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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 2 A Door Closes

Inside the confining concierge office, Camden had had just about enough of the blond bimbo screaming at her. She was trying really hard to control herself in the face of a venomous onslaught of every foul expletive in the British lexicon. Pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head, she bent over far enough to come within inches of Nina's face, Summoning up her best professional tone, she asked in a tightly controlled, cool, yet threatening voice “Excuse me, but what did you call me?”

“You fuckin’ Yankee cunt! Don't you know who I am, you stupid bitch? I'm the girlfriend of the biggest movie star in Britain!” Nina spat furiously, “Keep your dirty hands off me!”

“That’s what I thought you said. Right ma'am, perhaps you are, but as a representative of the United States of America, I couldn't give a rat’s ass if you were Queen Victoria, herself,” Camden tried to calmly explain, “It is my sworn duty to protect the First Lady, by any means necessary.”

“If you don't call Sean Bean immediately I'll see to it that you...you....you.... He'll see to it you're fired!” Nina ranted on.

As Camden realized that she wasn't getting anywhere, she stood up as straight as she could and simply commanded in her best Drill Sergeant voice “Enough!” effectively rendering Nina speechless and opening the tear floodgates as Nina realized just how much trouble she was in. A simple tilt of Camden’s head told the SAIC that there wasn't anything more that she was willing to do. She had a job to get on with and the trashy-looking bimbo was all his. On her way out the door, she paused to ask the man in a whisper “Who the hell is 'Sean Bean'?” The teasingly whispered answer was simply: “If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you. Just 'Google' him.” She caught the sound of a low chuckle follow her as she headed out the door.

Out in the outer office it seemed a small crowd of agents had gathered, talking in hushed tones. Orry and the rest of the EOD team was standing against a blank wall watching with great interest the matching MI5 agents talking to the Armani-clad man Camden had sideswiped outside of the side foyer. The moment she slammed the door behind her he looked up with a slight cocking of his head to gaze directly at her. A soft tousle of blond hair fell across his brow. At that precise moment, it was as if every drop of air was being drawn from the small office. Camden gulped for air, swallowing hard and with obvious difficulty, as she locked onto the greenest eyes she had ever seen. For just a moment, she felt herself swirling into the oblivion of those endless orbs. Until, that is, Orry grabbed her elbow, startling her back to reality.

“Cam, we have 10 minutes till motorcade arrival. Let's let these guys finish up here,” Orry interrupted, “Smitty can write up his incident report once we finish the mission.”

“Uh...uh...right,” Camden stuttered uncharacteristically, “Let's go.

She could feel those green eyes studying her, stripping her naked, as she passed the man on her way out the door. Glancing rearward at the last second, she thought she saw him run his tongue gently between his teeth, sending a distinct shiver down her spine and a flash of heat to her groin. Smitty, bringing up the rear, closed the door with a loud click, finally breaking the spell, freeing her to resume breathing. She found her composure shaken and her concentration completely gone. Those eyes were the only thing left in her melted brain. She couldn’t recall the rest of the man’s face, but oh, those eyes……. And that tongue….What the hell is wrong with you, woman? Snap out of it!

Smitty, Orry and Guidry kept quiet as they watched Sergeant Cantrell smack herself in the forehead with the heel of her palm. They had immediately recognized the man who had so immortalized the noble Boromir and electrified movie screens with the villains Jason Locke, Patrick Koster, Sean Miller, and 006. Grinning at each other, they silently assumed that Sarge had finally figured out who Sean Bean was, also. Discussion, however, was out of the question. Sarge had that ‘Don’t fuck with me” look broadcasting out of her icy blue eyes and the Dragonlady was back in full control of herself, suddenly becoming all business again as she settled her sunglasses back onto her nose and marching on ahead of the guys.

As he watched the uniformed officers drag Nina away, Sean’s fog of panic began to loosen its grip on his brain. Forcing himself to approach the nearest official-looking person, he felt a great sigh of relief as the man turned out to be one of the British MI5 agents who instantly recognized him. Finally, after experiencing the most embarrassing moments of his life while trying to explain his involvement in the Nina situation no fewer than five times, Sean was graciously escorted to the small office where he had seen them take Nina. He quickly made note that that ‘Cammie woman’ wasn’t there, only the three men who had been with her. His attention was immediately drawn to the ear-splitting noise emanating from the adjoining office and his face flushed for the umpteenth time with embarrassment. Nina’s voice was ear-splitting. She was throwing his name into nearly every sentence she screeched. Turning to the two MI5 agents accompanying him, he began asking what was going to happen to Nina when they were through with her. Then, the noise abruptly stopped.

In the next instant, he heard the door slam. As he cocked his head in the door’s direction, the room suddenly felt as though someone had switched on a slow motion button. A flash of recognition struck him like an Orc’s arrow to the heart. Sean Bean was speechless, near gasping for air; his heart pounding, pulse racing, head swirling and ears deafened. There she stood, momentarily motionless, focusing directly on his eyes. Quite subconsciously, he ran his tongue quickly and gently between his teeth. The only thing in the room at that instant was the petite, elfin-faced blonde he knew only as ‘Cammie’. He froze as he felt himself falling down into the iridescent pools of the clear, cool water of her eyes. In an instant it was over as one of her companions touched her arm and she broke the eye-contact. Sean could only stare at her as she seemed to float out of the outer door. Wait, was that a glance back? The moment the door closed, the world came rushing back in and Sean, still somewhat stunned, regained enough of his senses to focus on the unfinished business of Nina.

By the time Sean was shown in to the room where Nina was being held, her sobs had just about been fully spent. The minute she saw his face, his cold eyes, she knew that the last chance he had given her had slipped away. It was over. His lips curled into disappointment and he slowly shook his head.

“Sean? Baby? Please………Let me explain,” she pleaded, trying to put on her most innocent ex-pression.

“There’s nowt to explain, Nina,” he stated calmly, “I saw everything, heard everything. I’m finished wit’ ya. I want you gone……out of me life. Now!”

As he turned and walked firmly out of the room all Nina could do was stare at his back with a look of shock on her face. As he closed the door behind him, he knew he was closing the door on two years of his life. So, where was the sadness he should be feeling? Knowing it was only a matter of time ever since the ‘incident’ at the LA Four Seasons, he had rehearsed the aftermath over and over in his head. Some sort of sadness should have been there. Instead, all he could feel was the lifting of a great weight from his shoulders. A grin of self-satisfaction came over his face as he headed for the hotel bar, feeling the need for an all-night, stinking blind drunk. Why not? The ballroom was rapidly emptying as the function where he was to meet up with Roman Polanski was coming to an end. Now that was truly sad. His agent thought that this part would be the one that would earn him the Oscar that he so richly deserved.

No reason not to get good and pissed now, is there Beano? Josie’s gonna kick my arse over this royal fuck-up.

Besides, he knew that by now somebody would have tipped off the paparazzi and delaying the confrontation that would surely happen the minute he stepped foot outside until he was good and pissed would surely lessen the aggravation. Hell, wasn’t that what they had come to expect of the Beano?

The hotel bar was already three deep by the time he made his way there. But the minute he looked around he started to put the disaster of this day behind him. There was Orli huddled with Nicky, Charlize and Stewart, and Ian and Dame Judy had Sir Paul sandwiched between them, and all sorts of people he knew.

“Oi, Tom,” he exclaimed grinning widely as he flagged down Tom Clegg, his old Sharpe director, “Hain’t seen you in ages.”

“Sean, you randy little bugger, my you do clean up nicely!” Tom asked, checking him over from head to toe, “In all the years I’ve known you I can’t recall ever seeing you in a suit.”

“Wouldn’t be now if not for that bugger I got for an agent.” Sean replied.

“Roman and I have managed to get a booth over at the back,” Tom said in an eager tone, “He’s been looking for you all evening. Says he’s got something for you. Get you a pint and come join us.”

“Roman? Roman’s lookin’ fer me?” Sean quizzed, the famous toothy smile lighting up his face

Sean Bean, yer ‘bout the luckiest bugger in Britain
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Sharpe's Sergeant