“Computers. I have an affinity for computers.” In virtual reality, you could be anyone you wanted to be. And computers were cool and logical. Unlike people, you could always figure them out. People didn’t operate on binary code.
“Okay. Let’s work with that. Because clearly if you were constantly on mission we wouldn’t have been able to date in any meaningful way. So…let’s suppose you worked for some computer firm in Silicon Valley and we met at, let’s say a party. In San Francisco. Does that work for you?”
“No.” Jon shook his head. “Absolutely not. Because if I were a civilian I wouldn’t work for anyone. I’d own the company.”
“Oh!” Sophie face lit with amusement. “So you’rerich?”
“Damn straight.”
“Okay, then. This gets better and better. So I go to a party, which I normally do rarely and reluctantly, and lo and behold here’s this handsome blond guy, very rich, owns his own company. I’m not particularly in the market but he’s got these incredible ice blue eyes and he’s ripped and let’s remember he’s rich and I go—whoa.”
“And me?” Jon helped himself to seconds of everything. “I meet this stunning geek. A scientist who looks like a movie star only better and I get turned on by the thought of her in a white lab coat.”
Sophie laughed. “There is nothing sexy about lab coats, Jon. Trust me on this.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “A lab coat and nothing else?”
She thought about it, grinned. “Okay. That would work. So—we meet. We’re both attracted. What happens? And I warn you I’m not tremendously smooth in social situations.”
“Well.” Jon took her hand. “I take your hand and look deeply in your eyes and ask you some incredibly intelligent questions about viruses.”
“And am I expected to ask you some incredibly intelligent questions about computer code?”
“No. Just standing there and breathing would do the trick. That would’ve worked for me. And I would’ve asked you out to dinner the next evening. And the evening after that, and the one after that.”
“No coy games?”
“Man, no. Coy’s not my thing. I want something, I go after it.” Jon couldn’t think of something he’d wanted and hadn’t made a beeline for. It had just never been a woman before.
“Well, frankly. I don’t think I would have said no. A year ago, though, I was working pretty long hours. I don’t know if I would have been free for dinner all the time.”
“I’d have come down and invited you out to lunch. You have a lunch place?”
“You’d drive down from Palo Alto every day to take me out to lunch?” At Jon’s decisive nod, she shook her head at his looniness. “Okay, yes. I do have a lunch place, around the corner from the Arka building. This really nice Asian fusion fast food eatery. Buffet-style. Not chic but good.”
“I don’t need chic and even marginally good is fine. Considering how much crap I’ve eaten in the field. So—I’d drive down to have lunch with you. As often as I could.”
“That would have been so nice,” Sophie said softly, curling her hand around his.
Would have, could have…all of this belonged to a world long gone. A world that actually never was, because Jon wasn’t a successful entrepreneur, a man with a good job and a bright future. Before the shit came down, he’d been a warrior turned outlaw with no ability to offer any woman, let alone a woman as bright and desireable as Sophie, any kind of future. So this little fantasy was doubly impossible.
But…shit. It was enticing. He could see it, feel it, he could almost taste it, this alternate universe. The one where he got to meet Sophie, woo her, wed her even because—why the fuck not? Why should he be the only one incapable of having a wife, a family? The Ghost Ops team had been chosen precisely because they didn’t have families, and were very unlikely to create any. If you’d held his feet to the fire, he’d have sworn Mac and Nick were like him—completely incapable of love and bonding. And just look at them now. They were heads over heels in love with their mates and Mac was going to become a father, as weird as that sounded. So why should he be different?
His drive to become a soldier just as soon as humanly possible came straight from the horrors of his childhood. From his visceral understanding, learned well before he had the words to express it, of how dangerous and violent the world was. Particularly to the small and weak.
He hadn’t even formulated to himself his desire to sign up. It had seemed as natural a next step as breathing. The military, with its emphasis on team work and structure, had seemed God-given at the time. Not to mention the fact that herelishedthe training. The harder, the tougher he became, the better.
His every waking thought had been to make himself strong and never be a helpless victim again. And to make sure there were as few people like his parents and Popper as possible in the world.
But—just supposing that hadn’t been his obsession because he’d been safe and loved as a child. It was hard to fathom, but just suppose. It might very well be that without all that darkness in his childhood he’d have gone to MIT or Stanford, become a computer expert, founded a company. Meet a lovely woman like Sophie, marry her, even. Why not? Have kids. Other people had kids. Just because he panicked at the thought of children of his in this world didn’t mean the other Jon, AltJon, would panic.
He’d love and protect his wife and their children, who would grow up in turn happy and healthy. Maybe in a house just like this one which emanated love and happiness in every corner.
The images bloomed bright for a moment, then faded. Because the real Jon, and the real world, were right there in front of his eyes. There was no rosy future for him with Sophie as his wife. He’d been cut off from that practically at birth. How the fuck was he supposed to know anything about creating a happy marriage, a happy family?
His parents had been so damaged they could barely stand upright. Their blood flowed in his veins. No, he was genetically unsuited for a happy family life. This was a brief moment in time in which he indulged in a flash fantasy, but the truth was, Jon wasn’t mate material. He was damaged inside, broken. It wasn’t his fault, but there it was. He lacked everything, every instinct, that would allow him to marry and stay married. He was too used to lying, to being undercover, to knowing he was moving on. To the next op, the next mission.
And what the hell was he thinking anyway?
