Fic: Crossing Borders
Title: Crossing Borders (1/?)
Author: zarrati
Word Count: ~1,900
Genre: AU
Pairing: Leslie/Ben
Rating: PG-13 for Language and slight violence
Summary: When the president/dictator of Pawnee, Leslie Knope, starts receiving very personal death threats, army intelligence officers Major Ben Wyatt and Lieutenant Colonel Chris Traeger are called in from their post on the Pawnee/Eagleton border to sniff out a possible mole within the government and uncover a complex assassination plot.
Author's notes: So, this is an AU fic based on a prompt I received concerning dictator!Leslie and bodyguard/general!Ben. There will be a lot of Ben angst because I can't help it, and as of now, some aspects are vague on purpose. I tried to keep Pawnee's military structure as close to that of the US military, but since Pawnee IS technically its own World Power here, some intentional differences have occurred. I hope you enjoy!
Pawnee/Eagleton Border
1993
After taking three of the four squads in his platoon out for a surprise practice drill, Lieutenant Killnose was ready to head back to camp. It had been unusually warm that day, and he could see the fatigue building in his soldiers’ eyes.
Underneath that layer of fatigue was something else he knew all too well--homesickness. For most of his young soldiers, this was their first tour of duty. The first time they had spent months away from their friends and loved ones.
The older he got, the more he appreciated the youthful spirit of his troops. At times, he envied their optimism, their view of the world still untainted by the horrors of combat.
His platoon, nicknamed the India Company Exterminators, or ICE for short, had been stationed along the Pawnee/Eagleton border for the last six months. While border patrol during peacetime wasn’t the worst assignment one could have, he could tell that his platoon was getting restless, hence today’s surprise drill.
“Alright troops,” he called out. “Time to head back to camp. Sergeant, radio the camp and let them know of our return. Also, get a status update.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Those lucky bastards,” said one of the Privates. “It always seems like that squad gets out of doing the hard stuff.”
“Quit your complaining, Private,” Killnose replied. “You know as well as anybody that it was their turn to stay behind and watch the camp. Don’t tell me that an old man like me tired you out today.”
The Private laughed and shook his head. “I’ll never admit that, Sir. But I will say that I’d give just about anything to trade places with them right about now.”
Before he could reply, his Sergeant called out to him. “Lieutenant, we’re having trouble establishing contact with the camp.”
“Give me the radio. Ice Town, this is the Mobile Unit. Come in, Ice Town. Over.”
Nothing but static.
“Ice Town, this is the Mobile Unit. Do you copy? Over.”
More static.
“Damn. It’s probably just their radio that crapped out, but I want to get back as soon as possible. Finish loading up the trucks.”
It wasn’t until they were a few miles away from the camp that they saw the smoke.
~~~
Before the truck fully stopped, Killnose jumped out and ran towards the camp--or what was left of it. Tents and pieces of equipment were blown to pieces, supplies burned and smoking.
Bullet shells littered the ground.
And his soldiers. Dear God, his soldiers. Their bodies were scattered throughout the camp, blood pouring from their wounds.
“Someone radio for a chopper. We need a medic here, now!” he shouted. It didn’t matter to whom. “Sergeant Johnson, take your squad and search the perimeter. See if these sons of bitches are still out there. The rest of you, check to see if we have any survivors.”
Killnose ran towards the first body he saw, pressing his fingers against the Private’s neck, praying to find a pulse.
His prayer went unanswered.
Moving on to the next body, he found the same to be true. It would be an image that would haunt him until the day he died, the lifeless eyes of the young men and women who were under his command staring back at him. His job was to protect them, and he had failed.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. They weren’t at war. They hadn’t received any word from intelligence about a possible attack. They were supposed to be on border patrol, an uneventful tour designed to break in new soldiers.
And now they were dead. Every single one of them.
“Lieutenant!” someone screamed from the other side of the camp. “Over here! He’s still alive.”
Killnose sprinted towards the voice, his Sergeant kneeling over the body of one of his Privates.
The young man’s chest was covered in blood, his fatigues singed as though he had been burned.
“His pulse is weak, and he’s losing a lot of blood. I can’t tell what his injuries are.”
Killnose started stripping off his own fatigues to pull out his undershirt, bunching the cotton fabric into a tight ball.
“Get his jacket off of him. We need to apply pressure to his chest to stop the blood flow. Get me whatever clothes or rags you can. Do it now!”
The boy’s chest was a mangled mess. He couldn’t tell if it was a bullet wound or burns or some combination of the two.
“Where the fuck is that chopper?” Killnose shouted, pressing the rags firmly against the wounds.
Within minutes the rags were soaked through. As he switched to fresh ones, he heard the young man beneath him moan, his eyes struggling to open.
“He’s waking up. Can you hear me, son? A chopper is gonna be here any minute. We’re gonna get you out of here. We just need you to hold on. You got that, Wyatt? You’d better make it. That’s an order, Private.”
The Lieutenant swore he saw the slight nod of Ben’s head before his eyes started to flutter and he drifted back into unconsciousness.
“Wyatt? Wyatt! Damn it!”
Private Benjamin Wyatt. An 18 year old kid barely out of basic training.
And quite possibly their only way of finding out what happened here today.
“Sir, the chopper’s almost here.”
Killnose nodded and focused his attention back to the dying man beneath him.
He just hoped it wasn’t too late.
~~~
Present Day
Ben grimaced as he rolled his neck, attempting to work out the knots that had formed in the last two hours spent hunched over his computer. The rhythmic tapping of the keyboard paused only briefly as he took a sip of lukewarm coffee.
His focus was interrupted by his ringing phone, tearing him away from his work for the first time that afternoon.
"Major Wyatt," he answered.
"Ben!" the exuberant voice of his fellow intelligence officer replied back.
"Hey, Chris--or should I say Lieutenant Colonel Traeger," he teased. "That's gonna take some getting used to. How's that new promotion feel?"
"Amazing! It is just so fulfilling to serve my country and be rewarded. I’m so humbled."
"Well, you deserve it."
"I couldn't have done it without your help. Your analysis was crucial in preventing the latest incident. I foresee a promotion for you soon, too."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll believe it when I see it. So, what can I do for you? I doubt you called to just shoot the breeze."
Ben heard Chris swallow and sigh. "Very true.There have been new reports of an assassination attempt being planned against the president."
"Okay, but we receive dozens of those types of reports almost daily. Many of them are false leads or idle threats."
"This one appears to be serious. The president has been receiving very personal death threats. Someone is somehow bypassing all security measures. We aren't sure, but we suspect that someone has infiltrated into a high level position within the government and is taking advantage of that access to make these threats and possibly supply others with information.”
"Damn it, Chris, why am I just hearing about this now?"
"This is being kept Top Secret. Need to know basis only. I just got the call from the Intelligence Office at The Capital this morning."
"And what do they want from us?"
"Well, that's why I'm calling. They specifically request that you and I be brought in to consult."
"To the Capital?"
"The president has already been informed of our imminent arrival."
"What do you mean the president? We've never handled anything on this scale before. We deal with border issues and small scale terrorist attempts. Why us?"
"Apparently our last operation got us more notoriety than we thought. Given our current situation with Eagleton, determining whether or not they are somehow involved is our top priority. No one has done more research and knows more about them than you, Ben. We leave for The Capital tomorrow."
Ben rubbed his face with his free hand. "Well, it's not like we have a choice. We have our orders. Any idea how long they expect us to be there?"
"That has not yet been determined. It could be anywhere from weeks to months. However long it takes to resolve this."
“Shit. I guess I have some packing to do. When are we going to be officially briefed on the situation?”
“We arrive at the Capital tomorrow evening. Our briefing is scheduled for 0800 the following morning in the Capitol Building.”
“The Capitol Building, huh? Wow, never thought I’d ever see inside of those walls.”
“We should consider ourselves very fortunate. Some of the nation’s top intelligence officials will be there, along with the president’s personal staff.”
Ben almost fell out of his chair. “D-does that mean that the president is going to actually be there?”
“Oh, yes. She insists on being personally involved in all matters pertaining to these threats. We’re going to meet the president. Isn’t that exciting?”
Ben’s mouth went dry, his heart pounding in his ears. Exciting? Not quite the term he’d use. Terrifying, exhilarating, heart stopping, humbling. Maybe a dash of exciting thrown in there somewhere, but this-this was huge. “Yeah. I don’t even know what to say.”
Chris simply chuckled. “Oh, Ben, you just be your natural, charming self. No need to be nervous.”
“If you say so. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Without waiting for a goodbye, Ben hung up the phone, still in a state of shock. Eventually shaking himself from his stupor, he powered down his laptop and shoved it in his bag, along with any other files he felt might be useful in his consultation.
Looking around his office, he saw just how lifeless it was. In all of the years that he had worked there, he had never bothered to personalize it; make it his own. There was no artwork on the walls, none of his own books on the shelves, no knickknacks cluttering his desk, save for a single picture frame.
He could walk out of that room right now and there wouldn’t be a single trace of Ben Wyatt, as though he never even existed.
He let out a bitter laugh. He thought that about his own life, too, sometimes. Especially during his darker days-- the days, weeks, months after the attack.
If he just disappeared, would it even make a difference?
But in the course of a few minutes, everything changed. He was important somehow, and he wasn’t quite sure why.
The Capital, the president, an assassination.
These words swirled inside of his head maddeningly. This was by far the biggest assignment of his career. Success would guarantee him a promotion, possibly set him up for life.
But failure…
He didn’t want to even think of that as an option. The life of the president was at stake, and quite possibly the future of his country.
Picking up the frame from his desk, he looked at the faces of the smiling men and women he once considered blood. His brothers and sisters in arms. His own face also stared back at him, so young and optimistic.
Ben unconsciously ran a hand over his chest and shoulder, a few layers of clothing separating his fingers from the scars that marred his body. Scars that were covered by a uniform he sometimes felt unfit to even wear.
And now he was being asked to represent that uniform to the president of Pawnee.
He’d better not screw this up.
Part 2