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Sharpe's Sergeant	By : Sable899 Category: S through Z > The Sharpe Books Views: 1683 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Sharp series of books that this fanfiction is written for, nor do I know Sean Bean. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. This story is fiction.

Chapter List
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Chapter 18 Concordance

2007, Steinmetz, Germany

Camden spent the better part of the day in the Operations Center keeping track of the Canadian EOD teams who were out on the range with the production cast and crew. Everything was going smoothly, leaving her plenty of slack time to spend with her thoughts until early dusk when she would have to head out to the site to confirm the area was all clear and tactical exercises that would send mortar fire over the area could begin.

On the surface, her budding relationship with Sean was fun and lustful. They spent a lot of time telling each other funny, light-hearted stories about their travels, co-workers, friends and people who briefly passed through their lives. Sean even talked a little bit about his family and childhood mates back in Sheffield even though Camden never asked anything in particular about them. She had noticed that he tried not to let their discussions venture into her life before the Army or her romantic relationships. She had remained very guarded about that and suspected that Smitty had warned him she would. He seemed quite pleased that she wasn’t affected by his celebrity. She knew that the fact that she seemed rather dismissive of it was quite refreshing to him. With her, he could be just Shaun from Sheffield.

She had gotten past her initial discomfort at Sean turning up in her little corner of the galaxy although his ongoing intrusion into her neatly packaged life was a bit more distracting than she would have liked. Camden knew that both Smitty and Orry had had a hand in forcing her to deal with them having been brought together, but she couldn’t be too angry about it because they had always been there for her and wished her only the best. She trusted their judgment and they had both seemed to fully accept Sean into their little circle. Initially, he had been quite shy and quiet but genuinely seemed to want to be part of her world. Once he got used to them and got to know them, he certainly came out of his shell, developing an easy camaraderie. But no matter how much thought and analysis she put into the situation, there were always questions that she couldn’t figure out the answers to. Some of them she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to know the answers to.

What does he expect of me? Why do I get the feeling that he wants more out of me than I can give? Will he accept that I can’t be a part of his life beyond his time here? Can he see how our two worlds just don’t fit together, how different we really are? Can he understand the boundaries of infatuation and lust? Will it break my heart when the time comes for him to leave? Will it break his?

The closer the day grew to a close, the more she was looking forward to an evening alone. She was happy about going out to the range to make an all clear sweep. It would take her to her most favorite place on the face of the earth.

1822, Steinmetz, Bavaria

Opening his eyes, Jamie Sharpe could barely make out the beams on the underside of the roof of the farmhouse. Rubbing his eyes, within a few minutes they began to clear and he started to recall where he was. When he came to the memory of why he was lying on the floor of the attic, he sat bolt upright. His head spinning, he struggled to his feet to throw open the attic casement window looking out on the deserted town below.

“Colonel! Colonel Sharpe!” Jamie shouted as loudly as he could.

When total silence was all that answered, Jamie felt a panic overcome him. God, please, let him be safe. Rushing out of the building, he headed straight for the end of the town, straight for the cave entrance at the base of the bordering escarpment, heedless of any danger that might wait there. The strange fog had completely vanished without so much as a lingering wisp. Arriving at the cave entrance, he found the small train of wagons all still hitched to some very nervous, wild-eyed horses. The men who had accompanied them were all lying about on the ground where they had dropped when the fog had overtaken them. On closer inspection, Jamie could see that each man's face was contorted into a mask of fear and insanity, grotesque, blood oozing from every orifice; each one very much dead.

Frantic now, Jamie went one by one checking each body, searching for the man who had come to mean so much to him; his father, his friend, his mentor. Shouting now, tears coming to his eyes as he searched, Richard Sharpe was nowhere to be found. The cave. Of course, the cave! He would have sought shelter! Running into the cave, Jamie didn't have to go far when he spotted a small puddle of blood, but no body. The cave was ringed with torches. A few had burned out, but enough were still burning with a smoky haze to cast enough light to expose the entire cave. Looking about, Jamie noted hundreds of wooden crates with the familiar crest of the Royal Armory, stacked floor to ceiling, lining the cave walls. He could decipher the stenciled markings that indicated many contained Baker rifles, others standard-issue muskets, some smaller ones held pistols. There were stacks of tallow-coated pouches containing cartridges and flints, pallets of cannon shot, powder charges of all sizes and barrels of black powder, but no Richard Sharpe. A flash of reflected light caught Jamie's attention. It was a button. A distinctive, round, silver button with a fragment of thread the forest green color of the uniform of the 95th Rifles still attached

2007, Steinmetz, Bavaria

Coming to, Richard Sharpe couldn’t quite remember where he was or what had happened. He was sure that his head was about to explode and grimaced upon touching the spot at the back of his head where blood was oozing. Taking a quick assessment of his current situation, he could make out a dark, dank, and very dusty cave. Slowly hauling himself to his feet, he had to stand still for a moment until his head stopped spinning, and then untied the bandana he always wore around his neck to press against the wound.

There was a very narrow stream of amber light coming in the only entrance that he could make out. It was just enough light to allow him to see that the cave appeared as if no other human had been there for well over a century. A thick layer of dust, spider webs and bat droppings coated everything. The only disturbances in the dust had been made by his own feet and there was an outline where he had lain on the floor punctuated by a small puddle of his own blood. Once he regained his balance, he began to inspect his surroundings only to find piles of rotting crates with the remains of rusting weapons, cannon shot, decaying ammunition and powder charges. The metal bands holding together barrels of black powder had rusted away, spilling their contents onto the cave floor.

Careful not to make any scuffs that could possibly spark the loose black powder, Sharpe backed out of the cave, Reaching the late afternoon light, he could make out the sound of what had to be a great battle raging not far way. The cannon fire steadily grew denser, more intense than what he had endured during the height of battle at Waterloo. He searched about attempting to determine just what direction it was coming from. Still somewhat dazed and his head pounding, he thought he was hallucinating when he heard a woman's voice calling. He could make out the remains of a narrow road down to the nearly overgrown cave entrance and began to remember where he was and why he was there. He recalled that there should be a deserted village further along the road and since that seemed to be from where the voice was coming, he forced himself to start off in that direction. It seemed the most logical direction since he felt strongly that he needed aid and it was in the opposite direction of the cannon fire. He knew better than to wander into a battle unarmed and unprepared, not knowing who was friend, who was enemy.

The Smuggler’s Roost area just outside of Steinmetz had held a certain fascination for Camden since the very first time she had stumbled across it during her first tour of duty at the Grafenwoehr Training Area. Steeped in folklore and legend, the locals all believed it was haunted. Those of gypsy heritage believed it was cursed. Camden believed it was magical.

The place was a series of caves carved into the limestone face of a hundred foot high horseshoe-shaped escarpment that cupped around the south end of the old village. The whole area had once been a hotbed of Austro-Prussian smuggling activity as it was located on the edge of Bavaria on the old route between Dresden and Nuernberg from which the village had profited, growing to quite a substantial size. When King Maximillian had established his Field Artillery Headquarters in Grafenwoehr and seized several thousand acres of farmland just to the south, he had forced the inhabitants within its boundaries to relocate. And so, Steinmetz had become frozen in time, a pristine location for movie-makers, historians and archaeologists. The only drawback was the limited access due to its location which placed it neatly halfway between where modern artillery and armor weapons would fire off their ammunition and the impact area where that ammunition was to land.

By the time Camden arrived by way of the back entrance road, parking the Range Rover near the escarpment, she could hear the artillery batteries warming their guns by firing off training ammunition that disintegrated as soon as it left the barrel. It would be dark before they started firing the real thing to light up the sky and shake the ground for miles around. Smitty had notified her by radio that the last of the film people had departed the village and she was alone. Starting her inspection of the area in the remote event that anyone might have been left behind, she could feel the peace of the tall pines as they whispered above her head, the birds calling to the fading sun as it made its final fall into the western horizon. Every time she made this walk she felt renewed; spring brought the fresh clean scent of new growth, the sharp tang of pine pollen, the sugary fragrance of wild currant blossoms and the spicy aroma of scrubby native wintergreen bushes crushed underfoot.

As she traveled down the old wagon path towards the cave entrances, she heard the sighing sounds that she had occasionally heard on her past visits; the sounds that the locals believed were the spirits that haunted the place. Every time she had heard them she caught the feeling that they were voices of the past trying to tell her their secrets. Just like every other time, she called out, trying to get them to answer her.

“Is anyone there…” Camden called clearly, her volume just below a shout, “Can you hear me….”

She stopped momentarily to listen as her voice faded away into the lofty pines. The air seemed to still, allowing the faint sound of footsteps on the loose pea gravel of the faded wheel ruts to come closer, closer. Her stomach knotted as she prepared for the unknown. Oh shit…maybe there are ghosts out here.

No answer came, just the slow steady progress of the footsteps. Camden, the camouflage pattern of her uniform blending with the overgrown brush along the side of the path, stood still as death, her mind running through a dozen different scenarios of what might be up ahead. She felt numb, paralyzed, like a deer in the headlights. She waited, heart pounding, afraid to call out again, fearful of an answer.

“What in God’s name are you doing out here all by yourself?” Camden called loudly as Sean, wearing his Sharpe costume, came into sight, providing her with the relief that allowed her heart to slow and her breathing to return to normal.

Looking ahead, Sharpe could barely make out Camden’s slight figure against the backdrop of the undergrowth. Yes, it was a woman all right, but dressed quite unusual, rather like a gamekeeper or even a partisan. As he approached her, she stepped into clear view, the features of her clothing becoming clear. He could make out what resembled a high-ranking Sergeant’s stripes in miniature pinned on the collar of her green and tan mottled jacket with names embroidered over each breast. One spelled ‘US ARMY’, the other ‘CANTRELL’.

“My, don’t you look dashing in your uniform, Colonel Sharpe,” Camden joked as a smile crossed her face.

Startled by her familiarity, Sharpe jerked to a halt, causing him to gasp as his head throbbed painfully. On hearing the sound, Camden rushed to his side, immediately checking the obvious injury.

“Damn, you sure got a gusher there, you really cracked your skull pretty good,” Camden announced, “Let’s get you out to a field aid station.”

Feeling quite dizzy again, Sharpe wordlessly accepted her assistance as she braced him with an arm around his waist. She smelled heavenly, like a mix of spice and citrus as his throbbing head brushed against her short blond locks. She was definitely a woman; petite yet nicely proportioned delicate features, and a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen. She sure did sound strange, though, a lot like Captain Leroy from Virginia whom he had fought alongside of at Talavera. And, she seemed to know who he was. Still not saying a word, he launched his most charming smile as she looked directly at him.
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Sharpe's Sergeant