THE MAN WITH NO RANK

SUMMARY: Grisham's POV as his life goes from bad to worse.

TIME: After "Same Not-Same" (fic), and ends a few days before "The Serpent" (ep).

We've had a lot of guests lately, a lot of ships docking on the nearby coast. The governor's civil servant--the arrogant prick--and Senorita Alvarado's old flame--another arrogant prick, this one with a sword arm--and that Alberta lady. I wonder who killed her.

Something tells me that the Colonel's starting to leave me out of things. That means that he's seeing me as disposable, as someone that can be killed without much consequence - like that swordsman. After all, who would mourn the death of the only Americanos in this corner of Nueva Espana?

Yeah, who would mourn me? Hell, I'm not sure I'd mourn me, not with what I've done, even if it was to stay solvent. And sober.

A knocking on my front door. I don't think it's going to be Vera, as she's out helping her husband get ready for her birthday party...I wonder what I could get for her.

The knocking keeps up. "Alright already," I bark at the door. I walk over to the door, open it, and see--

"You?" I ask of the statuesque giant in front of me. Casper Roarke, somebody from the old town.

"I was in the neighborhood," he answers, squeezing past me into my home.

Oh great, just dammed great. Little Stubble-face from the Philadelphia Garrison. What's he want here? "What do you want?" I ask.

"Just thought I'd stop by, say hello to a fellow man of the Red, White, and Blue," as he takes a seat unbidden. Crap, guess I'm not getting rid of him anytime soon.

Hey chowderhead, did you know your beer belly's evident even under that dusty American uniform? "Fine, hi. There, you said hi, I said hi; now you can leave."

"On the contrary, don Grisham, I'm also here to speak with your employer about my post here." Chowderhead here's going to be living here? I don't care how big the pueblo is - it ain't big enough for the two of us!

"There is a small fleet of ships coming, Marcus," Roarke tells me for his own reasons. "And I'd guess that they're Portugese, based on the sail layout and ship size."

"And why're you telling me this?" I can't help but wonder.

A shrug. "Courtesy. Besides, I figure you need the hint more than most people here, the," and said a word I didn't know - it wasn't English, Spanish, or French. "Well, I thank you for your hospitality, Capitan Marcus Grisham," as he stood up. Yeah, that's right: leave me alone. You were an arrogant prick back in school, and you still are!

Good, he's gone. Now how do I get rid of that voice in my head?

"Marcu, Marcu?" I hear the lovely lady call softly as she enters my home.

"Um, look, Vera, I'm not really -" now, cute as those wide eyes of hers are, I suspect she's about to start laughing at me. "Maybe another time?" Oh God, don't let me have totally ruined things.

Her lips tilt in a small smile. Oh that's it, I'm toast. "Of course, Marcu; I wouldn't dream of impinging on your misery." She turns around to head for the door - for doc Helm? "Let me know when you recover," and opens the door to leave.

In that case, we may have a very long wait.

~~~

TBC...