Jack gets a job offer.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jack says. "You want me to teach kids? What the fuck? Are you mental?"
"I assure you, I'm serious."
Jack isn't entirely sure how this Sanders lady had found her. Obviously Girl Scout's hands must be in the picture somewhere, but beyond that she doesn't know. Jack had asked to be dropped off on Illium, because fuck if she wanted to be around while Shepard went and threw herself on her sword, or whatever the fuck she thought she was doing. She'd been bumming around doing okay for herself, pretty damn sure that no one was looking to arrest her for the moment, or she wouldn't have bothered meeting with this Alliance chick at all. Something about Sanders jangles at her nerves. She seems okay, but even out of uniform, she's too blond and too composed and too smiley and her eyes are a weird shade of blue. And she actually seems totally fucking serious about this, which is even weirder.
Jack runs a hand over the stubble on her head. She's been thinking about letting it grow a little. "Shit, you've got to be crazy," she mutters.
Sanders leans forward and now her gaze is intent. "You're one of the strongest human biotics I've ever encountered."
"Fuckin' right I am," Jack replies, leaning back and summoning up something like a grin.
"You're a survivor. You do have things to teach these kids, even if you don't see it."
Jack scowls. She doesn't even like kids. Snot-nosed stupid shits with their big runny eyes. Everything she remembers about other kids involves fists and fury and the blue haze of biotics. Since she got the fuck away from Pragia, she's seen precious few kids, and every fucking one of them was scared of her. Fuck 'em all, anyway. "I don't know."
"Here's my proposal," says Sanders. "Come to Grissom Academy. See what we're doing. No obligation."
#
Jack doesn't like stepping onto a station without a way off, and part of her is marking the exits, calculating how long it'll take her to get back to the shuttle bay. She's wearing some borrowed Alliance fatigues. She doesn't like how the shitty shirt she's wearing scrapes against her skin. She doesn't like walking around without her ink showing. Sanders shows her around the facility, here's the dorms, here's the offices, blah blah, before Jack interrupts. "I thought you wanted me to see what your kids are doing."
They're like puppies. Big eyes, stupid smooth young faces, giggling and elbowing each other. Jack watches their class from behind one-way glass. Feels familiar. She watches with arms crossed for a few minutes before she snaps. "This is all bullshit."
"What do you mean?" asks Sanders, totally calm.
Jack runs her hands over her scalp. "I mean, in a real fucking fight, they're gonna get eaten alive. Look at them. That little shit can barely keep his barrier up, and that one is dinking around floating pens and shit. Fuck that. They gotta be able to focus. Push." She paces. She can't find the words and it's driving her nuts. Nothing to punch in here, except Sanders, and she probably shouldn't break the fucking glass just to show she can. "Take barriers, see. I had to keep a barrier shield up, protect me and three people against the Collectors' stupid-ass fucking bugs, right? In combat, for an hour, and no cracks or someone was gonna die, you get me? They gotta keep themselves alive. They're being babied in there, and that's bullshit. That's not gonna save them when they're up against something that really wants them dead. Or worse." She remembers the Collectors, and that thing Shepard found at the heart of their base, and shivers like her skin wants to crawl right off.
Sanders nods. "This is why I think you could help them, Jack."
"Fuck." She clenches her fists. "I don't know a fuckin' thing about teaching, or kids. Except how to kill them. You don't want me in the same room with those little shits. They couldn't handle it. I..."
Sanders gives her a look with those icy blue eyes. "I'm familiar with your history, Jack."
"Shepard should keep her mouth shut," Jack grumbles.
"Actually, Miranda Lawson passed on certain records."
"The fucking cheerleader talked to you?" Now she really wants to hit something. Lawson, by preference. Dark energy crackles around her.
Sanders ignores the blue aura limning Jack's body. "I think primarily she wished to document Cerberus' past crimes. A lot of missing children ended up at the Pragia facility."
The flare fades. "Thought they were there 'cause no one gave a shit about them."
"In some cases," Sanders agrees. "Not all. My point is, I do know what you've been through, and that's part of what caught my attention. If you take the position here, you won't be completely on your own. The other instructors and I can provide mentoring and support."
That sounds like a lot of bullshit, too. Jack's lip curls at the idea, but Sanders keeps talking. "This is the next generation of human biotics here. We've made mistake after mistake with our biotic training over the years. We always have another chance to get things right, and let's face it..." Sanders stops smiling, for an instant, and looks a lot more serious. "... given what we fear is coming, we're going to need all the strength and skill we can get."
Jack thinks about that. She looks through the glass at the kids, who are currently sitting at their desks listening to their teacher all serious-like. "I'm not wearing this shitty outfit."
"We do need you to exhibit a certain degree of modesty, but beyond that it's negotiable."
"All right, Sanders, you got yourself a fucking deal."
"Great!" Sanders says with a real smile. "Although we're also going to have to talk about your language."
Fuck. She probably shoulda seen that coming.