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Sharpe's Sergeant	By : Sable899 Category: S through Z > The Sharpe Books Views: 1682 -:- 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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Title: Sharpe's Sargeant
Authors: Sandrine Saint Lo
Genre: Strictly Het, Erotic Sci Fi Fantasy, featuring Sharpe, Sean and an interesting Army Sargeant.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The author does not know Sharpe, Sean, Meg, or any other recognizable names. Several Sharpe characters have been borrowed in homage to Bernard Cornwell and their characterizations have been made with the utmost of care. I make no claims about anyone, their sexuality or their private lives. I mean them no disrespect. All others are purely figments of my imagination and any resemblances to persons living or dead are purely coincidental. I wrote this for fun, not for profit.

Prologue

“Hey, Smitty,” Camden called from across the slowly filling hotel lobby, “Where did that SAIC disappear to?”

“Uh, I think he was heading out to the arrival area, Sarge,” Smitty replied.

“Well, he isn’t answering his radio, must be the reception,” she suggested, “If you can handle things here for a couple of minutes I gotta go check on arrival time and see if that other team coming from Mannheim has shown up yet. Radio me if you have any problems and I’ll hurry back.”

SFC Camden Cantrell was pissed. Not at any particular thing, just pissed in general. It had been raining ever since she and her teammate had arrived in London five days earlier and her mood reflected the dreary weather. She hadn’t made a trip like this since she was promoted to the Operations Sergeant position at the 2nd EOD Detachment two years ago. Operations Sergeants were the ones who made the VIP support mission assignments, not carried them out. She didn’t like being away from her home base at Grafenwoehr Training Area in the heart of Bavaria for more than a day or two because her soldiers were all quite young and inexperienced, thanks to the aftermath of 9/11, and things tended to go all to hell whenever she was away. That’s what happens when you get stuck with an idiot Second Lieutenant for a commanding officer. None the less, she preferred Germany to any other place in the world. Her life had been stable for the past eight years while she climbed the ranks. At the same time her daily routine was full of adventure and excitement. No two days were ever alike. She had power and authority to run her own shop and respect from everyone she worked with, including the Bundeswehr EOD team, a staunchly male entity who had looked at her like she was an alien when she first arrived in Germany all those years ago. The Field Artillery sergeants at Range Control were terrified of the “Dragonlady”, as they liked to call her, but showed the utmost respect for the Master EOD badge that adorned her BDUs. It was an added benefit that her present assignment was a green, expansive paradise compared to some of the shitholes she had been to earlier in her Army career.

She left Smitty working the security screening area with a couple of British MI5 uniformed officers and went off towards a side entrance to the hotel where the First Lady of the United States would be arriving in about two hours. She knew Smitty would be fine by himself. They had been working these functions for many years together and Smitty was an old pro. The initial security sweeps had been made and MI5 and Secret Service agents were at their assigned posts. All that was left was the guest screening and searching of ladies handbags. As she passed through the revolving door she was hit with a foul-smelling cloud of cigarette smoke that made her wrinkle her nose and gasp for air.

“Sorry about that, miss,” remarked the Pakistani doorman in his gentle lilting voice, “but this is the only place where we could set up a smoking area that was still inside the perimeter. We didn’t want to inconvenience the guests by making them go back and forth just to have a smoke.”

She made a mental note of the group of well-dressed men, probably politicians or celebrities, nobody she recognized, gathered around the tiled entrance anxiously puffing on cigarettes or cigars. Typical for London, there were several pipes being madly puffed also.

“God forbid we inconvenience the guests,” she muttered under her breath, sideswiping one of the smokers standing by himself, “Excuse me, sir,” she said snidely as she marched on past some guy in an Armani suit standing right in her way.

“Hey, Cammie, how the hell ya’ doing you ole’ battleaxe?” she heard as she passed beyond the thick marble columns of the entranceway. Looking in the direction of the voice she saw her old buddy from way back in EOD School. Chris Orry was one of those persons that she was always glad to see and their paths were constantly crossing. He had an infectious sense of humor that would always brighten any mood she might be in and was always fun to have on TDY trips. Plus, he had always outranked her by one stripe, which meant that she could relax a bit and shove all of the unpleasant team leader responsibilities off on him. And, he would be stuck writing the after action report.

“Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to be here hours ago,” she griped, walking right towards him, “Can’t you Control flunkies tell time anymore or did that vanish along with the rest of your brain when you made the jump up to Control?”

“Damn, it sure is good to see a familiar face,” she continued as she returned his bear hug, “I was beginning to think we were going to have to go it alone on this one. The Major said that this visit was going to be very low keyed, but I haven’t covered a presidential visit with just one team since Clinton was in office and sneaking out for Krispy Kremes and blow jobs in the middle of the night.”

“The SAIC requested a second team after he got here and saw the hotel layout. It’s supposedly an unannounced stop. The guests are all pre-screened, invitation only, so there really wasn’t an initial need. But, because it is a so-called ‘celebrity-studded’ event, well, you know how those things go; the Secret Service can be so anal sometimes. They didn’t factor in the ubiquitous British paparazzi,” Orry joked, “By the way; this here’s Corporal Guidry, on his first VIP support mission.”

“Oh, a cherry, huh?” Camden remarked, shaking the hand of an awed teenager dressed in what was most likely the first suit he had ever owned, if his apparent discomfort was any indication.

“Who you got with you from your shop?” Orry asked, “Oh, wait, I’ll bet it’s Smitty, isn’t it?”

“Smitty. How’d you guess?” she asked with a big grin spreading across her petite face.

“Well, your little pet Crawford is on a sixty day deployment, Mulvey is persona non-grata after he got caught doing the nasty with that Royal Army General’s daughter last year and I know that you would never travel very far with a newbie. You’re too cantankerous to put up with when you’re either on the road or when you haven’t gotten laid in a while,” Orry explained with a booming voice and giant laugh.

“Damn you, Orry, you know me too well,” she shot back, “But you don’t have to announce it to the world.”
“Yeah, those boys have been with you so long they would probably know how you like it on any given day; hot and hard or slow and easy!” he joked, throwing his head back and laughing heartily.

“Go on, have your laugh and embarrass me in public. You know payback’s a bitch,” she shot back.

“Yeah, and then you die,” he concluded.

“Where have they got you put up at?” she asked.

“Some fancy-ass place over in Hampstead, or is it up in Hampstead? I can never figure out directions on this damned island.” Orry claimed with a furrow in his brow.

“That’s because every time we come here we end up so fucked up that we’re lucky we don’t get locked up for public intoxication!” Camden answered, “Which I expect we’ll have to do tonight after we put the old lady back on Air Force Two and wave bye-bye. Did you know that the embassy assigned us a car and driver?”

“So you mean we’ll actually make it back to the hotel without having to crawl this time?” Orry asked, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise.

“Yeah. Since we went through that NATO Officers Improvised Devices course the Brits seem to think we’re special,” she said, striking a hands-on-hips pose, “Who’d a figured that a three-week drunk in Kent would turn us into Royal Army celebrities?”

Just then, Camden’s radio earpiece crackled for her attention.

“Whatcha need, Smitty?” she asked, speaking into the mic up her sleeve while putting a finger in her unoccupied ear so as to drone out the surrounding city noises.

“Smitty needs our help with some bubble-headed blond in a rubber dress,” she informed Orry with a puzzled expression on her face as they headed towards the main area of the lobby.

Sean Bean was pissed. Pissed for a number of reasons. One: because he had to attend a function that he’d rather not. Two: because his agent told him he had to stay sober during it. Three: because he couldn’t show up looking his usual scruffy self. Four: because Nina had arrived at his house in a dress that wasn’t anything more than a couple of strategically-placed Band-Aids. He wanted to strangle her as he put her into a cab to send her home to change, directing the driver to wait for her and then bring her to the hotel. In the meantime, he went on ahead in the waiting limo figuring he would have time to have a fag and cool down before she showed up.

At the hotel, he found one more thing to be pissed about; he had to show his invitation and pass through some elaborate security in order to get to the designated smoking area. Bloody ‘ell! Don’t tell me I’m gonna have to put up wit’ some speech from some fuckin’ politician! All just so’s I can meet his royal pain in the arse Polanski! This better be worth it! By the time he made his way to the smoking area he was already tired of the hangers-on calling out to him. He knew he could get away with ignoring them because it was something that he was known for. He was just in the process of lighting up when he got sideswiped by something rushing by, causing him to drop his fag.

“Bloody-ell, watch….” He grumbled, turning to see who had bumped into him, but all he saw was a petite blonde in a dark business-like suit striding brusquely away from him. She mumbled something but he didn’t quite catch what it was. Rude little twit! He took note before she got too far away that she was wearing reflecting sunglasses and a radio earpiece just like the MI5 guys crawling all over the place and held back on the rest of his response, instead, moving over to lean against the marble column ninety degrees from where she had stopped and given some guy a big hug. She seemed to be oblivious to all the celebrities milling about, intent on her conversation with the man that she obviously knew well. She looked so different from all the other women about that Sean couldn’t help himself as he casually remained in place and eavesdropped on her conversation. What bits he caught caused him to flush slightly, as he realized that the two of them were American and obviously uninhibited about their choice of language and the level of their familiarity. The more he heard the wider he grinned. Who the bloody-ell is she?

He was intrigued by the little blonde without even knowing who she was. She definitely was different, definitely from a different world than his. He was used to meeting all different sorts of people all over the world and was used to women having a certain response to his charms, especially his grin. This one, however, didn’t even acknowledge his existence. Along with everything else that had managed to piss him off today, she was just adding insult to his injured ego.

The more she talked, the more his ears perked up. Until that is, he heard the words “bubble-headed blond in a rubber dress”. Bloody-ell, Nina! What now!

Chapter 1

The blonde he had heard called 'Cammie' swept past Sean with her two companions in tow at a near run, without even a glance in his direction. At least he thought so. Of course he really couldn't be sure because of her sunglasses. But he was certain that her attention remained straight ahead, shaking his firm belief in the one thing he was certain of; how devastating he was to women when he was all descruffed. Certainly every other woman in the vicinity had locked their eyes on him. They all had no problem recognizing Mister Big Movie Star. Was she blind or something? He froze as the group passed him by on their way into the lobby until he suddenly remembered that he needed to get to the lobby himself. As he moved, he quickly swept his eyes around the area looking for anyone with a camera. Although this event was closed to the press he knew the paparazzi were out in front just waiting for something to happen. And the last thing he needed was for anyone to catch one of Nina's temper tantrums on a camera phone, especially wearing that infamous rubber dress! He was certain they had to have been talking about her; how many blonds who owned a rubber dress could possibly have an invitation to this sort of private bash? Bloody-ell, Nina, this is the last straw.

The minute Sean reached the lobby he knew that his long, rocky relationship with Nina had finally run its course. He knew because the first and only thing he could hear was her voice screaming at the security officers who were insisting she give up her handbag. He didn't give a dam how expert she was at giving head. He was through. Luckily, most of the people attending the function had already moved on into the ballroom far enough down the main promenade that Nina's screeching voice couldn't be heard. Tucking himself behind a potted palm tree, Sean took a moment to gauge the situation before anyone noticed him coming. His focus locked onto that 'Cammie' woman who had seemed to take immediate charge of the situation, instructing a couple of the uniformed officers to escort Nina to the hotel concierge office until her identity could be confirmed and her handbag searched. As the blood drained from his face Sean could only stand there running his fingers through his shaggy blond hair while trying to think of what to do. Think, ya bloody fool! Oh right, call Josie, she'll know what to do!

“Sean, Sean, calm down, I can't understand a thing you're saying,” Josie warned, trying to calm him over the phone, “Just talk to the first official you can get to and try to do some damage control. You know she's probably already throwing your name all over the place. Just try to keep your head down.”

“But Josie, I just want her to go away. I'm done wit' 'er. I just want to avoid publict-eh,” Sean pleaded, his mobile giving him a reason to keep his head turned and anonymous to the few people either passing by him or staring at the car wreck occurring in the lobby, “You're my bleedin' assistant for Chrissakes. Do somethin!”

“Sean, snap out of it!” Josie shouted into the phone, “You know I”m on holiday in Blackpool! You have got to handle this yourself!”

“Josie, what would 'appen if I just simpl-eh walk away?” Sean asked a little calmer.

“Sean, if you do that you can be sure that the minute she gets back on the street she will go straight to the dailies crying what a bastard you are and how you abandoned her,” Josie tried to explain, “See if you can't get someone to escort her home until we can get an attorney to do something to prevent her doing any damage. You're England's biggest star; they're likely to do just about anything you ask.”

“Oh Lordy, Josie. These are blood-eh Americans running the show 'ere. They don't care who I am. Mebbe if I was bleedin' Brad Pitt or someone like 'at, but I'm not!” Sean pleaded.

“Sean, you're a great actor. Convince them,” Josie scolded him, “And call me tomorrow. Now, good night!”

Fat lot o' help ye were, girl. Bloody –ell! ........... I wish that ‘Cammie lass’ would take those bleedin’ sunglasses off………Fuck! What’s wrong with ya, Beano? Git yer shite together, ya dumb twit!
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Sharpe's Sergeant