Chapter Summary: After Sam excepts the job as Blaine Anderson undercover security, he finds out there's a problem. No one told Blaine.
Notes: Requested Bodyguard Blam fic from iambatman-me on Tumblr.
Sam's character is loosely based on Richard Madden's character on the Netflix show Bodyguard. However, I swapped the attempted train bombing with the true-life one depicted in The 15:17 to Paris.
Blaine's character is based on the Whitney Houston character in the 1992 movie The Bodyguard.
Sam stared down at the bottle of water he had been given, wishing it was a bottle of Jack Daniels. Three hours earlier he and his friends, Jake and Ryder, were on a train to Paris when a guy with a bomb strapped to his body decided to ruin their vacation. Their training and time spent in different war zones around the world allowed them to develop a plan strictly through eye contact. In less than 2 minutes they had the would-be bomber on the ground and the detonator safely stashed away until train's security could take over. However, the damage was done, so to speak. Their lives had just changed forever.
None of them had any idea how true that was.
He was brought out of his thoughts by the door opening. Two men, a cop and a man far too well dressed to be a cop (so, GQ for now) came in speaking French too fast for him to figure out what they were saying. Something was off but Sam was intrigued enough to play along.
"How are you holding up, Sgt. Evans?" GQ asked, placing the file he was holding on the table and sitting in the seat across from Sam.
"Call me Sam. I haven't been Sgt. Evans for a long time." Not since I left Afghanistan, he reminded himself. "Where are my friends?"
"The police are keeping them separated until they can give their statements."
"What do you mean until they can give their statements?"
"Both PFC Puckerman and Specialist Lynn are receiving medical attention. Puckerman broke his arm and Lynn has a possible concussion. Once we're finished, I'll take you to them."
Sam was relieved to hear Jake and Ryder's injuries seemed minor considering what they could have been. "What's the delay? Get the cop and a lawyer in here so I can give my statement. You can translate."
GQ smiled, seemingly impressed with Sam's responses. "I'm going to take your statement."
"Not a chance. I don't know who the fuck you are but it's not Paris Police or even DSGI. So, ID and lawyer, then statement. And FYI, my bullshit detector is excellent. Just ask the lying, cheating bitch I'm married to."
That response had GQ lean back in his chair and cross his arms. "Humor me. How did you come to this conclusion, besides the afore mentioned bullshit detector?"
Sam had no desire to argue with this guy so if it got him out of there faster… "The suit you're wearing costs more than a cop makes in 3 months. And, since you casually wore it to a major crime scene, you're not worried about it getting damaged so this isn't the only one you own. You may speak French fluently but you're an American, you slipped too easily into the dialect for it to be a learned second language. And you're not DSGI because when different agencies investigate the same crime, there's always some sort of pissing contest to see who is in charge. While I couldn't understand the French, that cop was either fanboying or trying to ask you out."
"You're quite observant."
"You learn to be in a war zone. Now, your time's up…ID, lawyer, then statement."
GQ held up his hands to show they were empty. "I'm going to reach into my jacket pocket." Sam nodded, thinking he was pulling out his ID. Instead, he set a cell phone on the table. "Enter the number 2150 and when the operator asks for an extension say Tweety-Bird."
Sure enough, he reached the operator without dialing an actual phone number. "Tweety-Bird."
"One moment please."
When Tweety-Bird answered, Sam stood at attention. "Yes, Sir…Yes, Sir…Thank you, Sir…I was only doing my duty, Sir…I will listen to what he has to say, Sir…Thank you, Sir." The call over, he sat back down and handed GQ the phone. "I'm listening.
"What do you know about Blaine Anderson?"
Hearing the name Blaine Anderson was at least 1,000 steps beyond the last thing he expected. "Besides him being the #1 music artist in the world? Not much. I did go to high school with his step-sister, Rachel. We were in Glee Club together but weren't friends or anything."
"Did you ever meet Blaine?"
"Once at a party, when he was visiting from his military school. We had a drunken Iron Man vs Captain America debate. I'm sorry, but what does Blaine Anderson have to do with an attempted train bombing?"
"Nothing but it has everything to do with you." Sam was going to say he hadn't answered the question but wasn't given the opportunity. "Do you remember a Santana Lopez?"
Oh, yeah. Santana was pretty hard to forget. "She was in the same Glee Club with me and Rachel but I haven't seen her in 7 or 8 years."
"Well, she remembered you too. In fact, because of her there's been a lot of people looking for you. Thanks for making it easier." GQ pushed over the previously ignored file. "Give me your opinion on those."
Sam skimmed through the pages becoming more disturbed, but not surprised, with each one he read. "Not to sound crass but Blaine's an openly gay, international rock star. I'd be surprised if he wasn't getting threats."
"True and it's become worse since his brother Cooper has been mentioned as a potential Presidential candidate. Now read this one."
Had to have high, high hopes for a living
Didn't know how but I always had a feeling
I was gonna be that one in a million
Always had high, high hopes
What the hell is this Blaine? When did you become such an arrogant asshole?
"Are these song lyrics?" Sam asked while trying to determine why GQ pulled this email specifically. "Because this doesn't sound like the songs Blaine usually writes."
"We think that's the point. Those lyrics are to a song Blaine wrote for his next album but didn't use."
Oh…"This is from someone on the inside."
"Santana is Blaine's social media manager which usually involves making sure he remembers to post things online occasionally and deal with fan mail. But there's also a program on her computer to pick out possible problems. This post showed up 10 days ago. The next day suspicious letters began arriving at Blaine's home address, all containing different lyrics from the unused song. Five days later the first death threat arrived. That's when your name came up."
"Oh, hell no!" Sam pushed back from the table so fast he knocked his chair over. "I wouldn't hurt Blaine ag…I wouldn't hurt Blaine!"
"No, Sam, I'm sorry. I said that wrong. Can you please just sit…"
"You've got 30 seconds before I get the cops in here, one way or another."
GQ sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He never let his emotions affect an interrogation. But this was Blaine. This was different. "We need to get someone into Blaine's inner circle to not only find this person but protect Blaine. Santana suggested you."
Mind blowing was the only term running through Sam's mind. He picked up the chair and sat back across from GQ. "Before we go any further, you're going to drop the cloak and dagger shit and tell me who the hell you are."
"I work for an agency you've never heard of. Think the movie Men In Black without the aliens."
"So, off-the books, self-financed. I'm guessing international without worrying about pesky road blocks such as jurisdiction or law for that matter. Ok, but that doesn't tell me who you are."
"You really are observant, huh? I went to Dalton Military Academy with Blaine. We, we were also a couple for 5 years. My name is Sebastian, Sebastian Smythe."
Shit
2 Days Later
"No."
"Blaine, listen to him"
"No."
"Fine, I'll drop it if you answer one question. If it wasn't Sebastian…?"
"Do not finish that sentence." Blaine flung himself onto the couch Santana was seated on. He felt like a bird in a guilded cage, locked away in his penthouse for the past week, seeing no one but Santana without the use of Skype. "I just don't get what makes this threat different than the dozen others I get every day. I'm corrupting the moral fiber of America after all."
Santana hit him in the face with a pillow. "Stop whining and stop watching Fox News! Those morons would say crap about Cooper whether he was your brother or not. And, listen…to…Sebastian" she said, poking him in the chest for emphasis. "Maybe, if you're lucky, he'll piss you off enough to inspire another Grammy winning song. It's worked in the past."
"Why do I keep you around?"
"Because I'm excellent at my job and I keep you wicked step-sister and her flying monkey, Hummel, in check."
She wasn't wrong about that. Stupid fucking promise to his mother. "Tana, this has nothing to do with Sebastian…honest. We're one of those star-crossed love stories where we can never be together. I've accepted that. I just hate that he thinks I need a babysitter. I went to Dalton Military Academy, too. I am more than capable of taking care of myself."
"Oh, Killer" Blaine sat up to see Sebastian standing in his entryway, more handsome than he remembered. "Did I ever tell you how the guys and I came up with Killer as your nick-name?"
Blaine made a mental note to remind Robert and the rest of the protection detail they were supposed to announce ALL visitors. "Because of all the girls' hearts I'd break when they found out I'm gay."
"No, that's the reason we told you. You were Killer because we all knew if any of us went on an actual mission with you, we'd be killed."
"Not funny."
"The truth seldom is. Hey, Santana."
"Oh, thank god you're here" she sighed, getting up to give him a hug. "Where's Trouty?"
"With some of my people. Here's the address."
"Got it. Good luck, you're going to need it." Santana walked back to Blaine and kissed his cheek. "I'll be back soon. Be nice and l…i…s…t…e…n. Love you."
"Hate you" Blaine called out but she ignored him (except for a middle finger), leaving him alone with his ex. "So, how was Moscow? Or was it Madrid or Hong Kong?"
Sebastian tried to sit on the opposite end of the couch from Blaine, but he pointed to the chair on the other side of the room. "Paris, actually" he answered once settled.
"Bet that made you happy."
"It was only for a couple of days. The failed train bombing."
"I've seen the coverage on TV." Of course, he had. The two American soldiers who helped prevent it had been all over the news. "So, have we had enough small talk for you to tell me why I'm a prisoner in my own home? I'm leaving for Columbus tomorrow whether you agree or not. I have to replace my guitar player and the rest of my band is already there."
"You know everything, Killer."
"Liar. You might be some super-spy but I can still read you like a book. I always could."
Blaine had been the only person who could see through his mask until Sam and his bullshit detector. "Yet you didn't trust your instincts. I knew you were trouble when you walked in."
"Not all my songs are about you, Bas." Sebastian raised his eyebrow in disbelief. "Ok, yes, that one is."
"Thanks for confirming the obvious." Sebastian moved back to the couch and this time Blaine let him sit down. "Blaine, I don't want you to change your life or live in fear, but this meets all the criteria of a viable threat. That's why we're bringing in someone."
"What do you mean bringing in someone? I pay several very large ex-football players a lot of money to make sure no one can get near me or evidently, right now, no one but you and Santana."
"And they're good for the overzealous fangirls and boys. This guy is different…former military, great instincts. He's also a hell of a guitarist so no one will question why he's suddenly here."
"Wait, you're the one who got rid of Chet? He's been my guitarist for 6 years, Asshole."
"I did not get rid of Chet. Thad found outstanding warrants on some old drug charges and told the cops where to find him."
"Thad? The Dalton guys are involved? Damn it, Bas!" Blaine leaned back, resting his head on the top of the couch and willing the tears welling in behind his eyelids not to fall. "Please…I might be acting like a child but you have to stop treating me like one."
"Blaine, Killer, look at me." It took a minute, but when he did, Sebastian handed him a copy of the first threat with the unused lyrics. "This threat is from someone close, but we don't have a clue who. How many people would have seen those lyrics?"
"I…I, I don't know. Between studio people, my band, crew…maybe 30. Maybe 50. Oh, god."
"This is why you've been locked away with Santana until we found Sam and got him onboard. I've got to ask, why the hell are the failed Broadway wannabes going on tour with you?"
"My mom guilted me into it. Rachel's fiancée dumped her and Kurt is her quote/unquote support system."
"That makes sense."
"How?"
"The guy we're bringing in, Rachel's ex is shacking up with his wife." Blaine entire body language vibe changed. Sebastian ignored it for sake of time. "Sam, that's his name, Sam Evans, told me the two of you met before at one of Rachel's parties. Something about one of those superhero comics or movies you used to geek out about…and probably still do."
"Doesn't ring a bell."
"That's not important." Technically, it was but not a deal breaker. "Santana said she was friends with him back in the day so the others wouldn't think twice about his sudden appearance. And since he's going to be your new guitarist, it won't be too far fetched to believe you guys would spend 24/7 together to work on music and building chemistry."
"I don't know, Bas. Can't you just do this?"
Sebastian could rarely resist the Puppy-dog eyes of doom, but this was one of those times. "Sam's the guy…former special forces, wickedly smart, great instincts about people, and has a bullshit detector that saw straight through me. He's also the unidentified third man who stopped the train bombing."
Huh? How…never mind. "Seriously?"
"Security cameras didn't get a usable picture of his face and all cell-phone footage from after the fact was confiscated and erased. We did have to brief his two friends so they would go along. And Blaine, he will be carrying a gun. I get you don't like them but this is nonnegotiable."
"What's nonnegotiable?" Santana asked, returning with Sam. It was immediately obvious Blaine was unhappy with what he saw. After seeing Sam in person, he had no faith this plan would work even though he didn't say it out loud.
"Sam will carry a gun. Also, he will stay in the second bedroom of every hotel suite you stay in on tour and until we clear a person, they aren't allowed on your bus. Until then, only these two. We also replaced your driver with one of our guys. Your guy will drive the extra bus your manager got for the others."
"They're going to be pissed."
"No, it's perfect, Hobbit." Blaine was always a little scared when Santana spoke in that specific tone. "Hummel will think you and Sammy boy are doing the horizontal mambo and hopefully get the hint you're not going to marry him, with or without a pre-nup."
He SO didn't need that picture flashing in his head. "Maybe but I don't think Sam's wife would appreciate the rumors." Blaine bit his lip to not let the rest of the sentence escape.
"I personally don't give a shit what the bitch thinks." Sam was surprised by Blaine's reaction, or more like, lack of. "Can someone tell me where I'm sleeping so I can set up?"
"Third door on the left but don't get too comfortable." When Santana and Sebastian both gave Blaine the look he added in a friendlier voice "We're leaving first thing in the morning."
Santana took Sam to the room but left him alone to get unpacked. Instead, he literally fell back onto the bed, analyzing every step of his interaction with Blaine. Was he unhappy with the idea of a bodyguard in general or him in particular?
A good half hour later, Sam went out to the living area to find Sebastian and Santana listening to Blaine play what Sam assumed was a new song from his upcoming album.
Please have mercy on me
Take it easy on my heart
Even though you don't mean to hurt me
You keep tearing me apart
Would you please have mercy, mercy on my heart
Would you please have mercy, mercy on my heart
Blaine was lost in the song so he didn't see Sebastian get up and go to Sam. "I want you to listen very carefully" he said so close to Sam's ear he could feel the other man's breath. "If you hurt him, I will bury your body in many, many different graves and before you die, I will let you know how many…one at a time."
Sam had no doubt he meant every word. But what did he mean If you hurt him?
Would you please have mercy on me
I'm a puppet on your string
And even though you got good intentions
I need you to set me free
He was so focused on Blaine, Sam didn't see Sebastian leave and Santana take his place. "Same for me, Trouty. See you in the morning, 7AM. Get some sleep."
I'm begging you for mercy, mercy
Begging you, begging you, please, baby
I'm begging you for mercy, mercy
Ooh, I'm begging you, I'm begging you
Blaine closed his eyes, praying when he opened them things would be different.
He wasn't that lucky. "Where are Santana and Sebastian?"
"Gone. Santana said she'd be back at 7AM."
"And Sebastian?"
"Sorry, he didn't say anything."
"Typical"
"Are you ok?"
"I'm obviously breathing and the rest is none of your fucking business." Blaine went to the bar and poured himself a drink, then lifted his eyes to see Sam staring back at him in the bar's mirrored background. He was going to apologize for being an ass but a closer look gave him an answer to an unasked question. "You remember."
"I was buzzed, not drunk, and it was an awesome kiss."
"Until your girlfriend found us."
"Yeah, that part wasn't fun." Sam broke the invisible barrier between them with a tentative step forward, but the two never lost their mirrored eye-contact. "I didn't know if you remembered."
Blaine slammed back his bourbon and poured another. "Just tell me why. Was I a test? An experiment? You were my first kiss, Sam."
"Not Sebastian?"
The second bourbon went down as fast as the first. "We didn't start dating until a year later."
Sam started to reach out, then thought better of it. "You were cute and funny and smart, except for the whole believing Iron Man stood a chance against Cap thing." That earned him a slight smile. "Blaine, I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you. The only thing wrong with it was I had a girlfriend at the time. I'll understand if you want someone else."
"You can stay." Blaine made himself a third drink and walked over to the large picture window with a breathtaking view of the Manhattan skyline. "People think I have this glamourous life but that couldn't be further from the truth. My life is not my own. There is always somebody wanting something yet at the end of the day it's always the same…me alone, surrounded by millions of people, not knowing who to trust."
The emptiness and longing in Blaine's voice broke Sam's heart. "I get it's hard keeping this from your friends and family but it's just until there's more information. I'm sure we'll prove the threats aren't coming from anyone close to you within a couple of days, tops."
Blaine seemed to relax but Sam couldn't tell if it was from his words or from the bourbon. Either way, he stepped away from the window and took his glass back to the bar. "Good night, Sam."
"Good night, Blaine."
An hour later, Sam was in bed when he heard the door to his room open. He instinctively reached for his gun but somehow had enough control to not pick it up when he saw Blaine standing in the moonlight. Instead, he pulled back the blankets, silently inviting Blaine to join him.
Blaine accepted.
Notes:
DGSI: (Direction générale de la sécurité intérieure) French intelligence agency in charge of counter-espionage, counter-terrorism, countering cybercrime and surveillance of potentially threatening groups. Wikipedia, 2016.
High Hopes: Urie, Brendon; Hollander, Samuel; Jeberg, Jonas; Juber, Anna; Lobban-Bean, William; Pritchard, Lauren; Sinclair, Jake; Youngs, Jenny 2018
Mercy: Mendes, Shawn; Geiger, Teddy; Juber, Isley; Parker, Danny 2016
There will be 6 chapters like the television version of Bodyguard's 6 episode season. I will update once a month, toward the end.
Hope you enjoy. This is my first attempt at mystery which translates to...Please give lots of comments so I know what I'm writing isn't garbage.