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It had been four years since he had last been in a chopper. Four years since he had been to Nevada. Four years since anyone had visited Nevada.
The place was shut down and sealed off all operations. No research was conducted there – or so everyone was told. After the Olduvai incident UAC's every move was watched. Even if they wanted to - reopening Nevada was out of the question.
Any form of life, any signal coming from Nevada base was improbable. Something must have infiltrated the base. Something had to have infiltrated the base.
This was what General Clayton told him.
Unsurprisingly, John did not accept it as the complete truth.
Something was fishy – up at Nevada. Something they weren't telling him. Something, because of which he knew for sure none of these men, would come out of the place alive.
Ah fuck it! Their lives were their own problems. He was only here for Sam's sake. He didn't give a rat's ass about how and by what means – all he knew was there one person, for sure, would come out alive and safe at the end of this mission.
His sister.
Clayton knew exactly how to use his assets against a foe. Even if the foe was a discredited soldier. He didn't need to threaten John, he knew that wouldn't work. He couldn't threaten Sam – because cowardice was not his style.
No.
He used the easiest possible way to convince him. Make Sam part of the job.
It wasn't hard to coerce her. They told her that they would erase John's record and he could live freely. They didn't have to hide any more. They didn't even need to try the 'we'll give you the life you've always wanted' or 'you can come and work for u, again' tactics. No. Clayton paid the visit to her tiny house himself and gave it to her flat. John always respected the good general for his honesty and reluctance to beat about the bush.
John hadn't exactly committed a crime at Nevada. He had followed all SOPs. The only charged he and Sam were faced with was not reporting the exposure to test chemical. John and Sam, conveniently, forgot to mention that on their field reports.
He wasn't ready to get probes up his ass. She knew they would do worse if they learnt.
Had the logs at Nevada not been retrieved they would have gotten away with it.
For the time of the trial that he was held in custody he went through hell. Needles, probes, scans and a billion questions with no cash prize. Larry, their lawyer, saved his ass. Getting him out before they could actually cut him open. Though, their arguments did not hold up to acquittal in the court marshalling, they were strong enough to keep him and her out of bars and therefore out of the hands of curious scientists. They ran away and thought they were safe.
Until General Clayton paid a visit.
John knew, they couldn't care less about his record – the charge they used now was the fact that he did not report for his half-yearly hearings. Something, according to them, they could slap shackles on his arms for.
John and Sam fought and argued the whole weekend. He'd go to their freakin' prison, he'd clean freakin' battlement floors, he'd endure all their freakin' tests, if he had to, he'd do anything that would keep them out of UAC business. Especially her.
She would not allow him to be vulnerable to the scientists at the UAC or Military research. They would dissect him out alive, she said. They were lucky the last time, she said – they wouldn't be so lucky again.
In the end, Sam won. He loved her for it and hated her for it at the same time. It's difficult having to fight your twin – even if she is fraternal. She's part of your soul – there's only so little you can do to fight your soul.
The whole ploy was to get him on the job.
He was after all their very own superhuman superman. They weren't taking any risks with Nevada, he could see that. Though it was beyond him as to why there were only eleven people on this mission.
Four years, thought John. Four years, since he had heard that familiar voice. Weapon Identification. John followed the voice to the owner of each weapon.
Rangers Special Ops clearance verified
HandleID: Poet
Homer Kakos. Quantum Physicist.
Rangers Special Ops clearance verified:
HandleID: Gamgee
Samuel o'Riley. Foresics.
Rangers Special Ops clearance verified:
HandleID: Gryffin
Angus o'Riley, Sam's brother. Tactical and Logistics.
Rangers Special Ops clearance verified:
HandleID: Bazooka.
Oris Russo. A nearly seven foot, dark as chocolate, bald giant. Weapons.
Rangers Special Ops clearance verified:
HandleID: Sandman
Harvey Sandman. Surveillance.
Rangers Special Ops clearance verified:
HandleID: Smith
Laker Smith. Communications.
Rangers Special Ops clearance verified:
HandleID: The Hobbit
Obviously, the newest member, He had specialized in Field surveillance in training. Jake Fullington – who very much like a rookie, took offense to the stupid nickname. John couldn't hide his smile – Fullington seemed shorter than the rest – in fact he was nearly Quinn's height. The girl being an impressive five-nine.
The sudden onset of the memory of Sarge gunning down Kid was shut out before it even sprang up.
Rangers Special Ops clearance verified:
HandleID: Genghis
Sgt. Geiger Krycek.
Rangers Special Ops clearance verified:
HandleID: Phoenix
Kelly Quinn.
Sphinx, thought John – would be more appropriate for her seemingly impassive attitude. Her role was not clearly defined.
Officer Quinn was young – you could make out from her features – but that hard expression made her look old and less feminine. Reaper knew the girl was not by far shapeless. Her auburn hair was tied back tightly, making her sharp, oval face look like an egg. Like she was trying to show that ugly scar on her forehead.
That scar…
"I wouldn't be caught staring at her, if I were you." Homer Kakos, 'Poet' as he was called, whispered in his ear. "Sergeant Krycek's awfully defensive about that wild gun there."
"The wild gun looks like she can take care of herself."
Poet whistled. "And don't we know it!" He mumbled. Then he game John a sarcastic grin and his voice turned steely. "But seriously, stop staring – or before Krycek gets you – I will."
Quinn's grey eyes met his own. She cocked her head to the right as if to ask, 'Is there something on my face you don't like?'
It was amazing how those eyes could communicate so well.
"So, Phoenix, huh?" said Sam, trying unsuccessfully to strike a conversation with the young woman.
Phoenix nodded.
"How was it you got that name?"
"We were going to call her Houdini," said Samuel 'Gryffin' o'Riley, "Phoenix is into pulling disappearing acts – I think, she's been declared KIA around twelve times."
"Rising from the ashes, huh?" Sam smiled. Phoenix gave a small twitch of her mouth in response.
"So, who named you Phoenix?" Sam said, awkwardly. John felt sorry for his sister – it might have been hard to strike a conversation with someone who sat like a statue.
Genghis spoke. "She was called that before she joined us." Genghis frowned, "Who suggested the title, Quinn?"
Quinn glanced at John and leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She did not speak. Poet answered for her, "Nah! It was her name long before she joined the Marines."
Those eyes…
Where had he seen those eyes before?
She wanted to breathe long and hard.
Phoenix kept her eyes firmly closed as she tried to force herself to breathe normally. It had been ten years – ten bloody years. How old had she been then? Fourteen? Fifteen?
Ten years since she had last seen those kind brown eyes. Ten years, since that voice had forced itself through a violent pain and bloody vision, and comforted her raging heart. Now, those very eyes were cold and that voice was hardened. How hard could his life had been – she wondered? She had no right to judge of course, they all had heard about Olduvai…
Contrary to what everyone thought, Kelly 'Phoenix' Quinn did feel. She felt pain, fear, anger, resentment, and bitterness – all of it. She even felt joy, laughter, friendship and love, desire …
But no one – no one could ever get through the titanium shield on her face. The shield that showed little or no emotion. That shield was her only defense – nothing could get in, nothing could get out. She had kept her shield through thick and thin – through training, through unfair probations, through wars, through loss, through medals and congratulations, even through loneliness and frustration. After some point her coldness had become a part of her – nothing affected her anymore – or so she thought.
He didn't even remember her. How could he have remembered her? He was just a soldier and she was just someone he saved as part of his job. Her face was covered in blood – and she didn't imagine she looked remotely human when he first saw her. Even, after the cleaning and bandaging, she couldn't hope that the memory her half covered teenage face would be a marker to identify her now. If, he remembered her.
Of the countless men and women he saved, why would Reaper remember her?
But a stubborn part of her wanted him to remember her, wanted him to recognize her, wanted to believe that like he had become a part of her mind, she too occupied some part of his. She wanted him to remember because she remembered him – from the first time he caught hold of her, dragged her away from her own death and held her as she screamed violently; to the very last time when he shook her hand, as she lay in the hospital bed, before he left for the base.
His words, his kindness, his very decency.
She joined the marines because of him. She joined because he made her believe in herself and a life beyond all what she had lost. She joined the marines in the hope of finding him, again – just seeing him to thank him – at least once. He was the one thing in her life she allowed herself to worship – even if from a distance.
It was that part of herself that she feared. That part that would break through her shield and show. She was fine, she told herself. He didn't recognize her, he knew nothing about her. Her secrets were safe and her feelings need not resurface. After the mission was over he would be gone – and like the last time, his memory would be etched into her mind and it would probably give her the energy to continue on for another ten years.
She had no reason to fear him, or his penetrating eyes – even if she did, the Phoenix never showed her fear.
She had no need to give herself this talk.
When she opened her eyes, she found that his, still held her gaze. Taking a deep breath she let him keep her gaze, mentally drawing up her internal defenses not allowing him to see even one nanometer of emotion through her eyes.
Genghis always thought that it wasn't possible for Phoenix's face to become any more deadpan than it always was.
To his surprise, it actually became all the more expressionless.
A/N Whaddya think? Mary Sue?
