A/N: Maybe it's time for our girls to meet…
Spencer did not get much sleep on the noisy transport plane so she had a lot of time to wonder what exactly she had gotten herself into.
Chelsea, on the other hand, seemed much less concerned about the details. She passed out soon after takeoff and, in her words, "If air-conditioning and indoor plumbing are involved, I really can't complain."
There was Chelsea for you: always the optimist.
Spencer took advantage of the internet access on the plane to send off a few quick emails to her family about her change of assignment - what little she knew about it. She was unsurprised when her father responded within minutes saying how happy he was that she would be back on American soil and out of harm's way.
Though Spencer's sense of time was a little thrown off by their flight plan, she was pretty sure that her father had probably just arrived at work. He was a social worker in Detroit, and his second favorite activity (after worrying about his only daughter) was writing long and affectionate emails.
This one was no exception and Spencer couldn't help but smile at the Garfield comic strip he attached to the end of the email. The two of them had a long standing joke about lasagna, which happened to be both Garfield's and Spencer's favorite food.
She hoped that she would be able to see her dad soon. With a position in Washington, it was possible that she might even be able to fly home for a weekend to see him and her mother. It had been a long eight months since she had seen any of her family outside of video chat on a laptop screen.
Maybe Chelsea was right. One thing was for sure: whatever their new assignment was, it had to be easier than their old one. Safer too.
After a layover in Germany, Chelsea and Spencer finally stepped off the transport plane at Bolling Air Force Base sometime around sunset the next day. They were met on the airstrip by what appeared to be the only man on the entire base not wearing a uniform. He was holding a small sign with "Carlin & Lewis" written on it. He looked more than a little out of place.
"I guess we're in the right spot," Chelsea laughed as they both hoisted their bags onto their shoulders and made their way over the man in the suit.
"Sergeant Carlin and Corporal Lewis, I presume?" he asked.
"Reporting for duty," Spencer agreed, giving the man a once over.
He was tall with dark hair and even darker sunglasses. Black suit, black tie, black shoes. The light breeze along the airstrip lifted his jacket just enough for her to see a 9 millimeter handgun strapped into a holster by his ribs and Spencer was pretty sure that his short curls were hiding an ear piece from sight. He was definitely some sort of private security.
The man looked back and forth between them before giving them a nod and removing his sunglasses.
"I'm Agent Dennison. I'll be giving you a ride to the White House." He turned around and gestured for them to follow him towards a black SUV that was parked a short distance away.
"I take it you don't work for Colonel Michaels then," Spencer guessed as they tossed their things into the trunk of the immaculately clean vehicle.
"Not directly," Agent Dennison confirmed.
"Can you tell us anything about this new assignment?" Chelsea asked, sliding into the back seat next to Spencer.
"I am afraid the details will fall to Colonel Michaels, but what I can say is that you'll have your work cut out for you." Spencer almost thought Agent Dennison might be laughing at them, the way his eyes were crinkled up in the rear view mirror.
"I'm sure it's nothing we can't handle," Spencer challenged back, glaring back at him. She wasn't sure she liked his attitude.
"I guess we'll see about that. Understand that I mean no offense. May God have mercy on your souls." After his dark laughter calmed down, the rest of the ride was completed in silence.
The last time that Spencer had been to Washington was when she was thirteen years old. Thanks to her mother's recent promotion to Rear Admiral, her family had been invited to attend a Thanksgiving celebration for military families at the Pentagon.
The function itself had been rather boring, but the time she had spent with her family wandering through the Smithsonian Museums and taking ridiculous photos at every monument they saw was one of Spencer's favorite memories.
Everything seemed to be just as she remembered. Watching the sun set behind the Washington Monument through the tinted window of the SUV made Spencer smile. This city was one of her favorite places in the whole world and despite Agent Dennison's uncomfortable warning, Spencer had a feeling that her life was about to change for the better.
And anyway, she had never been one to shy away from a challenge.
Seeing the White House on the back of a twenty dollar bill was one thing, but actually going through the gates and up the driveway was quite another.
"Wow," Chelsea breathed next to her as they pulled to a stop at the back of the iconic building.
Agent Dennison laughed again, but this time in a much more friendly way. "That feeling never gets old."
He had them leave their bags just inside the door and led them a short way into the lower level of the building before knocking on an impressive-looking solid oak door.
Moments later a short, graying gentleman wearing the khaki service uniform of a Marine Colonel opened the door. Spencer and Chelsea snapped to attention.
"Ah, Agent Dennison, you're early. Excellent! I might actually making home for dinner on time for once! Come in, come in!" He gave the girls the customary salute and opened the door wider, and gesturing for them to have a seat. Agent Dennison chose to remain standing behind them near the door as Colonel Michaels returned to his own seat behind the enormous mahogany desk.
The aging colonel flashed them a toothy smile from behind a bushy gray mustache. "Sergeant Carlin, Corporal Lewis, thank you both for coming here on such short notice, though I suppose I should thank your commanding officers as I suspect you just go where you're told!" The old man chuckled, and Spencer decided that she liked him.
He was straight forward and did not speak to them as if they were scum on the bottom of his shoe, which is more than Spencer could say for many aging Marine officers who were long distanced from their own days at the bottom of the military hierarchy. He even reminded her a little of her grandfather.
"Not a problem sir," Spencer replied, "Just doing our jobs."
"Yes, yes, well I'm sure you are at least wondering why you are here, eh?"
Spencer and Chelsea nodded their confirmation.
"Well, you've been selected for a very important and very unusual assignment."
"We are in such deep shit!" a now sober Kyla Davies whined next to her sister as they made their way from the Presidential living quarters in the East Wing down to the Oval Office. President Christine Davies only handled official business in the iconic office, and more often than not, she counted her family dealings as official business.
"Gee, you think?" Ashley asked sarcastically. She did not want to go into the office either, but at least this was a small break from the house arrest that their mother had imposed on them since "the incident" two nights before.
The sisters paused in unison in front of the double doors that led to the Office. Just off to the side, Sean, one of President Davies' security detail agents stood at ease. Ashley figured that he was watching them from behind his aviators, but you never could be sure with those Secret Service types.
Ashley pushed Kyla a little in front. "You go first, you're the golden child."
"What?!" Kayla scoffed, "Why me? You're the one who got us into this mess in the first place!"
"Keep it down, idiot," Ashley whispered fiercely. The last thing they needed was to draw their mother's attention out to the corridor. She would accuse them of making a scene… well another one. "And I don't seem to recall forcing you to do anything!"
"Yeah well I don't seem to recall you telling me that it was all for a freaking booty call!"
Ashley paused. Kid sister did have a point – not that she would admit it.
She may or may not have convinced her sister that the two of them had needed a girls' night out. And then she may or may not have concocted a scheme to ditch their Secret Service agents in a movie theatre bathroom. And later she may or may not have proceeded to ditch Kyla once they arrived at the club in favor of her new Saudi Arabian 'friend'. But really, that was all semantics.
She reached for the handle of the door, pushing it open the slightest bit before catching Kyla by the elbow and slingshotting her into the office first.
Time to face the beast.
Colonel Michaels folded his hands atop the desk before continuing on.
"Due to several recent events, the President has expressed concern over the safety of her two daughters. You will be filling in a recently-identified security gap here at the White House by serving as the Davies girls' regular body guards. The Secret Service has found that they have difficulties meeting the… unique demands of the task." There was a hint of humor in the Colonel's voice and Spencer felt like she was missing out on a joke. She made a mental note to catch up on all of the national news she had missed over the past few months.
Though the age of high speed internet meant that soldiers in the field were not as disconnected from home as they had been only a decade earlier, Spencer tended to use her free time to communicate with family or distract herself with episodes of a favorite sitcom rather than to read about politics. Clearly she was a little out of touch.
"Sir, if I may?" Chelsea asked, waiting for a nod of approval before she continued: "I was under the impression that the personal security of the President and her family was under the jurisdiction of the Secret Service, not the Marine Corps. Am I to understand they are no longer capable of doing their job?"
Agent Dennison, who Spencer now realized was probably a Secret Service agent, noticeably bristled at the question and Spencer contained a grin.
"That would be correct," Colonel Michaels confirmed, sharing the joke, "However, as I mentioned, this would be a special case. President Davies specially requested female, active duty Marines for this particular detail. I think it is safe to say that she figured we were the only way the job would be carried out to her high standards. General Amos obliged her by collecting the profiles of suitable Marines for the position and his staff ultimately suggested the two of you."
Spencer found it hard to breathe for a moment. General Amos was one of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and Commandant of the United States Marine Corp. The fact that he knew who they were was both terrifying and an honor.
"So you are saying that the two of us have been hand-selected to provide personal security to the President's daughters?" Chelsea asked in disbelief.
"That's the short of it," the Colonel confirmed. He gave them a moment to let the knowledge sink in.
"Are you serious?!" Ashley asked, feeling genuinely insulted. "Marines?!"
President Davies ignored her eldest daughter's outburst but could not resist the urge to roll her eyes. "That's right." It was nice watching Ashley squirm for a change.
"What the heck? Are you trying to make us even bigger freaks than we already are?" Ashley was fuming. There may have even been a little steam coming out of her ears. Christine though the image might make a nice Christmas card. Pity she didn't have her phone on her to snap a photo.
"Mom, Marines are bit over the top, don't you think?" There was Kyla, obviously trying to take a more diplomatic approach. "Why can't we just get some new Secret Service agents?"
Ashley shut up to let her sister do the talking – she always got better results where their mother was concerned.
"We've tried that before, many times, and yet you still always manage to scare them away or get them fired. Curious isn't it? It's almost like you enjoy making my life a living hell." Christine leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers together.
"Those are some strong words," Kyla agreed, trying to get on Christine's good side, "And I could see how you might think that, but really, there have just been a lot of… of misunderstandings."
"Misunderstandings?" Christine asked menacingly. "Is that how you are referring to your exploits now? I had to fire your last pair of agents for letting you escape and run wild around Dupont Circle with a certain ambassador-who-will-not-be-named's daughter." Kyla winced, but before she could respond to the accusation, Christine when on.
"The pair before that is currently putting together a rather convincing sexual harassment lawsuit against a certain White House resident would not shut up about her 'sexual prowess and stamina,'" she looked rather pointedly at Ashley, "And need I mention that we are still negotiating to get the pair before them out of Nigerian prison where they ended up for protecting you two from a bar fight you started?"
"No, no, I think we can all agree that perhaps there have been some poor choices in the past…" Kyla conceded, ducking her head.
Ashley realized that the ball was back in her court. "Christine, Marines are like big, beefy robots. There is no way I am going to have some gorilla with an assault rifle following me around campus this year!" She crossed her arms across her chest.
"Ashley, you have left me no choice. Bring the President comes with certain perks and one of those happens to be the title of Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces. I've talked it over with my staff, and I think we've found the perfect team to deal with the two of you. They are highly trained, highly disciplined – and best of all - they can't quit. That's the end of the story."
"Mother…"
"That's the end! Now go to your rooms! I have things to do. Your new body guards will be reporting to you before your classes in the morning. I'm sure that you will find them suitable – and if you don't, I don't want to hear about it!"
That was a dismissal, and one that sounded oddly like they were still in high school. Ashley sighed loudly before following her sister out of the office. This was not the end of this argument, not if she had anything to say about it.
"This is going to ruin my social life," Kyla lamented as they trudged back toward their suite at the other end of the White House. "Marines?"
Ashley scoffed, determined not to let Christine get the best of them. "Honestly, why the hell will they be any different? It'll be the same as it's always been – two mindless drones following us around and trying to tell us what to do. Different uniform, maybe, but nothing we can't handle."
"I don't know," Kyla replied, "Mom sounded a little too confident about this whole thing. And maybe we have been a little reckless in the past…"
Ashley stopped and put her hands up, blocking her sister's path. "Kyla, we are two fine young women in the prime of our lives. Christine signed up for all of this presidential crap – we didn't. Why should we have to squander our youth tucked away in the dusty corners of this old house, tatting lace or whatever the hell it is Christine thinks proper young ladies should be doing? We should be free to live our lives. This is America, for god's sake. Give me liberty or give me death!"
"How patriotic of you," Kyla deadpanned.
"I'm just saying we have a right to live the way we please. It's not as if we're interfering with the functioning of the country. I just want to be left alone! Is that really so much to ask, considering all that I've already given up for her?"
Kyla bit her lip, hearing the frustration in her sister's words. Though both were forced to play the roles of clean-nosed, doting first daughters whenever there was a camera or politician in sight (as per the terms of their contract), Ashley was forced to hide much more of herself than Kyla ever had to. Kyla suspected that half of the reason why Ashley rebelled and toed the line as much as she did was because their mother refused to acknowledge that her eldest daughter was gay.
It was as clear as day to anyone who had ever met Ashley in person that she loved the ladies, but it was never spoken of or written about and Ashley was careful to never obviously displayed her preferences in public. It was part of their deal with their mother. It wouldn't do for the Republican Party's staunchest opponent of gay rights to be exposed as the mother of Washington's most eligible lesbian.
Kyla wasn't exactly sure how her mother had managed to keep knowledge of Ashley's sexuality out of the press and away from her political opponents. It probably had something to do with Ashley's long-term and very public boyfriend (read: beard) Ethan Rayne, and mountains of confidentiality agreements signed by Ashley's numerous conquests.
Kyla knew it killed Ashley to hide such an important part of herself, and she made her distaste for her mother's political aspirations well known – at least within their circle. Baiting the Secret Service was one of her favorite forms of revenge.
"What are you suggesting then?" Kyla asked her sister as they started walking again.
"Let's get rid of them, one way or another." Ashley replied. "There is no way I am going to spend my senior year at Georgetown towing around my own personal 'Army of One'. I need you with me on this Kyla."
Kyla sighed, feeling like they were getting too old for these games they played with their mother. She finally nodded her agreement. "I'm with you."
Davies girls stuck together. When she really stopped to think about it, Ashley was the only person she knew who loved her unconditionally. She'd always have her sister's back, even if it was in ridiculous schemes carried out solely for the annoyance of their mother.
"Secret handshake?" Ashley asked as they paused at the door outside their suite.
"What are we, five?" Kyla asked, laughing at the fact that her sister still insisted on sealing their deals this way.
"You are never too old for the secret handshake," Ashley admonished. Kyla rolled her eyes, but still spit into her palm and slapped her sister's hand three times while snapping twice with her other hand.
"We'll have these new Secret Service wanna-be's packing by tomorrow night, just you wait and see."
"All right," Kyla relented, "But we are going to have to bring our A-game."
"Sir, if I may?" Spencer asked hesitantly.
The colonel nodded as he folded his hands back on top of the desk. "Proceed."
"Why us sir?"
"Many reasons. First, you are two highly trained, battle-tested, and decorated Marines. You both have exemplary service records and were highly recommended by your commanding officers. Your role in the protection of President Ali's daughters from insurgent forces last year did not go unnoticed. Marines are typically not trained for private security, but you two have the experience and have proved yourself under extraordinary circumstances."
"Second, you are women. The president specifically requested female Marines for this particular assignment, due to certain difficulties the first family has experienced with Secret Service agents in the past." Spencer and Chelsea shared a quick look. The Colonel leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Let's just say that the Davies sisters have a habit of mysteriously disappearing after routine trips to the restroom." He settled back into his chair.
"Third, you are young. The President's daughters are about your age and it was my belief that you will perhaps be better able to relate to the young Davies and anticipate issues that older Marines might not foresee."
Spencer had to acknowledge that the Colonel had a point there. She was only twenty one and Chelsea had just turned twenty. Though each of them had over three years of active military experience and training, they were still ultimately kids. The elder members of their squad never let them forget it.
"Though the assignment is quite unusual, I do not think I need to tell you that this may be the most important assignment you will ever receive. The security of the President's daughters directly influences the security of the President, and in turn the security of the United States."
"Yes sir," Chelsea and Spencer replied, almost in unison. Spencer still did not quite believe this was happening.
Colonel Michaels gestured to the agent standing by the door, summoning him forward. "This is Agent Aiden Dennison, whom you have already met. He is in charge of the security detail for the presidential family while they are in the White House. Though you will be officially answering to me, because you will be living and working here in the White House you will refer to Agent Dennison or his superior Special Agent Walker, for your orientation and for the details your security role."
The colonel rose stiffly from his seat (which Spencer now realized probably belonged to Special Agent Walker, as his was the name etched into the nameplate sitting on the desk), and nodded. "I leave you in Aiden's capable hands, but remind you that you will have certain autonomy here in your position."
He put a hand on each of their shoulders, giving a gentle, fatherly squeeze. "Show these Secret Service types how Marines get the job done."
The next morning, Ashley was just getting to the good part of her morning latte when a sharp knock sounded at the door of her and Kyla's suite.
She rolled her eyes. It was far too early for visitors. She ignored it.
The person on the other side of the door seemed to have other ideas. They knocked again, this time louder and more forcefully. It did nothing for Ashley's morning mood.
"Ash, you gonna get that!?" Kyla called from the bathroom where she was putting some final touches on her makeup.
"No." Ashley replied, flipping through another page of her history syllabus.
The knock came again. This time it sounded like someone was shoving a battering ram against the door. Ashley rubbed her temple with her free hand. This day was not off to a good start.
Kyla came rushing into the kitchen area. "God Ash, how lazy can you get!" She breezed by and answered the door, mid thump.
Surprise, surprise. It was Special Agent Walker, Ashley's oh-so-favorite person in the world.
"Ladies," Agent Walker greeted them with a stoic nod. If he expected an exchange of pleasantries, he definitely did not get them. "Can we come in?"
"No." Ashley growled into her coffee. Special Agent Walker's voiced grated her nerves. It was like a mix of the Governator and Batman.
"Sorry about her, yes, come in," Kyla replied, pulling the door open wide.
"I'd like to introduce you to your new security detail." Walker beckoned through the door and two young women came forward to stand just behind him
Ashley nearly spewed her coffee over her books. "They're chicks!"
"They're…young." Even Kyla was surprised.
"How observant of you," Special Agent Walker replied through gritted teeth. "May I introduce Sergeant Carlin and Corporeal Lewis of the United States Marine Corp. Sergeant Carlin has been assigned to you Ashley, and Corporeal Lewis has been assigned to Kyla."
Ashley stood up and walked around the table to get a better look at the newcomers. She felt Kyla following close behind. Corporal Lewis was a short, muscular black girl with no nonsense brown eyes. Sergeant Carlin was taller, lean and white. Ashley thought she saw a trace of blond hair sticking out of the side of her uniform cap.
Both were wearing rather bland tan colored uniforms – unflattering polyester pants, awkwardly fitting tapered blouses, distinctly military hats and shiny black man shoes. Not exactly America's best dressed list. Ashley couldn't believe she would have to be seen in public with these two. So much for keeping a low profile.
"Huh," Ashley muttered, not quite sure what to make of this development. She leaned forward and poked the one named Carlin's arm. She was moderately relieved to find that though she appeared to have a rather rock-solid bicep, she was not made of metal. The way the two girls were standing, all rigid blank-expressioned, Ashley had been a little worried that maybe they were robots. She wouldn't put it past her mother. With all that funding she had talked Congress into giving the military, who knew what the heck they had in their arsenal?
She turned to Kyla. "They won't last a week."
Kyla rolled her eyes at her sister's game, but played along with her anyway. "Five days tops."
Agent Walker coughed to hide a growl. "Yes, well I will leave you in their capable hands." He made a quick escape back through the door.
Ashley and Kyla took a moment to stare at their new bodyguards.
"Well, this will be interesting," Kyla muttered before breaking away to grab her backpack. "Come on, Corporal Lewis is it?" Chelsea gave a slight nod. "We'd better get going. I don't want to be late for class." Kyla made her way out the door and her new shadow followed close behind, but not before Ashley saw her shoot her companion a stealthy smirk.
Ashley chose to spend a few more minutes inspecting her newest accessory. She circled her a few times, and then proceeded to stare at her for a while. The girl stared right back, seemingly unphased.
Ashley couldn't help but notice how blue her eyes were. It was the only spot of color in her dreary ensemble, aside from a few of the bars that decorated the chest of her otherwise hideous uniform. She seemed to have a lot of them for someone so young.
"I have class in twenty, you ready to go?" Ashley asked.
The Marine nodded once in reply.
"You sure, you don't need a bathroom break or anything?"
The Marine shook her head.
"Really? You should always go before you leave, it's just good practice." This time the Marine did not respond at all.
Damn, this girl was uptight.
"I think you and I are going to get along real swell." Ashley told her innocently.
The Marine responded with a raised eyebrow, as if to say, "I think not." Ashley had to hold back a laugh, and turned back to her coffee to hide a smirk.
Maybe there was a spark of life in there after all.
"Well, all righty then Sarge, let's get this show on the road." Ashley conceded, lazily slinging her tote over her shoulder.
"Sergeant." Carlin corrected. She seemed to immediately regret saying anything at all when she saw the smirk on Ashley's face.
"You got it Sarge!" Ashley replied with a mischievous grin. "And here I thought maybe you were mute!"
She knew she had hit a nerve and she was now going to jackhammer it whenever it tickled her fancy. Which was pretty much right now.
"If you want, I could call you by your first name instead." She squinted at the name patch on the Marine's uniform. It read S. Carlin.
"I bet I can guess what that S stands for. Is it Sarah? You look like you could be a Sarah."
"No." Carlin responded gruffly. Ashley was going to enjoy this. She pushed her way past the Marine and out into the hallway. The bodyguard was forced to follow.
"Is it Samantha? I could see you as a Sam. Sammy. The Samanthanator." She let the words roll off her tongue. She could do this all day long and there was no respite in sight for the tightlipped Marine.
Ashley thought she heard the girl sigh behind her. Fuel for the fire. This was going to be too easy.
"Is it Shaniqua?"
Yeah, Spencer thought, a few steps behind her, my name is obviously Shaniqua. Did this girl ever shut up?
It was going to be long day.