The Sounds that Call the Young Sailors

by GSister

Main Character: JD

Disclaimer: These Characters do not belong to me (but if they did, I'D share… probably.) That said, this story was written purely for self entertainment and no money is being made, has changed hands, or has been paid out for the contents therein. The Author wishes to thank MOG for the ATF AU, she came up with it, and graciously lets others play there. Special thanks to my Beta – Van, who made this piece so much better than it began as, and to "S", (who has threatened me with a Death by Larabee-Glare if I mention her by more than that) – it's totally her fault that I got into fan fiction in the first place. Without her encouragement (nagging), constructive criticism, and long talks on characterization, I might still be writing pathetically depressing purple poetry, and what prose I did write, would NEVER be finished…

~Constructive Criticism will be graciously accepted

~Flames will be used to toast marshmallows

“The SEALS are Navy, right?” J.D. Dunne asked, during a lull in the movie he was watching with his team mates. His tone was that of one who already knew the answer to the question, but wanted to hear it confirmed before he asked what was really on his mind.

His apartment mate and self-appointed big brother, Buck Wilmington, pulled the couch pillow out from where he was resting against it and used it to smack J.D. over the head. “Now what kind of question is that? You KNOW that the SEALS are a Naval Division. You’ve lived here with me and worked with Chris and I long enough to know that. You got rocks in your head tonight, boy?”

“No, I was just wondering… Aw, forget it. It’s stupid.” J.D. looked at the older members of the elite ATF team that he had found himself lucky enough to serve on. Chris Larabee, the team’s leader, was a legend in law enforcement in the Denver, Colorado area, as was Buck. The two men had served together on the Denver PD before a personal tragedy had eventually caused them to go their separate ways, only to meet up later in the ATF when Chris was putting the team together. How he had gotten their boss, Orin Travis, to give him the amount of autonomy with the team as he had was still mystery to J.D., even after three years serving under Chris.

“Haven’t you heard that there ARE no stupid questions, J.D.?” Josiah Sanchez, the team’s profiler put in.

“Just stupid people that ask them,” Vin Tanner joked. The sharpshooter threw a grin at their youngest member to let J.D. know he was only kidding.

“What’s your question, J.D.?” Chris broke through the teasing from his position in Buck’s recliner. He was feeling mellow enough to deal with the kid’s curiosity about his and Buck’s days in the SEALS, something he rarely spoke about. ATF Team Seven had the next two days off, the last bust had gone off without a hitch, it was Buck’s and J.D.’s turn to host the movie night, which meant Chris’s living room would still be intact at the end of the night, and any stray cheese curls or pizza crusts that ended up under -- or IN -- the couch would be in BUCK’S couch. Life was good.

“Well, Casey had to baby sit last night, so we couldn’t go out like we’d planned,” J.D. started.

“What does that have to do with the SEALS, J.D.?” Buck asked impatiently.

“I’m getting’ to that, Buck. Keep your pants on,” J.D. answered. Gees, you wouldn’t think that Buck was one of the best surveillance specialists that the ATF had to see him now. The man had no patience. “Since Casey was going to be babysitting, I went over there to hang out.” He looked around at the others. Easily reading the disapproval on Nathan’s face, he hastened to add, “We made sure that we asked first. And all we did was watch movies with the kids.” Nathan Jackson was the only member of the team that was currently married, and J.D. just knew it wouldn’t be long before he was having kids of his own.

“Please tell me that you didn’t subject those impressionable minds to the movie Navy SEALS,” Ezra Standish put in. The team’s undercover operative had his eyes closed as he sprawled in the rooms other recliner. Nathan, in his role as the team’s medic, had insisted that the agent relax as much as possible during their time off. Ezra had been under cover with minimal contact with the team for the last three weeks, in the guise of an anti-government survivalist looking to make a deal for a load of stolen army weapons. Since he had to stay with a group that was more paranoid than a mouse on crack, he didn’t sleep much during that time.

“No, Casey rented some of the Muppet movies. There was one of them were the frog was singing that song -- the one about the rainbows? You know which one I mean?”

“Rainbow Connection?” Josiah asked. “I used to love that song. Haven’t heard it in forever.”

“You would,” Buck put in.

“Anyway,” J.D. continued, “there is a line in the song about hearing voices callin’ to you when you were half asleep. About it being the sweet sounds that call to sailors. I was just wondering if you ever heard anything like that when you were in the Navy.”

“Well, now there might have been a time or two that ol’ Buck has run into a beautiful woman who couldn’t resist my animal magnetism and called for me across the sea,” Buck began.

“Buck,” Chris warned. He turned to J.D. “No, the only voice I can recall that called to me when I was half asleep was attached to an ugly mug with a cheesy mustache and making threats to tell my wife about a certain weekend in SEAL training that happened years before I met her.”

Buck’s face turned serious. He really didn’t want to think about that time. That impossible mission that they managed to pull off at such cost-- the success of the mission almost cost them the team leader as well as a couple members that Buck hadn’t thought they could afford to lose. But he wasn’t the leader of the team - then or now - and it wasn’t his decision to make. He could only do the best he could to keep the promise he made to a young bride to look after her husband and do his best to make sure he came home alive. And if it took threats to a half-conscious Lieutenant to tell tales of a weekend best forgotten, then so be it. “Worked, didn’t it?” he asked Chris.

“Yeah. It did at that,” Chris agreed.

“So does the lovely Miss Casey have the voice of the Sirens as well?” Ezra asked from the depth of his armchair.

“Hey! I happen to like Casey’s voice! She does not have a voice like a siren!” J.D. chose to deliberately mistake Ezra’s meaning. Sometimes you just had to play dumb to allow someone else to gracefully change the subject.

“Honestly, Mr. Dunne, I despair of our public education system even more now than I did. The Sirens, as well you know, were the lovely ladies sent to distract Odysseus from his quest to return home from the Trojan War. Of course, if our intrepid leader and his faithful sidekick had heard the sweet sounds of the lovely sirens during their adventures on the high seas, we would not be sitting here tonight."

"Why is that Ezra?" Nathan asked. He knew he was playing the straight man to Ezra's impish humor. He had an idea of just where the undercover man was going with it, but someone had to ask, or Ezra would sit there all night with that damn enigmatic Buddha smile on his face, just waiting for the proper set up. He'd done it to them before.

"Because the only way even our illustrious team leader could have pulled our resident Lothario out of the arms of an entire island full of beautiful women would have been to shoot him, and do enough damage to ensure that our Mr. Wilmington was uninterested in the ladies, however temporary. And I fear that such an injury would have left him unable to pass the physical qualifications necessary to become an agent for the Federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. Thus, Team Seven would not have been formed in the same way, and we all would not now be sitting here discussing Buck's lack of amorous control." He smiled his self-satisfied little smirk.

"Hey!" Buck protested, over the sweet sounds of his brothers-in-arms easy laughter.

el fin

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