Hackett refused to look at Franka, her mind couldn't afford to go elsewhere but the young womans change in spirit was enough to make Hackett glance, briefly, and then shy away again as Franka took to the showers. She so desperately wanted to get in that Franka almost bewildered Hackett with her eagerness for a shower, something so meaningless in the States, but Hackett knew from experience how welcoming the most frequent comforts of home could be, especially when they became a rarity. She wanted to join the fun, have a shower and get herself clean, but Hackett reminded herself, harshly, of who she was and what she did. Being grimey and smelling was part of her job, getting her mind in the right place and not letting the possibly brief delights of this place become something normal. For all she knew, tomorrow would see this safe house rendered useless, either by geography or hostile action. Hackett smirked, thinking about the half dozen of those rotting bastards she'd killed back in the forest. After thinking about that, Hackett looked back at the faded shape of Franka and nodded. "<strong>All right, I'll take you up on that offer. Just lemme do my check-in and I'll be good to go.</strong>" Hackett chuckled, shouldering her rifle and exiting the bathroom quickly, pausing in the hallway as she closed the door.<br/><br/>On her way back to the main entry area, Hackett stopped briefly in that picture room again, and studied some of the photos. They were faced she'd likely end up never forgetting, not for any real reason, just she couldn't help but take a personal thing with her after every mission, and frequently after the world went to hell, leaving something behind. She found Franka and smiled a little, but didn't linger on their guides former life. Hackett returned to the lobby as Derrick was going somewhere, she briefly wondered where Ashleigh was and whether Utem was with her. But she knew he was, Utem seemed like a good soldier. Derrick... on the other hand, had proven hard to control, which spelt disaster for the mission. Still, she could understand his plight. She didn't have a family, likely never would, she wasn't the kind you'd want mothering children. But even so, she understood the bonds of family, with her comrades none the less. She approached Derrick and stopped him, briefly. "<strong>You and I, we need to talk.</strong>" She gave him an understanding pat on the shoulder, and a look that said she wanted to be on his side, that maybe she was wrong earlier or maybe she wasn't, but she sincerely wanted him on her side. "<strong>We, really, need to talk.</strong>" Hackett spoke uncharacteristically softly, but her eyes were sure and intense, as usual. There was no debating her words, that was an order. Before she left, Hackett offered him the photograph she'd snagged off the wall. Not knowing now why she'd taken it, she wanted things to get on track, and gave Derrick the picture. Without words and a simple, apologetic nod, she left him to his thoughts.<br/><br/>After that, Hackett made a quick jog for her small laptop and set it up. The small signal dish didn't have the robust power one might expect from military gear, but if nothing else, the Navy knew its trade and it did it damn well. She set up the signal dish and the laptop, and eventually managed to piggy back on an old cellular satellite. From there, it was a simple bridged connection to J-SOC in the States and soon, the Navy side commanders of this whole shebang were staring back at Hackett. She filled them in on the combat incident and also their contact with Franka, Jake, and the teams current location. She hesitantly left out Derrick's sudden swap of loyalty from the mission to himself, but she certainly made mention that the team wasn't 'jelling' so well, but that she'd work on it. For their part, the men on the other side were not willing to tell Hackett how to do her job, they'd all been in the field, but made mention to some kind of secondary mission that might come to the surface over the next day or so. That set off alarm bells, immediately, because the only time a mission was changed or updated was when something spooked the higher ups. She ignored the alarms for now, focusing on the updated intelligence and the promises of a known bracket on Franka by tomorrow afternoon. Hackett felt that was unnecessary, whatever information they could dig up Hackett could probably get Franka to willingly part with, but it helped to know her people. She almost asked for more information on Derrick, specifically his family, but she knew that would send alarm bells the other way. If this mission was going to succeed, they'd all be on the same team or fail together as a fractured attempt at success.<br/><br/>"<strong>Anything else, sir?</strong>" Hackett asked, dutifully wanting to get this over with and ninja herself a quick shower.<br/><br/>"<em>That'll be all Chief, good luck.</em>" With that, the screen went blue and the damn thing started beeping. Hackett shut it off and folded the small tower back down with its dish in tow. The password screen came up, with a slowly spinning crest of the US Navy in the background. Hackett sighed and turned the small laptop off, placing her rifle on the table, ejecting the magazine and then making sure the chamber was clear. She pulled off her vest and web gear, setting it all down on the table along with the little headset and microphone in her ear. Hackett kept her sidearm and her knife, hell, she slept with her sidearm more often than without it. Let alone shower in a strange house with no telling how many 'bad guys' around. Three or a thousand? Who could be sure. Hackett returned to the bathroom, quietly opening the door and letting out an exasperated sigh, not knowing how close or far from finishing her shower Franka was, Hackett didn't want to look. "<strong>That was fun. Good thing its all about the video conferencing and not paper work, or I would have shot myself 5 years ago.</strong>" Hackett chuckled, unhooking her pistol ammo belt and setting it on the counter, her knife and its sheath jutting out awkwardly. She unclipped her thigh holster, with her pistol still in it, and set it down as well.<br/><br/>On to her clothing. The BDU uniform was pretty simple to take off, its nice looking ACU style camouflage pattern was a distinctive contrast to Franka's piled clothing on the floor. Jackett undid her boots and stepped out of them, the tan colored boots had some mud on them, but only a little blood was near the heels. Hackett didn't mind, at all really, as she looked at her dark black nomex socks and chuckled, her eyes glancing towards Franka's hello kitty socks. Hackett undid her blouse and folded it up neatly, setting it on the floor next to her boots. Her black nylon sports bra was nothing spectacular. It did nothing for her figure, but it kept her chest comfortably immobile and supported. She undid her trousers next, and much the same, the boyshort style nylon underwear was again, none to comparative to Franka but it was comfortable and functional. The Navy had to strike that balance between comfort and avoiding controversy. Her naturally sliim figure did not allow for the boxer style things the men wore, but of course the Navy couldn't hand out thongs to its female sailors. So they struck a balance between simplicity of wear and function, without leaving the panty line of regular underwear on nicely pressed uniforms. Hackett too both her bra and underwear off in a hurry, folding everything up neatly next to her boots and taking her socks off last, stuffing them into her boots. Hackett glanced at herself in the mirror. Compared to Franka's thin body, Hackett was easily twice her size in muscle. Her arms and mid section were well toned and displayed prominent muscles, her chest was equally as pronounced and her buttox was nicely shaped, taunt and firm. She was much more athletic than Franka, but also a little less feminine. She had the same curves, but they didn't seem to fit as well with her muscles. Hackett never really looked at herself in the mirror, but strangely she did. She had a fraction of the scars Franka did, but they all looked the same, most of them at least. There were two that were the odd cousins, knife or shrapnel wounds. But at least half a dozen looked the same; small, a little bit rounded but with a tail off in some direction. Bullet wounds, some were entry exits, the entry was the smallest of the two. One near her right breast was a wound where the bullet that caused it was still inside, to close to her spine to remove. There was one, the most obvious, her her lower back trailing to the side of her hip. Long story short, an exploding tank in Beirut had put a 7 inch piece of tank through her lower back. Luckily for Hackett most of the shrapnel missed her, but it was the second wound she'd received, the first from Afghanistan, where she'd blacked out before being medevaced, certain she was going to die and determined to make peace with her god.<br/><br/>She grinned at the memory, skirting death had happened to her twice, once from a lucky Taliban sniper and one from wrong place, wrong time and no invisible shielding of fate and chance to protect her. Hackett stretched her arms and shoulders as she made her way to the shower, glancing at the form of Franka on the other side of the frosted glass. "<strong>How's the water? Better be warm or I might strangle Derrick out of spite.</strong>" Hackett laughed for the first time today, stepping into the shower and cracking the water on as soon as she did. The water poured down around her and all she could think about was that one, unlucky day in Afghanistan, her first real bite with death. She remembered the feeling, her body was cold and the pain was dull, but throbbing. The scariest part was that she didn't expect to survive, and every time she nearly blacked out, her teammate kept her awake, until she lost enough blood to pass out. As her eyes forced themselves closed, Hackett remembered only the absolute fear pumping into her veins as she was certain her end had come. Fun times. "<strong>Your right, hot showers get the kinks out.</strong>" Hackett shouted as she plunged her head under the falling water.