**** WARNING**** This chapter contains explicit and graphic sexual content and intended for mature and non-prude audiences only. Readers must use their own discretion and stop reading if they don't like what they are seeing. Can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen. Or shuttle bay in this case;)
The Normandy was in a state of chaos the entire time Shepard and her squad were on the moon. The ship systems were shutting down and booting back up again one at a time. The crew scrambled to keep the things running and their emissions dark, but it was touch and go.
Joker finally broke down and called the Commander and she sent Liara back to take a look. By the time the asari arrived the problems seemed to have resolved themselves, but neither Joker nor Liara could pinpoint where exactly the shut downs were originating from. EDI's reaction was strange. She seemed unaware of the power failures and systems shut downs.
When Shepard returned everything was on the level again, though Joker's voice betrayed the worry he felt. When EDI announced that Shepard was on her way from the shuttle bay Catherine craned her neck to see through the CIC to the elevator. She caught a glimpse of a turians going around the corner into the war room. Seconds later, the Commander came up the ramp and into the corridor heading for the bridge.
Her armour was scuffed, scraped and spattered with ooze and filthy black ichor. Catherine caught a waft of her as she walked by and almost gagged the stench was so overpowering.
In the increasing heat of the ship the smell lingered and clung to everything. Catherine wasn't the only one suffering. Two stations down from her one of Morgan's subordinates was also choking down every breath.
Shepard didn't go all the way into the bridge as she talked to Joker and the automatic door stayed open allowing Catherine to hear everything said.
"Commander, was that Garrus?" Joker asked, a hint of pleasure in his voice.
"He's coming with us," the Commander replied. Her voice was rough and Catherine could hear the strain in it. "Get us out of here, Joker. And keep us quiet, the whole system is crawling with Reapers."
"I've gotta vent some of this heat, Commander," Joker said. "We're going to start to cook if I don't do it soon. It's already pretty hot in here."
"If we let the heat radiate here they're going to spot us in a second," Shepard said. "How long until we absolutely have to vent?"
Joker took longer than EDI liked in replying and so she jumped in to answer Shepard's question.
"If we make best speed for the relay it will be another two hours before ship wide temperatures become unbearable for the human crew. Three hours and it will become uncomfortable for the turians and asari as well. Life support will be strained during that time."
"Okay," she Commander said and was silent for a moment while she thought. "Take us away from the relay. Three-quarters speed for two hours then vent the heat sinks. Do a hard one-eighty, go dark, and head for the relay at top speed."
"Commander," EDI said. "This will add another two hours to our transit time."
Catching her meaning Shepard asked, "Joker, you had any sleep yet?"
"Had a nap here in my no longer leather and therefore not as comfortable chair."
"You good for another twenty?"
"I can do it."
"As soon as we dock at the Citadel you find a bunk and stay in it until you're well rested. Got it?"
"Got it, Commander," Joker said as he guided the ship in a wide arch heading away from Menae.
The Commander's boots rang on the metal plating and paused behind Catherine where she crouched down to eye level.
"You up for the next two hours?" she asked, knowing that Catherine had heard every word said in the bridge.
Catherine's eyes burned from the stink of the smut on the Commander's armour.
"Yes, ma'am," Catherine said breathlessly. "I'll keep us as cool as I can."
Her stomach rebelled and she had to put a hand to her mouth so she didn't throw up in her lap. She swallowed the bile down and gave a little cough.
"Hogan, I hear you got pretty drunk after your last shift," the Commander said quietly. "Are you fit for duty?"
"Yes. I'm sorry, ma'am," Catherine said. "No offence, Commander, but you stink."
Shepard laughed. A hearty, bellow of a laugh that made Catherine's heart glow despite the nausea and cold sweat clinging to her back and forehead. An armoured glove came down on her shoulder twice and then the Commander was walking away though the CIC.
Joker's voice came on through the comms overhead. "Sorry folks, it's going to get hot in here."
When the Commander was in the elevator Catherine fiddled with her controls and the fans activated, blowing away much of the smell and sending a breeze through the CIC, cooling it somewhat. But after another half hour the heat had climbed to an uncomfortable 32 degrees and it continued to climb by another two degrees every fifteen minutes.
By the time they were two hours from Menae the temperature had reached a scorching 44 degrees. Catherine had managed to keep the relative humidity down so it was a dry heat, but still incredibly uncomfortable.
Catherine was technically done her six hour shift, but had chosen to stay at her post until they were able to vent the heat from the Normandy's hull. Ai-Wei was waiting patiently behind her, insisting that she was on duty and should remain even if she wasn't doing anything.
"Cat." Joker's voice was in her ear piece.
"This hell almost over?" she asked.
"We're at the limit," he said. "You're not going to be able to stop the heat from rising now. We gotta dump. EDI says there are Reaper signatures only a few light minutes away so we gotta do this fast. How quickly can you normalize the temperature in the ship?"
Catherine thought about it for a minute. She'd never had to force the system to make changes to the internal atmosphere in a hurry before. Life support was all about keeping the ship at a state of equilibrium, not allowing the temperature to move too much in either direction.
On the originally Normandy they would have been dead already, but the new SR-2 had been built for longer recon missions and had special conduits along the surface of the hull that the internal air could be pushed through and cooled quickly. But as that too would show up on infrared scans of ships closer than four light minutes, it was a system only intended to be used once the ship was safely away from enemy contact.
"Normally it would take about fifteen or twenty minutes," Catherine said. "But if you can give me power from another area, I might be able to get the ship to a livable temperature in five."
EDI responded. "I can draw extra power from the shields or the main battery. Which would you prefer?"
"Our guns won't dent a Reaper," Joker said. "If we have to run we'll need our shields. Pull from the battery."
"I'm with Joker," Catherine said, wiping a trickle of sweat from the corner of her eye. The heat was blurring her vision and making her dizzy.
"Work fast, Cat. Venting initiated. Counting down from ten... nine... eight..."
Catherine's hands flew across her controls. She primed the hatches through all the conduits and began to siphon power away from the guns.
"Four... three... two... Venting."
A rhythmic throb pulsed through the ship. Starboard fans began sucking air out while the port fans blasted it back in, cooled by the near absolute zero of vacuum. There was a sigh of relief in the CIC as the temperature plummeted to a balmy 25 degrees Celsius.
Catherine's eyes went into overdrive as she monitored the other areas of the ship, trying to keep everywhere evenly adjusted. The Loft, above the CIC, cooled the fastest, reaching a comfortable 21 degrees in seconds, while the shuttle bay was taking significantly longer.
"Venting complete," Joker said urgently. "We've been pinged. We gotta move."
The hold was still warm but now that the rest of the ship was back to normal Catherine could cycle the air and balance the temperature throughout. She shut down the conduits and closed all hatches, trapping the warmth inside.
"Done," she called. "Let's go."
"Four and half minutes." Joker sounded impressed. "Won't even show them the tail lights."
Catherine slouched in her chair, sagging with relief. Ai-Wei stepped forward, ready to trade places.
"Impressive work, ma'am," she said. "I don't think I could have manipulated the systems so quickly."
"Thanks," Catherine answered. She heaved herself out of the seat. "Trade off with John at the regular time. Let's try to keep things running smoothly. I need a shower."
Catherine trudged off to the elevator and tried not to think about how hungry she was, or how desperately she needed to sleep. She stopped in the crew quarters for a change of clothes and a towel and headed for the showers.
Thankfully the tiny space was unoccupied and she had a modicum of privacy while she stripped down and stepped under the weak flow of water. EDI informed her that Shepard had allowed a slightly larger water ration for those on duty during the heat and Catherine used it gratefully.
Her shower still only lasted ten minutes and she just managed to rinse off the suds before the water quit. She toweled off and dressed in her most comfortable casual uniform; loose, baggy pants, running shoes and a navy blue t-shirt with the Alliance logo emblazoned across the chest.
She dumped her soiled uniform into the laundry hatch and left the showers. The aroma of someone's cooking filled the air and Catherine's stomach tried to lead her in the direction of the mess, but she spotted a turian standing at the memorial wall and her curiosity got the better of her.
"You must be Garrus," she said as she walked up to him. "I've heard a lot about you."
The turian turned to look at her, his white face paint striking against the silvery grey of his head crest and brow plate. His golden eyes studied her face before he held out a gloved, three fingered hand and Catherine took it without hesitation, giving it a firm shake.
"Primarch Adrien Victus," the turian said and Catherine's stomach dropped.
"No kidding," she said, because nothing better came to mind.
The Primarch seemed to sense her discomfort and made an attempt to ease it.
"I was told this deck was public," he said. "Have I invaded the crew's space?"
"Not at all, sir," Catherine sputtered. "And I apologize for being so forward. I assumed you were Garrus Vakarian. I never expected to even see you, let alone meet you."
"What's your name, human?" he asked.
"Catherine Hogan, sir."
"Catherine," he said slowly, as if playing with it. "An interesting name. Sounds almost turian. Where are you from?"
"Earth," she replied, relaxing somewhat. "This is my first time off planet."
"I've heard Earth is a beautiful place. I hope to see it someday."
"I hope to see it again someday." Catherine sighed and crossed her arms. "I'm sorry about Palaven. Did you have any warning?"
"Some," he said. "But not enough. I wish some of my people could see this wall." He gestured to the names before them. "Far too many turians still hold your people in contempt. They refuse to accept what an important player your species has become in the galaxy, or how much you've sacrificed to help others."
"I appreciate you saying so, Primarch," Catherine said. "And everyone is thankful that you agreed to come with us. No species can do this alone."
"Quite right," the Primarch said softly. "Quite right."
Catherine stood with him for a moment longer, staring at the names on the wall and wondering how many more would fill it by the time the war was over, and how many walls the turians would need to honour their dead.
Eventually she turned and gave the turian leader a salute. "It was an honour to meet you, sir."
"The pleasure was mine, human." He return her salute turian style and she turned to go.
Morgan was watching covertly from the end of the hallway and intercepted Catherine as she walked around the elevator into the mess hall.
"Did you seriously just have a conversation with the freakin' Primarch?" she whispered.
"I thought he was Garrus," Catherine said, trying to repress a grin. "I like turians. And Joker's talked about Garrus so much. I never thought the Primarch would be down here."
"Well, shit," Morgan said with a touch of awe. "You have all the best conversations."
"I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you went and introduced yourself," Catherine said. "He seems to like humans."
"I don't think so. Don't have the balls for that," Morgan said with a snort. "Anyway, you want something to eat? The new Mess Sergeant made a stew. It's pretty good."
Catherine served herself and sat down at the larger table tucked between the elevator and support struts. The stew was hot and smelled delicious, but Catherine only managed to pick at it.
Somehow Morgan knew that she had been on the bridge during the approach to Palaven and wanted details. She wouldn't take Catherine's hint that she didn't want to talk about what she'd seen.
Finally, Catherine was blessed with a jaw cracking yawn and she was able to bow out of the conversation gracefully. But just as she was standing to leave they were thrown into momentary darkness and the ship shuddered around them.
"Shit," Morgan said. "What the fuck was that?"
There were shouts from medical and Catherine spun around to find the medic she'd seen earlier running out of med bay while several marines with fire extinguishers rushed in.
"Are we under attack?" Catherine asked, and was surprised when EDI didn't respond. "EDI? Why isn't EDI answering?"
Everyone on the crew deck crowded around the windows looking into the med bay to try to see what was going on. Liara came out of her quarters, but stood back from the crowd with a turian who Catherine assumed had to be Garrus.
Not long after the initial moment of darkness, Commander Shepard came jogging around the corner and the door to medical hissed open. She cast a glance at the gathered crowd but didn't give any indication that she wanted them to disperse.
They couldn't hear what was going on inside and when Shepard activated the door to the AI core smoke poured out obscuring anything they might have been able to see within.
After a annoyingly anxious wait, Shepard emerged followed by a stunning looking synthetic woman.
"Isn't that the thing that attacked Major Alenko on Mars?" Morgan said aloud.
A current of fear raced through Catherine. The body was what remained of a Cerberus infiltration unit. If it was active did that mean that Cerberus was controlling it? Did that mean that Shepard was still a Cerberus agent after all?
They all backed away from the window as Shepard came out with the synthetic. They stood before the assembled crew and the metal woman smiled at them.
"Everyone," said Shepard. "EDI has a body."
There were gasps of surprise and sighs of relief. Catherine felt so much better so suddenly that she almost didn't care about the explanation. She stood in the background, listening as EDI told them what she had done and why the ship had been experiencing power fluctuations. When EDI and Shepard left, Catherine slipped away as well and headed for a sleeper pod hoping to get some rest.
The pod she had used previously had not been used since by anyone else and was still set to her customizations. She climbed inside and leaned back into the padding expecting her exhaustion to overtake her in minutes.
For the next hour she dozed on and off for several minutes at a time, but each time she did her mind was plagued with images of Palaven and the Reapers surrounding it. Turian dreadnaughts erupting in great gouts of flame and falling careening from the sky. Fighters, the dogs of war, circling like angry birds sparrow around a hawk, harrying and abusing Reapers, only to be shot down by the bizarre Oculus fighters.
It was all too much. Catherine's mind simply could not settle and sleep eluded her completely. She gave up and climbed out of the pod, rubbing at her itching eyes and stretching her aching limbs.
The crew deck was quiet. Even aboard ships there was an attempt to maintain a day night cycle so as not to completely destroy the circadian rhythms of the crew, but Catherine wasn't sure what to do with herself despite having the deck mostly to herself.
The idea of being able to see out into the great empty void of space made her feel queasy, and with few places to go on the ship where she could be alone and away from windows, the shuttle bay seemed like the place to be.
The elevator dropped her quickly down two decks and the doors opened to a space that was blessedly empty and silent. She ran her fingers through her short hair and decided that she would jog around the deck a few times. Maybe that would wear her out enough that she would fall asleep.
The dog mech, who she had since learned was names KEI-9, ignored her and she was just finishing her first lap when a voice called out from beside her. She jumped with fright, tripping over a floor strut and coming down hard on her knees.
"Shit, sorry chica." James reach down, offering a hand to help her up. "Didn't mean to scare you. You all right?"
Catherine grabbed his hand and felt a moment of weightlessness as he pulled her to her feet. He was frighteningly strong. She rolled up her pant leg to investigate her burning knee and found it was bleeding.
"I'll be fine," she said, letting her pant leg fall. "I thought I was alone down here."
"C'mon over here," he said as he walked back to his man cave. "I've got a first aid kit."
"I'm fine, really," Catherine protested, but followed him anyway.
The space had changed subtly since she'd seen it last. A low cot was set up atop some creates against the wall beside his desk. A dirty tarp that he appeared to be using as a blanket was spilling over onto the floor. The guns he'd been working on were stowed away and the thermal clips, wires and other junk had been piled neatly to one side.
"You don't sleep down here, do you?" Catherine asked, eyeing the cot suspectly.
James shrugged as he pulled a medkit from under his desk.
"When I do sleep, this is where I do it."
He dropped the heavy kit on the table and then picked her up by the waist and put her down beside it, her legs dangling over the edge in front of him. She tried again to protest, but he ignored her and reached down to roll up her pant leg.
"I made it hurt, I'll make it feel better," he said gently.
The softness in his voice was odd to hear. His fingers were light as he used a sterile cloth to wipe away the trail of blood on her calf. The cut was deeper than she'd thought and it stung as James dripped a topical antibiotic onto it.
While he worked she took the opportunity to study his features more closely. His skin was dark and hid the many scars crisscrossing his neck and forearms. She'd originally thought he was just deeply tanned, but every time he bent she could see down the back of his shirt that the ruddy colouring continued past his collar.
His tattoos were jet black and looked like a woven mesh of blades. She wondered what they meant to him and was tempted to tell him about her own tiny tattoo, but was too enthralled watching him to interrupt his tender ministrations.
On the right side of his neck he had a wound of his own. It was a deep gouge and her knowledge of human anatomy told her that it was an injury he was lucky had not killed him. It looked deep and like it stung.
Neither of them said anything as he peeled the backing of an adhesive bandage and smoothed it down over her small wound. He gave her pat on the thigh, his hand lingering a moment longer than was necessary, but Catherine didn't jump down from the table.
Instead when he straightened and took a small step back she reach out and pulled him closer by the front of his shirt. He gave her a questioning look.
"You've got an injury of your own that needs tending," she said, flipping open the lid of the med kit and reaching for another sterile cloth.
"It's not so bad," he said, pushing her hand away as she reached to wipe away the dried blood.
"Shut up." Her tone was firm but she said it with a smile. "Come closer."
He did as he was told, leaning to rest his palms on the table to either side of her so she could easily reach his neck. Her face was only inches from his as she worked. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek.
"Was it bad down there?" she asked, keeping her voice low.
"Worst action I've ever seen," James replied, his eyes downcast. "Millions dead. Seeing devastation like that doesn't make you feel a lot of hope."
"I know what you mean," she said. "Well, no I guess I don't, but I have my own feelings of doubt. Do you want to tell me about it?"
James was quiet. She finished cleaning up his wound and blew gently on it until the antiseptic dried. He closed his eyes and breathed a small sigh.
"No," he said and then opened his eyes and looked into hers. "Yes."
It only took her a few minutes to apply the long thin bandage to his wound, but when she was done he stayed where he was and kept talking. He told her about the monstrosities the Reapers had created from the species they abducted. Twisting together turians and krogan into massive, violent beasts with armour plating and clawed hands that could rip through a solider with one blow.
He'd seen downed turian dreadnoughts, that had had crews of hundreds, in burning piles of wreckage spread across the moons surface. Reapers as tall as skyscrapers had walked only kilometers away from them, close enough that they could hear the screeching, trumpet like bellow the creatures emitted just before they fired their weapons.
"I've seen a lot of action, but that was like nothing else," he finished.
Catherine lifted a hand and ran her fingers along the deep scar on James' right cheek. It was like a canyon, two parallel ridges running side by side from the bridge of his nose to the edge of his neatly trimmed beard.
"That how you got the scars?" she asked.
"Some of them," he said. He shift his hand and his wrist pressed up against her thigh. She didn't move away.
Her fingers traced along another prominent scar that split his lower lip and continued down to his chin. Hardly knowing what she was doing she stroked the scar again, biting her own lip as she did.
James' eyes were intense, practically glowing the low light of the shuttle bay. His mouth opened slightly to show her a row of small white teeth that without warning caught her index finger.
Holding her finger between his teeth he moved his tongue in small circles around the tip, still not taking his eyes off of hers. He let go and she let her hand fall to her lap, her breath coming quickly as he leaned in a little closer.
"You scared?" he asked.
"No," her voice trembled as she said it and a smirk crept across his face.
"You're shaking," he said and reached for her hand, holding it up so she could see the steady vibration of her fingers.
She curled her fingers around his thick thumb and let her legs settle more on the desk, pressing her thigh into his arm a little harder.
"You must be cold then," James said, his voice still low. "Maybe you should come a little closer."
He tucked his fingers behind her knees and pulled until she was sitting right on the edge of the desk, her legs spread wide to make room for him to stand.
Catherine reached out and put her hands on the hard plain of his chest and let them slide up to his shoulders where her fingers dug into the tense muscles. One of his hands rested on her knee while the other found its way around her back and settled at the base of her spine. She could feel the rough calluses through the thin material of her t-shirt.
"Warmer?" he asked despite the fact that her trembling had increased.
"A little," she whispered, not trusting her voice. "I could do with a little more heat."
"That so?" he said. "I think I can oblige. Any problem with that?"
She shook her head and his mouth came down to meet hers. He was gentle at first, taking care not to hurt her with his incredible strength, but when she lifted her legs and wrapped one around his thigh and the other around his waist, the kiss became more insistent.
Catherine felt dwarfed by the size of him, but his raw power fanned the flames of her desire and she soon found her hands creeping lower to find the waist of his pants.
She found and undid the heavy buckle of his belt, letting it fall to the deck with a thud. As she fumbled with the button at the top of his pants his hands explored her torso, fingers running up and down her spine, a bearish palm cupping and squeezing one breast at a time.
Her t-shirt vanished over her head and she leaned back so he could pull away her bra which joined his belt on the floor. Small cries of divine agony escaped her lips as he bent down and pulled a nipple into his mouth, nipping and sucking at the hardened nub.
He paused only long enough to tear away his own shirt and went to work on the other nipple. It rose to meet him in a peak of diamond hardness and he met it with vigor, his hand coming up to keep the other at attention.
Forcing herself to focus, Catherine's hands managed to undo his pants though she couldn't get them pulled down and she moaned in frustration and ecstasy until he finally hooked his hands into the waist band and pulled them down to his knees himself.
His mouth came back to hers and she reached out to grab the rigid source of his pleasure. As she wrapped her fingers around his cock he leaned into her and groaned, his tongue still inside her mouth.
She ran her thumb down the pulsing vein underneath and marveled at the size of him. Just like every other part of him, the member that presented itself like a pinnacle of manliness was as hard as rock and shockingly huge.
Her hand began to work, moving up and down and pulling and twisting until he actually begged her to stop.
"Holy fuck, chica," he said through ragged breaths.
In answer she pushed him back and leaned down until her head was at his waist and could pull the tip of him into her mouth. It was almost too much to take and she settled for swirling her tongue around the mushroom tip of it just as he had done to her finger.
With one hand he gripped the back of her head and spread his fingers through her curls. The other went under her pants and tried to find a way between her legs. The way she was bent it was impossible while she still wore her pants. His solution was to sit her up, lift her off the table and tear away her bottoms, shoes and all.
The metal of the desk was cold against her bare skin and a shiver of cold ran up her spine quickly followed by one of pleasure as his cock brushed against the side of her leg, the heat of it searing a path to her loins where he stood poised to thrust himself into her.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his lips brushing hers.
She nodded, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Yes."
Instead of burying himself inside of her he skimmed his hand up the inside of her thigh and lay his hand flat against the dripping wetness of her core. She spread her legs wider and pressed into him, letting her head tip back with a cry of anticipation.
His fingers moved deftly, caressing the edges of her but never quite entering. He rubbed at her clit until she thought she might actually stop breathing and then went back to the gentle massaging of the sensitive flesh just inside. He did this over and over until her nails dug into his back, breaking the skin and causing a rivulet of blood to run down the ridge of his spine.
And then suddenly one thick finger plunged inside of her. The loudest cry yet sprang from her throat and she clung to him as that one finger worked magic deep inside of her, twirling, pressing and probing ever deeper.
Finally, when she thought she couldn't take another second of it, he pulled his hand away and pressed himself closer. Her arms went around his neck and she slid her body forward on the desk until she started to feel the pressure of his huge cock moving into her.
She gasped at the sensation and wondered in the back of her mind if she would even be able to take all of him. Relaxing, she urged him on with unintelligible words and slowly he pressed until he was entirely sheathed inside of her.
They stopped, joined in the most intimate possible way and clung to each other, the sweat on their chests mingling and scent of their desire filling the air.
"Dios, your tight," he said into her neck and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
She felt the movement through her entire body and she gave a sharp gasp at the unexpected pain and pleasure of it.
"I'm not hurting you, am I?"
"No." She gasped again as he pulled himself out by a fraction. "Yes, but oh my god, keep it up."
His mouth found her earlobe and she tightened reflexively, drawing a rumbling groan from deep in his chest. And then he was moving, slowly at first, learning the depths to which he could thrust without hurting her, and then more quickly as she pushed him to go faster.
It was only minutes before she reached her climax, biting down on his shoulder while her whole body shuddered and ripple after swell of pure pleasure coursed through her. Moments later he clung to her even more tightly and grunted and trust in a hard, steady rhythm, pressing into her as his own release poured out of him.
She could feel him twitching and pulsing inside of her. Feel the heat of his pleasure dripping down her buttocks and pooling on the desk beneath her.
"That," Catherine managed between tattered breaths. "Was spectacular."
Before James could respond, EDI's voice came from the console beside them.
"Lieutenant Cortez is on his way down to the shuttle bay. Perhaps now would be a good time to get dressed."
Catherine and James separated and he bent down to yank his pants back up from around his ankles and tossed her bra up to her as he did. She was just pulling her t-shirt on when they heard the elevator open.
Grabbing her running shoes, Catherine gave James a quick kiss on the cheek and bolted for the door. Somehow she knew that James wouldn't say anything about their encounter, and if Steve guessed what they were up to he seemed like the kind of guy who would keep his mouth shut.
Once in the elevator Catherine called for EDI's attention.
"Please don't say anything about what just happened."
"Of course not." The AI actually sounded affronted. "I aware of everything that happens on my decks. I am well acquainted with this method of stress release."
"Thanks, EDI."
Catherine was smiling when she came off the elevator, but wishing she hadn't used up her ration of shower water. She reeked of sex and the crew who passed her could no doubt smell it. But there was nothing to be done about it so the most she could do was change into shorts and tank top and dump her clothes into the laundry.
She climbed into the empty bunk and was sleep in minutes, this time completely unassailed by nightmares and flashbacks.