I was up and gone before the sun.
I'd gotten some sleep, but the nightmares had started soon after. Having my scars exposed, being restrained and tormented for information—it brought back too many memories for my already fragile psyche to healthily process.
I'd shot up in bed, panting, sweating, gasping for air like my life depended on it.
After a second, I realized where I was, clamping my hands over my mouth. Luckily, though, the other three were exhausted, as well. All I got was some movement from Lion, and then the cabin was silent and still once more. Aside from Bear's incessant snoring.
I breathed a shaky sigh of relief, getting out of bed and changing out of the sweat-soaked clothing. I tried to avoid the creaky floorboards, but I could only do so much so off-balance. My entire body was positively throbbing.
I grabbed my toiletries and headed to the showers, pulling the curtain closed and turning the faucet on. I relished the privacy. I usually took showers in the middle of the night, anyways—to avoid anyone seeing my scars (which was so freaking pointless now)—but most of them were still participating in RTI, anyways, so I was extra sure no one would walk in on me.
I took my time enjoying the rarity of hot water all to myself, scrubbing away the dirt and blood and sweat caked on my skin. The scratches and cuts bled sluggishly as the fresh scabs peeled away, and the hot water stung. The bruises littering my skin were dark and painful. I'd have to wrap my ribs at some point.
Clenching my jaw, in a burst of anger, I slammed my fist into the side of the shower stall, panting.
Great. A couple split knuckles to add to that list.
I panted angrily. I couldn't shove it down.
They'd seen. All three of them, Gray and his men, the bloody Sergeant. But those three, who I'd spend two more years with, if everything went to plan. They'd seen the ridges and bumps, the burns, the scarred cuts and gouges, the—the bullet—
I finished showering and threw on my uniform, still shaking.
My hand trembled. There was probably a broken knuckle in there, somewhere. Good thing I'd punched with my nondominant hand.
The sun was just peeking up past the horizon. I saw Green Jackets strolling around, barking orders. One of them looked my way. For a moment, I thought they were going to think I was an escaped RTI prisoner (which, technically, I was) but he just sent a cold glower in my direction and kept walking. I guessed the Sergeant had informed them my unit was to be left alone, then.
I made my way to the range, surprised it was open since there was no training. I'd been finding myself here a lot, lately, working on the bloody headshot.
I felt different, today, though. Stronger. Faster.
Angrier.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
I set up my target as always, starting with the bullseye, and grabbed my gun. I didn't bother with the headphones. I found them stupid, anyways. No one would let you where headphones in a gunfight.
A perfect circle. Not a mark out of place.
Almost throwing it aside, I put up the human target and stalked back to my window as it was drawn down-range, and hefted my gun.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
My scars, this unit…this place…
…my life.
I wasn't supposed to be like this.
Scarred and scared and young and so angry and hurt and desperate and ashamed and so utterly alone.
I shot, relying purely on this rage, the abject wrongness of it all, and drew on the emotions I'd worked so bloody hard to keep hidden from Matthew's expressions.
Matthew didn't bloody exist, though!
So Alex took the shot—I took the shots—and with a hoarse yell, I put every ounce of suffering I couldn't carry anymore into every one of those bullets.
And I opened my eyes to find a bloody headshot staring back at me. One perfect circle, in the middle of the target's forehead, where ten bullets had passed through consecutively. There was no overlay.
Just one circle. I lowered the gun.
I realized I was panting again.
"That was quite a show."
It was purely exhaustion that kept me from spinning around, empty gun up and ready to fire at whoever the hell was dumb enough to sneak up on me.
"Yeah? Well, it's a private party." I grabbed another clip. "Thought you'd be enjoying your day off."
Tiger scoffed, walking further into the room. I noticed him favoring his left side. "Nothing to do. Bear and Lion are still dead to the world. Like I thought you'd be."
I shoved the clip into the gun with more force than was strictly necessary, hissing at the pain that flared in my ribs and knuckles. "Does this conversation have a point, Tiger?"
"Well, the point is about to be my foot up your ass, you keep mouthing off like that. I can't even have a conversation with you?"
"I don't recall you wanting to before," I muttered, hefting the gun and lining it up. I took a test shot, aiming for the brachial artery, and was pleased to see a clean hit. "If you're gonna shoot, shoot. If not, leave me alone."
I heard Tiger scoff again, muttering some unflattering expletives before grabbing a gun off the rack and claiming the window beside me.
I almost griped about how that wasn't an invitation, but I didn't, because it kind of was. Dammit.
"Jaguar—"
I fired off the rest of the clip, cutting him off.
Lowering the gun, I narrowed my eyes.
Having him here was unsettling. I'd gotten the brachial artery again, and the femoral vein was manageable, but all my other shots were a little wide. I was at least glad to see I'd hit the head of the target, but it was far from a kill shot.
A beat of silence let the reverberations die down, and Tiger said, "You're getting better." He peered over, his brow furrowing. "Even with a busted hand. When'd that happen?"
"Why are you here?" I finally snapped, slamming the empty gun on the window.
Tiger's eyes narrowed. "You don't make anything easy, do you, brat?"
I scoffed, grabbing my gun and turning away. I shoved it back on the rack, closing and locking the glass door, and headed for the exit.
"Bloody hell, Jaguar. I'm sorry."
I stopped short, because of all the obscenities I imagined would come out of Tiger's mouth, that last phrase wasn't among them.
"I'm sorry I've been…well, an arse. You're annoying as hell—and you never know when to stop bloody talking—but…I haven't exactly been a sunflower, either."
There was a second of silence. Someone shouted in the distance.
I curled my hands into fists, my left one screaming as the split knuckles reopened. "The hell is your problem?"
Even without looking at him, I could practically feel Tiger's posture stiffen. That wasn't what he'd expected, either. "Seriously? I just—"
Whirling around, stalking up to him, I fisted my hands in his shirt and shoved him against the wall. Maybe a little harder than I should've, but he'd be fine. He was a few inches taller than me, and his build was impressive…but my strength was nothing to scoff at, and the adrenaline buzzing through my body made it easy to pin him. "Is this a joke to you? You think I want your pity now? Just because you saw—"
I cut myself off. I couldn't bring myself to say it.
Tiger's mouth was drawn up in an ugly, challenging snarl, but as soon as the words left my mouth, something loosened in his expression. "What? No. Get off me, brat."
With a shove, I let him go, stalking back to the table. I steadied myself on it as the world swayed around me, but there was enough anger in me to keep me upright. "Screw you, Tiger."
"If you'd listen a damn second," Tiger spat, "maybe you'd be able to get it through your thick skull that I'm not giving you pity. I'm—" Tiger sighed, and I heard him scratch the back of his head, hissing at the pull on his ribs. "I'm trying to—shit. I'm telling you you've got my respect. Not my pity."
That threw me.
"I've—what?" I asked incredulously, barely turning my head to look at him out of my periphery. My legs were shaking. "You hate me. You think I'm gonna get us all killed, remember? Why the hell would you want to give me your respect?"
Tiger sighed, exasperated. "For the love of—you don't give up, do you? I'll be the first to admit it—when the Sergeant said you'd be joining our unit, I thought I'd be coming home in a body bag. Face it, Jaguar, you don't look like a soldier. And you—you're so damn secretive all the time, it was bloody hard to think you weren't something like a spy for an enemy!" I flinched, but he didn't see, and kept going. "So, yeah—I was an arse, because I thought you'd get me and my brothers killed. Either because you were on the wrong side, or because you were a stupid kid with a fantasy of coming home a hero who had no idea what a war was like. What it means to—"
He cut himself off with a grunt, running a hand through his short hair. "But I know I'm wrong now. You've—you've seen some shit, kid."
Heaving a deep breath, I let myself collapse into the chair, my legs finally unable to support me anymore. "Yeah. I've seen some shit. So what?"
"So I've seen some shit, too. So have Lion and Bear. And I know now that you know what it's like to…to go through shit you can't really come back from. At least, not for a long while."
I lowered my eyes. "Your point?"
"I didn't think you were one of us." Tiger shrugged. "I was wrong. And I'm sorry."
I fisted my good hand, exhaustion slumping my shoulders.
He'd just…accepted me.
This wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't want to—
I didn't come looking for a family. I'd said that to Lion, and I'd meant it.
But I thought maybe I'd…miscalculated.
Maybe it wasn't just up to me to decide that, and that was the scariest thing about it.
"You look like hell, brat. Let Bear fix you up."
I scoffed, but within was a defeated laugh. "You're no runway model yourself."
I glanced at him, half-afraid of his reaction, but—so unlike Tiger—he was smiling. "I could learn to like you, Dorothy."
I laughed at that, hissing at the pull on my ribs. "Bear was right. You are just a big ball of fluff."
Tiger's eyes darkened, but I could see the amusement in them. "Watch it, brat. I said I could learn, but I'll still kick your ass."
I snorted. "I figured."
Inhaling slowly, I pushed myself up, my legs shaking. I took a step towards the doorway before my legs collapsed under me. Oh, that was truly awe-inspiring, I thought to myself as I fell, feeling my neck heat up. Way to act like a man.
I braced myself, thinking I'd hit the ground hard, but suddenly a pair of hands were steadying me. "Damn kid," Tiger's gruff voice said by my head as he pulled one of my arms over his shoulders. "You shouldn't have gotten up if you were like this."
I wasn't…scared.
Tiger had me effectively against his side—he had to, to support the considerable amount of my weight he was taking—and the close contact would normally have me panicking.
But I wasn't scared.
And that scared me, because I could not be actually starting to trust him.
It wasn't an option. It couldn't happen. Him, and Bear, and Lion—if I trusted them, then—
"Bear's going to be fussing over you for days. I don't envy you," Tiger said casually, practically dragging me across the field and towards our cabin. "He's a bouncy little devil, but he's downright neurotic when one of us is hurt."
—then my cover was for nothing.
"Really?" I asked, the exhaustion seeping into my voice.
I let myself lean on Tiger a little more, and he readjusted his hold on me. "You're heavier than you look."
"Sorry," I mumbled, taking some more of my weight back. That was a test. He was just—I don't know, playing it off, or—
"I wasn't saying don't rely on me, idiot. It was an observation."
Scoffing, but smiling, I let some more of my weight go. I was barely standing as it was, anyways.
"You can rely on us. That's what a unit's for."
"Then why'd you try to hard to make me quit?" I asked, my filter a little off with how much pain I was in. I probably shouldn't have asked that, but…too late now.
"Because you weren't in my unit until last night." I snorted, smiling as he continued, "And it wasn't just that I saw that you knew what it was like to go through something big. The way you handled Gray and his guys?" Tiger snorted a laugh. "Priceless, kid. Gray's been around a couple years, and I've never seen him like that. The Sergeant damn near made him wet his pants."
I laughed at the memory. It hurt.
I didn't mind so much.
We were back at the cabin; I'd barely noticed how much ground we'd covered. Tiger kicked the door open with enough force to send Bear rolling out of bed with a thump, flailing in his blankets.
"Wha—no, we had the day off—" He peeked up and saw Tiger depositing me on my bunk, though, and sighed, collapsing back to the ground. "Oh, s'you. I'm going back to sleep."
"You've got enough beauty sleep, Bear, get up." Tiger prodded him with the toe of his boot until Bear opened one eye. "Jaguar needs some medical help."
"What?" Bear asked, seeming more alert. He stretched, yawning, and looked over at me where I sat slumped on my bed, an arm around my middle. "Damn! You're a color palette, Jaguar!"
"Shut up," I muttered, heat flaming in my cheeks.
"What the hell's so noisy," Lion slurred, peeking down from his top bunk. "Day off means sleeping in. Can it."
"His highness could probably use some medical help too, Bear," Tiger grunted with a nod at Lion's bunk.
Lion muttered something unflattering and threw a pair of socks at Tiger. They thunked uselessly off his head, but his expression was pretty funny.
Bear sat down in front of me with a yawn. "Where's it hurt? If you're good I'll give you a lollipop when we're done."
"Screw you, Bear," I muttered, hissing as I held out my hand.
Bear took it gently, examining it with practiced ease. "You didn't get this from the Green Jackets," he said, his usual preschooler-demeanor swapped out for that of a practiced physician. "Your middle and—wait—" He took my ring finger and bent it up ever so slightly.
It freaking hurt.
Still, I remembered SCO—their techniques for managing pain, and I took a deep breath, staring off in space as he manipulated my hand to see what was wrong. My eye twitched, but otherwise, nothing showed on my face.
"You're a tough cookie, Jaguar," Bear said, pulling out an ACE bandage. "I can't tell for sure without an X-ray, but I think your middle and ring finger knuckles are fractured. They'll heal in a couple weeks as long as you don't punch anymore walls," he said with a pointed look at me.
"Sure," I muttered, flexing my hand. It felt better wrapped, but the ache was still very much there.
"Okay, rib time. Shirt off."
Bear's tone was light, but the cabin was silent after that.
"I'll do that myself," I said, forcing myself not to looking down.
"You could," Bear conceded, pulling another roll of ACE bandages from his bag, "but the support wouldn't be nearly as good as a trained professional doing it."
"You're hardly a trained professional," Lion muttered, but he swung himself begrudgingly down from his bunk and stretched, hissing. "Why don't you do mine first?"
I looked away, then. I knew he was just trying to delay the inevitable, but it wasn't all that helpful.
"Lion," Tiger said quietly, his voice low.
"It's fine."
His tone piqued my interest. I looked up, eyeing Lion's movements as he sat down on Bear's bed, opposite the cabin from me. With practiced ease, Lion slid his shirt off. Bear sat down beside him, eyes cold, and started wrapping his torso.
Lion had scars, too. Not as bad as mine, but…but bad.
Lining his shoulders were rows of raised burns—probably from cigarette butts, if I had to guess. Pale red and white slashes marred his back, stretching even below his waistline. They mostly faded into his skin, but you could see them clearly if you looked for them. On his front were a few cuts, scarred white against his skin. They weren't horribly noticeable, but they weren't inconspicuous, either.
Slowly, a lot of the scars disappeared under the wrappings, but Lion's purpose was the same. I'd been uncomfortable—no, more like unwilling—to show them my scars again. To allow myself to feel that kind of humiliation again. They represented parts of myself and my past I wanted to bury forever, after all.
So Lion had shown me his first.
God, that guy was an amazing leader.
He slipped his shirt back over his head and smiled in my direction. I looked away. "My dad was a drunk, to put things simply. Ran away with my sister when I was sixteen; jumped between odd jobs and friends' houses before I finally decided to go for Selection a few years ago after she got married. The rest is history," he finished with a shrug.
I paused.
Geez, how could I go against that display?
"I can't…I can't tell you where they're from," I prefaced, fisting my good hand.
Lion nodded. "Okay."
Heaving a breath and closing my eyes, I took off my shirt and waited.
The only things that happened next were Tiger's glance, Lion's smile, and Bear's ministrations as he wrapped my ribs with clinical detachment. I felt heat flaming in my cheeks and neck and ears, the blanket fisted in my good hand for all I was worth, and it had nothing to do with the pain.
Bear wrapped them gently, trying not to jostle me too much as he tightened the fabric around my waistline. It was smooth going until he reached halfway up my chest, fastening the wrap tightly with a pin. His eyes lingered on the quarter-sized scar just above my heart.
"Jaguar—"
"I can't tell you where it's from," I repeated, shaking my head. My hands were shaking. I was utterly exposed, and so utterly vulnerable, and I hated it with every fiber of my being. "Don't ask. Please."
Tiger's eyes had slid over, and so had Lion's, at the tone of his voice. They saw the same thing.
Tiger's eyes widened—a bit out of character for him—in time as Lion's darkened.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Lion conceded, "but that doesn't look like something you get just hanging around."
I tugged on my shirt, feeling extraordinarily better with my body covered. "It wasn't."
Lion sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Kid, I…look, I get it. You don't know us very well yet, and that's fine. When you do…" he shrugged. "We'll listen. Yeah?"
Hesitantly, I nodded. I figured that was the best I was going to get given the circumstances. "Okay."
Bear looked around, eyes settling on Tiger. "Your turn, Tiger. Then I'm going back to sleep and none of you can stop me."
"I sure as hell can, pipsqueak," Tiger growled, shoving Bear down on his bed with a thump. "You need to wrap yours too, dimwit. Gimme that." He snatched the bandages out of Bear's hand and set to work on the medic, much to Bear's chagrin.
"Why do you always call me names?" Bear whined. "I'm like a foot taller than you. Ow!"
Tiger smacked him on the back of the head. "Height didn't save you from that."
"Tiger, you're supposed to be fixing him," Lion cajoled, but there was a smile in his voice.
I smiled faintly and laid down, tugging the covers over my shoulders and burrowing into the blankets. It felt nice to not be expected to get up and do anything for a day. The sounds of the other three teasing each other was still loud in my ears, but it wasn't the worst sound to fall asleep to.
I drifted off, relishing the feeling of warmth. And I could be kind of sure, at least for today, that I was…somewhat safe.
Never completely safe. That kind of thinking would get me killed.
But somewhat was a step in the right direction.
…
I woke a few hours later, stretching, and saw a plate on the table at the front of the room, piled high with questionable food from the mess. My brow furrowed…that kind of worried me. Usually, I woke at the slightest noise, especially the sound of a door. Had I really slept through someone coming and going out of the creaky old cabin?
I was getting too comfortable here.
"We thought you'd be hungry," Tiger's voice startled me from his bunk, and dammit, I did not need to be startled anymore today. "It's shit as usual, though."
"Thanks," I said, claiming the plate and sitting back on my bunk. I spooned some of the stuff into my mouth, regretting it instantly, but I forced myself to keep eating. Bloody hell, this was some awful food.
"Lion and Bear went for a walk," he said, flipping a page in his book. It was in German. "Bear was getting stir-crazy, so the resident babysitter took him out."
I hummed in acknowledgement, continuing to eat.
"What did you think?" Tiger asked quietly, and it was a new tone from the man; I'd never heard him sound so…hesitant. "About Lion's scars."
I stilled, looking down. I was glad Tiger couldn't see me from where I was hidden by Lion's top bunk, leaning against the wall behind the head of my own bed. "That he's seen some shit, too. And that he's…a damn good leader."
Tiger snorted, then chuckled quietly. "Yeah. Yeah, you've got that right."
I fished a book out of my duffle after I finished eating—it was a book in Russian Ian had given me after one of our trips, about a compilation of Russian folk tales. Tiger and I read in silence. The unspoken companionship was…nice.
Nice, and…uncomfortable for me.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
"We're back," Bear yelled, kicking the door open with a grin.
I'd heard their footsteps creaking on the steps outside, so I was expecting it. Tiger, though, jumped out of his skin, damn near falling off the bunk, and threw his book at Bear. "Damn you. You're trying to kill me."
Lion followed close behind, shutting the door carefully behind him. "Well, you're quite fragile, Tiger."
Tiger flipped him off. I smiled.
"Now that we're all semi-functioning, let's play a card game or something," Bear said, fishing a stack of cards out of his duffle. "I don't want to sit around all day."
"Poker?" Lion suggested, sitting down cross-legged at the table in the open space at the front of the cabin. "We haven't played in a while. I think I have some chocolate left from my sister…" He poked around in his duffle bag before smirking. "Yep, I got it."
He pulled out a bag of candy and tossed it on the table. I snorted. Geez, they were just like primary-schoolers.
"Well, shit, I have to play if I have a shot at getting some of that," Tiger conceded, a predatory grin on his face.
"Tiger, you suck at poker," Bear said with a grin. "This is gonna be like taking candy from a baby."
"You are taking candy from a baby," Lion joked.
Tiger cussed at him, and they laughed.
I smiled slightly, turning a page in my book. They were ridiculous. If the British could see their elite soldiers now…
"Jaguar, you coming?"
I started at my name, peering over my book. It was Lion who'd spoken, and he was looking at me expectantly. Bear wasn't, making a big show of shuffling the cards, but I could tell he was paying attention. Tiger was looking at me, too.
"I—uh, I'll pass."
An automatic response. An attempt to distance myself.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
This unit—my life.
I deserved more, didn't I? I'd earned more.
I caught a helpless shrug from Lion and Tiger's pinched expression, Bear's slumped shoulders.
Screw it.
I—
I deserved to be happy too, dammit. I deserved that much.
It was all my fault. Not my parents and Ian—I'd had nothing to do with their deaths, and I wasn't so egotistical as to think I did—but…Jack, Yassen, S-Sabina…even bloody Ash…were all undeniably at least partially my fault.
But I was sixteen years old and damn the whole bloody world, even after my mistakes—things I'd done that I'd been undoubtedly pushed into doing—I deserved to be bloody happy.
I at least deserved a chance.
Making a show of sighing, closing my book and putting it down, I sat up, minding my ribs. I shot them a smirk, saying, "It wouldn't be much of a game if I did."
Tiger eyed me, grinning. "Those are some fighting words, brat."
I limped over, plopping myself down at the unoccupied corner of the table. "Then I guess I'll have to put my money where my mouth is. Deal me in, Bear."
Bear laughed, dealing the hand, and Lion smirked at me.
"None of you are getting my candy," Lion said calmly, lighting a cigarette and spreading his cards in his hand. "I hope you've made your peace with that."
"Tiger isn't, but I think Jaguar and I have a shot," Bear said, eyeing the chocolates with nothing short of lust.
"Brats," Tiger scoffed, propping his chin in his hand. "Jaguar, your move."
I had the Queen of hearts and a three of spades in my hand. On the table were the Queen of diamonds, the six of hearts, and the three of clubs.
I kept my poker face, but I had a damn good shot at a full house with that lineup. "I raise."
"Already?" Bear complained, looking at his pot. "Geez, you're hardcore."
The game continued on. Unsurprising, I won. Tiger lost miserably (as expected; the man couldn't keep a poker face to save his life) and Bear was just barely ahead of him. Lion gave me some trouble, but he'd expected me not to see through his bluffs. Which, of course, I did.
They demanded a rematch. Well, Lion did. He really prized his sister's chocolate.
We ended up playing for the rest of the day and splitting the candy evenly among us, though Lion and I were the only ones to ever actually win a round. The day was…nice. Enjoyable, even.
I didn't come looking for a family. I'd been honest with Lion. I didn't.
I had a feeling, though—dare I say a hope—that I may had found the beginnings of one anyways.
A/N: Ohhhh look at that, another chapter so soon! I'm not going to lie I was really excited to write that scene between Tiger and Alex, so…yeah I just had to get it out :) let me know what you thought!
As always, thanks to my reviewers: Gerdiena, Thalia-Seren, OnlyABookwork, Guest, Guest, Em0Wolf, Owlqueen08, and otterpineapple06!
Guest (LOVE): Thank you!
Guest (I absolutely love it…): Aw thank you so much!
Thanks for everyone who's following and favoriting for your continued support :) I'd love a review to let me know what you think. Thanks so much!
