Chapter 13

Very little had amused Jack quite so much since his arrival in America, than Shane Schofield trying to act totally cool when he knew fine well that he was completely on edge trying to keep the dark purple bruise from revealing itself. He could see his hands twitching when it was obvious he wanted to keep pulling at the neckline of his shirt, just to make sure it was hidden, but then with a deep breath, his hands would still and his face would relax into its normal mask and unless they knew what they were looking for, the other marines were none the wiser.

Other than the fact that he found the knowledge that Schofield was walking around with the mark Jack had left on his body incredibly sexy, it was proof, proof that he hadn't imagined it; that that man was his. But it was also a secret. Their little secret and now, it was acting as somewhat of a test for their big secret. If nobody saw the mark, if Shane didn't give the game away, then he knew they were safe. That is, if he didn't give the game away himself first.

Schofield had decided that the unit's hand to hand combat skills were sufficient and so, it was time to add a complicating factor into the midst.
"Oh come on," Sanchez had moaned when he pulled his Bowie knife from where it was strapped to his thigh. "When do we ever use those? Guns always beat knives."

"Correct," Schofield replied, "A gun is always better than a knife but if your gun has been hit or just plain lost-"

"Or if you're stuck in some godforsaken ice station filled with fucking flame gas," Mother growled.

" – or in a flammable atmosphere, thanks Mother," he continued without pause and Jack realised what it was that made Schofield both an excellent captain and an excellent teacher, his patience.
" – or any other situation in which your gun is rendered useless, a knife is a damn sight better than nothing."

"but if your opponent had a gun and you've only got a knife, by the time you get close enough to do any damage he's already shot you," Sanchez continued to protest, so in response Schofield spun on his heels and quicker than the eye could follow, the knife in his hand was suddenly quivering in the middle of a large red X he had taped to a tree some thirty feet away earlier.

"You're a marine Sanchez," he said loudly as he walked over to the injured tree and wrenched his knife free. Turning back to them he said with a wicked smile, "be prepared."

"If you can do that, your enemy's gun doesn't matter. I want to see all of you hitting that mark every time by the end of the day."

Given there was only one target and the dangers of multiple flying knives in close proximity, they took it one at a time. Whilst Astro practised his aim, the remaining marines paired up and moved a little distance away, for safety's sake, to practice their knife-on-knife work. As they wandered away, Jack thought he managed to catch Schofield's eye through the reflective lenses because Shane shot him a slightly sheepish smile before tugging, once again, at his collar to make sure it was straight.

Jack just laughed a little to himself.

With hindsight, it was probably mostly his fault but of all the stupid things to do, Schofield had chosen to practice with Mother and so Jack couldn't help but glance over his way every couple of minutes to make sure she hadn't cut him up into sixty-five little bits. He had taken his sunglasses off and Jack could see the looks of concentration as they pushed their fairly evenly matched skills to the limits.
He wondered if Schofield knew he bit his tongue when he was concentrating really hard.
He was sure Mother knew that she scowled something terrifying.

Either way, it didn't take long for Shane to realise he was being watched and quickly turned it into a bit of a game. Whenever he caught Jack's eye, he would evade Mother and pull a face at him whilst she was distracted. It didn't really help that Jack was working with Rebound, who did have some actual experience with 'knives in the dark' combat and so proved quite competent. Whenever Schofield distracted him, another small slash would appear somewhere on his body. The cuts were only shallow, mere warnings to pay more attention, but they stung. He was wondering why the hell Shane hadn't made them all blunt their blades beforehand, but he supposed that somewhat defeated the purpose of the exercise.

It was then that it happened. Schofield, trying to concentrate on three things at once - not getting killed by Mother, amuse Jack whilst keeping the hickey hidden - failed. As he lent forward for a particularly vicious swipe at Mother's abdomen, the loose t-shirt gaped open.

At exactly the same time, Rebound, noticing Jack's distraction, opened a large gash above Jack's right eyebrow but even with blood dripping rhythmically past his eye, Jack didn't look away and so Rebound spun around to see what the hell was going on behind him.

What he saw certainly surprised him. Mother, despite Schofield's protests that this was not part of the exercise, had managed to get him in a headlock and was wearing an expression of absolute glee.
"What in the name of sweet Mary is that?" She said loudly, with one finger hooked around the collar of his shirt, exposing the bruised flesh for all the world to see.

"That's a hickey if I ain't never seen one before," she exclaimed equally as loudly, answering her own question as she let go of his head but kept a firm hand on his shirt. "Who you been kissing?"

"Nobody," he retorted as he spun out of her grip and slapped her arm away, "It's just a bruise."
But by then, everybody else had stopped to look at them. Schofield stared them all down.
"Did I say you could stop," he said in his best commanding tone but none of them so much as moved a muscle.

"Fine," he added sternly after a moment, shaking his head, "line up thirty feet from the target. You each get one throw, anybody that does not hit the target will run ten laps of the obstacle course."

He lined them all up, including Jack.
"Oh no," he had said under his breath as Jack tried to slip away, "This is your fault, you're not escaping punishment."

Jack allowed himself a private smile. He was fairly sure Schofield was not really angry – actually, he was fairly sure he'd never seen Schofield really angry, nor did he ever want to – only being firm but he was rather enjoying the little demonstration anyway.

With his silver sunglasses back on, he cut an icy picture and Jack knew sure as hell not to cross him, but he also knew that behind those glasses, his eyes were probably twinkling and he was having fun.

Skip was the first to miss. She was clearly nervous and overcompensated by throwing the knife way too hard. It might've been a great throw but she missed the target by a clear twenty feet.
"You wouldn't," she began to say. By the quirk in his lips she knew it was hopeless but she ploughed on anyway, "but I'm a girl."

He lowered the glasses a little, to reveal the tops of the scars and just a hint of deep blue eyes.
"I'm not going to treat you any different in my team just because you're a woman, hit the track."

"It's gonna be dark soon," she tried one last time.

"Well you'd best run quick then."

She shot him a dark look before taking off towards the obstacle course. In the distance, he was sure he could hear her cursing him and he had to admit, he liked her spirit.

Bigfoot was the next to miss and he knew better than to argue. He just trudged off to follow Skip, his long steps catching up with her vanishing figure fairly quickly.

Meanwhile Sanchez, who was just in front of Mother, was now at the head of the queue. He threw the knife hard and deadly and it landed smack bang in the middle. Schofield nodded approvingly. As Sanchez went to retrieve the knife and bring it back to the next in line, Mother managed to grab Schofield's attention back by hissing at him, "If that's not a hickey then I'm your great auntie Josie."

In reply, Schofield took the knife from Sanchez and offered it to Mother, handle first, saying, "Your turn then Auntie."

She took the knife but not the point.
"Seriously," she continued, "Did he hurt you? Do I have to kill him?"

"Mother," he replied clearly exasperated, "Just throw the damn knife."

She began to line up her aim, even stretching her arm back for the throw but then suddenly dropping it again and turning back to him.
"It is a 'he' right?"

Nobody but Mother was ever that bold to push Schofield that far and she only got away with it because – well, because she was Mother. But not this time.
Jack thought for a moment that he might actually lose his cool with her but instead, he just crossed his arms across his chest and stepped right in close to her, so his head was just about level with her ear. Despite the fact that she had half a head on him, the effect was still intimidating and Jack made sure to file that one away for further use should the need ever arise.

"Mother," he said quietly and deadly, "shut up and throw the knife or you will run laps until the day you die."

She threw the knife and, with a quick kiss to his forehead to show no hard feelings, she dashed out of the compound.

When nobody else missed, he dismissed them all for the day and they variously made their way back to the mess, because they were hungry, and the shower block, because they were smelly. With the exception of Book II, who went to his own apartment, and Shane and Jack, who went to the barracks. They too were smelly and hungry but the officers' bedrooms were thankfully equipped with a small ensuite and Shane could cook. Jack had seemed a little out of it on the walk back and muttered something about a shower when they arrived. So Shane, rifling through the single cookbook in the barracks, decided to whip them both up something for dinner.

It was fifteen minutes later, when he realised that he still hadn't heard the water start. The pipes in the old barracks building were so noisy you couldn't have a shower without the whole building knowing about it. In fact, it was an unspoken rule that nobody showered after eleven pm or before five in the morning on pain of death. So when Schofield didn't hear the familiar gush of the water through the pipes, something about it just felt off and he went upstairs to investigate.

He knocked gently on the door to Jack's room and when there was no answer to that, he called his name quietly.

There was no response and he definitely couldn't hear the sound of the shower running. He hesitated for only a moment, before cautiously pushing the door open and stepping into Jack's bedroom.

He found Jack sitting on the floor of the bathroom, leaning against the cool tiled wall with his knees drawn up and his arms and head resting against them. He had managed to strip down to his boxers and although the weather had been warm, he was practically shivering. The cut above his eye was still bleeding freely.

"Hey," he said gently but Jack didn't look up at him. He wasn't sure what to do, Book was always better at fixing people's problems than he was, especially emotional ones, but he suspected that whatever was bothering Jack was probably a problem that he alone was uniquely placed to be able to help with. At least, as far as he knew, he was the only one in the building who really understood how Jack was feeling right now.

In the end, he didn't say anything else; just went and sat beside the other man until he was ready to talk. He might not always know what to say but he knew when to listen.

It took a moment but Jack found his voice.
"I can honestly say that I've never, ever, felt this way before," he said surprisingly strongly, "And it scares me a little."

Shane just gave him the look, one eyebrow raised until Jack amended his statement.
"Okay, it scares me a lot. Happy?"

He laughed a little at him but not unkindly and placed one hand on the other's shoulder, sensing rather than knowing that he had more to say.

"I've spent my whole life," he said slowly, as though each word of the confession was painful, "trying to wish away these feelings. Hoping and praying that somewhere out there was some girl, someone, who could fix me," He cut himself off to look at Schofield, always so patient, and seemed to notice the hand on his shoulder for the first time. Gently, he lifted it off and twined his fingers with Shane's before he continued.
"And there you were but you don't seem to realise how incredible you are. Watching you today, you're such a good leader and they all look up to you."

"The last good man in the world," he added with a smile.

Shane's thoughts briefly flew to the last man that had said that to him.
He had thrown him out a window.
But he just shook his head quickly and it was gone, just Jack in front of him, smiling.

"Your people really love you," he said seriously, "and I've got some seriously big boots to fill."

At that, Schofield actually laughed aloud.
"And that's really what caused you to have a minor meltdown half-naked in the bathroom?"

"Nope," Jack replied, laying his head on Shane's shoulder. "It just, it scares me how strong my feelings are for you. Strong enough that I can't, or don't even want to push them away. Everything's changed, I feel like I don't recognise my life anymore. I mean, here I am, having a conversation about feelings for a bloke, with a bloke, in a bathroom, in my underwear." He snuffed a laugh.
"And it's got to be a secret. "
"And Mother's going to kill me if I hurt you," he finished.

"Right," Shane replied with a smile; "Where to begin? I'm glad you don't want to push away how you feel about me and I'm glad we're having this conversation, even in the bathroom and in your underwear. I know it feels like it, but really nothing about your life has changed. If anything, you're more free just to live it now. I hate keeping secrets too but that's just the way things have to be for now and I'm sorry, I don't think I can do anything about Mother," he said in one breath.

Fingers playing absentmindedly with Jack's, he suddenly noticed a warm, wet sensation on his shoulder. He quickly looked down, expecting maybe to see Jack crying but instead there was a small, crimson stain spreading across his shirt.
"Ah shit," he said abruptly, jumping up and dislodging Jack from where he was leaning against him.

"Sorry," Jack said apologetically, "Didn't realise I was bleeding on you."

"What? No," Schofield's voice came back to him from where he was now rifling through the medicine cabinet above the small basin.
"I'm sorry I forgot you were still hurt. Do you have any steri-strips?"

With the found item in hand, he crouched down on his haunches and gently applied the small, white bandage to the gash. He was careful but it didn't stop it from stinging and Jack from wincing.
"Sorry," he said, wincing with him.

Jack smiled back mischievously.
"You gonna kiss it better?" he teased.

"Well," Shane replied with a grin, "I don't think it'll need stitches or anything, but maybe just for good measure." As he spoke, he held Jack's jaw and pulled his head towards him, planting a kiss right on the bandage. He pulled away but didn't let go, saying "I'm starving, think you can actually get in the shower now?"

As he left, he heard Jack call back to him wickedly, "Do you want to join me?"

Shaking his head and smiling to himself as he headed back down the stairs, he found in the kitchen a sight he was entirely unprepared for. Book II leaning on the counter, pale as a ghost and looking ready to cry.

He thought to himself, 'one crisis averted and another one appears;' but aloud, he said "Hey man, what's the matter?"

The last thing he was expecting was for the younger man to walk over woodenly before collapsing against him sobbing. He could do nothing except wrap his arms around him and try and mutter consoling things. Naturally, it was that moment that Jack chose to come bounding down the stairs, clean and freshly dressed.