Jade stood at the open window and reveled in the feel of the cool breeze on her overheated skin. It wound through the room carrying with it the sounds of the sleeping garden without and the scent of rain and a New England autumn. It slithered under her hair and down her back, raising gooseflesh where it went. She shivered as warm lips kissed the nape of her neck and followed the line of her moon silvered shoulder. She reached back and tangled her fingers in thick hair as his tongue traced the freshly healed and exquisitely sensitive scar of a bullet graze on her upper arm.
A strong hand cupped her breast, thumb stroking lightly at the peaked nipple as his other skimmed the flat expanse of her belly to bury itself in the soft hair at the juncture of her thighs. Jade tipped her head back and moaned low in her throat as a single, deliciously callused finger traced the seam he found there. Strong, even teeth nipped at her exposed throat and she groaned again as the teasing finger dipped briefly between her lips and ghosted across her clit.
She felt him smile against her shoulder as her hips bucked involuntarily at the feather light touch. His finger stroked again, drawing another frustrated moan from her. He chuckled and drew a wet line up her neck with his tongue and watched as the breeze and her own arousal drew the skin tight in fresh goosebumps.
"Bastard," she ground out, her breath stolen as clever fingers teased her clit and breast. He always knew how to play her body like an instrument. Her own hand strayed back to grasp at his hip and draw his body closer. Her fingernails scored slightly across the dip of his waist, tracing the muscle there. She smiled faintly at his shuddered breath before catching her own as his hand at her breast tweaked her nipple.
"Hm, I thought that was what you liked about me." He sucked on her earlobe, worrying it lightly with his teeth. She retaliated by raking her nails through his hair, pulling lightly.
It was always like this between them; a contest. Who could get the cleanest or most kills in an op. Who could complete their mission without any kills at all. Who could make the other moan with as little as a word. Who could make the other beg. Who made who come first. Jade pushed back against him, grinding her ass against his straining cock, making his breath rasp in his throat.
"It is." She turned in his arms and pulled him against her. She leaned back against the window frame and wrapped one long, lithe leg around his waist. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his head back and sucking lightly at his neck. His cock slipped down between her legs and rubbed maddeningly against her slick heat. She began a gentle, rocking motion that didn't, quite, have him slipping into her. "But remember two can play at that game," she muttered then traced the shell of his ear with her lips.
He drew a hissed breath through his teeth, wrapped his arms under her thighs and braced her against the wall. He entered her with one long stroke, conceding the game. Her laugh of triumph faded into a gasp as he thrust again.
The storm hovering on the horizon broke at that moment.
The hollow sound of heavy raindrops on black nylon drowned everything else in a rush of noise grey as the clouds above them. Brian's arm tightened around her shoulders as the thunder of rifle fire cracked through that oppressive drumming and the glossy black casket disappeared into the earth. Brian's eyes glowed brightly in the dimness under the umbrellas, under the clouds, under the mourning.
A lone bugle cried out, giving voice to the wailing in her heart and mind she would not give voice to.
"Day is done, gone the sun."
"You're not supposed to be here, you're dead."
He raised one arm against the glare of the sun. Blood trickled down his forearm and formed a sticky crimson pool in the crook of his elbow. The sound of it hitting the sandy soil beneath their feet echoed like a gunshot.
"Have you heard from Ana lately?"
"Did you hear me? You're dead! You can't be here!"
He finally turned to look at her, the red ruin of his face fully revealed in the bloody light of the setting sun. "Of course I am. We all are."
Bodies crowded around her. Sweetums, his face melting like soft wax on a hot day as the bioagent literally ate him alive. Bit Monkey, her eyes empty sockets in her head. Photog, vomit and blood streaming down the front of his shirt. Fatale, head lolling grotesquely oh her broken and twisted neck. Even Duke, who shouldn't have been capable of holding himself upright on his shattered legs, was there converging on her like all the others.
All of them, bodies on her conscience. And there, in the back like a faint specter, the silhouette of a little girl.
"No, no it isn't supposed to be like this!"
"You always were an idealist."
Jade stared at the smooth grey bulkhead above her head listening to the frantic drumming of her heartbeat in her ears, sweat prickling along her hairline. She forced her breathing to slow.
In.
Out.
She focused on the techniques she'd gotten in therapy an age ago.
In.
She pulled fresh, clean, slightly cold air with the faint antiseptic tang left by the scrubbers, in through her nose, deep, deep into her lungs.
Out.
Slow, controlled, pushing the panic and fear out through her lips along with the stale air.
In.
Out.
It forced her thundering heart to slow, remember its normal patterns.
Her body slowly came back under her control. Her mind was another matter. She sat up and scrubbed the film of sweat from her face and wished she could do the same with the unease her dream had left behind. It was late, deep in the ship's night cycle, judging by the noises coming from the life support machinery in the room.
Need something to distract me.
She stood up and paced the breadth of the room a moment before beginning a series of calisthenics. Push-ups, sit-ups, planks, bicycles, flutter kicks, and triceps dips against the foot of her bed, fifty or sixty of each before beginning the series over again. Sweat beaded on her bare arms and torso, but it wasn't enough to keep her mind from returning to the dream.
Finally, in desperation, Jade dragged the footlocker from the Cerberus research facility out from under her cot. She'd put off opening it for ages, afraid of what it might reveal. Tonight though, she would risk whatever the box held for the distraction it provided.
There was a faint hiss as she broke the seals. The top layer was a stack of clothing: black t-shirts and cargo pants of a brand she recognized from her trips to the Citadel. They were high quality and expensive. The weave had microprocessors what converted the wearer's body heat into a passive kinetic barrier. She frowned and set the clothing and matching boots aside, but it only lasted a moment. The next layer held a familiar black shape.
"Damn," Jade lifted the Beretta reverently from the foam lining of the weapons box. "I have missed you." Rapidly she field stripped and inspected the weapon. She let out a low whistle at the light sheen of lubricant on the internal components. "Somebody has kept you in fine form, my dear."
She reassembled the pistol, set it back in its case. The entire kit, along with spare clips and boxes of ammunition went next to the clothing on the floor and she lifted out a second box. This one she recognized immediately. It had been her mother's. She ran her fingers lightly over the tarnished brass plate engraved with her parent's names and wedding date. She reveled for a moment in the feel of real walnut in her hands before opening the lid. So much of this new world was synthetic or plastic, or steel. She'd almost forgotten how even a piece of dead wood could still feel so alive.
The box originally held the family silver but, after her parents died, Joe had repurposed it for her tenth anniversary with Typhon. Jade could recall every detail of his face that day as she opened the lid. The box held death given glittering silver form. Her knives winked like old lovers against the black velvet lining.
She lifted one free of its molded bed and examined it minutely. Like everything else in the footlocker, these too had been meticulously cared for. There were no obvious signs of age, despite the nearly two centuries that had passed since Jade last saw them. She would have suspected they had been replaced had the blades and grips not borne the scars of countless campaigns.
After a long moment, this box too was set aside. She carefully lifted out the tray the weapons had rested on and delved deeper into the container. She hoped, at some point, to discover who and why her belongings had been so scrupulously cared for.
Layered along the bottom of the box were all of the commendations and medals she had been awarded during her time with Typhon. They had been kept in a vault at Typhon Headquarters before she'd gone under, never to see the light of day. None of the operations she'd participated in to earn them had been scheduled for declassification for years, if ever.
Jade frowned briefly and counted the slim blue commendation folders and plastic clamshell cases that held the matching medals a second time and, again, came up with an odd number. She began to open the medals one at a time, trying to clear up the discrepancy. It didn't take her long. Three boxes in and her breath caught in her throat.
Gently she lifted the beaded metal chain free of the medal case. The jingle of metal tags against a single, slightly distorted, .300 Winchester Magnum cartridge echoed in the empty room. It reminded Jade to breathe. She slipped the chain around her neck and kissed the bullet briefly before tucking it snugly into her sports bra, between her breasts.
She began piling all of the items in back into the footlocker, replacing each item exactly back where it had come from: awards, tray, guncase, knife box, pants, shirts. She reached for the boots, knocking one over. A small, distinctly modern, optical storage disk fell out of the toppled boot and skittered across the floor. Curious, she plugged it into the small portable console Traynor had scrounged up a couple of weeks after Jade came aboard. The disk was not encrypted.
The first several files she flicked through were simply copies of her mission reports and notes from Brian. There was an entire folder of photos: candid photos of Brian, Jade and Joe at a barbecue with their arms around each other's necks; Jade and Ana laughing at the beach; Brian visiting a much younger Jade in the hospital, a tiny, pink bundle cradled in her arms; the four of them in costume one Halloween. She slowly paged through the pictures, letting the memories wash over her.
The last image faded and the program automatically opened the next file. Jade stared at the screen a moment before finally comprehending what she was seeing: an assassination order against the U.S. Ambassador to Iran. Jade sat up and read the document more carefully. There hadn't been an embassy in Tehran when she went into stasis. There wasn't a whole lot of detail, just the name and description of the target. The name.
Ana Mackenna.
"Oh god."
Jade walked into the bathroom, smiling and nodding at Daniels as they passed in the doorway. She slowly washed her hands, giving an unusual amount of attention to the process. After a moment, she simply stood, head hanging and arms braced against the cool steel as though it was the only thing keeping her upright.
A rhythmic thumping echoed through the small room. Jades shoulders shook with each impact as she pounded her fist against the counter, steadily increasing her force until all outside sounds were subsumed in the smack of flesh on steel.
"I do not think the commander appreciates your renovations of her ship's facilities." Javik stood just inside the door, leveling a cool, even glare at her.
One final punch to the counter left a clear, fist shaped dent. Jade whirled on the prothean, eyes glowing crimson as her implants, normally better integrated than Shepard's, fought against rejection.
"I don't see as that's any of your concern."
/Javik, the men's room is on the port side of the ship./
"Cram it, EDI." Jade ground out, advancing on the alien. "What are you doing, Javik? Come to check on your primitive, human pet?"
His eyes narrowed at her belligerence. Jade sighed and made a visible effort to control herself, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. What can I do for you?" The red light was fading but not quickly, a lingering sign of her inner turmoil.
For a long moment he only stared at her, long fingers twitching at his sides. Finally, he turned on his heel and stalked out.
"You are needed in the War Room."
She watched the door iris closed behind him and leaned to rest her burning eyes against the cool metal of the bulkhead. "Damnit."