Before I get to this chapter I need to say a really big thank you to Transmute Jun, aka TJ, for having a fast scoot over the first section. It wasn't a beta read, so do not blame any errors on her, but she pointed out something I missed and suggested a fix. I stole the complete line and threw it in here … :grin:

Also,a warning. This section has some make-out naughtiness in it between a Swan and Eagle … It's not too naughty, but I felt I should warn thee lest you loathe smooches and fondles.

Oh and thanks to Fionabeingme for giving me a nudge to keep writing this fic…

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Seventeen was not an easy age to get to when you were a genetically enhanced mutant with heightened sensory function. It was worse, still, when this particular mutant of science, although extremely intelligently advanced, was stunted still in the painful transition between being a kid and becoming a man.

I.e., puberty.

It was his belief that by 17 he should have suffered and already survived the worst that this transition had to offer, but as the days, weeks and months wore on, Mark was finding more and more new symptoms of this disease making their appearances with the express purpose of making his life an absolute living hell. Worse was that each new problem became a much more humiliating predicament than the last one had been.

The latest in his hell had been … spontaneous arousal.

As if anything in his life couldn't get any worse, now he had to deal with the sudden and humiliating rise of his flag at any time a certain budding young woman strolled by. And when he meant budding, he was not kidding about it. Princess was shape shifting between girl and woman faster than should be human, and the suddenly tight shirts and pants she wore were beginning to take their toll on this hormonally crippled young man.

Training with her was torture.

In the last two months he had been forced to leave the training room four times mid-session after his close encounters left him in a state of pure embarrassment. The instructors either didn't realize his pain, or were revelling in his discomfort. The last had been particularly shameful. A collision during a sparring session had seen him land on top of her and her legs wrap either side of his hips. It was purely accidental and entirely innocent, but their landing fell into such perfect position that his lower half immediately reacted to it.

His nose was in the crevice below her ear and his breath hot against her skin and before he realized what he was doing, Mark had dragged his open mouth down her neck to her shoulder. It wasn't until he heard her whimper in a way he'd never heard before that he found his control and had torn away from her.

It was not a slow and amused withdrawal of himself from her, it was a heated, sharp and violent leap that ended as more of a hurried scuffle of horror than a man apologizing for falling on her in the first place. He didn't get up of his hands and knees until he made it to the doorway, at which time he bolted to his room and collapsed onto his bed.

He tried to find ways to forget her green eyes and slender figure. He tried to convince himself she was a sister, not a potential conquest. She was six months shy of her sixteenth birthday, still legally untouchable.

Untouchable.

That was the one thing in this world he wanted to do the most to her. To touch her. To feel her. To use what puberty was forcing him to endure to make her want him as much as he wanted her.

These feelings were driving him insane enough to want to hide away from her. He assured himself that it was for her safety – he feared that he just might lose all control and attack.

This is what brought him to what could possibly the single most embarrassing conversation he felt he would ever have to endure in his life: A discussion of birds and bees and teenage hormones with his mentor, Dr. Anderson. He had thought about asking Jason for advice, but the ribbing and humiliation he would likely suffer from such a request would be far greater than the embarrassment created by the alternative. And so he found himself outside of Chief Anderson's door.

He had to take a long few breaths before he could bring himself to knock on the office door. As his knuckles tightened, whitened, to rap as confidently as he felt he could, Anderson opened the door. His nose was, as usual, buried within the pages of a report on an old wooden clipboard, but not to much that he didn't see the young man in the doorway.

"Mark," he said, startled. "What are you doing here?"

Mark actually found himself shuffling his foot on the floor. "I wondered if you had a minute."

Anderson checked his watch. "I have thirty, actually." He took a step back and invited Mark in with a wave of his hand. "Is everything okay?"

Mark winced a little, and hesitated, but strode in once he had thrust his hands in his pockets and slouched. "I have a problem I need your advice on."

Anderson took note of the usually confident young man and pursed his lips in worry. "Take a seat."

Mark did so and slouched in several different poses before he found comfort with crossed legs and a heavy slump. "I don't know if you can help me out with this."

Anderson took a seat behind his desk and set his elbows on the table to thoughtfully set his chin on steepled fingers. "I can try."

Mark spent a few seconds squirming before he could form the question. "Is there any drug you could give me, or maybe a needle or something to … uh …" His face flushed and he embarrassedly indicated down toward his crotch. "To stop this …uh…?"

Anderson felt like he was probably supposed to react with shock and discomfort of his own, but found himself actually giving a smile. He'd had a similar conversation with the other two older males of the team a year or so back. "No, Mark. That is a normal biological function that is absolutely necessary …"

"You can't tell me that this is normal," Mark hissed in interruption. "It's going off on its own tangents and … well … it's getting embarrassing."

Anderson was smiling – he couldn't help it. "Mark, all men go through it. It is just one of those lessons in control."

Mark shook his head. "You're not exactly hearing me, Sir. I have no control over it." His eyes rose and actually had a strong flash of annoyance in them. "According to the books on the subject, this was supposed to be something that was supposed to happen when I was 13, not 17."

Anderson nodded. "If you were born to Earth parents Mark."

Mark's eyes shot up quickly. "If I was what?"

Anderson blew a breath of air out of the side of his mouth. "I suppose this is something I should have discussed with you before now." He let his hands drop from his chin and laid one forearm on the table. The other moved into his pocket as he sat back in his own chair. "Mark. Your parents were, for lack of a better word, alien."

Mark's expression was one of complete surprise. "Alien?"

Anderson nodded shortly. "I understand that the word Alien isn't exactly politically correct these days, but in this case I feel it appropriately outlines why your transition into a young man may seem somewhat slowed compared to the other boys."

Mark cleared his throat. "Oh."

"If it makes you feel any better, Commander, you will pass through this stage of evolution somewhat faster than a man born to Earth parents." He looked down at a file on his desk. "Add to that we have ways of separating you from fellow Rigan women on base…"

Mark's posture straightened. "I'm Rigan?"

Anderson gave a nod. "Yes, your mother and father were both Rigan. Unlike another member of your team, you are not what is considered – rather insultingly – as a half-breed."

Mark's head angled to one side. "Half breed, sir?"

"It is an insulting term that I abhor, but it is an unavoidable part of assimilation of the interplanetary races." His finger tapped on the table. "Initially there were concerns from the scientific groups as to the viability of such mixed babies, but there ended up being no major complications without physiological and biological structures being so similar. Our young boy, Keyop, is a perfectly engineered mix of several interplanetary species."

"I see," Mark sighed softly. "Is Princess the half-breed you speak of?"

Anderson shook his head. "Due to the continuing investigation of her parent's death her files have been sealed as to their heritage and identity. I assume that she is a full Earthling, based upon her biology."

His eyes raised slowly. "Biology," he breathed softly. "That isn't exactly my favourite word right now."

Anderson found himself able to chuckle. "Trust me, Mark. We men all feel that way when we head through this transition. In time it will pass, and you'll find you'll have far more control over yourself than any man born on Earth." He inhaled deeply. "You'll only react to women from your home planet, so I can arrange different instructors until it passes." He gave a short frown. "Although, I didn't think we had you training with female Rigans." His eyes shot up fast. "You aren't reacting to the male members of your species are you?"

Mark found himself gagging at the suggestion. "Oh God no. No. No. Absolutely not. And please don't refer to it as species – that just sounds wrong."

Anderson pursed his lips to hide a smirk. "Then it is someone at school?"

He shook his head. "No, Sir. It is someone here on base." He buried his head in his hands as his entire body slumped again. "Cassandra."

Anderson's eyes shot open. "Princess?" He shook his head in confusion. "That can't be right, Mark. It's scientifically established that at your age you should only find interest in a Rigan woman."

He spoke through his fingers. "I guess that makes me a freak, then, right?" He humphed. "I knew it."

"Or," Anderson suggested. "Princess has Rigan blood flowing through her veins." He slowly drew himself to a stand and began to pace. "It makes sense. She is hyper intelligent for someone her age, and it would also account for the colour of her hair and skin – which I had initially assumed was only a side effect to the implant." He spun and looked at Mark, who was still slumped and despondent with his head in his hands. "And would also account for the instant connection between the two of you."

Mark peered at him through his fingers. "What do you mean?"

Anderson tapped at his lip and ceased his walk. "You and she are so much more than siblings raised together. When she came to us, you immediately fell into an easy pace beside her. You and she are in such perfect synch with each other that to separate you to even different rooms has a detrimental effect on you both."

Mark groaned long. "You make it sound like a pre-ordained kind of thing." He rose in his seat but fell straight back in a slouch. "Like, what, is she sending me subliminal horny messages or something?"

Anderson pursed his lips and shook his head. "No. Not exactly. Chances are that she will be completely non-responsive to your advances. Rigan women are not as receptive to the advances as an Earth girl would be. They don't seek sexual gratification until they are ready to conceive. So do not be surprised if she rebuffs you … should you go ahead and try to make an advance."

Mark's interest was piqued. "Is that a green light to do so, Sir?"

Anderson's whole face lengthened in complete surprise. "Well it would appear that you are in the deepest throes of your agony to even entertain such a notion, Commander. Any green lights will come from Princess, and Princess only." He stalked back to his seat. "I will not dictate with whom you can experience your affections, but be warned that if the two of you cross that line that I will be keeping a close eye on things." He sat down heavily. "She is my little girl, Commander, and I will ensure that noone, especially you, will bring her to harm."

"I will heed that warning," he muttered into his hand as his eyes flicked to one side.

Anderson rubbed at his brow and then removed his glasses from his face. "Tell me. Have you approached her on this?"

Mark shook his head and kept his eyes away from his mentor. "No, Sir. All I have been doing is running from her."

"Have you been releasing your own pressure upon escape?"

Mark coughed loudly and immediately reddened. "What? Do we really need to talk about that?"

Anderson's head angled to one side. His expression read scientist. "Auto eroticism is an essential part of this process, Mark." His expression did not change. "I encourage it."

Mark shot up out of his chair and began to pace. "I am not discussing that with you. It's personal and extremely inappropriate."

"And vitally essential if you wish to make it through this in one piece," he finished blandly. "You don't have it in you to go prowling, Mark." He clicked in a breath of air. "You might find it helpful to maintain your focus and detachment to Princess if you release your energies before having to train or work alongside her."

Mark folded his arm across his chest and winced. "Okay, this conversation is really beginning to…"

"You came to me on this, Mark. I am only telling you the answers you were seeking. They might not be what you wanted to hear, but it's the truth."

Mark shuddered. "This is humiliating."

"We've all been through it, Commander."

Mark was quiet for a second as he absorbed the information and willed for the ground to open up and swallow him. With a defeated sigh he finally spoke. "This is short-lived, Sir?"

Anderson nodded as he pressed the tip of the arms of his glasses to his lip. "In no time you'll be back to normal and will understand to some degree just how…"

"Will the need stop?"

Anderson was initially annoyed by the interruption. He cleared his throat and let Mark's question dance in his mind's eye for a moment. "It's not a need as much as a want, Mark. It will end soon enough."

He took a long breath. "So what do I do in the meantime?" He cleared his throat. "Aside from your earlier suggestion?"

"There's not much else I can suggest, Mark. It's just something you have to work through yourself."

Mark groaned painfully. "So aside from finding out I am an alien being, I am no better off than I was before I came to you."

"No," Anderson suggested softly. "But I am. I do appreciate you coming to me on this, Mark. I will do my best to separate you both until this passes."

"I'd appreciate it, Sir."

Anderson walked to his office door and opened it. He paused midway between open and closed and took another look at his ward. "She will wonder what she has done to offend you, I warn you of that. She worships the very ground you walk on and a forced separation will upset her."

"It will be better than me storming out of training sessions when it becomes too much, Sir."

Anderson gave a short laugh at Mark's sudden candidness. "Your father had a small shack on an airfield off base. I will look into acquiring the deed and perhaps allow you to reside out there." He kissed the air in thought. "That may, perhaps, give you a little respite."

Mark's eyes widened. "Really?"

Anderson gave a shrug. "I can't keep you all locked up in here for the rest of your lives. You should all be granted leave outside of duty. I may as well begin that process now." He exhaled a breath. "You're a man, now, Mark. It's time."

~~O-O-O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O~~

Mark was still reeling from his conversation with Anderson a full twelve hours after the meeting. It wasn't so much the rather squeamish nature of the original topic broached that had him still thinking about it after all this time - he knew perfectly well that the conversation was not going to be pleasant and enjoyable given the nature of the topic – it was more the discovery of his heritage that swam through his mind right now.

Rigan.

It should hardly have been surprising that at least one member of the team was Rigan. After all, Riga was Earth's closest trading ally and defence point. It should have been less surprising, still, that it was he who was the Rigan member. Colonel Cronus was a proud Rigan, as were all his pilots. His involvement in the G-Force project was now perfectly clear. He was there to ensure that Riga's placement in the team was trained to their planet's code so to represent them appropriately.

Mark shuddered as he felt the weight of yet another burden press down on his shoulders.

Obviously the lack of real resolution in his dilemma with hormones was on his mind, but while Anderson stayed true to his word and kept Princess away from him, it didn't garner too much thought.

He tossed a miniature foam basketball in the air above his face and lobbed it into a basket on the wall when there was a gentle knock on his door. He slid off the bed and padded on bare feet to open it. His smile faltered somewhat to find the target of his worry standing shyly on the other side.

"Princess?"

She was unusually shy when she answered, and spent a good few moments looking everywhere else but at him as she searched for words. She made do with holding out a small bundle of clothing in front of her. "Hi Mark. Um. Mr. Anderson wanted you to put these on and meet him in training room three in about an hour."

Mark licked at his lip and nodded quickly as he shifted to swipe the clothing from her. "Oh, thanks, Princess." Without a second thought he began to close the door on her. It wasn't until he heard her gasp that he paused. 'Was there something else?"

Her eyes finally shifted to his. Wide, green, and incredibly confused, they asked the question before she did.

"Have I done something to upset you?"

Mark shook his head quickly. "No, Cassie. Not at all. Why would you think that?"

She shuffled her feet, lowered her eyes and shrugged. "Well. Normally you would have invited me in." She inhaled. "Normally I wouldn't be told that I wasn't allowed to come see you." Her eyes rose again. "Normally you wouldn't get mad and run out of training with me."

His gaze softened to one of apology. "Oh I'm sorry, Princess. I didn't mean to make you feel like that, I just wasn't…" he took a breath "feeling well."

She immediately stepped in to his room and pressed herself against his chest. She used the press of her against him to rise comfortably to her toes to check his temperature. "You don't feel hot," she breathed softly. "Is it your belly?"

Mark's eyes flashed at her proximity and the effect it was beginning to have on him. Without regard he abruptly snatched himself away from her and turned toward his bed. "Uh. No. I'm okay now."

Her hands shot as fists to her mouth. She couldn't fight the sting of tears in her eyes at the thought that she had royally screwed up. "Mark. Whatever I did I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

He heard the waver in her voice and turned quickly to assure her she wasn't doing anything wrong. "No. No, Cassie. It's not you. I'm just not myself right now."

"Is there something I can do to help?" She questioned softly.

There were several answers in his mind to respond to her question, but instead he simply made do by sitting on his bed and taking a long look at her. "I'm okay, Prin. Honest I am."

She shook her head. "Why don't I believe you?"

He smiled and tilted his head at her. "Because you know me so well." It was at that moment that he noticed what she was wearing, and how different it was to her usual attire. Rather than a pretty dress or skirt, or even the occasional mini-shorts, she stood before him in an obscenely tight green shirt with red sleeves and a large number three on the front, paired with a white and pink pair of jeans. He found the ensemble somewhat amusing and flicked a brow at her. "Cute outfit, Princess."

She rolled her eyes and groaned. Rather than do her usual pirouette and presentation of the clothing, she merely shook her head. "Isn't it awful?"

"I wouldn't say awful," he offered with a smile. "But it is unusual."

"Unusual means bad," she sighed as she boldly flopped onto the mattress beside Mark. "You know, I think when it comes to picking uniforms they shouldn't leave it to the fashionistically-retarded Mr. Anderson to design."

Mark chuckled beside her as his mind counted to 10 and then 20 and then 100.

She continued on, though. "You laugh, Mark. But he's got you in white jeans and a number one shirt."

His eyes fell to the outfit he held on his thighs, but he did not lift it to look. "Really? So you're number three?"

She giggled and hooked her arm through his to snuggle close and conspiratorially. "And you're number one. My one and only number one," she sang teasingly.

He forced a chuckle as he became painfully aware of her soft jasmine perfume and the charged way it began to fire against his self-control. He wanted to jerk away from her, but feared doing so might upset her again. He continued to count in his mind as he took deep breaths.

She noticed his discomfort and pulled to one side. "Mark. Are you sure you're okay?"

He nodded, but winced. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

He gave her the most brilliant smile he could muster and winked. "I promise you."

"Good," she whispered as she set her hands on the edge of the mattress either side of her knees and rocked forward. Her legs crossed at the ankle and she seemed to shy away from him a little. "I have a favour to ask you."

"Of course," he answered quickly, somewhat alarmed that she'd be so shy around him. "Anything. Just name it."

Her chin tilted up to allow her to look at him through her bangs. "Anything?"

He smiled. "I am here to serve. Just say the word and I will do anything your beautiful little heart desires."

She rocked against him. "Stop being facetious."

"Seriously, Princess. Just ask."

She pursed her lips and looked off to the side. "Will you kiss me?"

The question made him frown, but he complied with a smile and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "How's that?"

She bit at her lip and shook her head. "No, I mean really kiss me."

The counting in his mind ceased immediately as his entire focus shifted to those six words. It was as though each of his senses held their breath in wait for him to make his move. Each was disappointed when he managed to squeak out a single solitary word, "Why?"

She bit at her thumbnail and pushed herself to a stand. "Well." She began to pace. "I have a date this evening, and…"

"A date?" he choked out; the absolute disappointment in his voice unhidden.

She shuffled her foot on the floor and nodded. "Yes. One of the guys on the football team asked me to see a movie with him tonight." Her eyes shifted to Mark, but failed to notice his hurt look. "The girls on the cheersquad set it up."

"Oh, okay."

She nodded, her eyes wide and somewhat terrified. "But. But I don't know how to date, Mark. I don't know what to do and how to kiss a boy."

He blinked several times to shake a jealous wave from his shoulders. "Is it that important to have to kiss him, Cassie? I mean, that shouldn't be an issue. If you don't want to then you don't have to."

She quickly sat next to him and grabbed his hand with both of hers. "But, Mark. The other girls said that I have to, that it's what dating is all about." Her grip on his hand was tight. "But I don't know how. If I go in there with no training and mess it up…" She looked down and reddened. "Then I'll be so embarrassed and everyone will make fun of me at school."

He was surprised at how suddenly juvenile she sounded. His Princess was usually so much more in control and mature than this. "Cassie, don't let them pressure you. If you're not ready…"

"But that's the thing," she sighed softly. "I am ready. I want to start to experiment and play and know what it's like to be … well … kissed."

He took a deep breath and stunned himself when the brain-to-mouth filter failed and he found himself admitting the same thing. "Me too, Cass."

She blinked at his admission and gave him a smile. "Then will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Teach me how to kiss?"

He felt a shudder as she leaned closer to him and wet her lips. He swallowed hard. "Princess, I really don't think…" His words were eaten as she set her hands on his knees and pressed her lips against his. He felt her tongue flick at his top lip and found what little resolve he had left simply crumble and die away.

The light was flashing green and inside a massive gulp of air he claimed her hard. He tugged her onto his knee and gripped the back of her had tightly as he found comfort for deeper penetration of his tongue inside her mouth – and she took him willingly. Princess rose to her knees as she straddled his thighs to press her chest against his, to feel the scrape of his chest against her bosom. She separated from their kiss only to gasp air and to breathe her appreciation inside two words, and then dove straight back inside him.

Mark didn't argue nor push her away as she rose and fell inside her kiss. Her movement was as though they made love as with each rise of her knees she gasped into his mouth and each fall made another claim of his lips. The press of her on his thighs was just short of where he felt his ache and with a single shift of his hips she lightly fell against him. He let out a low moan that was inhaled inside her stunned gasp. She rose a last time and whimpered his name in complete puzzlement as she looked down along his chest toward his legs.

"My God," she breathed as her eyes suddenly rose to his and stared at him with a sense of wonder and possible apprehension. "Mark, I…"

Mark wasn't necessarily far from the point of no return, but he found it incredibly difficult to simply stop their encounter all of a sudden. It took every ounce of his control not to simply flip her onto his mattress and finish what they'd started. He didn't bother to look down at what startled her – he was all too well aware of what it was. He didn't relinquish his hold on her, but he focused her eyes on her kiss-swollen lips.

"Cassie, I'm sorry," he whined.

Her head tilted to one side as she focused her eyes on his gaze upon her mouth. Slowly she bit down on her bottom lip as she lowered herself down against him again. This time she remained seated on him, thrilled by the constant press of his arousal against her. "Don't be sorry,' she breathed. "I … I like it."

He heavily ran his hands up and down her back and shuddered as she moved just slightly against him. "Princess. We have to stop."

"Why?" She panted into his ear as she began to rock slowly against him. "Let's experiment, Mark. Let's see what it feels like." She pushed him slowly backward onto the bed. "Let's find out what all of the fuss is about."

Mark moaned as he lay back and watched her lift her shirt up over her head. All at once, with the sight of her swollen and budding young breasts, he felt the absolute last thread of self control snap in a blinding stab of pain that shot from shoulders to feet. His hand snapped to her back to pull her chest against his. "Mine," he growled possessively as he flipped them both over so that he hovered above her. "All mine."

She purred underneath him and felt a flush creep over her bare shoulders as he buried his nose between her breasts and snarled. "Wow, Mark," she whimpered as his hips stroked against hers. "Please don't stop."

Anderson's words and warning swirled in his mind as she willingly played beneath him. How could he have been so mistaken that a Rigan woman would be an unwilling partner? Princess was more than willing and more than open to his advance. Her thighs widened for him and stroked against his hips. She moved underneath him and begged him to keep going. She breathed his name in urging and want.

He pressed his fists into the mattress either side of her chest and arched his back to raise his head to the ceiling to let out a long moan as he moved against her. He was beyond using her name to show his appreciation of the encounter, he was more of the mind to simply strip her completely naked and dive headlong inside her.

Princess was astounded by how she was reacting to him. She had no comprehension that her body was able to so easily respond to him like this. Every part of her body pin pricked with hypersensitivity and managed to decipher even the slightest touch as something so much more. It was as though a switch inside her had flicked and all of a sudden she was sliding into a woman's body that was begging to be treated to everything this man had to offer her. She touched at his chest if just to feel him and let out a sudden gasp at the rounded smoothness of muscles long hidden under loose shirts and jackets. His chest was rock-hard yet soft at the same time. She succumbed to a sudden, desperate need to see him and thread her hands up under his shirt to lift it enough to bear witness to his hidden beauty.

He shuddered at the touch of her nails against his bare skin and found himself glaring down at her with a predatory, lustful stare of blue. He had officially crossed into the path of no return and watched her from above as she stared back at him with heavy lids and open mouth.

"Princess," he breathed no louder than a harsh whisper. "Do you want this; want me?"

She nodded with a frown of absolute desperation. "Yes Mark. Show me how it feels. Teach me." She arched against him and raised her hips to his. "Teach me how to love a man." She took a breath to find her voice to add on which specific man she wanted to love, but was harshly interrupted as he pulled roughly off her.

"No," he growled as he slid off her into a stand on the floor. "No."

Her eyes were wide and disappointed as she raised herself to her elbows to look at him. "Mark. What's wrong?"

He paced and clutched a handful of hair as he tried desperately to calm himself. "No, Princess. I'm not doing this."

"Doing what," she pleaded. "Don't you want me, Mark?"

He pointed at his crotch and painfully swollen member with both hands. "I think this pretty much speaks for itself, Princess."

She drew herself to a seat and shakily patted the bed in search of her shirt. Her voice was strained. "Then why did you stop?"

His pacing stopped and he looked at her as though she'd asked the most heinous of questions. "Why?" He took a stride toward her and moved to stroke her face. He paused just shy of her skin and curled his fingers into a fist as if to maintain control. His eyes steeled and searched hers. "I will not be a training ground for another man."

Her shock at the accusation flew into her with a gulp. "No, but Mark…"

"No," he growled with a shake of his head. "If you want me, then I am all yours. I will give you everything I have." He took a breath and closed his eyes as his head slanted into an insulted tilt. "But I won't be used as a training ground for you to be with someone else." He opened his eyes only slightly to look at her. "I want you, Princess. I need you – God I ache for you – But you have a boyfriend."

She shook her head. "No, Mark. He's not…" she stopped when he raised his hand to ask for silence.

"I can't do it." He said nothing further as he stormed through his bedroom door and into the hallway toward the bathrooms.

She heard the swear that left his lips as the bathroom door slammed behind him and swallowed hard as she held her shirt to her chest and pressed her fingers to her lips as if to reclaim the touch of his mouth against hers. It wasn't until Jason popped his head around the doorframe in search of Mark that she finally found the ability to move. She completely ignored the fact she was holding a shirt against herself rather than wearing it and shot by Jason with enough force to tumble him against the wall.

Jason watched her disappear down the hall and shot his glance into the room half expecting Mark to be in there in much the same state of undress. He saw the room empty, but heard a loud grunt of a cuss word uncharacteristically firing from the bathroom in his Commander's voice and coughed in confusion.

"What the hell did I just miss?"