#fuck... *sighs* I need to eat this Sushi. Do it for Simmons

[vanlegion]

I think at this point I have to pretty much regard season 19 as the truest form of 'Crack Taken Seriously' which. . . huwa, I could do (but damn it would be a struggle...)

But only if you believe in the narrative *NOT* shown.

There's an After for these guys. But I think that's kind of up to us? (. . . Yeah I'm already writing the AFTER fic. Fuck me.) So unless some miracle happens and either the IP gets bought up and the crew gets to do some little shorts like what the Crwby is doing ... Or Geoff and Gus ever pull off what Alexander Siddig and Andrew Robinson did for the Star Trek DS9 Bashir/Garak community. I guess we just make our own canon at this point.

[drauthor]

Operation: HAUNT

Part 1/?

Marian adjusted the duffel bag strap on her shoulder as she scanned the unfamiliar conference room. The drab beige walls were bare except for the large TV screen on the far north that was attached to a computer set up underneath and slightly to the left of it. The conference table wasn’t the largest she had ever seen - it would comfortably fit ten people, uncomfortably fit upwards of twenty. A quick count totaled sixteen people crammed around the table, talking amongst themselves. A few chairs with ugly polka-dotted upholstery were scattered throughout the room and most of them were claimed as well.

Marian held back her sigh and ducked into the room, aiming for one of the last pairs of open chairs. Once she was there, she dropped her duffle bag on the chair closest to the table and remained standing in front of the remaining chair. She braced her hands on her lower back and arched, sighing in relief when a series of cracks raced up her spine. She let the noise of the room wash over her and just as she was about to sit down, a hand landed heavily on her shoulder.

Every one of her muscles tensed and before she was aware of moving, her hand was locked around the offending wrist. She jerked around and was met with a solid chest clothed in a gray sweatshirt with fancy script declaring “Simmons Family Treasures” on the front.

Marian dropped the wrist like she had been burned and directed a glare upward, at the new arrival’s face. “What the fuck, Titus? You know better than to sneak up on me.”

Bartram Titus, Marian’s friend and co-worker, just smiled. “I apologize for scaring you, but I thought you had heard me approaching. I was not trying to be quiet.”

Marian crossed her arms over her chest and lowered herself into the chair. “You know these training events get loud. I don’t want to accidentally break your wrist one day.”

Bartram transferred Marian’s duffle bag to the floor between the chairs and sat down himself, crossing his ankles. “An unfortunate accident of my own making, if it ever occurs.”

Marian rolled her eyes and shifted until she was slumped in the chair with her legs splayed out. She let her eyes drift across the men and women gathered around, marking the exits - the doorway where she had come in, which was attached to a long corridor with no windows, and a large window on the east side of the room, which looked out over a small courtyard from four stories above - and anyone she didn’t recognize.

“Captain Smith is not here yet. How unusual.”

Marian tipped her head toward Bartram and let out a quiet hum of agreement. “Isn’t it great? I don’t have to look at his stupid fuckin’ face first thing in the morning.”

“His ‘stupid fucking face’, Marian?”

Marian shrugged and let her focus zero in on the door and the area surrounding it. “His face is stupid. I don’t like it.”

“I think the truer statement is that you just do not like him in general.”

Marian didn’t say anything and just smirked. Bartram fell silent as well, bending forward to rifle through the side pocket of Marian’s duffle bag. Marian, from the corner of her eye, watched him pull out the fresh sketch pad she had packed for him. Her smirk gentled into a smile as he began to sketch, his hand moving confidently along the page.

Marian took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing instead on the sounds of the room - the low murmuring of conversation, the scratch of Bartram’s pencil, and the machinery underlying the building that kept it running.

Abruptly, the noise in the room jumped a handful of decibels. Excited “captains!” were shouted and someone let out a loud wolf whistle. Marian scowled and let her eyes flick open. She stared at the ceiling just long enough to roll her eyes and then looked back to the doorway.

The first time Marian Sheldur had laid eyes on Jordan Smith she had come to two conclusions: 1. He was the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on and 2. He was a complete and utter prick.

Three years later and nothing had changed.

He stood a few feet away from the doorway in the room, chatting amiably with the gathered SWAT officers, most of whom were members of his personal squad. His dark hair was styled away from his face, leaving his face unobstructed. Marian absently traced the lines of his face, trailing along his jaw and down his throat. She blinked twice before physically shaking her head, scowling at herself. She dragged her gaze away from his throat and the sight of his stretched out crew cut shirt that revealed warm brown skin just as dark as the rest of him.

Marian pulled her phone out of the pocket of her sweatpants and frowned at the home screen. It was almost seven in the morning and the first meeting of the day was supposed to start in ten minutes. Letting out a short sigh, Marian shoved her phone back into her pocket and looked up in time to see a familiar face walking toward her.

Marian arched an eyebrow at the man but didn’t try and keep the grin from spreading over her face. “Hey, Rev. You and the captain over there are late.”

Roland Allen was better known by his old military designation R3V4N and seemed to prefer it, too. He was a large man and appeared even larger when he stopped in front of Marian’s chair, holding a hand out for her to shake. “Hey, Sheldur. Nice to see you too. My morning has been quite lovely, thanks for ask-”

Marian rolled her eyes and leaned forward to take his hand. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I was getting to that part. Why are the two of you so late? Smith’s normally the first one at these things.”

“Privileged information, I’m afraid.” R3V4N winked as he released her hand. He braced his hands on his hips and grinned down at her. “You seem as excited as ever for training.”

“You know I always am.”

“I could swim in the sarcasm that just dripped off that sentence.”

Marian rolled her eyes and settled back into her chair. “Out of all the SWAT teams in our area, I’m the only one that’s been forced to consistently train with Smith for the past three years. I finally got the administration to let Bartram tag along. He’s been chomping at the bit to get inside of Doc’s head since I mentioned the man.”

R3V4N’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, disappearing into a sea of fiery red, and he immediately looked to Bartram who merely looked up to offer him a smile before going back to his sketching. R3V4N looked back to Marian. “You trust him around Doc?”

Marian’s snort was loud and uncontained. “Absolutely the fuck not.”

R3V4N let out a boisterous laugh and slowly shook his head. “If something explodes, I’ll let the captain know it’s your fault.”

“My fault?”

“If Bartram and Doc get along and blow something up, you were the one who got them into the same room so they could interact.”

“And Smith is always looking to blame me for something.”

R3V4N shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets. “It’s not like you're not just as eager to throw him under the bus.”

“I would like to actually throw him under a bus,” Marian muttered under her breath.

Either R3V4N didn’t hear her or elected to ignore the jab. Marian would have bet on the latter if the smirk on his face was anything to go by. “If they make anything explode, I’m blaming Smith and you as I eat popcorn and watch from the sidelines.”

“I refuse to accept blame if it ever happens.”

R3V4N just shrugged and glanced over his shoulder. He took a moment to study Smith before looking back at her. “You should let me take out for lunch later today.”

Marian cocked an eyebrow. “I’m loathe to say no to free food-”

“Then don’t.”

“But I will if Smith is there. Watching us try to kill each other over lunch might be considered entertaining for you and Bartram, but Smith and I would take it too far.”

R3V4N shook his head. “Cap’ has other plans. He’s getting dragged into a meeting with The Admin.” He paused. “I didn’t tell you that.”

Marian schooled her features into neutrality despite the shock of surprise that zipped up her spine. “The Admin?”

“All I can say, unfortunately. Lunch?”

“You don’t wanna eat with your squad?”

“I see them all the time. You, I only get to see twice a year, maybe four if I’m lucky. Honor me with your presence and get lunch with me. I’d like to find out if I need to avoid Bartram and Doc when they’re together.”

Marian slowly started nodding. “Yeah, sure, okay. Lunch it is. You pick the place. I'll do anything except sushi.” Her lips turned down in a frown and she locked eyes with R3V4N. “You have any idea why Smith is meeting with The Admin?”

R3V4N was silent for a long moment. He glanced at a sleek looking watch on his wrist. “Even if I had any idea, I couldn’t tell you. As it is, I have no fucking clue.”

“Well, it’s his problem. I’m perfectly fine with that.”

R3V4N grinned. “I’m sure you are. Your squad is downstairs, right?”

Marian nodded. “I have a couple of sims with them for about an hour after lunch.”

“Good luck. I better find a seat with Cap’ before the big wigs come in and yell at me for still standing up.” R3V4N touched two fingers to his brow and sketched a shallow bow before strolling back over to Smith. Smith glanced up when the other man arrived and offered him a quick smile before his eyes flicked over to Marian. He studied her for a moment and when he made eye contact, Marian crossed her arms over her chest and raised both eyebrows. His nose wrinkled and he looked away.

“And the urge to make him eat his own teeth grows yet again.” Marian clenched her jaw and hunkered down in her chair.

“You’ll be able to ignore it for one week, I’m sure.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Marian could feel Bartram’s attention shift to her. “Are you ever going to tell me why you hate Captain Smith so much?”

Marian ignored her lieutenant and almost felt guilty when she heard the man let out a quiet sigh. He began to carefully pack away his sketchbook and pencils and didn’t push the issue. She was grateful he was willing to move on so quickly. Marian closed her eyes and tipped her head up to the ceiling.

Marian and Jordan Smith had been butting heads for the three years they had known each other. Marian’s oldest daughter was insistent it was because they were too similar and had witnessed the worst of each other when they first met and Marian was sure it was just because Jordan Smith was a complete and utter asshole.

The first time they had met was… disastrous. Marian hadn’t slept for more than two hours at a time for a week and having to leave her newest foster child - a small boy named Crux who was still with her and she was still in the process of adopting - with her brother had knotted Marian’s nerves so tightly she had shaken through the entire drive to the training building and then through the rest of the week as well.

In hindsight, Marian was surprised she hadn’t punched him sooner.

He had breezed into the room like he owned the place and Marian hadn’t known that, as captain, he practically did. His confidence wasn’t the issue. It was the argument about strategy that had turned her vague frustration into outright rage. Marian couldn’t even remember what the damn argument had been about, all she remembered was hopping the conference table and her fist connecting with his jaw.

The hit he landed on her liver had hurt like a bitch.

It was one of the handfuls of things she reluctantly respected about the man.

They had never managed to make up after that cataclysmic fight. Surprisingly, the incident hadn’t gone on either of their records, and Marian was still forced to work with Smith and his team.

Marian hated to admit it and would only do so under extreme duress, but when she and Smith weren’t fighting and were actually working together, they made a formidable team.

It was truly a shame that Marian would rather have her teeth pulled than work with Smith any more than she absolutely had to.

When Marian heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, she blinked her eyes open and forced herself to sit up straight in her chair. Glancing at the doorway, she saw two men in suits walk into the room and head straight to the TV screen and computer. The room fell silent when they entered. Marian bit back her smile; not a single officer in the room liked the men in business attire that started out leading these meetings.

Marian settled into the chair, keeping her back straight and the rest of her posture relaxed. This first meeting wasn’t scheduled to be longer than half an hour and then they would be beginning the first of the day's simulations. Bartram straightened up beside her and he leaned forward, eager to begin. Marian wished she had even a third of his energy. It would make the day go by faster.

Marian let her eyes flick over to Smith one final time before she turned her attention to the ceiling and let the droll tones of the men in suits wash over her. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the long, boring day ahead of her.