A/N: The more I read over this story, the more I realize that no one who isn't me is going to be able to follow the temporal jumps without a little help. This mini-chapter is the day before the mission; the next one will pick up the day of. The story will pick up around chapter 4. This way, I don't have to write any of the boring parts of the story, just the action, adventure, and H/M schmoopyness.
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Interdepartmental Task Force Headquarters
Andie
I'm digging through a filing cabinet in Records, looking for the specs on the I-Force 'railway' that our people set up for quick access to several of the top secret encampments in the Middle East, both ours and those belonging to groups that are sometimes enemies and sometimes friends. I know there's a railway coming out of the camp we're going to be hitting in three days. However, 'knowing about' and 'being able to find the paperwork on' are always two very different things at I-Force HQ.
"Lose something, Monroe?"
My initial reaction is to jump in surprise, but I hold it back because I know that's what he wants, and also because I know the drawer over my head is open and I don't really want to start this mission off with a concussion. Instead, I carefully extract my upper body from its precarious position and turn to face him.
"Nothing a six-month search down here in Records hell won't turn up, Dorian," I reply, taking the opportunity to look him over discreetly. Gabriel Dorian, like Sarah and me, was a member of Team 7 back when we were still called the I-Capades; a mocking insult we took on as our team name and never relinquished after Control tagged us with it during the first month of our assignment in Bosnia. "I'm running an op out in the Big Sandbox, but I can't find the railway specs for our target."
I'm not particularly surprised when he hands me the sheaf of papers he's holding. A glance at the first page tells me it's the specs I've been in search of for the last hour. Sometimes I think he exists just to make my life harder.
"Thanks, Frost," I tell him. His eyebrow raises incrementally at the nickname.
"I haven't been Frost in a long time, Andrea," he says. I smirk.
"Yeah, you have," I tell him, slamming the drawer in front of me shut and heading past him toward the door. "Just not to your face."
The door closes on his chagrinned expression, and I allow myself a grin as I head for debriefing, where Sarah and the rest of the current Team 7 should be waiting for me.
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Interdepartmental Task Force Headquarters
Mac
"So, to sum up: estimated time of mission fifteen minutes, Mackenzie and Calhoun stand guard here, Klein and Dunhardt enter from the rear over here, Allerby and myself in through the side here, and Donovan and Gilcrest ready to pull out with the SOVs from out here. Allerby and I will get the hostages. Klein, Dunhardt, I want those nukes, hell or high water. They should already be loaded onto the truck. All you have to do is drive that truck onto the SOV without getting caught. If they aren't loaded, then you're going to have to make it happen. You'll have fifteen minutes. Everyone clear?"
"Crystal, ma'am," seven voices echo, and Andie nods.
"Review the specs until you know them like the back of your hand. Lights out at 2200; I don't want anyone falling asleep on me tomorrow. Dismissed."
The team files out of the room, and I can see the line of demarcation between the Army and Navy personnel. Rolling my eyes at their blatancy, I wait until the group is gone and then turn to Andie.
"They're not real good at pretending they like each other, are they?"
"I don't care who they like, who they hate, or who won that damn football game this year," she replies, the smile on her face taking the sting out of her words. "They're gonna play nice or I'm gonna eat them for breakfast."
"My money's on you," I tell her honestly, and she laughs.
"I've got a last-minute review with C and C," she says, gesturing for me to precede her out of the briefing room. "You should go find Dunhardt and Allerby."
"Why?" I ask, pausing at the junction that leads back to temporary quarters.
Andie grins. "Apparently Marines count as Navy here. With you, they've got equal numbers to the Army contingent."
I roll my eyes, heading down the corridor, but Andie gets in a parting shot.
"Hey, if you guys decide to have a rumble, let me know. I loved West Side Story. Saw it twice off Broadway."
I continue on my way, muttering dire imprecations against I-Force operatives with twisted senses of humor and too much time on their hands.
"I heard that!"
I add a curse on their batlike auditory abilities, and as I turn the corner I can hear Andie laugh.