1999

England

Hereford

For Faith, it was yet another normal Saturday morning. School was out for the summer holidays, the weather was great, the birds, bees etc. were singing and stuff, and her dad was on the television monitor in front of her, leading Rainbow's Team Two on another training exercise.

"Hey, how's my favourite granddaughter?"

Swinging her feet down from the console just as Paddy Connelly hit the remote detonator on an explosive charge and Louis Loiselle stormed the now-destroyed door, Faith grinned cheekily at John Clark. "Hey, Grandpa. S'up?"

Shaking a finger in mock-admonishment, Clark sat down beside her. On the screen, Tomlinson had already vanished through the door behind his teammate, with Eddie Price and Faith's father hot on his heels. "Budget meeting, a meeting with intel, and reviewing Team One's performance in training yesterday."

Faith winced. "Rather you than me," she drawled.

Clark snorted. "Brat. I'm taking a break. What about you?" he asked, watching as Loiselle and Price neatly double-tapped the Figure 11s representing terrorists.

Faith made a 'so-so' gesture as repeated shouts of 'Clear!' came over the radio. "Pretty good. Working on a plan to get Dad onboard with the idea that I really am of dating age here and in any other country."

Clark shifted, settling himself a little more comfortably in the seat as Team Two, exercise completed, packed up. "Yeah, I heard from Sandy that Ding and Patsy were talking about that. Peter, isn't it?"

Faith rolled her eyes. "It's Paul. Geez, you'd'a thought a CIA agent would have a better head for names." Ignoring the venomous glare Clark gave her, Faith continued, "There's this movie we're gonna see, and I'd really 'preciate it if my date wasn't pissing himself 'cause my dad's threatened to castrate him and gouge out his eyeballs if he so much as speaks to me."

"Hey, it's every father's prerogative," Clark said, grinning.

"Look, Paul is Eddie's eldest son – his dad's already threatened to make the Spanish Inquisition look like amateurs if he doesn't behave himself. 'Sides, hello? Slayer here? He can't do anything to me and he knows it."

Clark winced, memories of Pam and Baltimore in 1970 resurfacing unpleasantly. "No harm in being careful."

Faith sighed. "Yeah, but there's such a thing as goin' too far."

"Trust me, your dad's going easy on you. If he had his way, he'd lock you in a dungeon with lots of stuffed toy animals until you were fifty. Only reason he hasn't done that is 'cause the Watchers' Council would only bust your ass out again."

Faith rolled her eyes again. "Spoilsport."

"Ungrateful brat."

"Stuffy spook."

"Arrogant Slayer."

"Patriarch."

"Rebel without a cause."

"Hey!" Slayer and spy grinned at each other. "Watch it, Gramps."

Clark clutched at his chest jokingly. "You wound me."

"When I wound you, you stay wounded."

"And you wonder why we don't lend you our toys very often," came a voice from behind them.

Grinning broadly, Faith leapt from her seat and pounced on the lean Hispanic man, fingers poised as she bore him to the ground. "Nice show in there, Dad," she grinned evilly.

Ding Chavez rolled his eyes, returning the grin despite himself as Faith began tickling him. Indulging himself, he briefly basked in that surge of pride that came over him every time he calculated his luck. Married to a wonderful lady, a father-in-law he honestly respected and liked, and Faith. His daughter, truly a girl to be proud of and the product of a one-night stand when he was only fresh out of Boot, about the age she was now. "Uh – hahi – oh, madre! – Faith? Please? I need to talk to John here?"

His daughter winked as she got off him and pulled Ding to his feet, Kevlar, weapons and all. "To be continued," she whispered, sauntering out the control room door. Ding shook his head. What a crazy – and wonderful – life he led.

Crossover with Tom Clancy's novels, and Rainbow Six in particular.