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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.

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Chapter 31 Old Soldiers

“So, does everyone understand what they have to do tomorrow?” Camden asked the group gathered around the bar finishing off the last of the pizza, “Sean?”

“Aye, regular routine, then come straight away to the caves after filming finishes, don’t stop ta change me clothes and all” Sean repeated the basic plan for his tomorrow and looked towards Smitty.

“Go draw your weapons and ammo, then standby here at the unit until time to fetch the old woman out an hour before sunset,” Smitty droned and looked towards Rich Moore.

“Fetch the pyrotechnics and smoke pots and set them up at the caves as soon Sean and I can leave the set,” Rich reiterated and looked to Sharpe.

“Stay close to Miss High-and-Mighty here and work out the defenses,” Sharpe nodded towards Camden while throwing a snide glance towards Sean.

“Now, everyone is to get a good night’s sleep tonight,” Camden began repeating a directive she had issued earlier, “who knows what’s going to happen tomorrow, but I reckon its going to be a very long day. And I know Sean and Smitty have been running on empty since yesterday. Colonel, you’re bunking with Smitty tonight, and Sean, you’re going to your own hotel room. As for me, I want a little peace and quiet on my own.”

The group groaned a bit, but began to make their way towards the door as Camden turned and headed off towards her bathroom. Sean and Sharpe both hesitated at the front door after Rich and Smitty headed down the stairs, eyeing each other suspiciously until they heard the bathroom door locked from the inside followed by the sound of running water. A few seconds later and they both began to laugh, more at themselves than at each other.

“Guess she wants ta be alone, ya ken?” Sharpe chuckled as the two men, so much alike, looked to each other, “How in blood-eh ‘ell did womenfolk get ta be so damned independent?”

“Well mate, there are womenfolk and then there’s Camden Cantrell,” Sean assured as he passed ahead of Sharpe out the door and down the stairs, “and then there’s a pub at the bottom o’ these steps.”

“Aye, and I quite rather like the way pubs haven’t changed much,” Sharpe decided, following him out the door, “There’s summat fallin’ out yer pocket.”

The parchment envelope that the Gypsy woman had given Sean was hanging half out of a rear pocket where Sean habitually stuck such things. He had put it there when he had first entered Camden’s flat earlier and promptly forgot about it until now. Reaching back, he gently pulled it out to stare at the quill script of his name.

“Go on lad, open it,” Sharpe encouraged, “If it be somethin’ what will help or hinder tomorra’ may as well be best armed. If ‘tis nowt, ah well.”

With hesitant fingers, Sean gently pried open the envelope to pull two sheets of parchment letter paper out. Unfolding them, he felt a surge of adrenaline as if he was a young lad again opening his RADA acceptance letter. Only this time, instead of an overwhelming joy, he felt puzzled, not by the sheet that held the cryptic verse the old woman had recited earlier, but by the second sheet that looked to be some sort of a map of South Yorkshire with a series of thick, black runes drawn all along the bottom edge. He could make out just one word placed inside a small box near the center of the map and he heard himself read it out loud: Rabelaise

“Rabelaise ya say?” Sharpe repeated the word as if he had heard it many times before.

“Aye,” Sean confirmed, “do ya know it?

“Aye,” Sharpe assured, “went there many times as a lad when I were at workhouse. Delivered coal to the shopkeeper.”

“Shopkeeper?” Sean queried, “what sort of shop were it?”

“Buy me that beer and I’ll tell ya ever thing I remember abaht it,” Sharpe grinned and headed for the downstairs pub where Rich and Smitty were waiting by the door for them, “but that were a long time ago. A book shop, if I recall proper. I hardly think it would be around now days, unless it were a magic book shop.”

It was a very surprised Camden who returned good morning greetings to Sharpe and Smitty when they walked into her Operations Center at the EOD unit. She had been near certain that the men would have detoured into the pub and stayed until it closed. As it was, there wasn’t even a hint of an all night boozer on either of them. Sharpe was dressed in his freshly-cleaned Rifles uniform, complete with elaborately-tied red sash, his sword on his hip. He was clean shaven; his hair freshly washed yet tousled. As he greeted her, she caught his clean masculine scent and subconsciously scolded herself for even noticing it. Within an hour they had loaded up the equipment and booby-trap materials into a Range Rover and headed out for the Steinmetz location while Smitty headed off to the armory to draw weapons and ammunition. He was to return and stand by at the unit to wait for Camden’s call to bring Zara Preis out to the Smugglers Caves.

Outside of the good morning greetings, Camden and Sharpe spoke little, yet they seemed to have a sense of rapport as they tackled the preparations for their mission as two old soldiers would be expected to do. Now, glancing at him as they drove out South Boundary Road, she couldn’t help but silently chuckle as she noticed his white knuckles as they grasped the armrest on the passenger door, his glinting green eyes wide with wonder as they passed tank and gun parks, all manner of trucks and transports and clusters of camouflaged tents.

“You know, you can’t be telling anybody about any of this once you get back, don’t you?” she asked him gently.

“I know. I’d be locked away in Bedlam fer the rest o’ me life,” Sharpe admitted, “They’d be thinkin’ ‘Poor old Sharpie, he’s finally gone off, he has. Most Johnny Jump-ups take to drink, but this one’s just gone right daft,’ now wouldn’t they?”

“That and they’d try to drill a hole in your head to purge the rot,” Camden chuckled, trying to lighten Sharpe’s somewhat pensive mood, “or maybe burn you at the stake for being in league with Satan.”

“Aye, they still do that, ya know?” Sharpe informed her with a serious glare, “at least up in the Highlands and over in parts o’ Wales.”

“I’m sure they do, considering all the other barbaric things they did back then,” Camden accepted and then found herself with nothing else to say as the realization of his forthcoming departure started an ache in her gut. It was one of those aches she got whenever she dreaded something that was about to happen; only in this case she really didn’t understand why she was dreading it so intensely. Sharpe had been another intrusion into her neatly ordered life just like Sean had been. It didn’t matter what the old woman had said or what greater powers were at work here, she felt torn between wishing that neither one of them had ever come and wishing neither one of them would ever leave. She had never felt such conflict within herself, and all over two legendary alpha males lusting after her. It was just unfortunate that any sort of lasting relationship with either of them was impossible. They weren’t like puppies that she could just keep. The only thing that was keeping her going now was the overwhelming sense that everything was going to work out for the best. She didn’t know how, but that was the one thing she felt absolutely certain of, but for now, she determined to put all those distracting thoughts aside to focus solely on the mission ahead.

Before she realized it, they had arrived at the top of the escarpment overlooking Smugglers Caves and pulled into a copse of evergreen trees, well hidden from anyone approaching in any direction. They had arrived completely unnoticed by anyone at the film location just a short ways up from the caves by taking a back route that brought them out on top of the escarpment. Grabbing the kit bags with the booby trap materials and tools in them, the two headed for the trail that led down and around the side to the level of the cave entrances. Working their way down, Sharpe pointed out a rock ledge that slanted into the face of the escarpment that sat about ninety degrees along the horseshoe-shaped wall of rock and seventy-five meters above the floor of the entry into the cave that had led him to the present. A lodgepole pine tree growing close to the rock face provided a natural ladder. By the time they reached the bottom, the sun had climbed high enough to bathe the area in its warmth, forcing Camden to remove her BDU jacket and Sharpe set aside his green jacket. Comfortable in his white linen shirt, unbuttoned to the high waist of his cavalry trousers, Sharpe forced himself to pay no attention to Camden’s tight brown tee shirt, stretched tightly over her firm round breasts.

“That’s where I’m goin’ ta be. Waitin’ fer him right there,” Sharpe stated with certainty, “You can come or no, makes no difference ta me, but that’s where I’m goin’ ta be.”

“You mean Ducos, don’t you?” Camden asked apprehensively, “what are you going to do?”

“I’m goin’ ta kill ‘im,” Sharpe answered quickly without a trace of doubt, “he shoulda died in Naples. Now, I’m goin’ ta make sure the bastard is dead once and fer all. I’m goin’ ta put him down deep this time.”

“You don’t even know if he’s behind all of this,” Camden countered as a chill went up her spine as he turned cold green eyes on her. She was a soldier and fully prepared to do whatever duty required, but what Sharpe was broadcasting with his chilly glare was tantamount to cold-blooded murder. “Even if he is the one responsible, you can’t guarantee he’s going to come through. More likely he’s waiting for you on the other end.”

“Nay, he’s comin’ fer certain. I can feel it,” Sharpe growled, turning back to continue down the faint trail of steps cut into the rock, “I know, jest like I knew when Brigadier Loupe were comin’ at Alona and General Herault at San Miguel. It’ll be just at sunset, sure as I’m alive.”

Camden remembered those stories well as it had only been over the past winter that she had devoured every Sharpe story Cornwell had written as well as a few juicy ones that she had found on the Internet, thanks to her chance encounter with Sean. She remembered the killing machine that was Richard Sharpe, who could fillet a man in cold blood just because he had determined that he needed to die or because he had a score to settle in one moment and then the next be tenderly administering to a wounded soldier. For certain, there would be bloodshed before this was all over and he was back in his proper place and time. It was that touch of the unpredictable that bothered her most, that had her alternating between awe of him and fear of him, and she found it impossible not to be excited at his proximity.

They worked in silence, not wanting to be heard by the film people up the road. The last thing they needed was curious civilians. Camden was truly amazed at how his 19th Century tactical expertise was as relevant today as it was back then as he pointed out where the booby-traps would be best employed and where Rich should set up the smoke pots and pyrotechnics. He instinctively pointed out the fields of fire and where rifle positions should be. He listened patiently with eagle-eyes as she went through demonstrations of each of the different types of booby-trap devices and quickly went to work on them.

When it came time to work inside the cave, Sharpe deferred to Camden’s expertise as they encountered black powder that had spilled from rotted barrels to form a crust over the uneven rock floor. Working magic with a spray bottle of alcohol and a brush, she cleared a path through it to the back wall that stood oddly straight and smooth, as if it were made of poured concrete instead of limestone carved over centuries by underground streams.

“Do you hear that?” Camden asked. Just as she had reached a hand out to touch the slick smooth surface, a humming sound, musical, like a mother rocking a baby to sleep started emanating from somewhere deep within the wall.

“Aye. Tis a fey thing, it is,” Sharpe determined as he heard the sound as well without having touched the surface. He visibly shivered as unbidden thoughts of something otherworldly overcame him, “this must be where I came through afore and now tis come alive.”

“Yes, just like Zara said it would and from here on anything can come through that wall. Okay, we have to measure exactly fifty-one paces back and out the entrance from the base of this wall,” Camden began counting while she moved to do exactly as the old woman had instructed.

When she got to fifty-one, she marked the spot by making a small pile of pebbles. It was the place where Zara would sit while she recited the words from the ancient book until the portal that Sharpe had been cast through reopened to the past. But because the wall had come alive when they had entered the cave, it was now possible for anything or anyone to come through to the present and also why they had to keep a watch on it until near sunset when Zara would come to begin the opening ritual.

“We’ve got about four hours to kill before anything happens, so we may as well make ourselves comfortable,” Camden briefed, “and we’d best do it out of sight.”

“Aye. If we head up to that ledge we’ll ‘ave a good picquet point for up the road as well as a good clear line of fire for the cave entrance,” Sharpe assessed, “what with yer woodland tunic an’ trousers an’ my Greenjacket, nobody will be able to spot us amongst the cover unless they jump in on top of us.”

“Lets go on up and get the weapons then and do just that,” Camden readily agreed.

Once settled behind the foliage on the ledge, Camden, in her camouflage battle dress uniform and Sharpe, in his Rifleman Green, were well concealed as they sat on the ledge facing outwards. He watched her closely as she filled magazines and loaded her M-16 rifle and .9 mm Baretta pistol, paying particular attention to how she chambered the first rounds and made sure the safeties were on. While the weapons were in her hands, Camden seemed oblivious to everything around her and her hands seemed to have memorized every movement necessary to prepare them for firing.

“I suppose by all rights, I should have found some time to give you a chance to practice with these,” she admitted when she realized he had been studying her every move, “but quite frankly, compared to your pistols and your Baker, these things are like toys. You’ll hardly feel a thing when you pull the trigger. And if you think the Baker is an accurate weapon, you ain’t seen nothin’ bud. Just point and shoot and you can hardly miss. Oh, and don’t worry about bite, pour, spit, ram and all that, just fill some extra magazines and swap them out as you need them.”

“And ‘ere the Frogs thought we were inhumane when we killed their officers at long range,” Sharpe joked with a glint of joy in his eyes, “Guess I won’t be needin’ me pistols.”

“No, besides, the black powder smoke would give away our position,” Camden shot back and then saw the look in his eyes, “Well you don’t have to look so damned happy about having an opportunity to kill someone.”

“Tis not that, lass,” he explained almost laughing, “tis just that I never thought I’d be on picquet dut-eh with such a Sergeant as you by my side. You handle them weapons as though you were born to them.”

“I nearly was,” she started explaining, “I was probably about 7 or 8 years old when one of my numerous stepfathers took me out rabbit hunting with him and the dogs. He let me shoot off his shotgun. Well, at least he let me pull the trigger while he held it. But it was enough to hook me on firearms. Then came the Army; I took to it like a duck to water.”

“You would ha’ made a good Rifleman in my time,” Sean confessed, “if you’d a been born a man that is.”

“I doubt I would enjoy living in your time,” she countered, “not after having had all the freedom I have in this one. Besides, I could have been a sniper if I wanted to. I passed all the qualifying tests for it. But, EOD came along and kind of just took over my life. Has Smitty or anyone mentioned that your Rifles still exist today?”

“After all this time? The Rifles?” he sounded amazed by the revelation, “What need for the Rifles now what with all the destruction your artillery can rain down?”

“Even now, not a war can be won without boots on the ground. They’re mechanized infantry now and called simply “The Rifles”, she continued, her voice turning to molten chocolate as she spoke about subjects close to her heart, “but their regiment is the direct descendant of the 95th Rifles. They have quite an illustrious history. They were just in their infancy in your day, but now they are probably the most celebrated regiment in the British Army. The best of the best. There’s a whole museum dedicated to them in Winchester. You have every right to still be proud of that uniform.”

“Nice to hear that Horse Guards finally done summat right,” he concluded. He suddenly found himself with nothing more to say and feeling a bit distracted by her sultry voice and close proximity in their lofty hide-away. They had both worked up a light sweat as they had climbed to the ledge and now, as they relaxed in the shade of the ledge’s overhang, the still coolness had forced her pert nipples erect beneath the thin cotton of her tee shirt. He knew he needed to change the subject completely as he felt a stirring deep in his groin. “Did ya bring any rations? Gettin’ a tad ‘ungry now and all Smitty ‘ad were Cocoa Puffs? A tad sweet, but I quite liked ‘em. Didn’t hold me long though.”

“Ahhhh…Cocoa Puffs…my favorite,” Camden moaned rather seductively at the thought without noticing the effect she was having on Sharpe, “Oh, yeah, I brought MREs. And before you ask, that means “Meal, Ready to Eat” and I will instruct you in the proper way to consume this most wonderful of field rations.”

After fishing a canteen and two brown plastic pouches out of her field pack, Camden proceeded to dump the contents of one out onto the quilted poncho liner she had used to cover the thick layer of forest debris that had settled on the rock ledge. With their backs propped against the wall of the escarpment, Sharpe followed suit. Searching through the assortment of inner pouches, she found what she was looking for.

“This is instant pudding mix,” she described with a broad smile, her voice lightening, “mine is, hmm…let’s see…banana. Looks like you got lucky and got chocolate…hmmm, life is so unfair! You wouldn’t want to trade would you?”

“From the sound o’ ya’, I’d best be sayin’ no,” Sharpe, pleased at altering her mood so easily, joined her in her light banter. He was acutely aware that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing to him and for the first time since they had met, he felt he was seeing her in her most natural state. “The first to offer trade usuall-eh has the worst o’ the bargain to begin with. And since I’ve no idea what either is like, I’ll stick with what I ‘ave.”

“Hmmm…okay, be that way,” she teased, “Now, this pudding is supposed to be the dessert, but you have to eat it first or else you won’t be able to shit for three days after you eat the main meal. That’s because the complete meal averages 3000 calories of nearly pure protein. Of course that doesn’t mean much to you, but it‘s about the equivalent of several pounds of salted beef, which can bind a man up for days as you probably well know. Good if you are in combat and don’t have time to go to the latrine, but bad for routine use. The pudding seems to counter that if you put it down your gut first. So, you rip open the pouch on just a corner, add water to nearly the top, fold the edge and squish it around until you have mixed the powder into pudding.”

Sharpe mimicked her every move until she unexpectedly stretched out on her back and raised her pudding pouch over her mouth and squeezed a dollop out to fall from about a foot above her opened mouth. She made a low moan of distinct pleasure as she rolled the pudding around in her mouth and slowly and deliberately swallowed, licking her lips after.

“Hmmm, not as good as chocolate, but it’ll do,” she purred, her voice melting once again. Just as she began to squeeze another dollop of pudding from the packet, a deer fly buzzed at her face, causing her hand to jerk just as the pudding broke loose to land right in the small hollow at the base of her throat.

The situation was suddenly more than Sharpe could bear. Losing all self-control, he reached for her packet of pudding, tossing both his and hers aside. In an instant he was over her, his muscular body crushing her down as he nuzzled at her throat, taking up the sweet sticky dollop of pudding. With the spot of silky skin licked clean by his liquid-soft tongue, he pushed himself away, his grin a challenge. He felt her groin press against him as her smile grew in response. The crushing kiss that followed held the intimate flavor of sugary sweet banana that heightened his need for her and made him shudder under her provocative caress where her hands had frenetically moved inside of his white linen shirt to tease his nipples.

They writhed together as he frantically pulled her shirt over her head while she pulled his shirt from out of his trousers and slid it, along with his suspenders, off of him. He ably removed her lacy bra as quickly as he had at their first encounter. Her nipples seared as he moved to nibble them gently and bolts of flame moved ever downward. Reaching between their hips, she tore at the button flap that covered his growing erection. In a moment his cock was poking through the fly of his trousers and she pushed her hand inside so she could stroke its full length. It trembled with heated arousal and she groaned at the thought of his heated hardness buried in her slick tunnel.

It took an eternity and several “blood-eh ‘ell” curses before he managed to undo her military belt buckle and work the five buttons on the fly of her BDU trousers. By the time he slipped a hand inside the flimsy crotch of her thong to torment the sensitive flesh of her pussy lips and plunge his slender fingers inside her wet, eager hole she was feeling ripples of intense anticipation. It took more agonizing moments for him to work the snug-fitting trousers that made her ass look so incredible down over her hips and thighs and finally past her knees. But with the trouser hems firmly tucked into her combat boots, they would go further.

Unwilling to wait any longer for the sweet release his cock would give to her throbbing cunt, Camden, moaned “thank God for Yoga” and gave a slight giggle, “One modified supta baddha konasana coming up,” and squirmed under him to bend and pull up her knees, laying her thighs flat open, causing her whole pelvis to shift upwards, offering him unfettered access to her dripping depths.

Sharpe, eyes glazed, licked his lips and visibly swallowed at the sight of her offering. For an instant he held himself apart as if savoring the sensations to come. Camden was on the verge of screaming for him to push forward when he finally entered her. Her inner muscles were taut as he buried his rigid rod deep in her wetness and his hands on her ass held her juicy mound tight against the base of his cock. The angle at which he entered her was exquisite, hitting her in just the right spot. He paused as he felt a massive quiver pass through her and realized that neither of them would last long under the circumstances.

As he began to thrust, hard and fierce, she flexed to meet him, squeezing her inner muscles as though trying to wring his orgasm out of him. His cock plunged in and out with a measured pace. He could feel her nails rake along his back as a means of reigning in her urge to scream with ravenous insistence. He could feel every heartbeat throb through his body in a rhythmic cadence with every muscle contraction within her slick tunnel.

Sharpe felt himself rushing towards orgasm as he pounded into her with a firm authority. He shuddered as his balls tightened just as he felt her first tremors convulse through her pussy. The pleasure was enormous and he knew his eruption was going to end in complete euphoria. Anticipating the moment, Camden let go and crossed the threshold to rocket to oblivion. She had to bite into his shoulder to keep from screaming as the blissful waves rushed over her. With a guttural grunt, his climax pulsed thickly inside her, his shaft spurting again and again.

They lay there, motionless, a long time, his cock still trapped in the clench of her inner muscles until she stirred with a moan. He didn’t want to break the contact, but he could tell he was becoming heavy on top of her and finally let his spent shaft slip from her sodden pussy. He slid from her to lie alongside and she stretched out her nearly numb legs. Whoever this Yoga bloke was, Sharpe was certainly grateful to him for whatever it was she had done to him. He thought he had had some interesting experiences with women such as La Marquessa, Josephina and Lady Anne, and a whole roster of women over the years, but he couldn’t recall any woman’s body behaving anything like this.

“Why don’t ya come with me, lass?” Sharpe asked once they had made themselves tidy and settled down to finish their lunches.

“What? Come with you?” Camden repeated incredulously, “To your time, you mean?”

“Aye. We’re a good pair, you an’ me,” he assured. He wasn’t quite certain why he had asked her. It just seemed like he didn’t feel quite so incomplete when she was around. But was that enough? Many times he had thought he had been in love only to have it wrenched from him or to be deceived by it. Women had always come easy to him and he had discovered the hard way that lust and love were two distinctly different emotions. But, which one was driving him now to want Camden Cantrell was a question he couldn’t answer.

“That’s not even a remote possibility,” she answered with certainty, “not because it’s not physically possible, but because I’m a soldier and I took an oath a long time ago to do my duty. I would have to abandon my oath and sacrifice my honor to go with you. You, more than anyone, must understand that I could never do that. There’s also the fact that I just don’t belong there anymore than you belong here. ”

Before they could continue the conversation, Camden’s mobile phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out to see a text message from Rich Moore. He was a couple of minutes away and bringing the items she had asked for. It was time to focus on the mission once more.
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Sharpe's Sergeant