Saving Cayli

[Jay Carpenter]

Years ago, Casey was given free access to the barn 24/7 to come and go as he pleased. The former race horse detested the stall longer than a few hours. Thunderous muscles ached for freedom, for an open lane and simply run. Maybe that was why he and Jay understood one another so well. 

That was years ago. Casey was retired from racing when they bought him. He was older now. Though he probably had a good 7-10 years left in him. He was awake when Jay entered and fired up the lamps. A long face peeked out over the stall. 

"Hey there," Jay said from the door. He really didn't expect cartel hitmen to wire up the barn with explosives, but he scanned the area anyway just in case. Even the most careful soldier could die from sheer bad luck. 

But he licked his lips and hurried over a moment later. "Hey Casey. Hey.." his voice grew steady and calm. The horse's big black eyes just watched. For a moment, he worried that he'd been forgotten. Turned out, the horse was giving him the cold-shoulder. He turned around in the stall and flicked his tail at Jay's face.

"Oh come on. That the way it's going to be?" He grinned as he opened the stall, apathetic of what was underfoot. It wouldn't take more than a few minutes of easy work to clean out the stalls with the power. For now, he summoned a brush to his hand and led the animal out by the nose.

Casey was compliant as butter as soon as the brush smoothed his back. Probably for the best that the horses were stalled at night if no one was in the house. In this part of the country, there was no such thing as a vacation from the animals. Not unless someone was willing to pitch in and help, which on top of their own responsibilities, was a shit ton of work. Jay used to do it for extra cash as a kid. He'd make the rounds while neighbors went on summer trips. Eventually, he made enough cash to buy the truck that left him stranded in the snow last year. The one that dad let the transmission go to hell.

"Casey, I'll be calling someone to come take care of you. Don't know who, though." His brow furrowed low. The animal seemed to sense the unease and stomped. A cloud of dust sprayed from underhoof.

He stared into the distance for a minute, names filing through his mind. Pastor Mason was the only one he was sure would do it. Though it would be a bitch of a phone call to make. But the animals had to be tended to. Water, feed, stalling, and all the rest. It was a short-term solution. Jay couldn't forbid his family returning forever. Nor could they hole up at the casino for the rest of their lives. Though dad would prefer it.  He rubbed his forehead a second. Shit that was a terrible thought.

Second alternative. Stay here and sit on the front porch with a loaded gun, perpetually waiting for attack. Ok, so that wasn't a real option, but he was wracking his brain to figure out how to handle this... Go to Nicaragua and kill every last Amengual that existed, down to the little girl he saved, just to extinguish the merest seedling of revenge from growing again? His heart sank even lower. Definitely not an option. Perhaps killing Zacarias would be enough. If he could even find the man now. Somebody had to know his whereabouts. If he was a guest at the ball then he had connections. Someone knew how to get to him. The scarred up soldier-guy was a lead. Though it was unknown whether such a lead would be an ally or not. What did Ascendancy know about the guests at his own ball? Was Zacarias someone of importance to Ascendancy? Or was he only a ten million dollar check? 

Jay found himself face-planted against Casey's ribs, while his own wanted to cave in. Exhaustion crept around the shadows of his soul, threatening to sap what endurance remained. It wouldn't. It was like clutching for a handhold in sand washed out from under you, but for a brief moment, Jay considered letting himself buckle under the pressure. 

Amengual wanted one thing in the world, and that was to see a bullet in the head of his brother's killer. Jay felt his own mind fall to absolute stillness. He barely even breathed.  No. It was a terrible idea. Terrible. No, he couldn't do it. There would be no guarantee that his life would buy freedom for his family. But if the Custody wasn't safe and America wasn't safe. And unless he sat on the front porch with the long-shot always at the ready, his life would be over anyway. What other option existed? He swallowed.

Casey sniffed and shook his head. Jay jumped with the sudden movement.

Natalie stood there.

He really hoped he hadn’t been talking to himself.

[Jensen James]

The landscape pulled at the heart chords. The flatness and wide-sky felt like home. Maybe it was the billboards and fast-food chains, or the universal "American" accent, but Jensen was at peace with the familiarity. The years were long since coming home and they were still 1000 miles from the family. A few more days and he'd be there, arms closing snug for long-overdue hugs. He couldn't wait.

They came to a house that seen better days. Another reminder of his own childhood, but the humble farmhouse would be dwarfed by the sprawling estate he abandoned at Preston Hollow. These people were the salt of the earth, he reminded himself as he climbed from the vehicle. Real earth was underfoot rather than flagstone patios. He suddenly wished for cowboy boots and a hat. They would have been fitting in the atmosphere.

Jay's announcement struck Jensen utterly speechless. He suddenly looked around the grounds like they were hiding monsters poised in ambush. Jensen had seen real monsters before: the harpy woman, the ijiraq, and the dark spirit trapped in the basement. The supernatural he could comprehend as evil, but the acts of bloodthirsty men he could not. The latter was far more terrifying.

He hurried inside with the others, particularly at Caroline's behest. She again attempted to offer refreshment with true midwestern hospitality, but again, Jensen declined. He opted to wait in the living room while the others bustled about to pack. Jay disappeared. Natalie followed. Jensen pulled back a curtain panel to watch, wondering whether his presence would be welcome or not since there was clearly something between the two of them. In the end, he let the curtain fall back in place and he waited patiently.

The room was homey. Cushions invited, well-worn. He could imagine the room packed for Sunday night football games. A nice, nostalgic idea that was unlikely to be based in reality, but Jensen hoped as much. Caroline and David were thrust in difficult circumstances, and Jensen still didn't understand how Cayli recovered so swiftly when there had been nothing medically wrong with her.

Finally, he saw the pictures on the mantle. Another ideallyic fantasy of a loving family gathering portraits of loved ones on display. Photographers captured Jensen, Jessika, Gabriel and Micah in glowing fields with a stream and bridge in a background. All of them were dressed in coordinating outfits that complemented the landscape. Those pictures were printed on wide canvases and hung in the foyer over the staircase.

He found himself looking upon Cayli's sweet yearbook picture, but it was a high-school Jessika sitting for a similar pose that struck memories long-buried in his mind. Then the baseball picture of Jay. He smiled. Another picture perfect image of Americana.

The other portrait of Jay held his attention a long time, though. He stared at the image, unsure of whether the tightness in his chest was from the overwhelming sensation of their native culture, the fact that he never realized Jay once served, or something far more selfish that made him nervous.

Caroline's voice made him jump, "That's a good picture isn't it, pastor?"

He spun like he'd been caught prying into something distasteful.
"Um? Oh, yes, absolutely. You must be very proud."

She nodded and came closer to stroke the frame but didn't answer out right.

Jensen took her reserve to be one of difficult introspection. "It must be hard to send a child into known dangers. I can't imagine one of mine making the decision to serve. I hope they serve others somehow, but as a parent, I don't want them in danger."

She had a couple of bags by the door. "Let me carry those out for you." He glimpsed one last time before taking out her things.

[Natalie Grey]

While they were growing up in the old house, Eleanor had kept a photo on the mantle. Taken on one of Natalie's eldest sister's birthdays, when Isobel's passions had centred upon the equestrian, in it Is sat proud and tall atop her mare. Her gap-toothed smile beamed brighter than the sun, riding hat slightly askew, reigns tight in her hands. Astride the second horse, petulantly hunched, five year old Natalie glared abjectly at the lens. Moments later she'd almost fallen in her haste to get off the damn animal's back.  

She watched Jay lead the beast out; watched the motions of comfort and distraction as he began to care for it, murmuring quietly to himself, until it reacted to her presence. The horse blinked disagreeably intelligent eyes, ears pricked forward curiously at the intrusion of her approach. "So you're a good listener, huh?" Her palm brushed the length of its soft nose, the hot breath of each wicker an acute reminder of how easily it might buck and trample. Not that fear tended to stay her hand, often to her cost. "You know," she told it softly, "your dad over there is being kind of a dick. Good intentions, obviously, to say nothing of short roads. It's a good job we both like him."  

She wasn't exactly oblivious to the way Jay had pressed his face into the animal's side, and she caught at least some of his mutterings (enough to run her blood a little cold), but she skirted carefully away from action that might shatter him. She'd seen a similar look etched wretchedly on Imani's face years before, and the cost of Natalie's reckless help back then had burned them both; a litany of mistakes she was not exactly keen to repeat, but logic seemed an enemy when her heart shifted so restlessly. Truth was she had enough to deal with on her own. The nightmares would fade and grief would find equilibrium given enough time. But for now its grip kicked her towards her limit. She wanted to offer salvation, but was not sure she could distinguish it from accidental ruin. 

Natalie didn't know how to coax Jay back from the ledge toward which he strayed. Duty might keep him from the plunge; in fact she was sure it would. But each plucked finger twisted like a knife, pulling her closer than was wise. She ought to step back. She did not need another ghost, and Jay excelled at self-sacrifice, but neither did she trust how he might resolve things on his own, loyalties clawing so many directions he'd rip and split until no man remained at all. 

Her gaze pinched away from the horse. She felt every inch of the journey's bone-wearying fatigue as she looked upon him, a reflection of dishevelment (she was hardly a picture herself), but it still washed over her anew -- the realisation of how far he pushed himself. Stubble wrapped his chin. Eyes shadowed by worse than a few hours missed sleep. But she pulled no punches, even then, for the spike lodged in her gut at his insistence to walk the path alone.

"I ought to remind you that I'm the Custody's leash sent to bring you back," she said drily. Her expression rested in its habitual stillness, uncertain she wanted to betray a reaction. "I might even guilt you with what the cost of failure would mean for me, or point out how you've dragged Jensen into whatever this is -- and he's a better person than either of us could ever claim to be. I should probably tell you too that Cayli thinks I'm here to keep you out of trouble; a difficult promise to keep when I don't know exactly what we're running from."  

She reeled off the manipulations, knowing even as she listed them as hypothetical that each one would sting like desert sand. She never claimed to be kind. The truth rarely was. But though her words quartered with the sharp blade of their mistress's tongue, she did not demand an explanation -- nor pause to allow him to offer one. Her expression softened, the anger simmering lower once expressed, or maybe she was just too tired to sustain it.

"You're tying the weight of the world around your own feet, Jay. I can't just watch." She pressed a hand over her face like it would somehow wipe the emotion clean, hating the swell of powerlessness and the way it lodged in her throat. She breathed out like she could simply refuse to feel, disconcerted by the depth of it she could hear in her own voice. "We can pretend I'm here out of duty, since you only lie to yourself. Though it was easier to believe when I thought--" Her voice trailed quiet, in part because the horse moved and she jerked on instinct. And in part because the words edged towards something she wasn't sure she cared to admit to. 

She thought about Jay's pained expression when she accused his help of being hired in the tunnels. Remembered the circle of his arms in the dark, reassurance she'd been too mistrustful to fall into at the time, though the feel of it had lingered since. Different circumstances might have pulled him willing into the empty room of the Kremlin, like he was a lust that could simply be satiated and forgotten. But she shied too readily from the softer touch of his fingers smoothing her hair to really believe that. Natalie veered between a fortress of steel and the sort of bare-necked vulnerability that expected to be crushed. And maybe that was what it needed; a cruel cut. Sitting on the precipice was just too painful.

Her hand curled around his wrist, stilling any motion with the brush. The heat of skin, even so innocent, lit him to her senses, though it was only earnestness in her pale gaze.  "Why won't you let me help?"

[Jay Carpenter]

An echo of an echo of anxiety reared and kicked him in the gut. Searing hot and made him want to double over. Or to look down and see if his insides had spilled out. Not literally, of course. But the pain was no less real. Natalie's jibe made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. He was acting like a dick. That was definitely true. But that wasn't the name that made him want to collapse. He had no idea why. Sure, there were times when daydreams filled the boredom that often occupied the life of a soldier. Before that, cattle didn't exactly carry on the best conversations so a man, even a teenager, sometimes carried on with themselves. Maybe it was that year after he graduated high school when Anna Marie was hinting around about things like the future and life after college - course, Jay had no intention of going to college no matter what the ACT score suggested. Jay always accepted he was cut from a different shade of cloth. If he wore black it wouldn't be for the tux at his own wedding. If he took vows, they came with a silver saber in hand not a silver ring. But the tilt of Natalie's accent struck the affectionate word with so much weight, it was like gongs beat inside his head until all else was tuned away. Or maybe he'd become deaf to the rest. Who knew?

He scratched at the back of his neck, but the frown on his face didn't completely strip him of all mirth. Her reminder tempted a smirk to the surface. He was well-accustomed to leashes. In fact, there was comfort in knowing one's exact place in the world. Taking orders wasn't glamorous, though. He learned as much repeatedly over the years. Especially when those orders were absolute shit.

Her duty in all this was something he'd forgotten. A duty imposed by Ascendancy, some kind of fail safe to protect from American interference. Though, unless someone rifled through his bags in the car, no awareness of his current allegiances would surface. Probably for the best, that would be, not just for the fact that he was now officially a traitor to the Constitution by serving a foreign nation. But also the fact that his family vehemently detested the Custody. Brandon in particular. The very man responsible for bringing Cayli's savior in time. Natalie.
 
When did she start to channel? How long had she known? Oh, yeah, I'm a wizard. Don't tell Vanders. What an idiot. He wanted to look away to blush in private. But it wasn't the first time he'd made a fool of himself and it was unlikely to be the last. Strangely, despite the idiot it made him out to be, he didn't regret the drunken call. Nor really did he regret the rest of the night either. Except maybe accidentally killing people in the concert. But every step of that night led to this very moment. It led to Cayli's safety. The path also led to reunion with a cartel drug lord that wanted him tortured and dead, but it also saved a little girl that deserved better. They all deserved better.

"I'm a shit son, Natalie." was Jay's answer. "I abandoned them when they needed me most. For pride and selfishness." The line of his jaw cut hard, even as he pat the animal he likewise abandoned. His gaze filtered in the general direction of the house like what his mind saw was burned into memory forever. "And I did it more than once. I was restless. Unhappy. I hated it here. It was too peaceful, I think."

The sobering moment of clarity surprised even him. Natalie hadn't tried to coax him to honesty, but there was more left out of the description. What kind of crazy person detested peace and family? Who wanted to run from green horizons and blazing sunsets into darkness flashing incindiary lights? Jay traded the grasp of a family that loved him for a rifle and pin. Why? That was the lie he told himself. No matter how much he yearned to say it aloud, like assigning his own voice the words would somehow diffuse their power, he wouldn't do it. He clutched too tightly to the lie that it was twined with his bones. He was one and the same as the man he wanted to hide. He was no hero. "I can be better." The whisper barely broke his lips like he wasn't sure he was lying or not.

He didn't know where her train of thought led, but he knew what it was like to believe something because it was easier to accept. She lied to herself just like he did. For probably entirely justified reasons. He wouldn't probe for details. But as he peered into pale eyes, he saw ghosts fluttering in their depths. Ghosts of wrongs, probably. Regret.

Jay's ghosts were far more violent. If Amengual didn't do the deed, they'd exact their own revenge someday. Hopefully, that day was a while off. Hopefully.

He flinched in the moment her fingers wrapped his wrist, but their grip was steadfast. Their slender strength was bred with the power of a musician, and that power stilled his own tension. His own knuckles wanted to react and shield hers in return. He should be the one to comfort her, not the other way around. Maybe graze a thumb down her cheek and tuck a strand of tangled hair behind her ear. He didn't.

The distraction was a blessing, though. Enough to infuse a fresh dose of determination. His grin was morbid. "I hope you brought a swimsuit because I think the casino has a pool."

[Natalie Grey]

"You want to talk about pride and selfishness?" If Jay was a shit son, she didn't care to turn the mirror on her own life. No confession passed her lips but that dry comment, though. Maybe he'd heard the things she told Cayli, and maybe he hadn't. Her gaze found the shadowed rafters for a moment's respite, talk of restlessness stirring the companionship of a fellow soul. He shaded no real details, but she understood the sentiment better than he might imagine. Her lips curled, but it was a smile absent of mirth.

"You're here now." She said it like the surest thing in the world; like absolution and forgiveness were things she chose to believe in against better judgement. For Natalie it was true; her father's sins numbered negligible through the love of a daughter's eyes, at least until he cut her from his life. Whatever Jay's transgressions and however dire the consequences, he returned to his family when they needed him. Shucked Custody chains and traversed half the globe just to be here.

He flinched at her touch, and she felt it like a vibration through her bones. Compartmentalisation was something she was good at, though. Her hand retracted once the point was made, folding a barrier across her chest. He pulled himself together enough to smirk but he didn't let her in. She shifted, kept a wary eye on the horse in her periphery. Her sense of humour usually ran as black as the grave, but she couldn't find the energy for more than a bone dry retort.

"I was supposed to pack for a vacation? Well fuck, I missed the memo."

[Jay Carpenter]

He didn't need the reminder. Jay was all too sharply aware of his location. He never thought he'd be back like this. Definitely not with company. They might as well slit open a vein and peer around at precious insides for display. It would have been the more tolerable option.

But, since the veins were split and all the precious red stuff coursing inside was shared for all to see, he might as well rub in the salt Natalie sprinkled on the wound. He laughed at her joke. A tired laugh, but it dispelled the choking cloud hung from the rafters.

"Maybe we can break in after hours and skinny dip." His smirk was far from honorable, but the playful curl of a brow softened the tone toward playfulness. The casino was the nicest place to go short of a drive back to Des Moines, which even then wasn't renown on luxury. Surprisingly, Jay had little experience with hotels, except that one trip to Iowa City that cemented his absolute rejection of college as a future. Though, to be honest, that had been a fun trip if not for the sickness twisting his guts from inside.

Sneaking through halls, breaking keypads, the drop of a towel and a splash later. That tiny sting of cold water before the temperature settled warmer invites. It sounded fantastic. Never going to happen. But it planted the seed for future daydreams at least. If on the off chance he was so lucky as to find himself up to his eyeballs in boredom someday in the future. As it stood, this might have to serve as the focus upon which to channel all the excruciating moments awaiting. Just in case he somehow found himself a guest in Amengual's care. Daydreams were going to become incredibly important, if so.

His self-imposed time limit lapsed. Jay let Casey and the other horses out to roam. He watched from the door for a minute after disconnecting the painful phone call from Pastor Mason, who agreed to help out for a few days. He was on his way out when the door to the tack room caught his eye.

He stopped and looked at it a minute before a wry grin took over.  He flicked the brim of the black Stetson at Natalie when he emerged, but despite the cover, it did nothing to shield the frisky mischievousness from his expression. "Might as well look the part if I'm going to do this." He grinned as he strut by, upping the showmanship a bit.

Between mom and Cayli, the back of the SUV was packed with luggage. Damn vacations indeed. They weren't going to a 3rd world nation for fuck's sakes. He had to shove a few of the smaller ones under feet and wedged atop laps, but they all fit. Even the good $6,000 worth of guns went shoved into the spare-tire compartment. Just in case. Dad was a great shot, or so pre-basic-training Jay would have said. He was a pretty cocky shooter himself when he showed up for rifle-work. He was quickly set straight. But for all necessary purposes, dad could shoot an 8-point buck from a fair distance. He could spit out a few defensive rounds if he had to.

Jensen was a country boy as well, despite the slick hair and strut to his step. The pastor hid that streak, but it took one to know one, and Jay carefully watched the way the pastor looked at the weapons. He had the eye of one who knew what he was looking at. He'd be willing to bet that if he put a shotgun in the pastor's hands, he could hit the broad-side of a barn if necessary. At least not shoot himself in the foot.  For that matter, mom was never really into shooting. Cayli got her first .22 rifle at twelve-years old. Jay absolutely hated that he missed that day. He'd been overseas at the time but heard all about it later. She could do it

That said, he locked down the house and gave the place a final sweep of the eye, like maybe he was fixing details into memory he'd never noticed before, then climbed into the driver's seat and they hit the road.

Trade Winds casino was a mirage in the desert that was corn fields. The highway banked on a curve, then suddenly, lush landscaping opened up before them. A tower taller than any building in 100 miles rose overhead. Hundreds of hotel room windows watched the patrons come and go. Wide parking lots that baked hotter than hell in the summer were half-empty. A few buses were parked along one edge, but these days, folks avoided the hefty gasoline bills that came along with mass-transportation and recreational vehicles. Travel just wasn't what it once was.

To that end, he parked the SUV close to an exit door and the group wandered inside. A tall lobby adorned in artwork reminiscent of abstract grasses, corn and native American motif greeted them. As did a bellhop whose uniform showed some wear. The guy looked about 19-years old, but he broke into a wide-smile when they entered. "Welcome back, Mr. Carpenter." Jay blinked in confusion a moment, until he realized the bellhop wasn't talking to him. He shot his dad a silent glare. You've got to be kidding me.

A breath, and Jay went on. He dropped his sole bag at his feet, tipped the Stetson slightly for the receptionist and went about the process of procuring a collection of rooms. The cheap ones. No suites. He wasn't made of cash.

His stomach rumbled when given the directions to the buffet, like the sound of the word finally roused a sleeping monster inside. He was abso-fucking-lutely starving, and he had every intention of snatching a shot of tequila on the way as well.

He offered everyone their room key cards - mom, dad, and Cayli would take a two-bed room. Jensen, Natalie and Jay each had individual rooms. He snatched dad by the elbow as they proceeded to the elevators. "Don't even think about what I know you're thinking about." Dad shook his head innocently as the elevators dinged.

[Natalie Grey]

It wasn't his fault that this was an old wound for her. He did not brandish the weapon knowingly, or at least she did not think so. 

After Alistair's sentencing, Natalie tried a thousand times to convince him to allow her in. She wanted to help. But he never did, he never even answered, and in the silence she imagined a thousand reasons why he might choose to cut her from his life. Her soul grew weary battering up against that locked door, until finally she stopped trying. Walls grew high over the fragility. She did not reach out often, and with good reason. 

So what else had she expected?

The futility made her wry. A scornful eye turned inward, plucking the strings of morbid humour. She'd told him she would not watch him struggle alone, and she'd meant it whether he accepted her vulnerable offer of aid or not. If he would not tell her of the snare he'd landed himself in, she would simply pool her resources as she had when he'd disappeared off the face of the earth.

It made her feel calmer, in a way. The rejection stung even through the numbness she forced into her chest, but the focus gave her something concrete. Navigating Jay's family and the uncertainty of her presence aside, that was something she could do.

A husk of laughter left her throat, the spark of a dare in her eyes lit up like a challenge. She didn't regret leaving the tangle of her emotions aside for lighter thoughts; in fact right now she welcomed it. Though he might be disappointed to discover no wilting blush at the suggestion; Natalie was hardly a lady.

And the tip of that hat did something stupid to her stomach.

Such an idiot. The faint tug of a smile threatened as she followed him out.

She sank into her wallet for the remainder of the drive, absorbed, eyes faintly narrowed as she parsed through pages of information. Conversation washed through her unheeded, and even the view lost its lure. The building they pulled up to likewise received little scrutiny, her thoughts striated to other distractions, though the personal greeting and Jay's subsequent expression did not go unnoticed. She plucked the keycard gratefully, the tilt of her smirk suggesting that he ought to have just asked her to foot the bill. She wasted no time relieving herself of company though.

---

The heat of the water blushed revival. It felt good to be clean; good enough that for the first time in a while when her breath left her lungs the tension escaped with it. Small little blocks in a new foundation; she began to feel like herself. She padded back into the bedroom wrapped in a towel, hair damp on her shoulders; considered curling up in the bed, and abandoned the idea just as quickly.

Her father's message had been pushed so far down her list of priorities Natalie had all but forgotten it until she finally fished for clean clothes and found the crisp white envelope under her palm. Her expression abruptly flattened, a moment of indecision hovering before she retreated to the bed. Curiosity warred with the lead in her chest until she finally broke the seal.

Two manilla files spilled out on the sheets.

Silence beat hard in her chest. The light danced close; the smallest spark and the words could smoke and ash unseen, their burden eradicated. They were five years too late. I can't forgive you. 

For a long time she only stared, jaw tightening. When the visitation order had come through in Sierra Leone, she had not hesitated. Only chance prevented her making the appointment, and a lot had changed since then. Toeing the line between her two halves, she discovered she didn't want to see him. The spiteful depth of her denial surprised even her. At least at the time. But fingering that scar now, she realised it had simply never healed.

She flipped the first folder open; blinked, eyes narrowed in confusion, until the blur of enough words gave a context she abruptly pulled away from. She squeezed her eyes shut and shoved the document back in its folder, skin prickling with the heat of anger. "For fuck's sake, dad."

Most people assumed Natalie's acumen for information came from her grandfather, but it wasn't true. Choose your friends and allies wisely, her father has said. Don't allow a side to be picked for you.

She almost didn't bother with the second folder.

Only morbid curiosity tugged her onward. But her stomach sank lower, roiling like she might be sick. She was unprepared for the confrontation of Alistair Pavlo's face; a clipping, probably from the same article Jay had pulled up that night on his wallet. Either Alvis lied about how much he'd planned to share, or her father's awareness of the world beyond his prison cell was far more intricate than anyone suspected. It shouldn't surprise her. But, unaware she might be observed, she had hardly been circumspect in the nature of her enquiries.  

He'd called her while she waited in Brandon's office.

Spoke of protection in the holo.

He had no right.

Fury banked cold. When she'd needed him most, he had thrust her away like refuse. The resurgence now was far too late, her heart too hardened to forgive. She rifled quickly through the rest. An autopsy report; fuzzy images of a creature that burned bile in her throat in recognition; another image with Latin words beneath, various eye-witness accounts. Pavlo's smug gaze as he stared down.

She rejected it all fiercely.

The heels of her hands pressed against her eyes. Her heart stuttered like the panic crawled up her throat, the stink in her nostrils, bonds at wrist and ankle. Weathering the crash of memory.

[Jay Carpenter]

He wanted to collapse in bed, but hunger was the more powerful motivator. A shower could come later. For now, he opted to swap his shirt for a clean one. Of course, it required rummaging through the contents of his duffle bag, and given the neat arrangement of the contents, Jay opted to lay things out than disrupt the work of art that was his packing. All of his undershirts were the same white style. Functional, fit, and easy to fold and wash. That was about the best he could ask for in the circumstances. For now, he left his jacket draped across a chair after pulling the far-better-smelling shirt over his head. 

A few splashes of water on his face, a scrub of fingers across his scalp, and he called himself good enough to stand in line and fight over some ribs. He’d kill for some barbecue. A porterhouse. Some sausage. Mashed potatoes. Besides, he could have a chance to give the place a walk-around while he was sure the others were holed up in their respective rooms freshening up. 

Downstairs, the sign to the restaurant begged his feet to turn that way. But he’d not be able to eat in peace until he knew exactly how Trade Winds was laid out and who exactly staffed what points of entry. He grit his teeth, willed his stomach to silence, and took off.

The lobby stretched into a wing filled with hotel-amenities. A gym that looked rather enticing was laid out across from a meeting room. A small coffee kiosk was flanked by massive bars. From one spilled loud club-like thumping music. From the other, like a dueling partner, spilled the twang of country songs. 

Other amenities waited. A long stretch of a hallway directed toward the pool and spa. With a slim smirk, he had to check that out. For security purposes of course. It was mostly empty but for a pair of old ladies in pink swimsuits. Under the cover of a temperature-controlled canopy, they lounged comfortably. The rest of the area was wide-open. Some bushes lined privacy walls. A locked gate served as an emergency exit into the parking lot. Otherwise, there  was no where to hide. Cameras were adequately mounted. Probably shouldn’t skinny dip then. Jay nodded and returned the way he came.

He noted the direction toward alternative parking lots. A small parking garage was attached for coverage in winter weather. Probably an upcharge to protect the car from two-feet of snow. If his life was a movie, that would be the ideal place for some bad shit to go down. Blood washed off concrete pretty well, anyway. He noted the directions and doors and carried on.

Cigarette smoke wafted from the casino entrance. The buzz and flicker of lights flashed like beacons willing him into open arms. He pulled the brim of the Stetson lower and kept going. What sort of game did dad find the most appealing? Probably the slots. With all their promises for easy cash and high payouts. Dropping in pennies, dimes, quarters was little to no risk, until you pissed away hundreds of bucks over eight wasted hours with nothing to show for it. He walked on.

A few patrons looked up as he passed. Jay studied them in return. Older guys, grizzled and weary. One wearing a white hat nodded like he sensed a kindred soul. Jay politely returned the gesture, eyes sliding toward that of the nearest camera afterward, and kept walking. 

Slots, wheels, table-games, bingo were hopping. Craps and roulette tables were dark. Random luck, no strategy. Now cards, on the other hand. That is a game worth burning some money to play. His gaze lingered on those plush green tables a minute longer than probably should have. A few players were sprinkled in. Dealers were dressed sharply. His pace slowed, the hook sinking a little deeper. Maybe one game real fast. Just to see. Black jack was all about strategy and statistics, risk, reward. 

“Jay?” A voice called his name from a passed table. He spun her direction, heart trapped in his throat. 

Then he saw her. Long brunette hair curled down her back. She wore a skirt and tank-top. The sparkle of a necklace laid across her chest. It was her eyes that captured him, though. Deep brown chocolate puddles rimmed with black. 

He was speechless but for the name escaped from crushed lungs. “Anna Marie.” He swallowed, heart pounding as she got up from her seat to rush over. She threw arms around his neck, grinning with warm-natured reunion. He found himself tensely returning the embrace.

When she leaned away, she flicked the brim of his hat teasingly. “Look at you, strolling through Trade Winds in your hat. Never thought this day would come. How are you? You visiting your folks? I’m sorry to hear about Cayli. How is she?”  

He swallowed, thankful for the shade of the hat to hide the blood draining from his face. She spoke like nothing at all happened last time they saw each other. Why was she here? She never used to gamble.  

“Uh, yeah. Something like that. She’s fine, actually. Here.” Even as he shrugged upward, he immediately regretted it. Why’d he tell her that? Anna Marie could just look at him and pry the truth out. 

She gasped, of course. Practically squealed with delight. “Well I’d love to see them!” Jay looked over her shoulder to find another girl watching. A friend, he guessed. One he didn’t recognize. Maybe a bachelorette party?

Anna Marie noticed. She always noticed. She spun and waved her over. This one was about their age, with fuzzy black hair and a wide toothy smile. Her tall heels brought her up to Jay’s shoulder. 

“Jasmeen, this is Jay.” Anna Marie introduced. To his horror, Jasmeen’s brows lifted with far more awareness than made Jay comfortable. He scratched the back of his neck. Clearly they’d talked about him. 

Well. If he was in front of the firing squad, might as well make his final stand memorable. “I see someone can’t stop talking ‘bout me.” He poked Anna Marie on the shoulder. 

Jasmeen’s arms folded. “I see you weren’t kidding about him. Arrogant son of a bitch, isn’t he?” the snarl on her lip was playful, but probably hinted at more truth than Anna Marie preferred divulged just then.

He smiled apologetically. Jasmeen lifted a brow and returned to her seat (and cocktail). Jay didn’t stop her departure. Yep. Seemed exactly like the kind of friend that’d flock to Anna Marie. “You girls have fun. I’ll see you later,” he started to turn away when Anna Marie cornered him. 

“Oh sush about all that, Jay. She’s protective. We work together at the pharmacy. Admittedly, I may have run my mouth for a while about you after we broke up.” 

Jay didn’t blame her. Everything she told Jasmeen was likely to be deserved. Didn’t mean he was interested in sticking around to hear all about it.

“Why don’t we start over. Let me buy you a drink.” When she tugged on his hand, he didn’t resist. Not much, anyway.  At least a bar would have a food menu. Hopefully.

A country-meets-Native American theme swallowed them up. Barstools were stretched leather. Deep colors painted the walls. Music played in the background. First thing he did after studying the bar’s layout was order a plate of food and a double-shot of tequila. Anna Marie slid into the stool alongside, legs crossed, arm crooked over the back of her seat. The point of her shoe accidentally grazed his ankle, sparking chills up to the thigh. 

He attempted to breathe a deep, steadying gulp of air. It didn’t work. Luckily, the tequila was quickly laid before him. The first one went down smooth as gasoline. He kept the second on hand for now. 

“Your mom told me you were in Africa.” She began casually. Like chatting with his mom took place on a regular basis. He tensed despite the shot. “How was it?” 

And then he shifted uncomfortably in the seat. 

She waved her hand. “Never mind. That’s okay. We can talk about something else.” She smiled and slurped at the martini glass presented to her.

“You said Cayli was fine? I thought she had cancer, but I never heard what kind.” Her voice was a polite mix of somber and interested.

Jay frowned a moment, studying the glasses. Yeah. That topic was better. “Uhm, yeah. I guess they made a mistake. There never was any cancer.”

Anna Marie gasped, eyes wide. “What?!” 

Jay didn’t elaborate. This was a bad idea. Even a hot steak and potato-skins wasn’t worth the interrogation. Mom or dad might find them. Light knew he wanted to avoid that reunion as much as possible. Not to mention Natalie or Jensen might wander down any minute. Though it was unlikely the pastor would walk into a bar. But Natalie seemed like the kind to seek a good drink. In fact, the last time she had, it got her dragged off into the dark. Should have killed that guy when I had the chance. A moment of anger narrowed his eyes. Anna Marie tilted her head, fishing for his line of sight.

She laid a hand on his wrist. Perfectly manicured nails glinted with color. “I’m sorry, Jay.” 

He just looked at her hand a minute. There were days he pondered what she would look like wearing a ring. What the expression on her face would reveal when she finally beheld the one he picked. 

He withdrew a minute later in exchange for the drink, but stopped himself before wetting his lips.

“Wait. Do you know Dr. Diaz?” She seemed surprised, but nodded slowly.
“What do you know about him?”

She thought a moment. “He’s an asshole, but most doctors are, especially to the pharmacists. He is here on some temporary stay, filling in for someone that took a leave of absence. Came from out east. Baltimore I think. Very selective about the patients he takes.”

Surprisingly, Jay was more calm than he expected. Her information fit with what he knew. Bode well that he wasn’t insanely paranoid. “Does he have any friends in town? People he works with? Reports to? Anything like that.” 

She shook her head. “Not that I know of. He’s in the med-onc lab a lot.”

He looked at her like he was suppose to know what that meant. She smiled for the poor sweet innocent Jay. “Medical oncology laboratory. I think he was a physician scientist trained at NIH or maybe the CDC. I’m not sure which. It’s common for people like him.”

Now they were getting somewhere. Maybe the torture of the earlier conversation would be worth it after all. Or maybe the tequila was loosening the vice around his chest. “What was he working on?”

“I thought he was working on cancer patients.” 

“And?”

“And prolonging their lives of course.” 

Memories flickered as he pieced the puzzle together. Back in the porsche, he talked about Cayli’s youth. He knew about channelers. Samples. Cancer. Life. It made no sense.

He licked his lips, kept his tone as careful as possible. No big deal at all. They weren’t talking about huge national conspiracies. This was just normal reunion chatting at a bar with an ex.  “Has he worked with anyone with the Sickness?”

Anna Marie laughed. “Of course not. We’ve not had anyone like that here!” But her laugh was loud. Like when she used to laugh at jokes of other cheerleaders then turn to him and roll her eyes. 

He fixed her with a knowing stare, heart pounding. She was lying. He leaned near. “Tell me what you know, Annie.” He stared, eyes bright with eager need beneath the brim of his hat. Jaw tight. He was close.

“You can trust me.” 

[Natalie Grey]

Lessons learned once ought not be repeated, and this was a lesson she had learned. But Jensen erased the scars, and alcohol would erase the memory. At least for a time. She could feel it swarming like darkness inside, an essence of the restless despair that sent her running to Africa. But she pressed her hands back over her head instead. Began picking up the bloody pieces with practised apathy, not quite sure whether they even made a whole anymore.

A patterned bedspread; a worn bedside phone; old marks on the wall.

Her wan reflection in the tv; a mirror fogged by the steam from her shower.

She squeezed her hands, nails digging relief into her palm.

A knock at the door intruded; one she considered ignoring, until a muffled voice called her name with all the impatience of the young. Natalie tidied the files before she rose, adjusting the towel. The door opened a sliver to Cayli's beaming face, bouncing a little on her heels like the world turned too slow for her liking.

She looked better; like any girl her age should. A flush warmed her face, eyes bright as clear skies, her gleaming gold hair brushed and braided. But her expression stuttered as she took Natalie in, head tilting. Too perceptive by half, that one. She frowned away whatever greeting had been about to burst forth. "Are you okay?"

Natalie had no intention of confiding in a fourteen year old, let alone one who was also Jay's sister, but Cayli wasn't stupid either. The pale stretch of her gaze took a moment to decide before offering a shrug of bluntness. Too weary to pretend. "Not really, Cay, no."

The girl blinked. Perhaps because she had expected the polite lie and didn't know what to do with the uncomfortable gift of truth. Her feet shuffled, peeking up the length of the corridor, and Natalie ought to have put her at ease, but the words just never came out.

"I'm sorry about your school." One hand waved the wallet tucked in her palm, her eyes glancing up full of rueful charm. "I looked it up. After you said. Sometimes life really sucks."

Natalie smirked, pressing her head against the fingers wrapped around the door jamb. The smoulder of emotion burned somewhere small and sad, but she strangely appreciated the words. The darkness unfurled a little. A little stir of humour. "Only half the time."

Cayli rebounded. "I'm only supposed to be getting snacks. I can't go hardly anywhere in here." She sighed sharply, as though that was the biggest problem of this whole sorry mess. Though perhaps for her it was. "'Don't go and see that woman', mom said. I think she's hoping you'll get bored of our little backwater town and, well, anyway, you're not going anywhere though, are you?"

Which explained the visit. Earnestness hung on the question, probably hopeful of an invitation. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised.

Fleeting disappointment captured Cayli's expression, though it transfixed to acceptance soon enough. She nodded. "Have you seen my brother? He didn't answer his door." Stalking the perimeter; assessing threat; assembling a contingency, or so Natalie imagined. Desperate to keep his family safe; determined to do so alone. She shook her head. "Well if you see him can you puh-lease tell him that mom and dad are driving me insane, and since it's totally his fault he should really be making it up to me."

Once the door locked behind her, Natalie sat at the dresser, flicking through the last screens of search on her wallet. Her brows lowered, mouth pinched by a frown. One fist curled under her chin as she stared down at image. Black hair. Shark eyes. An arrogant tilt to his chin. 

On the journey to the casino she'd parsed through the ball's guest list seeking connections. She'd had to start somewhere. The easiest one came first; Scion Marveet, her friendly benefactor. It seemed well known that he vied for a seat on the Sphere, widening the context of his warnings and advice into a pretty picture of bribery. But that was a concern for later. She'd isolated the Americans next. Then narrowed the field. Ryker's companion had spoken Spanish, she was fairly sure, and he'd worn jewels in accented colours that tickled a faint memory. Azure and diamond flashed when he raised his hand in mocking toast, his sharp gaze dissecting them all like a predator.

It might be nothing, but it was the way her mind worked; stitching small details until a tapestry grew, adjusting as she went, sharpening the picture to clarity.

She'd run searches on the various family names that pinged up, looking for anything of interest as the world zipped past outside. Remembering the face of the man who'd plunged Jay's head into his hands like the world came crashing down. Scanned for likeness on gossip sites filled with paparazzi images (discovered something had definitely happened after they'd left). And wove it all against Jay's mutterings to himself.

Until a name finally scythed to the surface. Amengual.

Zacarias Amengual.

His picture burned her retinas as they pulled into the car park, her investigations momentarily abandoned in favour of simpler needs. Though now, prompted by Cayli's visit, she picked the thread back up. She had an identity but no motivation ... beyond Jay's own damn words, remembered suddenly as she stared down at Amengual's face now. Light. I'm sorry for your loss.

Facts connected.

Her glance at Jay's file had been brief, even that tinged with guilt when she realised what she was looking at. Dishonourable discharge stamped a terrible sentence. Blank fields wiped the confidential document, though she imagined her father only cared for the title. Choose your friends and allies wisely. Either way, she had not stared long enough to internalise more than that, nor puzzled through the pages that rested behind. She hadn't even known he'd been a marine.

What did you do?

He wouldn't want to talk to her. And truthfully Natalie had no intention of sharing how easily she'd begun to unravel what must amount to one of his bleakest secrets, nor allow him the insight to realise that she would wade fearless into those waters if she thought she could help.

But there was a problem leaning on her conscience. 

Jay deserved to know what her father had done; what he knew. Alistair Grey had always been an enigma, even to Natalie. Truth was, she didn't know what else he might do with the information. Particularly if she continued to ignore him. And if her dad interfered?

Fuck.

She breathed out sharp. Irritated all over again. And stood.

It only took a moment to dress. Dark jeans hugged her thighs, a loose tee scooping low beneath her collar bones. Nondescript clothes; the sort she'd worn day to day in Africa. The diamonds were still in her ears, forgotten; she left them anyway. Her hair dried in pale waves around her face, left to tousle as it chose. Aside from being blessedly clean, she did not worry over her appearance.

She slipped the wallet in her pocket; thought about bringing the envelope, but in the end packed it away back in her bag. Probably better he saw that in private.

Natalie wandered to get her bearings, curious gaze washing across the strangeness of the casino. Her mind reeled a litany of things she might say to explain, even knowing instinct would carry her through the difficult topic. She'd never asked him what he knew of her past; never assumed she would need to, either. A drink would not go amiss, dictating her direction toward dutch courage. She only spotted Jay because of the black stetson, but the curve of a smile faded quickly as she absorbed his company. History wrapped them close, her foot brushing his with affection. The hurt flashed hard, staring just a heartbeat too long at the way he leaned in. The hat shadowed his expression, but not hers. 

Natalie ought to have carried on, unconcerned. It wasn't like it was her business. Instead she turned around and walked straight out.

The thump of the bass next door reminded her of that underground club, the reason she had initially favoured the other bar, and perhaps exactly why she chose it as a refuge now. Sharper memories drowned out shallower hurts. Self-destruct was a default she battled most of her life, but old habits died hard. Sometimes she embraced them like old friends.

It was mostly empty; too early for all but the most hardcore daytime drinkers. But she didn't much absorb her surroundings, just as she didn't much absorb the numbness in her chest or the sense of foolishness clawing for her attention. She lifted onto a stool in front of the slick bar, back turned to everything despite the shallow way it made her heart beat like the first flutterings of panic.

There hadn't exactly been time to exchange currency before leaving Moscow, but they accepted the tap of her wallet. The barman joked about needing to check her ID, but flirtatious mirth died soon after. The hard line of her smile was all sharpness and darkness that did not welcome idle conversation. Her fingers swept back over her head, cascading a river of pale gold. The first shot burned.

She told him to open a tab.

Lessons learned once ought not be repeated, and this was a lesson she had learned. But alcohol would erase the feeling. At least for a time.

[Jay Carpenter]

Her lips parted as though about to speak only for them to muffle to silence. Anna Marie pulled back, sat straighter. The same way that she did when certain people walked by. A cat that sensed something on the periphery.

Jay followed her line of sight toward the entrance. A flutter of gold hair. Quick steps ushering swift exodus. His breath stopped. Blinked a few times. When he looked back at Anna, she was smiling that slim, coy smile like she grasped some victory he didn’t know was at hand. 

Then it hit him, He suddenly sat straighter, pulling away from conspiratorial whispers as he did. Oh this looked bad. Or at least, it didn’t look good. Jay the great hero sweeping in to save the dying sibling, kidnaps the family and dumps them against their will while he was distracted by gambling and girls. He did warn Natalie that he was no hero. One of these days she’d believe him. Neither was he lying when he said he was a shit son. Aside from the typical teenage secrecies and empty promises for the future, he flat out lied the day after Thanksgiving about going with them to Des Moines. He used the chance to jump at escape without a moment’s consideration for the people that depended on him. Every step of the way since then was dishonorable.

A frown took him. He should probably go after her. Explain - explain what exactly, who knew? But give it a try anyway. He was no closer to deciding what to do for the immediate future, beyond the pending steak and potatoes. He had no plan. Even if he swore he’d figure something out. Probably another lie, but at least that was to himself.

He pinched his forehead when Anna Marie interrupted the pleasantly dark train of thoughts burning through his brain. 

“Of course I trust you,” she explained softly. Trust radiating despite the way he treated her before. Guilt threatened to lodge in his chest before he forced the bolus on down.

Trusting him was a bad idea. Natalie was going to have to wait. It burned to make that call. But dammit, he had to know what Anna Marie knew. She worked at the hospital. She saw Diaz regularly. She had to know something about the Sickness. What Diaz intended to do with Cayli. 

Blue eyes flickered the room quickly. The bartender was busy. A few other patrons mind their own business. Jay lowered his voice carefully anyway. 
“Have Sickness patients been through? Did Diaz see them?”

Anna Marie was studying her martini glass like the pale liquid harbored the secrets to the meaning of life. Maybe it did. There was gin in it, after all.

He leaned around, uncomfortably near again, attempting to capture her eyes. Natalie had to have seen the way he leaned into Anna. It did look bad. She thought his allegiance to flags flickered with the wind? That was apparently nothing compared to the fickle captors of his heart. Not that he had a heart. He definitely didn’t. Useless, stupid things that made good men do stupid, foolish shit like get up and walk away from gorgeous ex’s that made it abundently clear they could get back together right then if he so much as hinted the word. 

When she looked up, her lips were sealed. Jay had his answer. Whatever it was she knew, she was too afraid to put it to words.

Not only was he going to walk away from someone that held his heart since Junior High, but also from a really delicious looking steak that was just now coming down the galley and laid in front of him. His stomach practically collapsed in on itself.

A growl of frustration and slid from the seat. Anna Marie stopped him in alarm. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, Annie, I’m really not the same guy you knew. I’m not the same guy I knew either.” The proclamation was cryptic. He looked at her one last moment. 
“If you do remember anything about Diaz, let me know.”

Like the true gentleman that he was, he left her alone with two plates of food, half finished drinks, and the echo of bad company. He hurried out. Swinging this way and that for signs of gold hair and pissed off, pale gaze. 

Expert eyes scanned. Nothing toward the casino. The hall was empty. Coffee kiosk abandoned.

He skid to a stop as he passed the club. The thumping of base drummed the inside of his head painfully. He’d not slept but in fits and starts on the plane and was practically held up by the force of adrenaline fossilizing his skeleton upright.

She sat alone, back turned. Pale hair rippled silk waves. He swallowed, wishing he’d finished that second shot before abandoning Anna Marie. 

This was a bad idea. She wanted to be left alone. To drink and be alone. He didn’t blame her. The soft throb of a headache touched the inside of his skull. He needed sleep soon.

His heart beat in his chest so hard he was sure she’d hear it over the music. But he forced his steps forward anyway and folded into the seat next to her without meeting that pale gaze. Instead, he flagged the bartender and ordered the drink he didn’t finish from the competing place. 

The shade of the hat cast shadows that hid his expression. If only the thing cast the same inside his head.  Why was this so damn hard? 

“Perks of a small town.” He said flatly. Town was an abstract concept out here. He thought about making a comment about her clean hair or change of clothes. Maybe the choice of venue or selection of liquor. 

A message buzzed his wallet just then. Thankful for the distraction, he read the note from Cayli.

“Mom and dad are driving me crazy! Where are you?”

He tilted the screen toward Natalie like she might be in on the joke. He didn’t answer it right away. Instead, left it open on the bar in front of them.

“I uh, didn’t get a chance to thank you for what you did for her.” The sentiment toed the edge of dangerous waters. Had she gone through the Sickness too? Did she suffer? Did someone come to her rescue? The fire..

“Did you know— back in, uh, Freetown?” His chest tightened as he shifted his weight in the seat. Anomalies followed Natalie like her own horrible shadow. The remnants of an explosion in Netlands. The fire at the embassy. Did she use it on Pavlo when she escaped? 

This time it was his turn to study the shot glass like it hid the secrets to the meaning of life. 

Eyes heavy, brows low, his voice fell to a bare whisper. “I think that’s when I started.” He didn’t remember Sickness, but he remembered being off. Sweating. Then again, it was fucking hot in the jungle. Anxious? Well, that was hardly new. Did she know that Jay was the one that executed the General? Did she know that when he hesitated to pull the trigger it wasn’t out of mercy? 

The taut line of his jaw parted just enough to swallow. Golden warmth blossomed from his chest. He took a deep breath. The things he said to Anna Marie were true. He was different. Even compared to a year ago. This power inside, whatever it was, changed people into something else. 

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t fault mom and dad’s denial too much. No sane person should covet this power. Let alone witness it infect an innocent girl’s life ahead of her time. Cayli would be better off without this storm blighting her soul.