Come in from the Cold
By OughtaKnowBetter
Obligatory Disclaimer: all theirs, nothing mine, even though they're not using them during the writer's strike. "A bad actor can ruin good writing, but a good actor can't save bad writing." Let the industry remember this!
A/N: this work is two stories in one, and will appear under the same title under two fandoms: Numb3rs, and The Unit. Each story is written from a different POV, and will merge later on. No one has to read the story from the other fandom--each story is designed to be complete--but those who enjoy both fandoms will hopefully like the additional tidbits that are offered. Let's see if this works...
A/N #2: set in season two, where the relationships were a bit more calm...
A/N #3: Enough, already! Seriously, come on over to the forum known as "Calling All Authors". It's a safe haven from Internet bullies and flamers, where writers can work to improve their skills. I know it's helped me!
Hector Williams stared at Colonel Ryan. He tried to remain respectful of his commander, but it was tough. "You're kidding, right? Sir?"
Ryan's return smile was also forced. "I wish I were, Williams. I wish I were. Even more so because I myself will be joining you."
It was one of the more unusual briefings that Sergeant Major Jonas Blane had attended. It wasn't the personnel: Mack Gerhardt was his second, with the rest of his merry little band, Williams, Bob Brown, and Charlie Grey, all sitting in varying levels of attention in the small classroom that doubled as a briefing room. It wasn't his commander, Colonel Thomas P. Ryan, a hard as nails leader with a reputation worth following.
It was, as always, the mission.
"Let me make myself clear," Ryan said, standing in front of his men, his arms folded across his chest in a position of disgust. "I tried like hell to get us out of this and was told point blank that we would attend this farce or we would be cleaning the latrines for the next month. I seriously considered latrine duty."
The looks on everyone's faces said that more than one soldier was still considering latrine duty as the better option.
"But the Powers That Be have determined that those of us on this side of the fence have not 'bonded' sufficiently with the rest of the base, with the result that our tattered and frayed cover story has been further tattered and frayed, never mind that it was a dumb ass cover to begin with. Therefore we have been ordered to take ourselves and our wives and/or significant others, those of us who have such people at our disposal, to this week long retreat at an over-priced country club so that we can demonstrate to the rest of this man's army that the 303rd Logistical is a unit like everyone else." Ryan pushed the crooked smile forth yet again.
Jonas Blane came to attention and tossed off a crisp salute. "Sir, on behalf on my men and myself, I wish to volunteer for any mission leaving within the next twenty four hours, sir!"
"Yeah!" "Hear, hear!" "Way to go, Jonas!"
Ryan shook his head. "Nice try. Bravo Squad already went for that one, and they are currently winging their way to yet another vacation spot on this troubled world of ours. They beat you out."
Gerhardt went for upset and disappointed. "Aw, colonel—you like them better than us."
"Nah. They just smell worse and they have rotten table manners. And since I have to join you bozos on this god-forsaken mission, I'm lookin' out for myself." He straightened himself up. "You will still be able to draw on Stores for supplies. As for weapons, you can choose between the Arthur Ashe tennis racket and the one designed by Andre Agassi. I have already ordered you men a crate of golf balls. Think of them as a box of defective grenades. The golf clubs you get to supply for yourselves. The resort does boast several unimpressive sets for those of you already overdrawn on your pay."
"We're going un-armed?" Those were Grey's words, but the entire team looked faintly ill at the thought.
"Skeet shooting only, sergeant, and the pea-shooters that this resort type place uses are already available at said resort with the sights so mis-aligned you'll think you can't hit the broad side of a barn. Nobody brings anything more, and if I catch any man with any of his own Unit issue, he'll go back for another retreat and have to explain to the Unit shrink why he disobeyed orders. Any other question? No. Dismissed." Ryan escaped out through the door before anyone could object to any more idiocy.
The five of them looked at each other.
"Tiffy's always saying that I don't spend enough time with her." Mack Gerhardt tried to make the best of it. His smile didn't quite come off.
"I've done worse things for the army," was Jonas' contribution.
They looked at Bob Brown. He shrugged. "Kim'll go anywhere," he said. "She'll make the best of it. The hard part will be getting her parents to take care of Serena and the baby."
Jonas looked doubtful. "That's the hard part? Doesn't sound particularly difficult to me."
"It's not. In fact, this whole thing sounds too good to be true."
"There speaks a man who hasn't been married long." Grey figured out what was going on. He turned to Williams. "You think they have many unattached ladies in that resort?"
"A few," was Williams' hope, rather than thought. "Mostly army types. The colonel did say that we needed to fraternize with the other unit."
"Then I suppose I'll simply have to fraternize with the ladies of whatever unit is there." Grey sighed theatrically. "What I do for my country."
Jonas looked at the two rented vehicles, both roomy sedans with all the maneuvering ability of a cow mired in quicksand, and sighed. "Never let it be said that I ordered a man under my command into a dangerous situation that I myself would not dare to go. I will be driving the vehicle containing both my commanding officer, his wife—and mine."
"Here, here!" "Way to go, Top!" "Brave man."
"We are not amused, Jonas," was Molly's tart reply, but it was tempered by the half-smile on her face. She knew exactly what her husband was about and exactly how to play off of him. "This is a vacation, ordered and paid for by the Army. We are going to enjoy it whether you want to or not." She lifted the smaller of her two bags, Jonas taking it from her and stowing it into the trunk of the sedan. The larger one followed, as did his own smaller duffle and the pair of bags that Mrs. Ryan had brought. The colonel, like Jonas, preferred to travel light. Molly eyed Blane's duffel suspiciously. "You did bring a suit, Jonas? Your dress blues?"
"Yes, ma'am. It's packed in your case, as per your orders, so as to prevent premature wrinkling." Jonas was playing it up big, having a difficult time suppressing the smile that Molly knew was there.
"I, for one, am looking forward to this," Charlotte Ryan announced. "Too often when we attend social functions, it's little more than a disguised exercise in political maneuvering. For once, I will be pleased to be somewhere that I don't have to automatically categorize the political threat level and spontaneously generate a verbal plan of action coordinated with several people who may or may not be in my own chain of command." She smiled at her husband of only a few months. "Just as you have your battlefield, so I have mine."
"And it is indeed filled with mines set to explode," Ryan agreed. "Are we ready to move out? The Tactical people have already loaded up and taken off. Where's Williams and Grey?" He looked around. "They ain't getting out of this one. Not if the rest of us have to go."
"Right here, colonel!" Williams sang out, Grey bringing the Jeep to a screeching dusty halt beside the two black sedans. There were grins on both men's faces, a rush brought on by driving too fast in a vehicle with the top safely stowed in back. He jerked his thumb at Charlie Grey. "Got my date right here, sir."
Colonel Ryan was the suspicious type, although he preferred to tell people that he 'knew his men.' "No guns?"
"No guns, sir. You can check the back."
"I'll do that, soldier." Ryan ambled over to the rear of the vehicle, peering in. There were two bags per Unit member, one duffel and one slightly more conventional that, Ryan assumed, held clothing suitable for evening maneuvers, all tossed carelessly onto the floor of the Jeep. There was nothing else. Ryan eyed the pair suspiciously. He had expected at least one member of the squad to try and sneak some heavy firepower along and, of the five, he'd expected it to be Williams or Grey. "Nothin' under the seat, soldier?"
"No, sir. You can look."
Ryan chose not to go that far. If there was something contraband, it wouldn't be there, not with Williams telling him to go ahead with that wide-eyed innocent-as-a-baby stare of his. Gerhardt and Brown, already packed in and ready to go, were watching him grill the other two from their own comfortable sedan, their wives sitting in the back seat. Everyone was waiting on the colonel. He sighed. Either they hadn't brought anything, not one of 'em, or it was too well-hidden for him to find in a short minute's inspection.
Besides: did he really want to find it? Did he really want to go somewhere that he didn't have access to a weapon worth calling a weapon?
This was supposed to be some sort of a 'vacation'. One corner of Tom Ryan's mouth quirked upward. "Move out," was all he said.