do. "This is a lot bigger than we can handle."
"I'm surprised to hear that from you, Commander," the admiral said, an amused look on his face despite everything. "I didn't think we'd find a situation that you didn't feel capable of handling on your own."
"I guess even Harm knows his limits," Mac commented. She smiled. "I'm surprised, too."
Harm shrugged. "All right, laugh at my expense. It doesn't change the facts. The CIA picked the wrong person to use for bait, whatever Careles' skills might have been in the past, he has far too many connections here, too many ways for Osborne to cause collateral damage. It's not just the woman or her family anymore. What about your daughter?"
"I trust that Nico's people can handle keeping her safe. Would I rather do it myself? You bet your ass I would. She's my daughter. But I know that bringing her here would make things worse, so I'm going to keep my distance. The next step for us has got to be getting Doctor Santino somewhere where Osborne can't get to her."
"And severing all of my ties to the Pittman group, the Hawks football team, and anyone else I may have developed some kind of rapport with over the last twenty years," Careles said, walking into the room, Santino following after him. She guided him to the nearest chair and helped him sit. "You know, just because I am probably going to throw up and have no real sense of balance at the moment does not mean that I should be excluded from the planning session. Nothing wrong with my mind, just my body's equilibrium, and I do not mean that in the metaphysical sense."
"You're going to... quit when you've assigned people protection? Doesn't that mean that everyone will end up getting pulled and no one will be safe?" Bud asked, frowning.
"No. Xeno will keep the protection details as I assigned them. He will do everything-or almost everything as I would have. What I need-and I am fairly certain I have something that will make Marshall agree to this, not that agree is really the right term for what I have in mind-is for Pittman to fire me, publicly, and do what he does best. Ruin my chances at another job. The man can be... vindictive, and I trust that he would live up to his reputation."
"Okay, assuming that Pittman agrees to this, why would anyone believe it? Why would Osborne believe it? What could possibly be a big enough reason for Pittman to fire you, now, after twenty years of service? The threats from Osborne? You think they're enough that Pittman would do that? I'm not so sure Osborne would buy it."
"Osborne might if the reason Pittman's firing me is because I slept with his wife."
"What?"
Careles shrugged. "I knew her before she met him, and the feelings didn't just... disappear. Now, if someone would pass me that bowl...?"
"It's a damn good thing you were so good at being quiet that no one ever knew you were coming because one thing's for sure-while you can dish it out, you certainly can't handle it," the admiral muttered, shaking his head as he set the bowl next to Careles. Careles doubled over and lost his dinner, sitting back with a wince. "You should have a lot harder head than this."
"I think I've made improvement, actually. Last time you were around and this happened, I babbled in Italian. For two days."
"Lucky I was able to translate for you."
"Not so sure about that, AJ. I think you told the other men something about a goat that I never even said," Careles laughed a little before he threw up again. "You know, my mother and even my ex-wife used to say I was too thick headed to listen, but if that's true, why the hell does a concussion take me down every damn time?"
"Your brain is your most valuable asset, the advantages of your stealth aside," the admiral told him. "Never knew a man who thought as fast on his feet as you, and I don't think I ever will. The commander would like to be that man, but he's got a bit too much of an ego to make it."
"Sir-"
"You like him, AJ. Take it as a compliment, Rabb. It's probably the only one you'll ever get from him while you serve under him."
"That is not true, Nico."
"Oh, yes, it is. I seem to recall taking out half the outer perimeter, getting in and extracting the hostage, and returning to camp without one single shot being fired or warning alerted and having you tell me I was late."
"You were. You were supposed to be back five minutes before you showed up, and you were only supposed to scout the damn place, not do all the work yourself."
"There were no fatalities. I fail to see why one 'good job' was so hard for you to say."
Harm smiled. He had to admit that watching the admiral interact with Careles was... informative. They'd all seen a part of the admiral that they didn't usually see, and he was smiling a lot more. Careles was good for the man. Clearly. Even in the middle of Osborne's threats and people dying, the two of them shared a bond that no matter how much time had passed or distance was between them or crisis was happening, they could pull each other out of it. It must have been something, whatever mission had brought the two of them to this level. He wasn't sure he'd have that kind of relationship with the admiral if Chegwidden retired or he transferred out of his command. Harm didn't see himself resigning his commission, though.
"We're getting distracted. We need to-"
"You're going to sit and rest. That's an order, and don't even think of trying to argue that you're not under my command anymore. Someone recalled you at to active duty. That means that you do have orders again, and I still outrank you."
"I'll take another dishonorable discharge, then, because I am not letting anyone tell me what to do."
Chapter Eight