Word count: 3,619 (4 of 10)
"Ready to go?" Buffy asked, walking into Velma's room. The older woman was sitting on the edge of her bed, wearing the same clothes she'd had on when she'd come through the ring. They really needed to go shopping, Buffy thought. She rarely had a chance to wear anything except her slaying gear so she normally just window shopped, but Velma was going to be around people who would notice if she wore the same thing every day.
Velma looked up from the small laptop in her hands. Buffy had given it to her the week before. It wasn't anything special, or so she'd been told by the Groupe Seven computer geek she normally went to for help. Velma could use it to do email, write, and surf the Internet once they were away from the hospital and its no wifi for patients policy. It also had several encyclopedias and other information the geek had thought Velma would find interesting, though Buffy had insisted that she include nothing Council or Groupe Seven related.
"Yes," Velma said. Smiling, she closed up the computer and slipped it into a small case. Picking up a small plastic bag and the laptop, she slipped off of the bed. "All set."
"Good," Buffy said. "We'll get something to eat and then head for the airport."
"Any chance at a shopping trip?" Velma asked, tugging at her faded skirt.
"Colorado Springs first," Buffy said. "We should be there right after lunch. Then you can take the company credit card out for a spin. Within reason, of course."
"Of course," Velma answered, allowing Buffy to direct her out of the room.
The rumbling of the engines and the rustling of air against the metal skin of airplane was having its usual effect on her overly sensitive slayer senses. Normally she would spend the flight meditating to escape but she usually traveled alone. While she didn't expect anything to happen at thirty thousand feet, she wasn't taking any chances with Velma's safety. She'd tried earplugs in the past but the feeling of being wrapped in a cocoon made her too uncomfortable.
Buffy looked over at her companion, sound asleep in the window seat. The doctors had declared her well enough to travel but her ordeal on the other side of the ring still showed in her face. Velma was working on an account of her time in the underwater city but she hadn't shared any of it with her yet. From looking at Velma's medical records, carefully stored in Buffy's carry-on luggage, from what she'd understood Buffy suspected that there was more to her stay there than slowly starving to death.
She'd discovered the hard way, years ago, that knowledge was power. Even if she couldn't remember much of it at the moment, what Velma knew about that city and the ring was valuable information. And Buffy was determined to be the person who controlled access to it and Velma. Once her indignation at being relegated to baby-sitter duty had passed, she'd settled into one of the instinctive roles that came with being a slayer, that of protector.
She hadn't thought too deeply about it but for some unknown reason Velma felt like a part of her tribe. And tribe was like family, to be protected from the wild things out in the dark. It wasn't a feeling she was very familiar with. Sure, she was protective of the Watcher when they traveled together, but doing so didn't give her the same sense of completeness.
For a very brief moment she wondered if she would ever have felt that way about her parents. Something she would never know since she hadn't talked with them since they'd left her to the tender mercies of the state mental health care establishment after Hemery. She hadn't even gone to her mother's funeral though she did occasionally wonder about the daughter mentioned in the obituary some unknown person in the Council had sent her.
Buffy parked her rental car in front of the garage next to the house the little map gadget in the car said matched the address she'd been given. Reaching over, she gently shook Velma awake.
"We're here," she said to the groggy woman. Getting out of the car, she stretched and tried to shake off the stiffness from the trip before popping open the trunk and grabbing their bags. Striding across the lawn, Buffy joined Velma who'd wandered around to the front of the house.
"This is just for us?" Velma asked, staring up at the large old house, the early afternoon sun shining behind them.
Buffy shrugged. It hadn't been her decision. She'd just asked for a room with a bed and a place to put a few clothes when she was in town and a room for Velma. "You can ask Rupert about it when he gets back. This is the address he gave me."
"Huh," Velma muttered. "How do we get in? It doesn't look like there's a security system but I'm sure your friend wouldn't appreciate it if we broke in."
"He said the key was in an obvious place," Buffy told Velma, looking around the porch. She'd also noticed the lack of a physical security system but could feel a slight tingle that indicated the use of some kind of protection ward, something she wasn't ready to explain to Velma yet. She'd already noticed a tendency for Velma to speak bluntly using confusing scientific terms.
She suspected that the idea of magic and the supernatural wasn't going to go over too well. If she were lucky, the Watcher would be willing to read Velma in to the reality of the Council. It wasn't a task she enjoyed doing. Besides, he worked with science people all the time and knew their language a lot better than she did.
Buffy grabbed her bag and walked up onto the porch. "Come on," she said to Velma, gesturing at her.
"The welcome free mat?" Velma asked, looking down at the mat in front of the door. "It's an obvious place."
"He wouldn't," Buffy said, reaching down and lifting up a corner of the mat. "And he did." She pulled the key loose from the tape holding it to the mat.
"It's called a cliche for a reason," Velma said, making that nasal snorting noise Buffy had noticed her making when something amused her. She hadn't decided yet whether it was geek cute or annoying.
"If you say so," Buffy said, shaking her head. If the wards were what she thought they were, the key wouldn't have worked for anyone else anyway, but that wasn't the point.
"People rarely think," Velma said, following her into the foyer. "Even Fred eventually figured out all the places people hide their keys. Under the Welcome mat, under a plant, under a brick or statue. That kind of easy to remember place." She snorted again before pausing to look around. "Bare walls, no furniture?"
"He said it was unfurnished. Wasn't expecting it to be literally true," Buffy said, poking her head into a large room to the left and filing the new name away to ask Velma about later. "He's had the house for a whole week. He couldn't buy a couch? Or a couple chairs?" She watched Velma wander down the hall to a door at the end, past the main stairway going up.
"It has a large kitchen," Velma told her, opening the door and looking in.
"Do you cook?" Buffy asked, joining her.
"Daphne always did the cooking," Velma told her. "Only Scoobie can eat the things Shaggy cooks. I do frozen or things in cans. Fred just eats."
"I do cans also," Buffy said, not surprised to hear a slight tone of sadness in Velma's voice when talking about the people she'd mentioned the most over the past few weeks. "When I'm not doing room service or ordering out. I'm usually not anywhere long enough to stock a freezer."
"So, your friend's a cook?"
"Possibly. I've never lived with him before."
"Ah..." Velma pointed at a note taped to the refrigerator door. "This looks like it's for you."
Taking it off the refrigerator, Buffy opened the note. "Okay. There are two bedrooms he feels are suitable for us," she told Velma. "There's also a guest room and a master bedroom. He says that one is his. Pick whichever one you like and I'll take the other."
"Okay."
"As soon as you do that, you have an appointment with the doctor," Buffy said.
"Doctor?"
"Yes," Buffy said. "Remember that I said my friend, who also works for Groupe Seven, is working with the team examining the ring you came through?"
"And if I play nicely and follow all of their rules they might let me look at the ring?" Velma said.
"That's not how I'd put it but yes, more or less." Buffy said.
"Buffy, I work at NASA and I've spent time solving cases involving politicians. I think I have some understanding of how bureaucrats and politicians think," Velma told her. "If I don't help them, they won't help me get home."
"Right." Buffy pointed back towards the stairs. "Go pick out your room. As soon as you finish with the doctor we'll be able to go to the mall and do the shopping you need."
"What do you think of her?" Buffy asked him after Velma had followed the nurse to an examination room. She'd been surprised to find him leaving the temporary infirmary but had welcomed the opportunity to finally introduce Velma to the Watcher they would be living with.
"Very intelligent seeming," Rupert said. "You had no problem finding the house?"
"Modern technology," Buffy told him. "We just followed the voice. But Rupert?"
"Yes?"
"There's no real furniture. I don't mind the cot, I've slept on worse, but what about Velma? You can't expect her to sleep on one after all she's been through."
"No, the bedroom furniture should be delivered tomorrow," he told her.
"Good." Buffy sighed. "How long is this going to take? I need to take her shopping. She doesn't have any clothes."
"Ms. Dinkley? Not long, she just got out of hospital," he told her. "You? No idea."
"Me?" Buffy squeaked. "Since when do I have an appointment with a non-Council doctor?"
"Doctor Fraiser insisted," Rupert told her sheepishly. "She wouldn't give me a pass until I agreed you'd let her examine you."
"But why me?" Buffy asked, fidgeting in her seat.
Rupert patted her shoulder sympathetically. "Apparently Doctor Fraiser is examining everyone who has been in contact with the Chappa'ai."
"I didn't touch it." she protested. It wasn't that she was afraid of doctors, no. But doctors were only for when you'd been sick and she was in good shape, for a slayer of her years, Buffy thought to herself. "You did, and Velma came through it but I never got within 10 feet of the thing."
Rupert raised an eyebrow at her rambling comment. "That isn't the point. No one involved in this project is exempt from regular physicals."
"Um, I'm here because Quentin volunteered me to keep an eye on Velma. What does that have to do with your Chappy ring?"
"You've been spending time with Ms. Dinkley," Rupert said.
"Velma. Her name is Velma," Buffy said, giving him a firm look.
"Velma, yes." Rupert said. "What do you think Velma is going to do while she's here?"
"Involve herself," Buffy said. "She wants to go home."
"Correct. And where Velma goes?"
"Me too." Buffy grumbled.
"Just be glad you already have a job that you can't put on hold," Rupert told her.
"Job? Oh, you mean my destiny?" Buffy said. "Are there slayer years? Like dog years? Cause I think I'm positively ancient in slayer years. Why should I be glad?"
"Your reputation precedes you," Rupert told her. "There's a colonel here who would love to get his hands on you for his part of the project."
"O'Neill?" Buffy asked.
"Yes. You know about him?"
"Only what's in his file. Typical Special Forces." Buffy shrugged. "They tend to get grabby. I can have a chat with him if you need me to but I don't think Quentin is going to want me neglecting Council business to play with the Colonel."
"He knows your time is already spoken for," Rupert told her. "If we could speak before you head out tonight?"
"Sure. Some time after Velma goes to bed would be best," Buffy said.
"Good. Will you be back from your shopping trip in time for dinner at the house?"
"Not if you're expecting either of us to cook," Buffy told him with a grimace. "Neither of us does domestic."
She repeated her question to the Doctor after being examined.
"The ring is made of an unknown material and exhibits unexplained effects on its environment." She told Buffy. "We're recording baseline health information for everyone involved in this project."
"I'm not involved with the project," Buffy protested. "I'm just Velma's friendly neighborhood bodyguard guardian personage."
"You are a special case," the Doctor admitted. "However, if you aren't involved now you will be. Besides, it's possible we would have met eventually. Cousin Quentin has been dodging my requests to examine a slayer for years. But he would have given in eventually."
"Cousin Quentin?" Buffy stared at the Doctor in surprise. "You're related to that annoying bastard?" Only her lack of clothes prevented her from storming out of the newly painted infirmary.
"A distant relative," the Doctor said, acting as if Buffy hadn't just insulted Travers. "He still isn't happy I refused to work for the Council after medical school and joined the Air Force instead."
"I would have done the same thing if given a choice." Buffy told her.
"Okay, we're done for now," the Doctor told her. "I've requested your medical records from Groupe Seven but they haven't arrived yet. As soon as I have a chance to go through them, I'll want to see you again."
"Good luck with that," Buffy muttered, hopping of the table and grabbing her clothes. She suspected her records would fill several large filing cabinets.
"So, Doc, how did Velma do on your little exam?" Buffy asked, stepping behind the curtain and quickly getting dressed.
"Unless you're her legal guardian, that's privileged information," Doctor Fraiser said, after Buffy rejoined her.
"I've got permission," Buffy said with a smirk. "Legal even. I'm her emergency contact and everything. So, how'd she do?" she asked again.
"You do?" the Doctor frowned at her. Opening the door to the examination room, she stepped into the hall. "Let's take this to my office." She turned to the nurse. "Lieutenant? Please bring Ms. Dinkley to my office."
"So, ready to go shopping?" Buffy asked Velma when she joined them in Doctor Fraiser's office.
"Yes." Velma looked at the doctor. "What's wrong?"
"Your file says that Buffy has permission to access any and all medical information about you. But no one else can without her permission?"
"That's possible," Velma said, sitting down in the chair next to Buffy.
"It's a little unusual in this situation," Doctor Fraiser said. "You do understand that my superiors are going to want regular reports on your health."
"Of course," Velma murmured. "I don't see any problem there."
"Don't worry about it," Buffy told Doctor Fraiser. "We felt it would be better if there was only one copy of Velma's medical records floating around. There's the copy you now have and the original will be in the Groupe Seven personnel office in London. Just like the medical records for anyone else who works for Groupe Seven. It really shouldn't be a surprise."
"So you're a Groupe Seven employee?" Doctor Fraiser asked Velma. "I wasn't told that."
"Employee? I'm not sure that is the correct term." Velma said, looking at Buffy for help. "Member?"
"She's considered a member of Groupe Seven, yes." Buffy said, giving the doctor an intent look. "Unpaid, but we pay all of her expenses. The lawyers thought it was in her best interest for us to be responsible for her."
"And Quentin had nothing to do with it?"
"Well.." Buffy shrugged. "You know how that goes."
"Yes," Doctor Fraiser said, shaking her head.
"Who's Quentin?" Velma asked, puzzled.
"Quentin Travers is the head of Groupe Seven's Board of Directors," Doctor Fraiser said. "Your friend here reports directly to him."
"He gets the occasional report. When necessary." Buffy said with a smirk. "He does control the Groupe Seven accountants so getting him angry is not a good thing."
"Is he expecting to be informed of Velma's progress?" the doctor asked.
"You should know what he expects better than I do," Buffy told her. "Whatever you need to send to Groupe Seven in London about myself and Rupert Giles applies to Velma also."
"Understood," Doctor Fraiser said. "Ladies, I'm done for now. We'll contact you when we need to see you again. Which should be up at the Mountain. The infirmary there should be completed by the end of this week."
"Thanks, Doctor Fraiser," Velma said, giving her a small smile before following Buffy out.
"That's an interesting tattoo," Dr. Fraiser said, making a note in the Captain's file.
Carter shrugged. It'd been a long time since she'd thought about it, and the reason she'd gotten it in the first place was no longer valid.
"I've heard about them but never expected to see one," she said, leaning against the counter as she gazed thoughtfully at Carter.
"You know what it means?" Carter asked in surprise.
"You're not the only person here with experience with the Council," she told her.
"You're one of them?" Carter looked around for her clothes, feeling the sudden need to get out of the room. It was bad enough there was going to be a slayer wandering around. Her she could avoid. Avoiding the CMO for the project was another matter entirely
"No," Dr. Fraiser said calmly. "I prefer to have a little more freedom than the Council allows. You're not the first person to have that reaction today. Maybe it's the hair?"
"Hair?" Confused, Carter looked at her.
"Nothing." Dr. Fraiser gave her a quirky smile. "You're free to go," she said. "For now."
There was a knock at his door. Jack looked up from the folder on his desk. "Come in," he said.
"Captain Miller reporting as requested, Sir."
"Have a seat, Miller." He looked at the Marine curiously. "The Initiative was an NID project?"
"Yes, sir."
"They seem to like grandiose names for their projects." Jack looked back down at the folder. "Rangers out of high school and then ROTC?"
"Yes."
"How'd you end up involved in an NID project that had 95% casualties?" Jack noticed a slight tick on Miller's face at the question. He wondered how many of Miller's friends had survived what was rumored to be the biggest cluster-fuck in NID history, one that branch of the NID had yet to really recover from.
"Just unlucky. Sir."
"So, you transfered to the Marines after the Initiative? Must have come as a huge culture shock."
"Yes, sir." Miller shrugged noncommittally. "More time at sea. Navy food. Shore leave in exotic places."
"So, how are your men settling in? No problems with the small spaces up at the Mountain?" Jack asked. "Has all of your equipment arrived?"
"It's like being on a ship, sir. Without the weather." Miller told him. "There are a few things still in transit but they aren't critical at this stage."
"Good, good," Jack looked at another pile of folders on his desk. He knew there was something he was forgetting. "Ah, there it is." He pulled another folder out of the pile.
"Sir?"
Jack opened the folder and read the note taped to the inside cover. "Doctor Fraiser seems to have issues with your Corpsman using her infirmary. Any idea what's going on?"
"The Doc can be a bit possessive of her Marines, sir. Doctor Fraiser probably just misunderstood something she said."
"Well, tell her to make nice with Captain Fraiser. She can be replaced, Fraiser can't." Jack looked down at the Corpsman's service record, wondering why the name looked so familiar. "When did Marine Recon platoons start taking female corpsmen with them into the field?"
"If you've looked at her records, you know she's fully qualified. Sir." Miller told him, not refuting his comment.
"Huh." Jack flipped through several pages, noticing a commendation that was normally only awarded to combat troops. He wondered what the real story was. No matter how qualified this corpsman was, the Marines weren't likely to intentionally send her into a combat zone. "If this is accurate I'm surprised you've managed to hang onto her. Send her to college and all sorts of three letter agencies'll drool all over themselves to get her."
"She prefers working with Marines. Sir," Miller said, a mug look on his face.
"Ah.." Jack shook his head. He couldn't see the attraction himself. Marines seemed a bit intense for his taste. "Enough of that. Just tell her to see Doctor Fraiser." He closed the file. "The candidates for the mission teams should start arriving in two weeks. You'll need to have everything ready before then. Let me know if there are any problems."
"Yes, sir."
"And Captain?" Jack shuffled the papers in Miller's folder for a moment.
"Yes, sir?"
"We both know the NID never completely lets anyone go."
"Sir?" Miller stood up.
"I don't want any surprises from that quarter. I'll need copies of anything you send them." Jack said firmly. "Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
Miller saluted, turned around and left his office.
Chapter End Note: What's the tatoo mean? Ancient slayer secret! But Carter should really tell Buffy about it.