The End of Her World

Chapter Thirty One-- Father's Rage

Author's Note: Constant, Strong Language ahead!

        "Fade must be rescued. Now! Every moment matters now in saving his life. I don't want to live in a world without him, can't live in a world without him. We have to start our assault plans now, and we must get geared up. Am I understood?"

         Jason nodded. "If you can print out the blue prints, and figure out a plan, I can buy us weapons and Kevlar. Coop, can you help Katrina with that?"

         Cooper shifted uneasily on his chair. "Sure," he muttered, avoiding Katrina's eyes.

         Jason flipped a knowing glance between them and departed quickly.

         Katrina turned without saying a word to Cooper and walked swiftly down the hallway to her room that contained her torn up, pieced together, computer lay. Reaching around the back of it, she pushed the button to start it up. She closed the door tightly behind her, Cooper only barely slipping in.

         "Ok, can you access the military database files with your service account?" Katrina asked him stiffly.

         He nodded wordlessly. "Of course." He leaned down, and his breath tickled her ear, but she no longer felt that flutter in her stomach, only an empty hollowness. He pulled up a browser, and opened up the FBI website. He rapidly used a few keystrokes to enter his password, and user name. The screen flickered, and then quivered into a loading, blank page. Then a new page popped up. What would you like to perform on this page, Marine? It read across the screen.

         Cooper typed in a few rapid commands. The blueprints for Three Mile Island prison dutifully appeared on the screen. Katrina smacked the print button. The printer spat out fourteen pages of blue prints.

         Spreading the numerous sheets across the flimsy wood table, Katrina slid open one drawer, and withdrew a roll of tape. Ripping it open, she tore a couple pieces off with her teeth, and began pasting the shards of the map together like a simple, large jigsaw puzzle.

         Cooper watched sadly as she worked alone, not even glancing his way, as she uncapped a fat black marker, and sat, her hand poised to write. Katrina glared at him. "Are you going to help or not? Get Jason, so we can figure out our attack plan."

         Cooper winced, and turned to leave. She had already gone back to the paper. He gently eased open the door, and quietly left, his face flushed with anger. He swallowed hard, and clenched his fists. Getting angry with her wouldn't do shit for anything or body. He had to get Fade for her, no matter if he would lose her affection.

         He knocked softly at Jason's door; he could a thin line of light dripping from the bottom of the door. "Who's that?" came the rough growl of Jason's voice—it sounded as if he was chewing on gravel.

         "Cooper."

         "Come in, Coop, we need to talk." The gruff voice of Jason responded coolly.

         Gripping his handgun tightly, Cooper swung open the door hesitantly. Jason was leaned over a large gray box, stocked with ammunition, weapons, and body armor.

Jason revolved smoothly on his heel, and met Cooper's questioning gazes with a hot stare that burned with unidentifiable emotions.

"Sit," Jason indicated a scrunched, leather chair, in which Cooper sank gratefully. Placing a chair across from Cooper, Jason sat forward, raking Cooper with a piercing look.

"What happened last night with you and Katrina?" he asked calmly, penetratingly. He was straight to the point, no dawdling.

Cooper felt a scorching red flush creep up into his jaw, cheeks and ears. "Sir, I—"

"Did you have sex?" Jason inquired flatly. His blue eyes were as cold and hard as ice chips. 

Cooper was forced to drop his gaze from Jason's disconcerting watch. "How-how did you guess?" he mumbled, his face reddening.

"It was obvious." Jason growled. He leaned in closer. "I let you stay on the mission because you were helpful. Not so you could fuck my daughter. Control your fucking impulses and feelings."

Cooper's cheeks burned with shame. Anger thrashed in his chest.

"Get out, now." Jason ordered coolly. "I'm too angry to talk to you right now."

Cooper stood up so fast, his chair flipped over. "It wasn't all my fucking fault, you know. Katrina wanted it to happen, too." He retorted.

"How many painkillers were in her system when you made the offer, Cooper? How much agony was she in? How much alcohol had she ingested? There was no way that she did that in her right mind. Get the fuck out, for the last time!" Jason snarled. "I'm sick of your bullshit."