Then his breathing stopped and his heart pounded wildly as he and Wick finally became one.

And then there was a hot searing pain that came and went like lightning as he moved upwards. A little noise escaped from between her teeth, and she panted silently over his shoulder, unable to catch her breath. She felt like a part of him, her body moving as his moved, heat rising in waves that made her dizzy. Her entire body was tense as the pain came and went, lessened each time as the warmth began to overwhelm her.

But he felt tears wet his shoulder as he managed a hissed intake of breath, his chest heaving and muscles shaking. Unable to hold himself up any longer on weak arms, Jor dropped beside Wick heavily, his heart pounding so quickly that he felt a tightness in his torso, almost smothering him. Then it dawned on him, through his hazy mind and muddled thoughts. Wick. She was... she was crying.

She slowly became aware of a dull pain, but minor shifting did nothing for it, so she ignored it. The muscles in her thighs ached as well, but these little discomforts were nothing to her emotional turmoil. She'd finally let him do what he wished, and she felt broken, in every sense of the word. She wanted more than anything else for him to stay with her, cuddle her close, except for one single desire.

And that desire was to be left alone.

It took a few minutes for him to gather himself as they continued to lay pressed together, his breathing slowed enough that he could speak, his mind clear enough that he was relatively certain that the voice speaking was his own. Jor shifted to the side enough so that Wick was rolled onto her back, and propping himself on his side over her, he smiled shyly down at her, his eyes a dark soft emerald.

Crawling from the bed, he tried to pull his uniform back on, stumbling awkwardly, his fingers shaky. It took a full minute for him to manage to lace his boots, a terrifying strained minute that ripped on his already shredded nerves. But he finally was dressed, straight enough to avoid notice or reprimand, and he shot one last, pleading glance toward Wick.

Her eyes opened slowly. She sat up, muscles complaining, and moved slowly, stubbornly to the edge of the bed. It really wasn't any worse than the last time he'd beaten her. Much better, actually. She didn't understand why this seemed so much worse. He told her he loved her. Wasn't that the rule? Wasn't it enough?

Slowly, painfully, she pulled on her underclothing, her undershirt on top of it. She looked at the rough material of her uniform and the multitude of small bruises and welts his attention had left her with and slipped back into the covers of the empty bunk. She ignored the small stain on the sheet. It didn't matter. It was over with. Right now she just wanted rest.

She was glad she couldn't remember anything more.

As she caught her breath, her dream faded and left her with an ugly feeling of insecurity. Jor...where was Jor? He'd left. It took only the small movement as she tried to get up to remind her why.

She forced her lagging muscles into action. She was lucky the rest of this cell hadn't made it back into the room before she woke up. She put on the rest of her uniform, laced up her boots, and made herself stand at attention for about thirty seconds. She wasn't really in much pain after all. It was just the odd muscle groups that made it stand out.

Making herself presentable and tugging her collar up a little, Wick left the Cell. She couldn't go back to her own; the other cellmates would undoubtedly draw unappetizing (and accurate) conclusions. Someplace quiet. The Library.

"Goddammit, Jayde, are you crazy?"

But Adam was smiling. He wrestled his russet-headed brother off of his shoulders and held him up long enough to ram him up against the wall. Erik grunted in pain and laughed like a maniac as he fell onto the floor. He lay there looking up at the other boy standing over him, his body shaking with mirth.

"We're here. I can't believe we're finally here. God, we are gonna murder some motherfuckin bugger ass in a few years, you know that, neh?"

"Eh. We're Jaydes. What did you think we were born for, knitting?"

"I don't know, but I know I was born for this."

Erik took a breath, exhaling slowly. "Daaaammmnnnnn..... how long do you think it's gonna take me to get some nookie up in here?" Adam snorted, his white head shaking in play insult. "I dunno, man, all I'm sayin is that when you can't find me and you walk on up here and see a sock on the doorknob, you better stay the hhheeeellll out! Else I'm gonna come out all nekkid and beating your skinny ass."

"Punk, you gonna have to be locked outside a hell of a lot earlier than I'm gonna be..."

"Fuck that."

"Fuck, yeah..."

Palming open the door, she stalked inside, eyeing the two vegs with disdainful annoyance. Both had the arrogant demeanor of fresh meat from BattleSchool... one was blonde with blue eyes, about her height; the other, taller, with dark red-brown hair and sharp hazel eyes. And Mik did not like the looks of either of them. Too cocky... of course, she was cocky too, which is why she didn't appreciate it in anyone else, especially these boyos just from the school

Motherfucker, just when Hydra was beginning to rise in the sim ranks, and now she had to be stuck with the newbies. Tossing her desk onto her bunk, Mik crossed her arms over her chest and watched the pair through narrowed midnight eyes.

"Who the fuck are you two greens?"

Suddenly he was very aware of Adam cracking up beside him... the boy slapped Erik upside his head and jeered, "Jayde! Close your mouth, man, you're drooling all over the fucking floor!" Shaking his head, he turned to face the contempt on the girl's features and held out his hand. "I'm Adam Jayde. And this idiot-" he shoved at the inanely grinning figure of his brother, "-is Erik Jayde. We've been recruited into Hydra, we just arrived today." Adam lowered his hand, sensing that the girl was not in the disposition take it. Still, he went on, with an insincere trademark mask of courtesy- "And you are...?"

"Mik. Tiena Mikal. Weapons technician for Hydra..." she was interrupted by a knock on the door, and with veiled gratefulness, she shouted. "What the fuck do you want, come in!"

Rox barged in, skidding to a halt as she took in Mik's annoyed expression, the two boys staring at her. Brushing the short dark-brown hair from her lilting eyes, she smirked at Mik, and her friend nodded in return. "Fresh meat to play with, ooooh. Don't mess with the Mikster, boyos, she'll have a gun up yo asses before you can blink, neh?"

She began to circle them, eyeing them appraisingly, then winked at Mik. "This one here's got a nice ass, doncha think, Ti? Maybe we can play with these sweethearts later... oooh, what fun! I wonder if I got any greens..." she giggled wickedly, poking Adam hard in the back, then flipped her hair back again and licked her lips in mock delight.

Then motioning toward the door, Rox flicked her eyes over Adam and Erik once more before smiling again, her chocolate eyes narrowing as they grinned back. New boys. How ridiculous, poor Mik, stuck with two... rolling her eyes, she grabbed Mik and tugged. "Let's go, we gotta find Dante." Mik nodded. "I'm Roxy, you two darlin's. I think we can leave you two cuties without a babysitter for a few hours, don't you, Mik? Don't wet the beds just yet, kiddos... let's go."

Adam bit his fist, watching Roxy leave. Cute as hell, and her ass wasn't bad, either, no way. She reminded him of those girls in the hentaii pictures he and Erik used to sneak onto their desks after lights out at the Academy. He gave Erik a sidelong look now, a sidelong smile accompanying it. "The sock, man... you better remember." Erik punched his shoulder, changing the subject. "You want to go see what the others are up to? I'm fucking bored." Adam shrugged. "Ah, man, you know you're just dissed, but ayte."

Arriving the Barracks, he scanned the bunks to find a free one. Finding one, he sat on it, took of his shoes. He was still not wearing IF uniforms, and had no idea where to take them from. They kept him in civilian cloths in London and at ISL, just like they did not force him to cut his long hair, now reaching his shoulders. Now there was a point in looking for an older soldier in the School - he'd have to nkow where to get uniforms from. Barely seeing any soldiers at all when arriving, the funny thought came to his mind that actually, they might again have different colours per Quad, just like in Battle School. He hoped not - he has had enough of this kind of a group for a life time.

The "Cell" was deserted, accept for one girl, sleeping on her bunk. Dal approached her carefully, when suddenely he froze. Impossible. This can't be true. Bit the face of the girl was the same face that haunted his dreams for years now, the same face he saw last when he was 13, in Battle School. It was her. Mik. And then he remembered why he hated the teachers of the IF training programme so much. The total control they had over his life. The games they were always playing. What psychology assesment are you getting from this? he wanted to shout. What kind of a result do you think you're getting from putting the two of us, again, in the same School? For this could not have been a mistake. This could not be a coincidence, that this girl was again with him.

She kept her eyes closed, however, even as her hand inched slowly toward the fletchette pistol underneath her pillow. It wasn't loaded, of course, but only the other vet Illy knew that. The two Jayde greens were still antsy around her, which is exactly why she'd been on her toes the past week. Never knew what they were up to, and Mik wasn't particularly pleased about being the object of their interest.

The intruder paused nearby, and she could sense eyes upon her. But it wasn't Illy; the footsteps were too heavy to belong to her tiny roommate. Wasn't the Jaydes, either, since those two boyos never seemed to go anywhere alone. Always together. So who the hell could it be?

Without a second thought about it, Mik had her elbow locked and arm steady, pistol pointed squarely at whoever was standing beside the opposite bunk. She heard a slight intake of breath, and with a smirk gracing her lips, she opened her eyes, expecting to see any number of soldiers she might know.

She wasn't expecting to see Dal.

Dal?

Her black eyes widened as she stared dumbstruck at him. It had been years... too many years since he was iced from BattleSchool, sent back to Earth. He and Jab; although, Jab had returned to command, and she'd spent plenty of enjoyable hours with Rox, hacking and playing pranks to screw with the boy. But Dal... he'd left without even a goodbye. What was he doing here, in her cell, of all places?

Dal didn't even know what hit him. One moment he was standing there, looking at Mik sleeping, the next he was on the floor, some weapon too close for him to be happy about it. And then it was all over. Mik drew back. "Ho Dal", she said.

Well, wasn't that a surprise. He instantly pulled back from her. In the years passed, he developed a certain annoyment, being too near to people. And as a matter of fact, he didn't know that girl at all, did he? All he knew of her was a memory of somone, a memory that was already 4 years old! How true could that be?

"Ho, Mik," he replied blankly. He didn't as much as asked her what she trying to do, bringing him down that way. He didn't really care, after all. She can do what she wants. People can do what they want.

Flushed and feeling a trifle guilty-- although she couldn't decide why-- Mik withdrew and sat back on her bunk, tucking the fletchette pistol into the space between the mattress and the wall. Having a weapon was bad enough, but pulling it on Dal, of all people, was far worse. She had to avert her gaze from him for a moment to regain her composure, soothing the rush of adrenaline that still flowed through her, and calmed her breathing enough to glance back up at him once more.

"Um..." Mik bit her lip, uncertain as to everything. Dal was staring at her blankly, a look she'd never before seen on his face, and she wasn't quite sure what to make of it. How he'd changed; taller, stronger, long hair and resolute features. She wondered briefly how much he thought she had changed before smiling shyly. "Sorry about that Dal, I didn't expect you... I mean, I thought it was someone else..." She almost rolled her eyes at herself; sounding so ridiculous. If Rox was here she'd smack her upside the head for acting as overwhelmed as the boys they played with. Don't be an idiot, she reminded herself sternly. That was a long time ago.

Instead, he was now leaning on the wall, keeping a good look at her. She's changed. She was no longer the girl he saw in his dreams. But he could not tell, whether that girl ever existed, or was the result of a tormented boy's longing to the only life where he belonged.

"It's been a long time," she said. A long time indeed. But to whom, he wondered, was it longer? For the beautiful blonde girl that stood there in front of him, caught in some sort of a jest - or so it seemed, or to the boy he was, only a shadow of what he used to be when they first met? Unwillingly his eyes travelled to the scar, visible on his wrists. As he caught her gaze, following it as well, he caught his mistake, tried to hide it, but it was too late. It was already there. She has already seen.

"Long time indeed," he finally said, bitterly, sarcastically, replying her words that were still hung in the space between them. Other than that, he had no idea what to say. What can he say to a girl like Mik? He was already out of his league. It wasn't always like that, but he lost the poer to retireve his memory of the way it was before. Lost his power of will to do so.

Dal seemed... broken.

It did not show on the outside, though. Dal has learned quickly enough that every time his face showed a bit of the pain he was still feeling inside, he was rushed to a psychiatrist. If he wish to avoid that, he realised many years ago, he had better keep it all inside. Or listen to midless jabber.

Like now. She was asking him how he had been. Funny, that girl. Need she ask? Wasn't it obvious. But his face was still indifferent, showing none of the bitterness inside. It took him a while to realise she was still, after all, expecting an answer. But he coudln't bring himself to answer. What would he say? 'Yeah, Mik, it was just the best time of my life?' If there was one thing he never learned, it was lying properlly. As i it could work. He could not confess to her, either. His closest friend in all of this time was Rick, and even with him, he never said one word that actually mean something. Mik was a complete stranger!

"Yes. They're supposed to give you uniforms when you arrive; I suppose I'll just have to take you there myself." She pushed away and stood, straightening her own wrinkled trousers and retrieving her jacket from the bunk, pulling it on and zipping the collar to her chin with practiced motions. Get this over with, and then she'd retreat to someplace safe, someplace other than this cell she now had to share with a quietly unsettling Dal. Maybe some playtime with Rox would cheer her up. Maybe not.

He followed her until reaching a room, and she stopped walking. It was quite obvious that was the room, and that she was anxious to just go away. But he didn't want her to go away. Even if he barely knew her, she was something he did know.

Mik hadn't known Dal long; only a day or two after she was transferred into Tide Army under his command, he'd been graduated and taken away. That short period of time, however, had allowed for ample surveillance; after all, manipulation and scheming had been what she did best back then. Twist and pull and things just fell right into her hands.

Until Dal.

It'd started out to easily, so perfectly. She had had Dal eating out of her hand from the moment she entered the battleroom, his demeanor flustered, his eyes constantly on her. That bastard Jab had been her toon leader, and it had taken but an hour of careful playing to turn those two against one another, the resulting fight ground-shaking for the two friends. That left her to sweep up the pieces and comfort Dal. Quick, easy, and effective.

Or so she thought, until Dal started to really talk, to tell her about his command, his troubles. Mik hadn't wanted to admit it at the time, and had fervently denied it to herself over the past few years, but she'd grown attached. She wanted to help him. He was tired, worn out, stressed beyond belief and in distress after such a battle with his best friend. Guilt had struck her, but never once did she really worry. It hadn't occurred to her that he might be "insane." It couldn't be true. He wasn't.

The first indication, of course, had been her meeting with Sasha, and consequent events. That, in itself, was enough to make this day unusual. She'd outshot him at the range, and he'd outshot her in another sort of game... and damn. Normally, after losing, she was more in a fighting mood than anything else. In Sasha's case... well, Mik couldn't wait to lose again.

The second indication was the man who lounged on her bed.

Tousled brown hair curled above flat grey eyes that narrowed and focused upon her. He smiled, shifted to reholster the fletchette pistol, and folded muscled arms across a broad chest. She turned to lock the door behind her, and a husky accented voice spoke her name. "Tiena."

"Malachy. This isn't a secure location. You shouldn't be here." She frowned as he shook his head at her before unzipping his jacket and shrugging it from his shoulders, laying the uniform on the bed. Even from across the room, she could see the long packets sewn into the material, and he tugged up his pantlegs to unstrap more bundles from both calves. Her eyes widened when he upheld one of these packets and unfolded it, revealing long lines of razor fletchette ammo. "Yes, you always say that. But I don't quite have the time, darling, to store these elsewhere. You're going to have to take this month's shipment now. Don't worry. And I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but things are getting a tad tight."

Tight? If Jude was feeling pressured to distribute his shipments early, then it was even more of a reason for him not to be here. She wasn't reassured by his "don't worry." It didn't matter that he was one of Rox's boys; one of the multitude of smugglers and sneaks and hackers and thiefs that her friend somehow managed to overlord. It didn't matter that he had been a military brat too; albeit, from a rival academy, but the connection was there. It didn't matter that he was her prime supplier of weapons parts, ammo, and whatever else she needed.

It didn't matter because she still didn't trust his sly ass.

"Even more of a reason, Jude, for us to do this elsewhere." Mik motioned toward the door and scowled, but he merely grinned and threw one of the packs at her. She caught it in surprise, but wasted no time in holding the strip between her teeth and kneeling, snatching her gun from her ankle holster to quickly and efficiently repack the cartridge. The pistol accepted the full clip with a click, and Jude made a mock expression of surprise as she tucked the gun into her waistband. "Come now, Miks. I have no choice. You're going to take your ammo and parts now. And quite frankly, dearest, I'm surprised you were carrying an unloaded weapon in the first place. Isn't that a bit... out of character?"

He was such a prick. "Stow the small talk, fuckstick. I can't take my shipment! I got three new roomies who don't know shit-- they fuckin' transferred Illy, Danno, and Har outta here, and these two Jaydes I'm stuck with probably go through my stuff to jack off. Ain't there any way to stow my gear in the command room over engineering, where everything else is? At least no one's gonna find it there."

"They've got some new Headmaster, Miks, and he has MPs out harassing the students. You know I can't just walk around carrying stolen goods. What if they search me? What if they find out about my suppliers and contacts? I'm screwed, Rox is screwed, and you're screwed, my lovely. And we both know you'd rather leave that up to other gunslingers." Jude gave her a tauntingly knowing smile, which only got him a glare in return. She wasn't in the mood to deal with his attitude right now, and having to concede that he was correct irritated her already touchy nerves. "Fuck you, Jude, but fine. I'll take it. Show me what you've brought me."

Jude nodded and began to systematically strip the gear from his uniform, spreading packets and packages and bundles out on the floor. Mik moved to sit near him, veiled admiration in her black eyes as he displayed her newest gear. "Now you're talking. Here, I have two hundred rounds of your favorite razor fletchette ammo-- more than last month, but seeing from the stock you keep, you're running low. Might come in handy. I've got those pistol parts you requested, but I'm going to have to raise my price next time. It's getting more difficult to acquire what you want, Miks; the higher the quality, the more the risk. But for now, you're paid up."

"That's fine. Anything else?" She started to sort the ammo packs, retrieving a long box from beneath her mattress and stacking the gear inside. It took her a moment before she realized he'd stopped talking and was staring at her, a thin discette held between his fingers. He waved it teasingly when she made to take it from him, a grin on his face. "Tsk tsk, be patient. This, sweets, is the print plan to one of the IF's newest pistol prototypes. I had Landry snatch it for you, at a very pretty price. But consider it your Christmas, birthday, and... hell, your graduation present as well. You just tell me when you want the parts to build this piece, and I'll be sure to find them."

She took the disc and shook her head in amazement. "Un-fucking-believeable, Jude. And thank you very much." Mik tucked it into her front pocket and patted it. "Have you told Rox about all this?"

"Actually, I have been unable to locate her. Vinny hasn't seen her in perhaps a week, Fin said she didn't show today for class, and even Landry can't find her-- him with the holocam system on his computer, too. Might you have an idea where she could be at? I don't doubt she won't be entirely too pleased with this new turn of events. Some of the others are getting a little antsy."

"Probably with Dom. You should know him; one of the Creche twins. Over in Diamondback. Has she been slacking lately?" He sighed, leaning against her bunk before giving her a half-irritated, half-concerned glance. "She certainly has. Hasn't been available to any of us. Migs was doing a hack job for her the other night and almost got himself caught-- he goes to ask her for a spot of help, and she blew him off. Things like that. I'd ride her ass about it, but the elusive boss is nowhere to be found. Perhaps Dominic will know."

"Perhaps." She was about to say more when a knock sounded on her door, and she shot Jude a wary frown. Couldn't be the Jayde boys; their captain kept them in practice until near lights-out. Might be Dal, but she had the feeling it wasn't... he seemed too intent on keeping to himself, and he probably wouldn't return to the barracks if there was the possibility she might be there. Fuck. Maybe the MPs. Maybe her commander. Either way, her room, still during the day, with Jude and stolen goods in plain view-- this was not good. Mik stood and straightened her uniform, calling out. "Who is it?"

A voice that made her wince spoke from the other side; teasing, playful, and uncomfortably familiar. "Busy night, precious?"

Sasha.

"Who the fuck is it?" Jude's whisper was low and harsh. "Shit. It's Sasha. Quick, shove the gear under my mattress or something, hide it again!" He followed her instructions, but didn't stop questioning her. "Sasha? The commander for Panther? What is he doing here, Miks?"

"Don't worry, Jude, I can handle it. Sit down on the bed and try to act like a normal human being, and cut the shit. Polite. Now." Mik moved for the door, but was interrupted again. "Your pistol, Mik. In your belt. He's going to see it."

"He's already seen it. I said, don't worry." That only got her an incredulous, angry stare. "You're fucking showing off your gear? Goddamnit, Tiena, what if he mentions it to someone? And it gets to the wrong person? Now you're putting me in jeopardy!"

A glance inside explained her nervousness. A little of his cheerful leer faded as his eyes narrowed. Sasha wasn't too particular about what his girls might have done in their spare time before they worked their way down to him, but he didn't like being on well-trod ground, either. Jude was a decent soldier, as far as he knew, but nothing special. He'd assumed Miks had better taste. He didn't really care anyway.

It rubbed him wrong to follow up after this boy, though. He had better things to do than to take seconds after Malachy Jude...but he felt like marking his territory before he left, just so Jude wouldn't have any misconceptions.

Jealous of Jude? Right. Mik wanted to laugh, and did, sliding a few fingers into his belt to tug him against her once more. She could practically hear Jude's own laugh behind her, even as he remained silent, and she knew just what he was thinking right now.

Well, fuck him. She'd found herself a shooter.

"Nah, Sashy, we was just talkin'. It's you I was waitin' for." She toyed with his belt buckle before turning to flash Jude a grin. "Ain't that right, Malachy?"

He slid his hand over the lock to make sure they wouldn't be disturbed and then kissed her again, sliding his hand down her stomach to grip the handle of the flechette pistol in her waistband and draw it out. He stepped back before she could try to stop him and aimed. Any range was point blank range with a flechette in one of the small student cells. It was only fair, though. She'd done the same to him not too long ago.

She had time for one, succint thought before Mik relinquished herself to the icy dead calm.

Fuck.

Another fletchette pistol was out and in her hands before he could react, this one also loaded, a reserve stored in the box beneath her bed. She aimed it at his chest, the two faced off in what could only be a stalemate. He'd only shoot because he thought his weapon empty. She'd only shoot if he was going to be stupid enough not to listen to her.

His eyes widened as she circled slowly, gaze locked on him as she nodded toward the bed and her gear. "That's my gear. Ammo and weapons parts. It's how I build my own guns. That's all I'm going to tell you."

She'd come this close to actually pulling the trigger.

Instinct, she told herself. Nothing more. He was pointing a loaded gun at you, and you reacted as you should. They trained you to this. You wouldn't really have shot him. There was no reason.

Dear God, Sasha, don't ever do that to me again...

"Sorry," she managed in a quiet voice, lowering her own weapon. Her hand trembled slightly, and she stilled it with ferocious anger at herself. Acting like a little baby. What was she going to do now; cry and ask forgiveness for holding him at gunpoint in return? Not fucking likely.

Mik clenched her jaw tightly and turned from him, reassembling her fletchette pistol before tucking it back into her ankle holster. The other gun went next as she lifted the mattress and withdrew the long box there. She sat on the edge of the bunk, opened the lid, and replaced the weapon amongst the lines of razor ammo and parts. Sasha was watching her, eyeing the contents of her box, but she could hardly have cared. It was bad enough that she'd almost shot him. If he saw her contraband, it was no worse.

He had expected her to be angry, or to laugh. Her unreasoning anger he could have smirked at and departed, secure in the knowledge that she wasn't worth the time or effort, if she was going to get mad at him for mimicking her. Her laughter he could have joined in, and privately labeled her as a pasttime to be taken only when he wanted a chance to risk death.

The icy features, the way her hand shook a little as she lowered her weapon and allowed him to relax a little, the shaken look in her eyes before she hardened and turned away to deal with her guns, were all unexpected. His guilt magnified a little, but even with these little signs of disturbance in her behavior, he couldn't blame himself for pulling the same gun on her she'd pulled on him. He couldn't possibly have known it was loaded.

But he should have, and that was the shred of guilt he couldn't quite shake.

She turned to look up at him. "It's always loaded," she said quietly. "Please don't do that again."

He looked down at her with a strange expression in his eyes, uncertain and irritated, irritated because he was uncertain. He wasn't used to feeling unsure, and that made him angry and even more unsure. He was operating entirely on instinct when he dropped to his knees in front of her, putting her nearly at his eye level where she knelt on the floor. He pushed the box out of the way, under the mattress, and pulled her tight against him, his knee between her thighs. His unease narrowed his eyes, and he put his head down abruptly to kiss her roughly and put an end to this useless vacillation, but something made him stop a quarter inch away from her. Black on black, her eyes looked almost unnatural, and the tiny lines of pain around them told him how tense she still was. That frustrated him more. He was willing to forget it. Why wasn't she?

Cold air on her bare shoulders made her shiver, and the brand on her shouulder made her close her eyes and remember another time she'd done this.

They'd been blue eyes then, not Sasha's brown, and blonde hair instead of black. Freckles, just like hers. A friend-- her best friend, back on Earth, at West Point. Before she learned what it was to hold death so easily in her hands. At the range with their patrol squad. Practicing. He'd startled her, and with complete surprise and overriding instinct, she'd turned with the gun aimed for him and had almost pulled the trigger.

Her commanding officer had seen, and slapped the weapon from her hands before she could do any harm, but the intent and the danger had been there. She'd lost a friend, lost respect, had almost lost her tenure at the academy. And she'd sworn never to be so foolhardy again. Mik might be one to joke and play, but she took her training very seriously, and to know that she'd almost broken it again made her beyond angry.

Angry and guilty.

Now Sasha was at the door, about to leave. She couldn't blame him. He hadn't known that the pistol he'd held was loaded, and the moment she did tell him, he immediately set it down. While she... she had no such excuse. Her gun had been loaded and she knew it, he'd desisted and she'd continued, he hadn't really been ready to shoot her and she had been ready to shoot him. He was probably writing her off as some crazy gun-happy bitch right now, and Mik couldn't really find it in her heart to blame him. Hell, she was about to think the same herself.

She pulled away and slapped him, hard enough to sting. He let her, caught her hand and twisted it behind her back to kiss her again. This he understood. His uncertainty was gone, and he knew exactly how to erase the events of the last few unwanted minutes. He didn't bother with the undershirt, just stripped her and himself of their lower uniform halves and pushed her down onto the floor, next to the box with her gun and her ammunition and other contraband in it.

They eventually ended up in her bunk, and Sasha was pleasantly worn. He hadn't had this kind of workout since he'd handled Roxinne Natano. Just the once; he irritated her with his resistance, and she irritated him with her careless attitude, but it was something to compare it to. On second thought...no, it wasn't.

Mik was dozing lightly, her eyes nearly closed, and Sasha looked at her in relaxed contentment before leaning his head back a little and closing his own eyes. He'd have to make this a steady thing. He didn't want to risk coming in to find her with some worthless green wasting her time. The thought of her with someone else gave him an ununusually strong stab of jealousy. She was worth more than that...and he didn't have anyone else at the moment he was especially interested in.

She was nearing sleep, nestled beside him in her bunk, when her mind finally registered his question through its content and sated haze. "You got other boys, Mik?" The intent behind his inquiry remained rather elusive to her half-brained contemplation, and although she wasn't quite sure why he'd care either way, she also didn't really give a damn just why he wanted to know.

"Just you an' my guns, baby..." she murmured sleepily, rolling over to press her face against his chest and make a tired sound of comfortable appreciation. She liked him and what they could do together. Rough and tumble, then nice and quiet. In fact, she even wearily admitted that he was a lot more fun than any gun.

Hell, she could get used to this.

That made him frown a little, but he moved his hand from her waist to rub the back of her neck instead and felt better. God, wouldn't it be nice if Mik were in his Quad...? Probably not. Fucking around in your own Quad was bad for a variety of reasons, but damn, it would be nice to have her close at hand. As it was, Hydra wasn't that inconvenient. Jackie wouldn't care. He was still too hung up on Geneva to notice where anyone else was spending his time.

Mik gave him a sleepy grin as she rolled clumsily from the bed, watching him dress through half-closed eyes as she kicked the lockbox underneath her bed. Not as secure as it being underneath her mattress, but one could only sleep on such an uncomfortable object for so long before feeling as if your back was broken. Not that she would have noticed in her state-- right now, she probably could have slept in the hallway and been out within seconds.

Still, she needed to get that hidden and back into her bed. It took a tired effort but she managed, tangling herself up in her blankets and sheets just as Sasha finished dressing and smiled down at her. She returned the smile, voice husky and a wide yawn interrupting her partway through her words. "Just come... visit me tomorrow, Sashy..."