Chapter Text
A little after 2 a.m., a voice crackled through the earpiece inside Jack's fire helmet for the second time in a few seconds.
"139, I need you to pull out now. This structure is unstable."
"One more minute, chief. There's a room at the end of this hallway." Jack checked the structure map and her oxygen levels on the HUD inside the face mask. Oxygen over 75%. Totally fine. Her breathing was calm as she made her way through thick smoke following the digital display. She could hear the chatter of others confirming they were on their way out. Johnson sounded nervous. As usual. Johnson would've lasted one nanosecond on the Collector base . . .
Jack pushed on through the narrow passageway. Maybe someone was in that room. Probably not. Abandoned old apartment building in a part of town that hadn't really been rebuilt since the war. The real truth was, Jack liked walking through a building on fire.
This had all started with the desire to help other people. To do something aside from killing and training others to kill. But from the first time she had trained in real flames, there was this other thing. The danger adrenaline. It was good. Not like sex adrenaline, but good. Fighting a fire, sometimes it almost felt like fighting a sentient being. And Jack knew every detail of how to do that.
"139! I am ordering you to evacuate now."
"One minute!" Man, he was going to be so pissy when she got outside. His barking was the doing the opposite of motivating her to pick up the pace. The burning smell was faint through the filters, but she was really starting to feel the heat. She liked to feel it.
The door to the room was already open. Just as she crossed the threshold, struggling to peer through the smoke to the first corner to her left, a loud crack resounded through the building. She felt a wave pass through the floorboards through the soles of her boots. Shit . . .
"139! Now." Only one thing would be more annoying than the chief looking down at her, shouting about how right he had been—him looking down at her body. But no need to think that way right now.
Jack yelled into the smoke, "Is anybody in here?" No therm signatures were showing on her display. As a second boom filled her ears, her heart rate spiked. Time for action, not thinking. Without clear visibility, she began to run toward the second story window on the display. Soon she was bursting out in the night air, a spray of glass flying in front of her.
Did she use biotics to soften her landing? She swore sometimes she didn't even realize she was doing it in intense moments like that. In any case, she found herself with one knee on the ground, safe. She barely had the chance to release a self-satisfied laugh before a shower of bricks began to rain on her back. It lasted only a second or two, but a few caught her full force. And that fucking hurt. Then, a telltale hiss let her know her suit had ripped somewhere. She groaned in both pain and annoyance. As she reached back to try to touch a painful spot near her right kidney, the chief arrived.
His hand reached around her upper arm, pulling her further from the compromised wall. "You okay?" When their eyes met, she saw real concern.
"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay."
The concern dissipated as the screaming commenced. "When I give you a fucking order, you follow that order . . ."
Jack held his gaze, but mentally she blocked out his yelling. Her side was really stinging.
"...I don't have the fucking energy to protect your idiot ass, you and your idiotic death wish."
Death wish? No, not at all. Life was better than it ever had been. Peace. Her relationship with Miranda. The kids at the academy. There was maybe a thirst—a need—for heightened experiences. Risk taking. But death? This guy had no clue how she used to wish for death.
The vein in the chief's forehead was really pulsing now. "I get stuck with you as a favor to Hackett . . ."
Well, that was a little rude to bring up now, even if it was true. Shepard had pulled some strings to get Jack the chance to try out working fire and rescue while still training the Grissom students part time.
"Why shouldn't I dismiss you this second? Your attitude is shit . . ."
Jack found her voice. "Maybe because I'm the best candidate you've got in this whole squad? I know how to make a decision, and I decided that was my fastest way out."
"You're not here to decide. You follow orders. The military doesn't teach that to its soldiers anymore?"
Jack shrugged. "Commander Shepard trained her crew to actually use our brains." The trump card. She hated to play it. But not really.
The chief inhaled then said, "Go see the medic, then go home."
Jack was still defiant. "Shift's not over."
"It's over for you. Medic, then home. Then tomorrow you come down to the station house and you sign a disciplinary report. With no objections." He reached for her suit. "And you pay for this. I don't give a fuck who you know or if you saved the whole galaxy. My crew obeys my orders. Period. Otherwise we're done."
Jack and the chief stood eye to eye. She had to hand it to him, he really didn't give a shit. Her back was radiating pain and her body was beginning to feel the first hints of weakness as the adrenaline levels began to dip. She noticed his rounded shoulders, his blackened hands, the gray stubble and bloodshot eyes. What was he—75 years old? He was still physically imposing, even stooped with age. He was running a house long after his time because of the ocean of casualties caused by the war. Years of service, risking his life and dealing with young, cocky assholes and still ballsy as fuck. His gaze was resolute. And angry. And tired too. Hell, she actually sort of liked him when he wasn't yelling at her.
Jack nodded, swallowed, and then said steadily, "I understand, chief. You're right. I would never tolerate my actions from someone in my command. I got caught up in the moment in there. Very undisciplined. I apologize, and I will sign off on the report without objection." Not submissive, but honestly apologetic. Giving respect to someone who had fought a lot of battles, even if they were different from her own. Her posture betrayed the pain she was feeling. There was something about Jack--when she let her guard down, it was irresistibly disarming. Suddenly the chief could see that this all really meant something to her.
"Alright. Fine. We'll talk tomorrow."
Jack added, "I don't have a death wish."
The chief considered her, then gave her a shrug. "You could've fooled me. Or maybe you're fooling yourself. Just follow orders, and we'll leave all that psych stuff to the side."
He watched her walking away slowly. He had known a lot of adrenaline junkies in his time, but Jack? Her shit ran deep. And he was just about over it. But one thing he knew for sure was that she would never be intimidated by any situation they would face. For that alone, he'd give her this one more chance.
*****
Jack had talked to the medic for a couple moments and convinced her she was fine, then returned to the station to change clothes and take a quick shower. It was around 3:45 when she finally opened the door to the apartment. She stopped in the front room to pull off her boots and her shirt and bra, not wanting to wake Miranda and pretty sure she was going to be making a sound or two. Her back felt like . . . someone had thrown a brick at it. She reached to pull the hem of the shirt up, she held her breath. But the second she let out the smallest of gasps, Miranda called out from the bedroom, "Jack?"
"Yeah, it's me, babe."
"Is everything okay? Why are you home?"
"Why, you got your other girlfriend in there?" Jack walked over to the bedroom door.
There was an annoyed sigh, then Miranda said, "No. She just went out the window."
"Ah. Well, all the kids are doing it," said Jack with slight laugh at herself.
Miranda said, "Do you want me to make you something to eat?"
"No. No. I just want to get in there and hold you."
"Well, come on then."
Jack stepped in the door, unzipped her pants and let them and her boxers fall to the floor. She let out a sigh looking at Miranda. Death wish? She really would have to be a moron.
She couldn't stop herself from letting out another gasp as she lay down.
Miranda looked at her, worried. "Are you okay? What's going on?"
Jack rested her back gently on the mattress, exhaled, and waved her hand. "Nothing. Just a really tiring call. Nothing . . ."
Miranda pushed up to her elbow and looked down at Jack. "So tell me about it. Because clearly it's not nothing. You wouldn't be here now if nothing happened. Did you and the chief have another run in?"
Jack exhaled again. "Babe . . . I'm really tired."
Miranda made an expression that said, So, you did have another run in. But out loud she said, "Okay. I'm glad you're home." She leaned down toward Jack. "You smell nice." She kissed Jack on the cheek. Then she kissed her on the lips. And it was just meant to last a second, but then Jack reached up to hold her face and deepen the kiss. In her mind, she remembered jumping out that window. What the hell was she thinking, risking this? She suddenly just needed to be with Miranda.