Determinant: a gene or other factor that determines the character and development of a cell or group of cells in an organism.
Chapter 20: Jamie's Got a Gun - More Than Words
Mitch struggles to make sense of the ghost gene and realizes Jackson may hold the key to unlocking it. Meanwhile, his relationship with Jamie takes an unexpected turn.
A scream jolted him from a dead sleep, and Mitch's legs tangled in the bed sheets as he scrambled to his feet. His fingers fumbled for his glasses even as he dashed past his nightstand toward the door. Jackson and Abe were already stumbling blearily out of their rooms, and Mitch's heart dropped as he realized the scream had come from Jamie's room.
For a split second he forgot how the doors worked. He slammed into the wood panel and cursed loudly, slapping his hand against it even as Abe reached over his shoulder and slid it back.
"Jamie?" Mitch pushed through first followed closely by Abe and Jackson. At nearly three in the morning they had all forgotten the odds of an intruder were next to zero thanks to the plane's security measures. Jamie was sitting up in her bed amid a mountain of blankets, her hair matted with sweat and hanging limply around her face as she struggled to catch a breath. Her features were pale against the soft glow from the bathroom, the door pulled half-closed to allow a sliver of light to filter into the room.
Upon seeing there was no immediate threat, Jackson and Abe lingered at the door as Mitch made his way to the bed. She was shivering violently and made no indication that she noticed his presence. He placed one knee on the bed slowly, letting it take his weight as he reached for her.
"Jamie?" he tried again. She sniffled loudly but refused to meet his eyes. He glanced back at the other two. "It's alright. Go back to bed." Jackson nodded once, hesitating only a moment before Abe pushed him gently out the door. They slid the door closed behind them and left Mitch alone with Jamie and her demons.
"It's alright," he whispered in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "You're safe now. It's alright." Her breathing had picked back up, and he moved his hand from her shoulder to her knee. "Breathe, Jamie." She was starting to worry him.
It had been four days since their Portugal adventure, and with the Hurricane Paula still hanging out in the Atlantic none of them had protested when Trotter suggested they wait until it dissipated or moved further away from the mainland. Mitch kept odd hours in the lab and often saw Jamie wandering about the plane early in the morning or late at night. He knew she had nightmares - a few nights ago he'd seen her wake with a wild, desperate look in her eyes that faded too slowly for his liking. But she had never woken them up screaming.
Her ragged breaths were coming shorter and shorter as her thoughts spiraled away, and Mitch shifted around to sit alongside her. His arm wrapped across her shoulders as he pulled her against him. She fought feebly - probably out of instinct rather than any sort of conscious recognition - but he held firm. Mitch lifted his chin to let her ear fall against his chest as he spoke softly.
"Breathe, Jamie. Come on." He exaggerated his own slow breaths, hoping she would feel his chest rising and falling and match her breathing to his. "Whatever it is, you're safe now. We've got you, Jamie."
Her hand moved from her lap to his chest, her fingers clutching his grey night shirt in a vice-like grip. It was the first time she had moved since his arrival and it broke his heart. She was fighting for breath now, and he kept his voice steady and low as he talked her through the panic attack. Gradually her breaths slowed to match his own and he felt the front of his shirt soak through with her tears. His own stung his eyes as he realized she was weeping silently, trapped with demons she'd been fighting alone ever since she'd returned.
She trembled against him, almost imperceptible at first but in the matter of seconds her entire body was shaking. Mitch moved quickly, slipping away from her to wrap her in one of the six blankets she kept on her bed.
"Jamie?" Her eyes were glazed and unfocused as he tried to pull her out of her thoughts.
"C-c-cold," she stammered quietly. He rubbed her shoulder vigorously as he silently wondered how many times she'd had to face this alone. Her lips were still quivering as she clutched the blanket tighter around herself, leaning forward to take advantage of Mitch's body heat. He obliged willingly, pressing his lips to her head as he laid down and pulled her into his arms.
He wished he was better at this. For all of his knowledge, he was still woefully inadequate when it came to handling emotional moments like this. He floundered for something - anything - that would help. She was still shaking, plagued by a cold that would likely never leave her. She needed to focus on something else, to get her mind off of whatever had caused to her wake screaming and shivering.
"I know it doesn't seem like it right now," he rubbed her arms to give her some warmth and comfort, "but things are going to get better. We're going to find the cure and save the world, and then you and me are going to take a vacation. Somewhere far away from animals and planes and people." She was listening now, and he sighed in relief as her shivers seemed to abate along with her breathing troubles. "We'll get there, Jamie."
When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, almost meek, and Mitch couldn't believe it had come from her. "How?"
"One day at a time," he answered. "I meant what I said, Jamie. You need time. And...I think this helps." He rubbed her shoulder. "Talking about it, I mean. Keeping it to yourself only forces your subconscious to deal with it the only way it knows how."
"Nightmares," she sighed.
"You wanna talk about the one you just had?" She tensed in his arms and for a moment he thought she would push away. "It's perfectly normal, Jamie. No one could go through what you did and not come out on the other side with a few scars. And I know I'm the very last person to be lecturing you on this, but it's okay to ask for help when you need it." She relaxed back into him, but he could practically hear her mind working.
When she did speak, her voice was nearly a whisper. "I was back in Caraquet," she told him. "They had voted to sacrifice us to the animals, only this time you didn't come." He tightened his hold but forced himself to stay quiet. She needed to get it out. "They threw us out there. But before they could close the gates something happened. An explosion? I don't know. But then suddenly the bears came, half a dozen at least. And they just started killing everyone."
Mitch could easily picture the scene she painted with her words. Had they gone to Allison's orchards first, it was likely the scenario they would have encountered. Just imagining it - arriving to finally reunite with her only to be greeted with her mauled, lifeless body - made him nauseous.
"I can understand how that would upsetting," he forced himself to stay calm rather than give in to the irrational panic his imagination had spurred in him. "But it didn't happen. We got to you in time, and they can't hurt anyone else."
"That wasn't the worst part," she shook her head against his chest. "Gwen…" she choked. "She tried to run, but I held her there. I watched as the bears came and tore her apart. I killed her."
"Jamie," he couldn't stand the guilt in her voice for something she had never even done. He shifted enough that she sat up, and he repositioned them so they were lying side by side. She was wrapped from shoulders to toes in her blanket and he let his hand sift through her sweat-soaked hair gently. "What is it that's upsetting you?"
She shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. Whatever it was, it was enough to cause this strong, fierce, spirited woman to tremble like a child his arms. He remembered his promise not to crowd her and sighed. As much as he wanted her to talk to him, to let him help sort out the dark puzzle in her head, he knew pushing now would only start a fight. It took every ounce of his willpower to instead lean forward and press a long kiss to her forehead.
"Okay," he said. "You think you can get back to sleep?" He moved to extract himself from the blankets, but her hand shot out to clutch at the sleeve of his t-shirt.
"Stay," she blurted suddenly. "Please...stay."
"Alright," he adjusted the blankets enough to slip under one of them, draping the end over her already covered form. She scooted closer to him, tucking her body against his as he slid an arm under her. She loosened her blanket enough to let her arm lay across his chest, and when her fingers caressed his cheek he didn't resist the urge to turn his head and kiss them.
He stayed awake until he heard her breathing even out, and then forced himself to keep his eyes open until he was sure she was sleeping peacefully. Confident that her mind seemed to be leaving her alone for the moment, he let himself drift off into a light doze.
He woke up alone. A glance at the bedside clock surprised him; it had been a long time since he'd slept past ten and he groaned tiredly. Footsteps replied, and Jamie appeared in the bathroom door. She looked better, more rested, and the smile she gave him was dazzling.
"Good morning," she greeted. He just nodded and rubbed tiredly at his face. Jamie laughed. "Not a morning person?" He grunted in reply. "Must be all of those late nights in the lab."
Mitch hesitated to stand, waiting until the last effects of sleep faded. Seeing Jamie in his robe, toothbrush in hand and her hair wild from sleep did nothing to help his situation. She was smiling a little too innocently, he noticed, and when he caught her eye there was a slight flush in her cheeks.
This was not good. She still had some healing to do, and with everything that had happened recently he needed to be in a better place mentally before they added that complication to their relationship. He closed his eyes and forced himself to think of something else. It didn't work.
"Mitch?" Her voice was quieter now, and he knew she'd worked out his dilemma.
"Sorry," he breathed.
"No," she was closer now, and when he opened his eyes she was standing next to the bed. "It's...it's fine. I just," she faltered for a moment, and her eyes inadvertently cut away from his face to somewhere lower. Then they snapped back up to his and the flush in her cheeks grew. Her voice was richer when she spoke, tinged with a desire he'd seen a few times since they'd begun. "Tell me you haven't thought about it."
He finally laughed, the breath passing his lips in a rush as the corner of his mouth kicked up. "More times than is probably appropriate to admit," he told her. "But right now, with everything that's going on…"
"I know," she agreed, though it sounded like she didn't really believe it. "But we've already lost each other once. That plane crash didn't kill us, but it could have. Either of us - both of us - could be gone today, or tomorrow." She licked her lips and Mitch tried his best to not stare. He failed. "If something happened and we never...I'd regret that for the rest of my life."
He was already moving when she started to lean forward, and his hands came up to frame her face as he met her halfway in a searing kiss. Her weight was warm as she rolled into him, her movements careful but sure. He had to break the kiss to let her settle without jarring her foot too much, and eventually he just sat up as she laid back onto the pillows. Her fingers grasped at him and he answered, covering her with his body as he placed open-mouthed kisses to her neck. He used his right arm to keep most of his weight off of her, leaving his left free to roam across her curves. His fingers dug into her hip as his mouth found hers again, and the mewl that slipped from was intoxicating. It took a few tries, but he eventually found the right combination of touches and kisses that elicited the noise again.
"Mitch?"
Both of them froze at Allison's voice. She sounded distant, like she was down the hall rather than right outside; Mitch guessed she had knocked on his door first. Beneath him Jamie squirmed and Mitch slammed his eyes closed as his body responded. She did it again, and when he finally looked at her she was smirking. Minx.
But Allison was persistent. "Mitch, are you in there? We've got new information we need to go over."
Jamie groaned again, only this time it was in irritation. She pushed at Mitch's shoulder and stood when he obliged. He realized too late what she was doing.
"Jamie!"
She marched to the door and threw it open, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed. His robe was hanging off of one shoulder and her hair was disheveled. There was no mistaking what Allison had interrupted.
"Where's Mitch?" He couldn't see Allison's face, but he understood her tone. She was not happy.
"Busy," was all Jamie replied, and Mitch stifled his laughter. Allison would be fuming now.
"Well, I need him."
Mitch scrambled to his feet in an effort to keep Jamie from uttering something completely inappropriate. He kept his body behind hers out of propriety, but he might have crowded her a little more closely than was necessary. Allison was livid. She opened her mouth to say something, but Mitch just reached over Jamie and slid the door closed.
"Be out in a minute," he said, leaving Allison standing in the hall alone.
Jamie turned but didn't try to move away from him. "Mood killer, huh?"
Mitch chuckled and lowered his lips to her exposed shoulder. He heard her sudden gasp and smiled against her skin. "Raincheck?"
"Absolutely," she breathed. Mitch kissed her again, lingering a little longer than he should have. When he pulled away, Jamie patted his chest. "I'll hold off the hounds for a while. You grab a shower."
She stepped away and made a grab for the jeans she'd discarded last night. She grabbed a pair of cotton panties from a drawer and began to dress. Mitch watched her pull them on underneath the robe and groaned at the implication. Damn you, Allison. He retreated into the bathroom before his libido could convince him to ignore his obligations and finish what they'd started.
He didn't remember he was in Jamie's bathroom until he went to grab for his towel and came away empty. Hers was lying on the counter and he wrapped it around his waist before making a mad dash to his room. If one of the others saw him he'd never live it down, but thankfully they all seemed to be up and out for the day. He dressed quickly and made a stop by the kitchen for a banana before making his way to the lab.
Allison was tapping her foot impatiently when he arrived. She had a stack of folders in her hand and even though her head was bent over the open file at the top, Mitch knew she wasn't really reading it. For half a second he felt guilty, then he remembered who he was dealing with and the guilt faded.
"Sorry," he said with no real feeling. "Guess I was more tired than I realized."
Allison's fury hadn't faded, and when she looked up Mitch braced himself. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you how bad an idea this is?"
He knew exactly what she meant. He also didn't give a rat's ass what she thought. He took a bite out of his banana and held it up innocently. "It's all we had. We need to go shopping."
"Mitch -"
"Do we need to revisit the reason you're not exactly the best person to be giving me relationship advice?" He didn't bother to hide the contempt in his voice, and she recoiled from the verbal blow.
"Jamie is unstable," Allison recovered quickly. "We both agreed she's a liability."
"No," Mitch forced himself to keep a civil tongue in the face of her attempt to twist the truth. "We agreed she's hurting."
"So what?" Allison's professionalism melted away, leaving a bitter ex in its wake. "You're gonna kiss her boo boos to make it better? She's a wild card." Then, realizing her slip, she tried to backtrack to the mission at hand. "Davies is looking for any opening to destroy what we're doing here. You cannot let her open that window."
"She won't," Mitch promised. "She just needs time."
"How much time?"
"You know," Mitch turned and tossed his now empty peel at a nearby trash can. He missed. "If she hadn't snuck into my zoo squawking about Reiden and a bunch of lions, I wouldn't even be here."
Allison shrugged. "So? What does that mean?"
"It means she gets as much time as she needs," Mitch leaned down and moved the peel into the can, then straightened to his full height. The resolute look he leveled at Allison drove home his next words. "And I'm done talking about it."
She looked like she wanted to say something else, but Mitch just turned his back and moved toward his computer. Allison followed with her stack of files, and when he sat down so did she.
"I sent your findings from the jellyfish -"
"Moe," Mitch corrected.
She ignored him. "- to my people in Washington. They found evidence that it was exposed to radiation. Guess when?"
"1895?" Mitch played along. "Do they know how?"
"They do." She tapped the top folder then slid it to him.
Mitch opened the file and perused the information that had been gathered by Allison's "people." It was a slipshod effort at research, but it gave him enough of a head start that the gaps wouldn't be hard to fill. When he was done reading, he glanced up at her.
"So this guy, Pierce, irradiated a bunch of animals, and now their descendants are wreaking havoc. That is...almost hard to believe."
"If we weren't living it," Allison agreed. "We need to find Pierce's notes. We've found the town where he settled after his grifting days to continue his research. I want the team to search his house and estate for anything that can help us."
"Alright," Mitch could see the merit in the idea. "Let me get the team."
"Not yet," Allison stood. "You'll need to put together a briefing first."
"I hate public speaking," Mitch grumbled.
"Weren't you a teacher?" Allison questioned. Then, without waiting for a reply, she patted his shoulder. "Trotter's already preparing for take off. We'll be in England in a few hours. You can have something ready by then?"
Mitch just nodded and reached for the files. If he was briefing the team, he had a lot of homework to do beforehand. Allison thankfully left moments later, and Mitch dove into the material with all the gusto of a college senior at the end of his last semester.
He came up for air two hours later when Jamie and Logan arrived in the lab bearing food. Logan had apparently used whatever was left in their fridge to cobble together an odd salad using the last of the turkey substitute. He'd even crafted a dressing from the condiments they had stashed in the cupboards, and as Jamie set the bowl in front of him she was smiling.
"Time to take a break, professor," she held out a fork for him.
"What is all this?" Logan glanced at the information over Mitch's shoulder but stopped when he noticed the other man's glare.
"This," Mitch took the fork and stabbed at a mound of lettuce, "is our next mission." He took a hesitant bite, and when he didn't gag he took another.
"Leonard Pierce?" Jamie read aloud. "Who's he?"
"The apparent cause of all of our problems," Mitch answered. "Here." He tapped a few keys and brought up the article he'd found. "Unfortunately, while I can find a link between him and all of the animals with the Phase 2 mutation, I can't find a link between him and Kovacs."
Logan looked confused. "Is there one?"
"There has to be," Mitch said. "There's a specific gene that makes any animal - humans included - susceptible to the mutation. No gene, no mutation. Kovacs had to have it."
"So does Jackson," Jamie inferred.
Mitch jabbed his fork slightly in emphasis. "Correct."
"But do we need to know how Kovacs got the gene?" Logan asked. "Isn't enough to just know he had it?"
"Well, knowing for certain that Kovacs' ancestors got the gene from Pierce's experiments would reasonably exclude any other possibility." Mitch was surprised at his own civility toward the other man, but he didn't have time to dwell on it now. "The problem is finding that connection."
"Can I try?" Jamie asked. "I mean, information gathering is sort of my wheelhouse."
"Yeah," Mitch happily pushed his chair away from the computer and stood up. He grabbed his salad and the bottle of water Jamie had brought for him and stepped away as she took his place. She looked almost giddy to be working again and Mitch made a mental note to give her more stuff to do. Maybe working was the key to restoring her equilibrium.
He had forgotten how good she was at this. It was almost impossible to keep up with the rate at which she opened searches, clicked pages, highlighted sections and followed leads. She used resources he hadn't even known existed, and in less than half an hour she had a complete genealogy of Kovacs' entire family.
"You are amazing," Mitch kissed her head and hit print. He reached for the timeline Allison had brought and spread it out. "Okay, now we just need to find anywhere that Kovacs' family tree overlaps with Pierce's travels."
It took almost ten minutes, but finally they found it. Or Logan did. Mitch was excited enough to discover the connection that he didn't even care. "Okay, good. Now all we have to do is find Pierce's notes and maybe we can get out ahead of this thing."
"Where are we going?" Jamie glanced out of the windows at the gray clouds that surrounded them.
"Go grab the others and we'll brief everyone at once." She shot him a look that told him exactly what she thought about him giving orders, then strode out of the room with Logan at her heels.
The team meeting went better than Mitch had anticipated. Trotter announced their landing just a few minutes before they split, and Mitch followed Jamie and Logan to the jumpseats by the door. They were outfitted with five point harnesses in addition to the seat belts; Mitch hoped they never needed them.
"He's good," Logan commented on Trotter's smooth landing. "Almost don't need to strap in."
"Yeah, it's almost like he's a real pilot," Mitch snarked, unbuckling quickly. "Time to get to work."
"Mitch?" Jamie grabbed his sleeve as Logan disappeared through the door. He stopped and turned, unsurprised at the determined look she was giving him. "I want to go with the team to Holbeach tomorrow."
"Jamie," Mitch hesitated. "It's only been a few days. Are you sure you're ready for that?" Even though getting her back into the swing of things had been his initial plan, something in him resisted sending her out so soon. What if something happened? What if they needed to run and she got left behind again. What if -
"I can't just sit inside the plane while the others do all the work," she argued. "I need to be helping."
"I know," he swallowed thickly and tried to shove his own personal feelings aside. The more eyes they had in Holbeach the better their chances were. And no one was better at uncovering information than Jamie. Mitch knew as their leader he needed to do what was best for the team. And for her.
"Alright," he conceded. "I'm not terribly keen on leaving you here with Allison anyway."
"I'll go tell Logan to get ready," Jamie bounded away before he could tell her that her little hanger-on wasn't actually invited. He went to follow her but Allison came out of the opposite door and pinned him with a hard stare.
"There you are," she called. "I need to go over a few things with you," she demanded. Mitch debated walking out anyway, but decided the headache wasn't worth it. With a sigh he resigned himself to an evening of stilted conversation and barely concealed condescension.
He was surprised when she led him to the bar rather than the lounge she'd co-opted for the duration of her stay. He agreed when she asked for a drink, and she slid onto one of the barstools as Mitch reached for the whiskey beneath the counter. Warning bells were ringing in his ears, and as he passed a tumbler to her she smiled coyly. This is not good.
"Johnnie Walker?" she quirked an eyebrow. "I remember you as a Jameson man."
Mitch capped the bottle and stowed it away with more force than was really necessary. The entire shelf rattled as he closed the cabinet door. "Allison, what the hell are you doing?"
"Having a drink with a co-worker," she replied simply, but Mitch knew better. Nothing was simple where Allison Shaw was concerned.
"Whatever is going on in that twisted politician's brain you've got, just forget it. Okay?" He tossed back the finger of whiskey he'd poured for himself and tried not to think about what might be going through her mind right now.
"I'm not sure what you're insinuating," she responded defensively. "Everyone seems to think I have ulterior motives."
"Your ulterior motives have ulterior motives," Mitch shot back. He wondered who else she'd been talking to, but he could guess. "Listen, if you don't have any work to discuss, I think it's bedtime."
"Really?" she laughed. "If the Mitch I once knew heard you say that, he would call you a -" she stopped at his pointed look and corrected herself. "He'd be very disappointed."
He knew which Mitch she was referring to. That Mitch had been cocky and arrogant, the smartest intern at Georgetown and he knew it. The attending doctors all admired his skill and knowledge, and though he hadn't quite gotten the hang of dealing with the families he was sure he'd figure it out. Allison had been a junior staffer then with ambition, and they'd met at a party through mutual acquaintances. Their initial meeting had been electrifying, and Mitch had grown to genuinely cared about her. Enough to take her with him when his father invited him to a gala hosted by the museum he was working for.
He shook himself from the memories before they led him down a darker path. When his eyes refocused on her, Allison was still smiling enticingly. "One more drink," she goaded. "I'll show you where I hide the good stuff."
"Enough," he growled. "I don't know what you're trying to do here, but you need to stop."
"Oh come on, Mitch," she stood up and slipped around the bar to stand inches from him. "We both know this thing with Jamie is the result of your close proximity in a dangerous situation. If she hadn't found you, the next available veterinary pathologist would have done." She reached for him then, and Mitch jumped back like she'd struck him.
"Whoa," Dariela came to a stop just inside the door, her face a mixture of surprise at interrupting and panic from whatever had driven her to burst in. "We have a problem," she huffed. Then, with a pointed look at the two of them she added, "Well, a few problems maybe." Mitch just glared as she continued. "Jackson just took off in one of the trucks."
Mitch shot away from Allison quickly, glad to have an excuse to get away from her. She moved to follow but a hard glare from him had her redirecting her path toward the lounge.
"What was that?" Dariela asked as Mitch followed her to the vehicle bay.
"That was none of your business," he replied shortly. Thankfully she seemed to sense his dark mood and let it drop. Abe had already grabbed Jamie and Logan and the three of them were piling into the Hummer as Dariela and Mitch came through the door.
"Do we know which way he went?" Mitch asked.
"That way," Abe pointed off into the distance, though with the sun going down it was hard to see more than a few hundred yards. Trotter had landed them at a remote, barely used airfield that he claimed had once been used by British bombers in the 40s. The plus side was they were far away from anything anyone would consider civilization. The downside was that now Jackson was lost somewhere in the back woods of England. And he was still mobile.
"Do the trucks have trackers?" Jamie asked as Mitch slipped into the backseat with her and Logan. Dariela took shotgun as Abe shifted into reverse and backed them down the ramp.
"No," Mitch shook his head. "At least I don't think they do."
"How the hell are we supposed to find him out here?" Logan asked.
"He wasn't in his right mind," Abe was trying to make it better. He wasn't succeeding. "In his state, I doubt the signs of his travel will be hard to spot."
True to his word, they found a set of fresh tire tracks that veered off the main road and onto a dirt path. Abe had to slow down to keep from jostling everyone too much, as well as follow the tracks in the headlights.
After almost an hour of searching, they still hadn't found him. "What's wrong with him?" Jamie wondered aloud.
"It's the ghost gene," Mitch explained. "The mutation is causing these moments of...I don't know, dementia? Delusions? All I know is the last time this happened he nearly beat a man to death."
Logan leaned forward in seat. "Whoa, he what?"
"In Lisbon," Dariela shot over her shoulder. "Jackson went crazy on this guy who wanted to take us to Davies. Beat the guy bloody."
"He's not himself," Abe sounded almost apologetic. "It's the mutation causing this behavior in him."
"So when we find him…" Jamie faltered, but it was clear what the rest of her question was. Mitch just didn't know how to answer her.
"I don't know," he told her honestly, then pointed at Dariela. "But I'm gonna let the one with the gun go first."
"Just let me talk to him," Abe pleaded. "I got through to him before. I can do it again."
Abe got his chance about half an hour later. They zigzagged back and forth through the trees and fields until they saw headlights in the distance. When the crested the hill, Jackson was about waist deep in a hole he was still digging. His face was streaked with dirt and sweat, and he didn't even seem to register when Abe parked the Hummer next to the truck and stepped out.
He kept shoveling as the team stepped out, and when Mitch called his name Abe held out a hand firmly.
"Stay back," he told them. "Let me handle this."
Mitch was willing to let him try, but he didn't stop Dariela from drawing a bead with her rifle in case things went south.
"Jackson," Abe made sure his friend could hear him as he drew near. "What are you doing?"
"Huh?" Jackson finally looked up, his eyes wide and wild. "We have to bury Chloe." He went back to his digging, tossing shovelfuls of dirt haphazardly around him. The mood suddenly shifted, and Dariela lowered her weapon. Behind him, Mitch could hear Jamie's sudden gasp and he reached for her hand.
Abe jumped down into the hole with Jackson and whispered his name. Over the hum of the engine, Mitch heard him try to reason with his raving friend. "We sent her body back to France," he said. "Her family's going to bury her." Jackson shook his head sharply, and Abe reached out to grip his shoulders firmly. "Remember, rafiki!" Jackson was still muttering the same thing, and Abe looked helpless. "Come back to me."
Suddenly Jackson's demeanor shifted, and when he lifted his head the madness in his eyes was brighter. "All Good Children Are Growing Teeth," he mumbled.
"What?"
Jackson repeated it and Mitch froze. Jamie's hand slipped from his as she stumbled closer to the hysterical man. "He's not making any sense," she lamented.
"Yes he is," he told her. He raised his finger and traced six letters into the dust that had gathered on the window of the Hummer. A-G-C-A-G-T
Jamie turned back and peered at them. "What is that?"
"That," he told her, "is the key to everything."
It took them nearly twenty more minutes to get Jackson out of the hole and into the Hummer. Abe refused to leave his side and Dariela didn't want to drive in case she needed to help keep him under control. That left Logan behind the wheel as Mitch and Jamie slid into the truck Jackson had commandeered.
They followed the taillights in front of them as Logan led them out of the woods and back to the main road. Jamie was quiet for most of the ride, but as they approached the plane she twisted a little in her seat.
"Will Jackson be okay?"
Mitch glanced at her briefly and wished he had something better than "I don't know." But the truth was, he had no idea, and he told her so. "But I promise I'm gonna figure it out," he told her. "That sequence he was uttering, 'all good children are growing teeth.' It's a mnemonic device for a genetic sequence that happens to coincide with the first six nucleotides of the ghost gene."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that at some point in his life, Jackson saw that sequence. And if he can remember the rest of it, then I can cure him."
Mitch spent the rest of the night working in the lab. Jamie joined him sometime after one thirty. She padded in quietly with a book and a blanket and settled on the cot he had in the corner without a word. Mitch didn't say anything about it, but when he glanced back at her she was nodding off into the pages. He lowered his music to a barely audible hum and waited another twenty minutes before moving to tuck her in. She was fast asleep, and he took a moment to just watch her sleeping peacefully. He wondered how long it had been since she'd had a good night's sleep and feared that answer was somewhere on the order of weeks rather than days.
Mitch fell asleep at his table an hour later, his arms folded under his head and his glasses askew. The sun was rising when he opened his eyes, and he blinked blearily. A quick glance told him Jamie had risen before him. Her blanket was folded neatly where she'd been sleeping, but there was no other trace of her. Mitch looked at the work that surrounded him and decided that he needed coffee before he dove back into it.
When he returned, Jackson was searching the lab frantically for something. Mitch knew he should care - the man was very nearly tearing the place apart - but the little sleep coupled with the persistent mystery of the ghost gene was zapping all of his brainpower.
Allison came around the corner with a stern expression. There was no trace of the coy, flirtatious woman from last night and Mitch sighed internally with relief. Whatever she'd been thinking had apparently been pushed to the back burner in light of this newest development. She stopped next to him and watched through the window as Jackson continued to open drawers and cabinets in his quest. "You are losing control of your crew," she said. "He's becoming a danger to himself and to this mission."
"That's my call," Mitch sipped his coffee and kept a close watch on Jackson. He wasn't disturbing anything near the computer or the animals, and Mitch was curious what he was after. "You put me in charge, let me be in charge."
"So you - in good conscience - are saying that he's fine?" Allison pointed at the agitated man through the glass.
"I'm saying I can handle it." Mitch was careful to keep any of the anger he was feeling toward her from showing in his voice. That last thing they needed now was another change of leadership.
"I have to go to London for a few days," she said finally. "I'm trying to sway a few of the British IADG reps away from the Noah Objective. When I get back, we'll revisit Jackson. And Jamie."
Mitch gripped the handle of his mug tightly and bit down on the acidic reply that sprang up on his tongue. With any luck, there would be some kind of emergency that required them to leave her in England and fly away. Even as he thought it, though, he knew better. His luck wasn't quite that good.
As soon as she left Mitch walked around the to the entrance to the lab. Jackson had apparently found what he was looking for - RFID tracking chips. Before Mitch could say something, he'd injected one into his arm.
"What are you doing?"
Jackson stowed the syringe gun back in its case and snapped it closed. "Now you don't have to worry about me wandering off again."
"Oh, so you think a tracking chip - a poorly placed one, I might add - is gonna keep me from worrying?"
"Mitch, it's been a long night, okay?" Jackson started for the door.
"Need you to look at this." He grabbed a small journal from the pile of work at his desk and opened it. It was Jackson's. He'd been writing in it for a few days now, almost absently sometimes. At first Mitch thought he was keeping a diary, but then he caught him taking notes during the briefing and wondered if he wasn't documenting everything. When he'd found it discarded in the vehicle bay last night, Mitch had taken it to try to get a better idea of what Jackson was going through. He'd been surprised to find scattered notes, drawings, and a seemingly random assortments of half-finished thoughts and phrases.
Jackson tapped the page angrily. "What, so you can just rub it in my face that I'm losing my mind?" He pushed the journal away. "You don't have to, Mitch. I'm aware."
"Oh, I don't think you're losing your mind," Mitch told him. "In fact, I think we might have found something in your mind." He was listening now, and Mitch began to explain his theory. Something about the last few days, about their conversation and the ghost gene, had triggered something. Jackson had been integral to the cure before, but now Mitch believed he was the key to finding the ghost gene as well.
"What happens if you can't find it?" Jackson asked.
"The cure's like a bomb," Mitch explained. "One that's gonna nuke the triple-helix. Okay? And the sequence is the address. If I don't have the address, I have no idea where to deliver the bomb." It was a crude analogy but it worked.
"So without the sequence, the cure's useless," Jackson translated.
"Are you ready to go?" Abe came in with his backpack full of supplies.
Mitch had intended on going with the team to help them search, but now that had changed. "No," he said at the same time Jackson answered yes. At the younger man's look he shrugged helplessly. "You're the only one who can help me with this."
Jackson seemed to finally understand what was at stake. "You know what, Abe? We're gonna...we're gonna hang back."
"Is everything okay?" Abe looked back and forth between the two men curiously.
"Peachy," Jackson answered.
"It'll be even peachier once you get to Pierce's and find that list of animals." He motioned for Jackson to stay there and walked with Abe to the bay. The others were already packed up and ready to go.
"Jackson and I are gonna stay here and work on the ghost gene sequence," Mitch said. "Abe's gonna take point in Holbeach." The bad blood that had started in New Brunswick weeks ago was still boiling inside of him, but Abe was the best choice to lead the mission. Jamie was still finding her footing, and Mitch didn't trust either Dariela or Logan further than he could throw them.
Dariela finished loading the weapons and held a handgun and a tranq rifle out for Logan to choose. He nodded toward the rifle and Dariela handed it over, then turned to Jamie.
"No," Jamie shook her head and backed away from the Beretta.
"Take it," Mitch directed. "We don't know what to expect in Holbeach. Everyone needs to have a weapon." He could guess how she felt about guns; she'd killed a man with one, after all. But he wasn't willing to let her go out there without some sort of protection. Jamie glared at him but took the gun, tucking it into the small of her back wordlessly. She disappeared into the Hummer without saying goodbye, and Mitch winced as she slammed the door.
"She'll be fine," Abe promised. Not unsurprisingly, the words didn't make him feel better.
"Just keep an eye on her," Mitch said quietly. "And stay in touch." Abe nodded and turned to walk away, but Mitch reached out and clamped his hand around the larger man's arm. There was surprise in his eyes when he looked back. Mitch made sure his next words were clear and irrefutable. "Under no circumstances do you leave her behind again. Do you hear me? I don't care what happens. You bring her back."
Abe's expression was unreadable, but finally he nodded solemnly. "I will." Mitch released him and walked away before he came up with a reason he needed Jamie to stay behind. She needed to get back on track, to feel like she was a contributing member of the team. And, he reminded himself, if he couldn't let her out of his sight because of his personal feelings then Allison's claim that he was too emotionally compromised to be an effective leader would be true. And right now, Allison being right about anything wasn't acceptable .
It took about an hour and a half to get everything ready and research enough about memory regression that he didn't feel too out of his depth. He told Jackson to get something in his stomach and grab a shower, as this would likely take the rest of the day.
"Alright," he slid the IV into Jackson's arm and hooked up the bag. "We call this cognitive repression reversal," he explained, recalling the articles he'd very nearly memorized. "See, your brain is like a rusty file cabinet. It just needs a little grease on the hinges and memories come popping right out."
Jackson eyed the set up warily. "And by 'grease' you mean…?" He glanced at the blue bag above his head.
"Cholinesterase," Mitch grabbed the dose button. "It's a sedative. Hypnotic." When Jackson looked worried Mitch just smiled. "Who says we never do anything fun together." He tapped the button discreetly and stowed it away. "Okay, you ready?"
"No," Jackson hesitated.
It was too late, but Jackson didn't realize that. Mitch gave him some time as the machine prepared the first dose. "Alright," he snapped off his gloves and moved to toss them.
"Really?" Jackson laid back. "I thought you'd just ignore what I want."
"Well of course I did," Mitch turned. "Hit the button like three seconds ago." It was bad form, but they didn't have time for Jackson to hem over the decision. They needed the rest of that sequence as soon as possible. Jackson looked down as the chemical flooded his system and gave Mitch a halfhearted glare.
"So how fast -?" He jerked slightly and the air rushed from him as the effects took hold. "Whoa."
"Just breathe," Mitch kept his voice steady and low as he lowered himself onto the stool next to Jackson's bed. "Think about your father," he directed. "Think about any time that he mentioned genetics."
Jackson's eyes were glazed and unfocused, and Mitch knew he was going back. "He didn't talk about genetics. Mostly biology." He was fighting the hypnosis.
"Maybe he had it written down somewhere," Mitch prompted, but Jackson just shook his head sharply.
"He didn't leave papers laying around his lab. Just his office." He huffed in distress. "I wasn't allowed in there." Something was upsetting him and Mitch was losing control fast.
"Alright," he redirected. "Just relax." He did. Jackson's eyes closed, but he wasn't unconscious. Mitch could see them moving beneath his eyelids.
"Where's Felix?" he muttered. Mitch almost asked who Felix was, but then stopped. He was remembering. Mitch sat in silence for a few moments as Jackson's mind took him back. Suddenly he gasped and his eyes flew open. They were clearer and Mitch realized the sedative was already wearing off. Jackson's mutation was causing him to metabolize it faster than normal.
"What is it? What did you see?" he asked.
Jackson just let his head fall back against the exam bed. "A ghost," he breathed. Mitch let him catch his breath as he explained what he'd remembered. Identifying the cranial nerves of a ferret wasn't exactly what they were after. They needed to go again.
"Just remember," he told Jackson, "these are your memories. You're in control."
"Control?" Jackson laughed hollowly. "Yeah, because I've had so much of that lately." He looked down at the IV. "Come on, let's just do this."
Mitch reached for the button and pressed it again. The sedative hit Jackson and he sagged in his seat as his eyes fell closed. "I need you to forget about the lab for a second," Mitch said. "Focus on your dad's office. Maybe you overheard what he was working on in there."
"Hard not to overhear him," Jackson slurred. "He made these tapes, like a manifesto almost. They were the ramblings of a madman." He stopped and worked his tongue like he tasted something bitter. "The more tapes he made, the less we saw of him. He just started getting consumed by his work." Jackson's head was turned away, but Mitch could see the sadness in his expression. "He started to go down a very...dark path."
Mitch wasn't surprised by that. He'd heard rumors about Dr. Robert Oz and his theories. "Are we talking human testing?"
"Testing makes it sound more legitimate," Jackson responded slowly. "I saw the tests he did on the animals. This was gonna be different." Jackson flinched, a quick involuntary tic around his nose and mouth. "Other people must have realized it too, because there was an accident." He did it again, and this time it was accompanied by his fists clenching. "At least, that's what the police called it."
Mitch could believe that someone had found out what Oz was planning and taken it upon themselves to stop it. He just didn't know who.
"He was never the same after that," Jackson opened his eyes. "The fire not only took his lab, it took his sanity. It took him away from us." There was something beyond sorrow in his eyes that Mitch couldn't identify. Jackson was still holding something in, still repressing something, and Mitch needed to know what it was.
"I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm starting to realize why your dad went off the deep end." Identifying with Robert Oz wasn't something Mitch thought he'd ever do. But here he was. "We lost one cure already," he continued. "If somebody trashed all our work, that'd be enough to loosen my screws." Just the thought of having to start from scratch after all they'd done - all they'd lost - was enough to raise his blood pressure.
"It wasn't a happy time in the Oz household," Jackson confirmed.
"So, what?" Mitch refocused him and tried to get him back on track. "Did he start bringing his work home with him?"
"After that, rage is all he brought home with him. Rage." Jackson swallowed thickly. "I had to get the hell out of there."
Mitch felt a sinking panic in his stomach. What if Jackson was repressing more than the genetic sequence of the ghost gene? What if they were opening up a floodgate of horrific memories and Jackson couldn't handle it? What if he went on another one of his episodes right here?
"The passports," he mumbled. "Dad had the passports in his office. They burned in the fire."
That's strange.
Jackson jumped like he'd been struck and, for a moment, Mitch feared he was reliving a childhood trauma. But his eyes were open and focused, and Mitch realized the sedative had worn off again.
Mitch had to get him away from the panic in his eyes and back to the task. "You said you were never allowed in your dad's office."
"I wasn't," Jackson insisted.
"So how did you know the passports were in there?"
Jackson just looked at him with a lost expression. "I don't know."
Mitch believed him, but they were losing time. And the longer he waited, the longer Jackson's mind had to re-block those memories. It was time to stop coddling him.
"You told me you were never allowed in your dad's office," he pushed.
"I wasn't," he repeated. "I don't know why I said the thing about the passports. I was never in his office."
"I know you want to believe that," Mitch was beginning to put a picture together, an answer to the puzzle that made sense.
"Hey," Jackson tensed in his seat, his hair matted with sweat as he hissed angrily. "If you think I'm lying, then just say it. Come out and say it! Don't patronize me."
"I don't think you're lying," Mitch tried to placate him. The last thing he needed right now was an agitated patient with a mutation that made him Hulk out. "I think you're repressing. Freud called it 'screening,' okay? You're protecting yourself from a potentially painful memory."
Jackson started to sit up. "I need a break."
"No, no," Mitch pushed him back down. "Not right now. We can't take a break." Given time, Jackson's mind would just repress these memories deeper into his subconscious, and they might not be able to access them again so easily.
"Mitch," Jackson pushed back.
"We're too close," he argued firmly. "We cannot take a break right now."
"I need a break, Mitch," Jackson was struggling now. "I need a break!"
Mitch had expected the anger but not the desperation. Whatever was hidden in Jackson's mind, it was fighting hard to keep it there. Mitch was effectively ripping away the protections his mind had placed over the memories, and he felt bad for it. But they needed this sequence. And Jackson's reluctance was only hindering their work.
"Right," Mitch clamped his hand down over the IV where Jackson had started to pull. He let his own frustration seep into his voice as he leaned in. "Chloe died trying to save the world. You telling me you can't face your daddy issues?" It was a low blow - low even for a man who claimed to have terrible people skills - but it did the trick. Jackson leaned back into the seat as Mitch hit the button one more time.
Sometimes Mitch really hated being right.
Jackson remembered everything, the rest of the sequence and the cause of his father's lab fire. It had been Jackson himself who had set the fire in an effort to get his dad back. But it had failed. Robert Oz had only spiraled further into madness, and ultimately Jackson and his mother had been forced to leave.
Mitch tried to imagine what that would have been like for a young boy to believe he was responsible for his father's mental break and the destruction of his parents' marriage. He wasn't great at the sympathy thing, but it was perfectly understandable why Jackson's mind had chosen to just lock those events away rather than deal with them. As Jackson left to take a shower and begin to process the new information he'd uncovered, Mitch was left in the lab to clean up.
He realized with a start that he hadn't checked his phone all day. Abe would have contacted Jackson or even Trotter if there had been an emergency, but Mitch mentally berated himself for letting his leadership duties lapse as he focused on Jackson's regression. There were two texts from Abe that served as very basic status reports. One mentioned something about cicadas and leopards, and that the team was all present and accounted for. The second one reported that Reiden Global had beat them to Pierce's house and they were now searching for the bones of the animals rather than any notes about his work.
He found Abe's number in his contacts and hit the call button. He needed more information than a simple text could give him, and he needed to hear from the man himself that everything (and everyone) was okay.
"Hello?"
"It's me," Mitch answered lamely. "I, uh, I'm just checking in."
Abe chuckled softly. "We found the bones," he said. "They were buried in the cemetery in the plot of a brother Pierce never had."
"Okay," Mitch was sure he'd hear the story behind that later. "You mentioned something about Reiden?"
There was a pause, then Abe confirmed it. "The Father says the team left last week. They cleaned out everything from Pierce's home. He took pictures, but none of them showed boxes large enough to hold the bones of the animals. We figured they had to be buried somewhere, so we checked local records."
"Good thinking," Mitch praised.
"There is something else." The suddenly somber tone of his voice made Mitch nervous. Had something happened to Jamie? With Jamie? She hadn't been happy to have to carry a weapon, and Mitch wondered if it hadn't been too soon after all. His mind started spiraling through scenarios until Abe spoke again. "Dariela has decided to stay. She wants to escort the townsfolk to safety."
Mitch was surprised to feel upset at the news. "She what?"
"She said…" Abe trailed off, then started again. "Mitch, these people are barely surviving. This was something she felt strongly about, and we cannot force her to stay."
Mitch tried not to think of the irony of the situation. Just a few days ago he'd joked about getting rid of her, to which Allison had replied that he couldn't fire the toughest member of the team. Now she was leaving voluntarily. He wondered how Allison would react to the news.
"Alright," Mitch sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "So you're on your way back with the bones?"
"Yes," Abe answered. "Logan, Jamie and I are about two hours away."
Mitch checked the clock and nodded. That would put them back around four. Mitch bid Abe goodbye and tossed his phone onto the table. His eyes fell on the notebook where Jackson had written the genetic sequence he'd recalled from the depths of his memories.
A-G-C-A-G-T-A-C-G
It was the sequence he needed to deliver the cure. Now all they needed was the cure itself.
"My father knew." Jackson came bursting in out of breath, his distress evident in his quick movements and frantic expression.
Mitch knew their adventure was going to have after effects; uncovering memories like that was bound to leave him off balance and confused. Still, that sort of non sequitur was uncommon for him. He glanced up at Jackson, then back down to the journal.
"Gonna need a little more context."
"He knew I burned down his lab. I remembered...he approached me about it. Confronted me before I left for Africa."
Mitch had wondered if that was the case. Robert Oz was crazy but he was not an idiot. But if he was as troubled as Jackson had said he was, had he done something upon realizing his son was responsible for the loss of his life's work? Or was Jackson's guilt finally manifesting in paranoia?
"Look," Mitch tried to calm his friend, "you were...you were just a kid -"
"No, Mitch look." Jackson turned suddenly and rubbed his fingers over a set of raised bumps on the back of his neck. It looked almost like a bite of some kind, complete with puncture marks. "He gave me some sort of injection," Jackson went on. "Some sort of shot. I always thought it was a birthmark. But now…"
Something clicked in Mitch's brain and he capped his pen. "Well, that would explain it."
It had been an anomaly he'd found during his initial work up. At first he'd dismissed it, thinking it just an inconsistency in the testing method. But now, with Jackson's revelation, it appeared to be so much more.
"What are you saying?" Jackson asked.
"Maybe you didn't inherit the gene," Mitch hypothesized. "Maybe - somehow - your dad created a synthetic version of it, and he injected you with it."
"Your saying my father did this?" Jackson's face morphed from confusion to horror. "That everything I'm going through is because of him? Why would he do that?"
"I have no idea," Mitch shook his head. "But it explains why I couldn't determine the gene's origin." Standing so close to Jackson, Mitch saw the moment his pupils dilated. "Jackson?" Mitch glanced around and cursed at the lack of potential weapons within reach. If Jackson lost control right now, Mitch wouldn't stand a chance. "Jackson!"
Mitch couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his heart as Jackson fought to regain control. His short, labored breaths were the only sounds he made as he clenched his fists tightly. Whatever calming method he was trying wasn't working, and Mitch could actually see the veins in his neck pulsing.
There was nothing else to do; Mitch reached for the glass on the counter and doused Jackson's face in cold scotch. The ice cubes bounced off his face and clattered to the floor as he stared at Mitch in shock. But it worked. The sudden jolt had snapped Jackson out it and he blinked quickly as he wiped the alcohol off his face.
"Thanks," he mumbled sheepishly.
Mitch forced himself to keep the fear out of his voice as he clapped Jackson's soggy shoulder. "Yeah, sure."
Jackson sniffed at the smell of scotch that now permeated from him. "Now I need another shower."
Mitch watched him go and looked down at his now empty glass. "I need another scotch."
A little over two hours later Mitch heard the door to the vehicle bay slide back. Logan was the first one to emerge.
"We're back."
"Yes, I can see that," Mitch drawled. "How did it go?"
Logan just shrugged and kept moving toward the small shower and bath combo that sat just off the lab. Since he didn't have an actual room, it was that or he used someone's personal shower. Mitch supposed with Dariela gone, he would soon be sharing a bathroom with the man. Just thought was enough to ruin whatever satisfaction Dariela's departure had granted him.
Abe and Jamie came next, and Mitch stood as they approached.
"The bags with the bones are still in the truck," Abe said.
"Bags?" Mitch questioned.
Jamie shook her head ruefully. "Some assembly required," she joked.
"Great." Mitch wasn't terribly keen on rebuilding skeletons, but they needed to know what animals they were looking for. "What happened with Dariela?"
"She said she was going to escort the townsfolk to the extraction point."
"Eighty miles away," Jamie added. "She'll be lucky to make it two with the panthers out there." Mitch couldn't fault her the pessimistic outlook, not with what she'd gone through out there, but it still bothered him. Her eternal optimism had been on the verge of annoying last year, but no matter what went wrong, the team could always count on Jamie's positivity and spirit to bolster them. It was gone now, twisted into something more resembling his own embittered world view.
"Dariela seems to think they will make it," Abe's quiet voice reminded both of them that there was someone here who cared for Dariela as more than just a teammate. Mitch could empathize well with his situation. Just a week ago, it had been Jamie who had been out there alone.
Mitch realized with a start they were still waiting for him to say something. Right, he told himself, I'm the leader. "Uh, okay. I'll start unloading the bones. Why don't you guys grab showers and something to eat."
"Sounds good to me," Jamie bolted for the stairs immediately, but Abe stuck around at Mitch's pointed look.
When she was gone, Mitch finally spoke. "How did she do?"
Abe stared back for a moment, as if debating something, and then shook his head. "You should ask her yourself." It was almost a rebuke, and Mitch scowled. Abe gave him a sad smile. "As far as the mission goes, she did well. The rest I will leave for you to discuss with her."
He left Mitch with more questions than answers, answers he knew he could only get from Jamie herself. She didn't seem in a particularly talkative mood, so Mitch set to the task of unloading the bones and starting to assemble them.
Luckily for him, Pierce had separated each animal into a different bag. He just hadn't bothered labeling the damn things. He grabbed several instrument trays and cleared them off before setting one bag on each of them. Then, after donning gloves and a mask, he began unpacking.
Allison came back at some point during the evening, but Mitch was so focused on reassembling the skeletons that he gave her barely a cursory glance and a muttered greeting. She seemed to recognize that he was zoned in on his work and left for her lounge lair almost as soon as she arrived on board.
The snake came together fairly easily, so he focused on that one first. The vulture was next, and by the time he set the last bone in place he was stifling a yawn every thirty seconds or so.
He hadn't really slept well hunched over on his work desk the night before, and a restful sleep in his bed was just the thing his body and mind needed. He snapped his gloves off and rubbed his eyes tiredly as he switched the lights in the lab off. Moe's tank glowed brightly in the darkness, and he took a moment to watch the undulation of his tentacles as it floated about in the water.
"Night, Moe."
He continued his ascent up to the dormitory level. He stopped in the hall just outside his room and debated for a moment. He could see a light on behind Jamie's door, but she hadn't emerged since they'd gotten back from their field trip. Whatever Abe had meant about her performance on the mission, Jamie hadn't seemed too keen to talk about it. Deciding it was a battle he could fight tomorrow, he turned away from her door and slipped into his own room.
An hour later his door slid back, and Mitch blinked blearily as Jamie stepped inside and closed it behind her. She didn't move any further, and even though he couldn't see her face he could practically hear her internal debate as she shifted indecisively.
"Stop thinking and get over here," he grumbled, tossing the blankets back in invitation. She shuffled over and slipped beneath the warmth he'd created. Unlike every other time they'd shared a bed, she rolled to face away from him rather than settle against his body. Sensing she needed some space to think, he refrained from draping an arm around her to pull her closer. Instead he tucked the blanket over her shoulder and rested his arm along his side as she gathered her thoughts.
She was silent for a long time, and Mitch thought she'd fallen asleep. He hated that she couldn't find peace in her own bed, but he was glad she trusted him enough to seek solace in his. He closed his eyes and relaxed, content in the knowledge that he was nearby if she needed him.
"Do you think I've changed?"
Her question came so abruptly that he actually jerked slightly, pulled from his half-doze into full wakefulness as the enormity of her question hit him. He faltered for a moment, unsure how he should answer her. He settled for something he knew she appreciated - the truth.
"Yes," he said. She stiffened immediately and he actually had to wrap his arm over her to keep her from bolting from his bed. "It's not a bad thing, Jamie. We've all changed. This whole...mess that the world's become - it's changed all of us." He could sense she was still struggling with something and, with a bit of coaxing, he got her to turn over and face him. The soft white light of the half moon filtered through his windows and cast shadows over the sharp angles of her face. Her eyes were still closed, but they opened when his fingers drifted lightly over the shell of her ear. He pulled his hand away from her face but kept it resting on the bed between them. "What happened out there?"
"Nothing, I just -" she cut off her own protest with a shake of her head. She needed to get it out, and her mind was finally owning up to the fact. When she did speak, it was slow at first. "I used to have hope. I mean, come on. I battled a corporate superpower for twelve years, knowing I was outmatched but still hoping that someday, somehow I'd get through to the right people. That they would be made to pay for all of the harm they'd caused." She was gaining speed now, fueled by the righteous willfulness he'd seen in her from day one. "Nobody thought I could succeed, not my friends, not my professors, not even my own family. But still I kept at it, because I really believed that one day I'd win. That I could somehow bring justice to my mom and all of the other people whose lives Reiden had destroyed." Mitch listened as Jamie's thoughts came tumbling out. She needed to work up to the problem, to build steam in order to crash through whatever barrier was holding her back from just admitting it. She was almost there.
"And we almost succeeded," she rambled on. "We found the Mother Cell and direct proof that Reiden had been the cause of the whole mess. They were going to finally pay their due. The cure worked and Reiden was exposed, and for once in the history of the world the little guy ended up on top." She laughed scornfully and he hated the sound. "I was blisteringly naive."
For a moment he said nothing, unsure how to respond to this gloomy, dispirited Jamie. She had always been the one to raise them up, to keep their spirits high whenever they were feeling low. Mitch felt wholly inadequate at the task, but he had to try.
"You know what I thought the first time we met?"
Her nose wrinkled in confusion at his question. "Who is this crazy person and why is she asking me weird questions about lions?"
He huffed in amusement and reached for her. She scooted toward him but he was sure to keep enough distance so he could maintain eye contact. He wanted her to see the truth of his words in his eyes.
"Well, sure," he went along with her joke, then shifted to a more serious tone. "I thought 'this woman is the bravest, most fearless, passionate person I have ever met.' You captivated me from day one, Jamie Campbell. And yes," he tucked her hair behind her ear gently, "you have changed. Everyone has. But you still have the same fiery spirit, despite the awful things you've endured. And whatever it is that's got a hold of you, that's poisoning your mind into believing otherwise, I just want you to know you don't have to face it alone. Not any more."
He expected her to smile, to reach out and grab his hand or hug him. But when she closed the distance between them it was to kiss him firm and full. There was no mistaking the meaning behind her fervor, and he let himself drink her in for a few moments before he broke away.
"Jamie," he whispered in the darkness. "Are you sure?"
Her answer was swift. In the span of two hammering heartbeats she sat up and stripped her shirt over head. It fell softly on the carpet as her body fell against his, and Mitch hands moved to explore this new expanse of skin before his brain could process what had happened. She silenced whatever doubt remained in his mind as she kissed him again, moving to straddle his hips as his hands roamed over her back and shoulders.
Mitch's senses were overwhelmed as she moved over him, and somewhere between his hands mapping the plane of her stomach and his mouth devouring the pale flesh just below her collarbone they'd added his shirt and both their sweatpants to the pile on the floor. Mitch put his excellent memory to use as he elicited the soft moans that had inflamed him yesterday morning.
Jamie wasn't a passive participant in their dance. More than once Mitch had to slow the rock of her hips in an effort to regain some control over himself. But as soon as his hands resumed their exploration she was moving again, her face drawn tight in determination as she tried to push them further.
The bed wasn't as wide as hers, but he managed to maintain enough awareness as he rolled them to keep them from tumbling to the floor. Jamie whimpered at the loss of control, and her eyes opened as Mitch settled his overheated body on hers. There was a moment of quiet as he stared down at her, and despite the tension he could feel in her body she looked completely content for the first time since they'd reunited in Canada.
"I love you," he whispered. His lips fell to hers softly once, then twice. He said it again as she wriggled beneath him, and again as the rustle of cloth signaled the last of their barriers falling away. When words became impossible, he fell silent and gave himself over to the night.