A/N: My apologies for the unplanned hiatus - a combination of RL issues, the end of the school year and hot weather turned out deadly for writing. Hopefully, I'll be able to get back to updating weekly again.

Also, thanks to all the new guys for following and faving!


"D.J. Forge," the Sergeant introduces himsef - a model marine, with short hair, fine muscle, a scar here and there, good with a gun and good in a fight...

Strong. Fast. Capable.

A walking muscle with an ego the size of his dick.

Jack dislikes him instantly as he holds her hand a thousandth of a second longer than he should.

She almost wishes for the time when she'd have told him to fuck off, and perhaps added a shockwave for a good measure.

His green eyes gleam as if he sensed some of what is going through her head, and she dislikes him even more for that.

Self-assured. Perceptive.

A fucking cocksure Alliance bastard.

Especially, she dislikes him whenever he is right.

"Let her handle," he prevents her from storming into the mess hall wreaking havoc when she sees a marine bullying Rodriguez, and then, "Let me," and pacifies the crew in no time. He is right about about her kids' strength and weaknesses and he is right about the specifics of training them together with the marines, and, damn, she totally dislikes him when the sheen of perspiration enhances his musculature and the sweated T-shirt clings to his chest.

Just the hots from adrenaline, she keeps reminding herself, and dislikes Forge for that even more.

In hindsight, she should have expected that she wouldn't be let to get away with it.

"What's your beef with me?" he accosts her in the corridor when there's no-one close.

She jerks her shoulder to tell him -

- fuck off, dick -

- the fuck is none of your business -

- the fuck you're seeing things -

There was a time when she would have. She also would have made her move and fucked him senseless if she felt like it, or smashed his head if he as much as laid a finger on her when she was not in the mood.

Before, she woud have.

"Look, I... " she hears herself say. "It's nothing. You just... remind me of someone."

Perceptive. Attentive.

Her throats tightens so much that she cannot finish.

"Ah. I see," Forge says slowly, and without a single trace of mockery. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Shit, not your fault," she says, and her voice comes out thicker than she would have wanted.

"These things happen," he agrees. "So, we're good?"

"We're good," Jack nods, though she still feels inclined to dislike him at least a wee bit.

He chuckles. "How about some sparring, to clear your head then? But be warned, when I spar, I don't care if you're a guy or lady."

She plants her hands in her sides because she sure as hell doesn't want any sympathies from him. "I'll kick your sorry ass. I'm no fucking lady, you know."

A grin. "I sure noticed. And I mean it as a compliment."

"I'll stuff that back in your throat," she growls but without venom. Nonetheless, the sight of his split lip later on makes her definitely feel warm.

Bantering on their way to the cargo bay, she is finally able to look at him and not see Shepard, but at night, her bed is still cold and empty.