„I'm doing some extraordinary things today."

The upper level of the Dark Star nightclub was less crowded than usual. The music and the lights were more moderate as well.
John Shepard didn't really care about either.
He was sitting in one of the quieter corners, on a small, violet-colored sofa. His cigarette was already half-burnt, but his glass was full. The third round of a strange, green liquor that night. He planned to have at least three more.
That should be enough to faint on the table.

"Sooo, you come here often?" asked the asari who was sitting next to him.

John lifted his cigarette to his mouth before answering.

"Nope."

Why is it always an asari?
He was starting to suspect that there was some kind of asari conspiracy that involved messing around specifically with him.

"Then, this must be a special occasion, right?" she asked and smiled at him.

"Yeah. It is indeed." He grinned and drank a mouthful of liquor.

"Celebrating something?"

More like mourning.

"You could say that."

"Good," the asari winked at him. "What's that you're drinking by the way?"

"This?" he asked and lifted the glass up. "I have no idea, really. It tastes like shit, but at least it kicks like a horse. It's only good to get drunk."

He looked straight into the asari's face. Her expression kind of signaled that she was starting to understand the situation.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, then pointed at the stairs with his head.

The asari pursed her lips, then she slowly stood up.

"Stupid arrogant humans," she said and walked away.

Finally.
He sighed, then leaned back and tiffed from his liquor again. He nearly spat the whole thing out the next second.
This can't be.
Jane was standing next to the stairs, looking around.
She's going to see you.
By the time he could have jumped under the table or something, she was already staring at him.
He simply stared back. He wasn't actually concerned about the situation, he just didn't want to see her at that moment.
Or do you…?
He wondered if Jane came to the club for the same reason as he had.
No, she's not that type.
The momentarily shock on her face was kind of telling.
You know exactly why she came here.
He realized that he still had the cigarette in his hand, so he smoked it, then looked at the wall.
How did she know where to come?
He leaned on the table and sipped his drink again.
Whatever.

Jane started to walk towards him. A turian, whose hand she scoured, turned after her.

"Heyyy sweetheart."

She didn't even realize that someone spoke to her.
It took only a few seconds to reach John's table, but it felt like a year for her. All the thoughts that had troubled her five minutes ago simply vanished. Her mind was a blank paper, except for four words:
This won't be good.

John was observing the table.

"Hello," he casually said.

Jane didn't know what to say or do, so she just slowly leaned against the table, keeping a little bit of a distance from John.
This was a huge mistake.
She could feel her heart jumping into her throat. It was strange for her to look at John. It was nothing like it had been before. She was unable to get rid of the fresh memories that came to her mind whenever she glanced at him.
You might be his stepsister on paper, but…
She just didn't know anymore how to speak with him.
If at least there weren't any other people around.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. John didn't seem to pay attention to her struggle.
Good. It would be no better if he was.
She took a deep breath and looked at the smouldering cigarette.

"You don't normally smoke," she said. Her voice was anything but calm.

John felt a strong urge to reply something like "I don't normally get in bed with my relatives either". Instead, he smoked the cigarette again and glanced up at Jane.

"Yeah," he nodded finally. "I'm doing some extraordinary things today."

Jane stared at him unbelievingly.
Is this a joke?
John seemed to be so calm and neglectful. That would have been normal, if…
If.

"You are drunk."

"Your observing capabilities are truly excellent," John scoffed. "I am indeed drunk."

Jane's fist clenched as she turned her head away.
This is pointless.
She wasn't used to this kind of behaviour from John. She had the feeling that she could talk to him all she wanted, he'd just stay passive.
She glanced at John again, but she immediately regretted it. John was observing her with a steady stare, as if he was waiting for something to happen. A cold shiver climbed up on her spine.

"You're not feeling well?" John asked. His tone was just a tiny bit scornful.

Jane would have been angry if she wasn't scared instead.

"I… I… I just came here…," she stammered, "to tell you that…"

WHAT.

"…That you shouldn't… blame… or hate yourself—"

John slammed his nearly empty glass on the table. The sudden movement gave Jane a start. She gazed at him with bewildered eyes.

"You always figure out everything, huh?" he asked calmly and leaned closer to Jane. "Listen then; I will hate myself whenever the fuck I want. You don't have to be concerned about it."

Jane pressed her lips into a thin line. She closed her eyes, trying not to start some kind of ridiculously hysterical scene. She really wanted to bring John's attention to the fact that alcohol makes him an insensitive jerk.
Though it might be just worse if he was sensitive in any way.

When she opened her eyes after long seconds of silence, she just wanted to get out as quickly as possible.

"Just… " She was trying desperately to control the quaver in her voice. "I just want to see you tomorrow in one piece… okay?"

John didn't react anything, but Jane caught a glimpse of his straining facial muscles.

"I'll just… leave you alone now, if you wish… "

Damn.
John felt miserable. In fact, he was on the rack every second because of Jane's presence. He just wanted to sit alone and drink as long as he beared the ability of lifting a glass to his mouth. But at the same time, the mazochist in him – combined with alcohol - demanded Jane's presence. He didn't want her to just walk away.
Punish her for coming here. For causing a shitstorm in your brain again.

"Don't go anywhere," he said.

Jane had already straightened up, ready to walk away, but she froze. Her subconscious immediately started to scream at her.
Go away. DON'T LISTEN TO HIM.
She stood there, looking at John, waiting for whatever he wanted to say.
GO AWAY.

John glanced around to check if anyone was looking at them. Lucky for him, no one paid attention to the dark corner he had chosen specifically because of its isolation.
He turned back to Jane. He put his cigarette and drink down, calmly staring at her meanwhile.
Then, he grabbed her right hand with a quick move and pulled her to himself.
Jane gasped. She lost her balance and was forced to catch John's shoulder. She couldn't right herself up thereafter, because John grabbed her hips with both hands and pulled her onto himself.

There she was, practically sitting in John's lap, her knees buried into the mushy violet seat, her hands still resting on his shoulders. With her face only a few inches away from his face, she could smell the combined scent of alcohol and tobacco on him. His sight was veiled from drunkenness as he gazed into her frightened eyes.

She never ever imagined she'd have to deal with him like this. She just wanted to get up and run away.
Anywhere but here.
Yet, as she was sitting there, tied to him, something paralized her.
The joy of feeling his hands on you… ?

John sighed. He slowly moved his right hand from her hip, ran his fingers up her bust and placed his index and middle finger on her rosy lips.

"Why the trembling?" he asked quietly.

She didn't even realize she was trembling.
Is it just that? Longing for physical contact with him?

"You wanted this, didn't you?" he continued. "You're still here. That must mean that you like what I'm doing."

Her breathing became slightly erratic.
You like what he's doing.

"So, you don't regret anything, do you?" he asked, though it rather sounded as a statement. He slowly moved his hand, placing his whole palm on the side of her jaw, slightly pressing his thumb against her lips.

Jane flushed. She felt that undescribeable joy again, climbing up from her belly to her stomach.
You need him.
She felt shame. Shame for taking part in – or what's more, enjoying - the situation.

John slightly tilted his head to the right and observed her face for a few seconds like that. Then, he leaned even closer to her, leaving no more space between their faces than what was enough to be able to look her in the eyes.

"You're a wicked little girl, are you not?" he asked, a faint smirk replacing his calm pokerface. "You'd do it again, hmm?"

The thumb on her lips pressed stronger. She wanted to tear her eyes away from his face, but she could not.
He can't be serious.

"So you just march into this club and come to me," John continued, stressing every single word, "not caring at all that I might regret what… I did."

What HE did?

"Or you… think, that… I'd want… this… you… "

John ran out of words and closed his mouth. His face suddenly changed. The smirk on it disappeared as he clenched his teeth. His eyes…

Is that pain? Or lust?
Both?
Jane stopped breathing as she gazed into John's eyes. His thumb slowly joined his other fingers on the side of her jaw, leaving nothing between their lips but a thin layer of air. She felt as if her head was on fire; every thought that crossed her mind just added to the heat.

You… want… to… kiss…
She suddenly felt his other hand on her hip, holding her tight, his fingers digging into her flesh.
Closer…
Neither of them moved.
Do you really want to… ?
His hand quivered once, as if he wanted to do something with it, but changed his mind in the end.
Air… air…
Who needs air…

Her lips barely touched his lips for a short second.

This is just pure torture.

She realized that she just couldn't do it. Every muscle in her body wanted to, but she couldn't.
Not like this. Not here.
It's pointless anyway.

Something tore her out of the red cloud that had caught her long seconds ago.
Reality.
Pain and disappointment replaced the strange joy in her stomach. She felt the need to breath again.

John's mind was empty. What emptied it; he did not know. It might have been the alcohol, or fatigue, or both… or neither. The only thing he concentrated on was Jane in his arms.
And the lust that was urging him to do something.
Madness…
The guilt kept him from deciding what to do. Instead, he just stared at her, waiting for something to happen.
Anything.

Something finally happened. Jane's lips quivered and one single tear left each of her eyes.

Two barely noticeable tears flowing down on her face towards the blanket…

No.

No no no.

He let go of Jane and leaned back a bit. Jane finally breathed and let go of John's shoulders. She placed her right hand on her mouth, trying to hold her other tears back.

"Go," John said. "Just… please."

Jane gazed at him for a few seconds, then she stood up without uttering a single word and walked away.

John sat on the violet colored sofa for long minutes. When he got tired of staring at his almost empty glass, he stood up, paid, then left the club.


The sound of glass pieces being tossed around greeted him when he stepped into the apartment. He slowly walked towards the stairs, so when he reached the kitchen, he saw Jane. She was kneeling on the kitchen floor, collecting the pieces of something she had probably broken not long ago.
The casualties of today's events.
Could have been worse.

She didn't stop or look up when he stared at her.
Probably to cover her red, cried-out eyes.
He couldn't bear the sight of her for long, so he turned away and proceeded upstairs.

He didn't know how he had gotten into his room, but he was standing there all at once. He closed the door and looked at his window. The shutters were still apart, letting in the lights of the street.
That's just great.
He dragged himself to the wall console and hit the button he needed. The shutters closed, and once again, he was embraced by the comforting darkness of his room.
Now that's much better.
The next second, he fell on his knees and pushed his head against the cold glass. The feeling of something solid next to him comforted him somewhat, so he placed both of his hands on it as well.

Jane pinned against the window. His lips glued to hers. Her arms are so cold under his hands as he's holding her. The sweet scent of cherry pours into his nose. It's so damn overwhelming. For a moment, he wonders if he should stop. It might be a terrible mistake to continue.
She returns the kiss. The doubt simply vanishes from his mind.

His hands fell off the glass. He wanted the memories to go away, disappear and never bother him again. But no matter how hard he – or the remaining alcohol in him – tried to throw them out, they persisted, just as if someone had burnt them into his mind.
He felt as if he had walked into a blind alley. There were walls around everywhere, and the only remaining way out was slowly getting sealed as well.
And he wasn't quick enough to leave before it got sealed.

He closed his eyes.

For the first time in ten years, tears were flowing down on his face.


Author's note to readers who care:
Next chapter will be up in July. I have to concentrate on my ********* exams for a while now. : (