Second, look who's actually fulfilling that self-imposed requirement of one post a month, at the very least.
Not that it's anything all that new, but it was written in the last six months and I kind of like it, so it counts.
Life is crazy, my family has turned nomadic again, and writing has been minimal between college work and finishing an intense television show. That's a basic summary of my recent life.
Now onto this latest peek into Jaz's life. Shall we?
Jaz stood at her sink with the heavy-duty hand soap at her elbow, aware of her two returned teammates behind her but more focused on the grisly task at hand.
Blood cleaned off her skin in watery, red waves, splashing against the silver basin of her kitchen sink and dribbling back down the sides to rinse down the drain. In just her skintight tank-top that she wore as a third layer beneath her uniform, the rest having been left on the floor of her kitchen, staining the tiles a darker shade of maroon, the smeared red was visible up past her elbows.
The silence was weighty.
They’d ambushed her on her way home from delivering her mission report to her superiors. Zach and Daniel, their faces long-stripped of the baby fat of youth and grown to their full, towering height, come home at last.
Too bad she’d long moved on.
Jasmine wanted to feel cynical but found that she could feel nothing at all. Her body was numb. She worked in silence, movements mechanical. Kano would be fine but her heart had still iced within her.
The captain knew what was going on behind her. They would be exchanging long looks in the absence of her attention, having perfected the understanding of each other during their five years away.
One arm scrubbed raw, she transferred to the other, the grainy soap biting into her tender skin as Jaz cleansed herself of her teammate’s blood without mercy.
Too close.
It had been too close.
She never should’ve taken those two on.
It was too soon after Mio and Levi. They still haunted her, appearing when she was weakest, screaming in her dreams and smiling in the sunlight.
Kano and Shun helped but not enough—nothing would ever be enough. Not when it came to getting that sadistic smirk out of her mind, to getting that pooling blood out of her hair.
A weight settled on her shoulder and Jasmine reacted.
Not even pausing to draw in a breath, she rammed her elbow backwards to where she could feel him standing, twisting aside, water splattering with every fast motion. Jade-green eyes were lifeless as she grabbed the nearest makeshift weapon—she should never have taken off her chÅkuto—and gripped the dull blade in her wet hand, already calculating how to maximize its potential when—
Zach flickered a breath away from her, wrenching the knife away and throwing it against the wall with a harsh utterance of, ”Snap out of it, Jaz.”
The counter bit into the small of her back. Chest rising with normal breaths despite her exertion, Jaz went still, staring up at him, trying to see the boy in this man before her and failing.
His slate-grey eyes only relaxed, tense frame winding down again, when she nodded once, a sharp movement.
They both turned their heads to look at Dan, where he was still reeling from the suddenness of her blow to his solar plexus, one hand extended to support himself with a nearby counter.
The faucet in the sink continued to let out a steady stream of water, waiting for someone to interrupt its pattern.
Jaz felt no remorse for her actions, reaching out to shove Zach away from herself before returning to continue getting the blood off of her arms.
“Sorry,” Dan wheezed, breaking the quiet. Jaz felt his apologetic gaze more than saw it. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. Looks like you’ve had a really rough day of it.”
There was no forthcoming response from the Primary Elite as she finished at the sink, skin chafed and burning but devoid of the maroon life-force that had rocked her so badly. Jaz flicked excess water from the tips of her fingers as she moved to dig in her cupboard for an oft-ignored bottle of rum, one that had taken up residence in her kitchen shortly after returning from hell.
It was still a quarter full. It’d be enough for tonight.
“Jaz?” Dan again, hesitant, uncertain of how to proceed.
She wasn’t surprised. Not quite the homecoming he’d been expecting. But she would be grateful to Zach in the morning, for keeping him intact while they had been away.
For now, the glass she found clattered on the countertop and the rum sloshed over the side, wetting her fingers, as Jaz poured herself a generous portion.
Realizing that she’d given no response to Dan, despite the numbness in her body, the exhaustion threatening to drop her as soon as the alcohol swirled in her bloodstream and her near-painful degree of tension was forgotten for a few hours, Jaz turned to face them after ten minutes of ignoring their existence.
Daniel had cropped his hair short, but there were still small curls all over his scalp, impossible to escape. Green eyes were older than she remembered, but then, weren’t they all? His counterpart, two inches taller and annoyingly keen in his gaze, had retreated to lean against the opposite counter, watching her.
Jaz let the rum wash over her tongue, feeling it burn down her throat and kindle embers in her gut, warming her being from the inside out. “I apologize,” she articulated, voice rough with lack of recent use, but dispassionate. Blank. “My team ran into trouble while out.”
Trouble being a band of seven mercenaries, fast and trained in the art of battle against the Special Forces of Busan.
“I’m sorry,” the more compassionate of the duo uttered, true feeling in the regretful twist of his mouth.
Jaz felt nothing. Her rum scorched its way down her esophagus. She swirled the half-full glass with a drying hand, watching the rich, amber liquid churn with the simple motion. “We’re fine.”
We’re was an easier lie to say that I’m.
Lifted head, level gaze. “What did you two need?” Jaz intoned, knowing she had fifteen minutes before it was lights out whether she liked it or not and she had every intention of embracing unconsciousness when it graced her.
It was Zach who shifted to draw her attention, responding in his usual, reserved manner. “We hadn’t seen you since we got back and had thought now might be a good time, which was a mistaken assumption.”
“You’re correct.” Jaz wasn’t one to beat around the bush, even less so now.
Visiting hours at the hospital would start at ten am, but a black uniform and an imposing presence would get her in at seven to see her teammate.
“We can head out, Jaz,” Daniel dropped back into the conversation, brows knitted together in consternation.
Her gaze settled on him for a moment before refocusing on her booze. “Do that. I need to sleep.”
Sleep, think, decide. Get up, find paperwork, check up on her hospitalized teammate.
The list felt like it wouldn’t end because of the emotion that it would involve.
She didn’t deserve them. And they had done nothing to have her brought down on their heads.
A quiet scrape of shoes on tile pulled Jaz from her thoughts, head coming up again. Dan held out his hand in a silent request for her hand. It struck her as odd. He’d always been the hugger of the three of them. Why change that now?
Ah, yes.
She’d knocked the wind out of him and had been ready to go after him with a dull butter knife last time he’d initiated touch between them. This was his safer option, apparently.
Switching her glass to her left hand, Jaz complied, pressing her cold fingers into the warm roughness of her childhood teammate’s. Dan clasped her slender hand between the both of his, hold strong and secure. His smile was still a bit dimmed in the face of her disinterest in their reappearance, but no less genuine.
“We can catch up another time. Tell your teammate to get healed up soon, alright? And you really should go to bed as soon as we leave. You look ready to drop.” His instructions were well-intentioned but still got no strong response out of her.
Jaz inclined her head after a moment, if only to appease him. Ever the tactful one, Daniel Becker.
Dan grinned. “Good. Shall we go then, Zach?”
That man shrugged once, watchful but not offering any opposition.
Some things may have changed, but it seemed that other things would stay the same for the rest of the time and the interactions between the childhood friends appeared to be one of such things.
Jaz made no move to see them to the door, did not offer any farewells beyond one lifted finger as she lifted the glass in her hands to her lip again to drain the contents in one long draught.
She would regret it in the morning to a degree—drinking on an empty stomach didn’t end well—but she found a bottle of water on one of her countertops to counteract the dehydrating effects of the alcohol as her front door shut.
Once they were gone, Jaz flicked off her kitchen lights and went to lock up, letting the water chase her rum down in an unsavory mingle of tastes. She needed a shower but had little interest in the effort, so it was routine only that got her out of her clothes and under the steaming showerhead to wash the remaining signs of the grueling fight from her body.
More blood was washed away. Dirt had stained her skin despite her uniform and was soon forgotten as well. Once completed with her ritual scrub, both of hair and body, Jaz shut off the water and found her towel.
There was nothing homey in the scent of the long, voluminous cloth. It smelled musty and of dust from sitting unused for two weeks but it dried the water from her slowing form.
Sliding into enough clothing so that she’d be more-or-less decent in the case of sudden visitors, Jaz staggered to her couch, slamming her shin into the low coffee table, but not even that pain was able to break her from her exhausted state of mind.
Her couch smelled like herself, like afternoon sunlight and spilled beer, and even of her many male acquaintances who liked to drop by unannounced, and where the towel had failed, her nest of blankets succeeded in surrounding her in home and Jasmine collapsed into their embrace.
Telling her team goodbye was going to be hard and nothing in her looked forward to that moment. But she would wait until Kano was on his feet again, able to take the surprise of it without bringing himself further harm.
Jade-green eyes opened in the pitch-black of her living room, staring out at the shadows of her furniture, collected despite the way her heart turned in her chest.
It was better, this way. They would be safer, this way.
Sleep came and Jaz didn’t even consider fighting it. She was ready to go and slipped into the black with a whisper of a breath to tell of her departure.
//
skip
//
It was drizzling when Jasmine returned to the hospital a handful of days later, the required paperwork tucked in a folder that she carried in one hand. The nurse at the desk recognized her and smiled in greeting, oblivious to how the captain was dripping on the freshly mopped floor.
“Elite Matsuda has already come through, Captain, and should still be with your teammate,” she announced with cheer that Jaz couldn’t even begin to reciprocate.
Her face felt stiff, plasticized by what she knew came next.
So she nodded once, murmured her thanks, and flicked off some of the excess rain from her person before she walked away. The sunny nursed called after her to have a nice day and Jaz lifted one hand to shoulder-level in semblance of a wave before disappearing around the corner.
Busan General Hospital had multiple wings, two of them devoted entirely to the Collective’s expansive Special Forces, who made up a good deal of the medical emergencies who came through their front door. A high portion of those were training inflicted—those critical developmental years between when you graduated from the Academy until you got your feet under you as a Tyro produced many, many injuries.
But the rising tension between the Collectives meant that there was a rising percentage of combat-related injuries.
Kano was far from the only Elite in the recovery ward recuperating from a close brush with death due to an ambush and the resulting close-quarters fighting.
It made anger burn in her chest, despite knowing that this was part of the brewing conflict.
Jaz had wrench her mind back to focus on where she was going. Her standard-issue boots made echoing thuds as she walked with lengthy strides through the quiet halls, devoid of the visitors that would start arriving later in the day, after visiting hours had actually begun.
The trademark slouch of her youth had faded after her year with Min. It was with a straight back and hands at her sides that the woman moved now, unlike the slumped shoulders and hunched back she’d adopted as a self-defense mechanism as a child. He’d wanted her to act as if she always had a purpose, to be unashamed, refusing to hide.
Noting the passing numbers, Jaz stopped outside the correct hospital room and paused before knocking.
This was for their own good, she reminded herself, letting the discomfiting smell of antiseptic reinforce her decision. The papers in her hand would change everything and it would be for the better.
She rapped twice and waited until a familiar voice called, “Come on in, we’re all decent in here!”
Shun, so like Dan and yet so different. She wasn’t surprised that he’d beaten her here.
Their bond was just as tight as Zach and Dan’s, despite having a quarter the time behind it.
Jaz toggled the lever to get the door open and entered with muted footsteps, searching the roomy space inside for her two teammates. Kano’s roommate, a Tyro in for a ruptured appendix, glanced at her as she closed the door behind herself. He did little more than offer a wave in greeting, after her strict orders the following morning to not even consider getting up whenever she dropped by.
The kid would probably kill himself if he tried to follow protocol right now.
With a vague smile and a nod before solemnity took over again, Jaz moved past him towards the curtain bisecting his half of the room from Kano’s.
Her teammates were in the midst of eating what was no doubt a contraband breakfast, which Jaz arched a brow at. Bacon and pancakes can’t have been what the nurses wanted Kano to be eating for the time being, but they no doubt had a contingency plan in place if they did get caught.
It only took them a moment to process her presence.
And that contingency plan came into play as Shun smile winningly, closing his take-out box with a smooth box and rising in the same movement, as if there weren’t anything suspicious occurring under the hospital staff’s notice.
“Captain,” he greeted, and Jaz could hear the heavy layer of charm that he laid on. “So good to see you this bright and early.”
Kano didn’t care one whit about his compatriot’s efforts , considering the way he continued to eat behind Shun. The brat knew he would get away with it and Jaz knew a moment of exasperation because he was correct.
Jaz sighed. “Shun, stop trying to win me over. It doesn’t work. Kano, you have syrup on your cheek.”
Smooth operator though her may have been, Shun had learned his painful lesson of when enough was enough early on and rocked back on his heels with a far more natural grin. “Sorry. Figured I’d give it a shot.”
“Morning, Captain,” Kano greeted, finishing his illegal breakfast and leaning forward to set his take-out box on his rolling table, settling back with a mild grimace.
The tone of his skin was paler than normal, but he was sporting that annoying little ponytail of his like always and even though there were dark marks from pain and sleeplessness under his eyes, her subordinate of just three months was alert and willing to interact with his visiting teammates.
The file in her hand got just a little bit heavier.
Jaz felt herself relaxing despite her wish to remain reserved through the next half hour, some of the stress draining from her shoulders against her will. “How’re you doing, Suong?”
The use of his surname fooled no one. Jaz would always care, no matter how hard she might try to detach herself. But Kano and Shun knew—they knew about Mio and they knew about Levi and they knew about Haydn who had taken everything from her.
They got where she was coming from and didn’t begrudge her continuing insistence on trying to distance herself from them.
No matter what came out of her mouth, the truth was always bared through her actions. Her voice. How she took care of them.
“Better than yesterday,” Kano responded, tilting his head toward the available seat on the other side of the bed.
Jaz took him up on his wordless offer, settling into the hard plastic chair, her back to the window that was letting in gray light from the cloudy morning skies. Rain was continuing to patter against the glass, picked up from from when she had arrived ten minutes prior. It would be a long, damp walk back to headquarters to file her returned status to solo operator.
Both men watched as she got comfortable, yellow folder balanced across her knees until she decided to reveal the contents.
“That’s good. What’s your projected release date?” Her jade-green eyes drifted to meet now-familiar brown, which were narrowed at her. Just a fraction, but enough that she knew he was starting to pick up on an odd vibe.
Wary now, Kano drew out, “Next week, but three more after that until they’ll sign off on a return to active duty. You okay, Captain?”
Never one to beat around the bush. Jaz liked that about him, but appreciated that particular facet of his personality a bit less than she might otherwise at the moment. “I’m fine. We just… need to talk.”
“We’re listening, Cap,” Shun broke in, leaning his forearms against Kano’s hospital bed, starting to clue into what his counterpart was already tracking on.
Jaz stilled, not allowing the way her heart squeezed in her chest to show through. They deserve better than me. They deserve to be as secure as possible in their captain.
“Captain?” Kano checked, shifting to sit up again, his brows furrowed in concern. “What’s going on?”
Summoning the stoicism and blankness that had gotten her through so many hard mission briefings, through well-intentioned sympathies, through Mio and Levi’s memorial ceremony, Jasmine fished out the two clusters of stapled and collated papers.
She didn’t have to look to know what was printed upon the white sheets. Transfer request forms for Elite squad members of more than a month.
“First-Class Elite Matsuda, Elite Suong,” she addressed them with all the formality she could muster, straightening her spine in an unconscious movements. The forms were held out to them in an unwavering hand. “You two are to fill out these and submit them to human resources at headquarters at your earliest possible convenience.”
There was little room for argument or contest left in her tone.
Her two subordinates, soon to be former, frowned at her but the captain refused to be affected, delivering the forms to their reluctant grips, then settling back against the unpadded chair back, arms crossed loosely over her chest.
Jaz didn’t miss the wary glance that Kano and Shun shared before they both started reading what she’d given them.
Shun’s reaction was immediate and far more vehement than she had expected. His hazel blue eyes sparked with an anger that didn’t kindle in such a way very often even as he ripped the three-page stack in half and threw it over his shoulder to let it flutter to the floor. “Don’t even start to give me that bullcrap, Captain.”
“Shun,” Kano warned, flashing a cautioning look towards his counterpart, remembering that, even though their team was close, Jasmine O’Haire was still their captain and superior officer.
Unperturbed and placid, Jaz blinked at Shun but didn’t respond to his ire, waiting for Kano to finish after he returned his attention to his perusal and finally set the forms down amongst the folds of his blue hospital blanket.
Once both pairs of gazes were levelled in her direction, one still filled with resentment, the other far calmer but vexed just the same, the woman set about explaining herself in modulated tones. “I was hasty in agreeing to take on a team. Previous experiences have clouded my judgment and it isn’t fair to the two of you. Put down what you wish in the performance review. They should allow a transfer without too much resistance.”
They were silent for a long minute. Shun, because he was still reigning in his knee-jerk anger, and Kano was churning, trying to formulate a response. Jaz gave them the time they needed—it wouldn’t be an easy transition to accept.
She wasn’t their first captain, but their last had been one from a founding family and she knew firsthand what that meant for a soldier from the second-tier. Still, her body protested the way her muscles tensed over the stress building in her chest.
“What… brought this on?” Kano articulated at last, looking far more haggard now than when she’d first arrived.
Hesitating, Jaz shifted to bring up her leg, resting one booted foot on her knee and clasping her hands around her ankle. Stowing away her momentary uncertainty, she afforded Shun a glance to gauge his stability, before murmuring, forcing herself to hold Kano’s gaze, “There’s a make or break moment when you have a teammate’s blood on your hands. I’ve been there before and am unable to stand up under it this time.”
Pause. Breath. “I will not watch you two die as well.”
The rebellious light in the younger male’s fizzled out and the supine of the two had a stricken expression cross his already pale features. Even if she hadn’t known them as well as she did, Jaz would’ve been able to sort out that they hadn’t considered this aspect of their situation.
A strained smile pulled at the corner of her mouth for a brief moment, but even that was difficult.
It was hard to imagine stepped outside the city walls and not have these two flanking her as they engaged in friendly ribbing over the latest love of Shun’s life.
“Think about it. Submit the forms. Resources should be able to get the request up to one of the commanders by the time you’re ready for active duty, Kano,” Jaz bade the duo, rising from the uncomfortable hospital chair and offering a more genuine smile in farewell. “I’ll see you two around.”
“Wait,” Shun found his tongue, straightening from his slump. “Respectfully, sit back down and quit running for a minute, Captain.”
Jade-green eyes narrowed at his tone. He didn’t usually push his limits like this. “Watch it, Elite. I will write you a citation if need be.”
“Then be reasonable, ma’am.” Shun shot back.
“Matsuda,” Kano cut in before Jaz had a chance to get after him herself. “Take a walk.”
“Are you seriously pulling rank on me right now?” The younger male was incredulous, his attention swinging to his compatriot.
In an even, unyielding tone, the Elite confirmed, “Yes. Cool your head, then come back. Captain O’Haire and I will be here when you return.”
Looking between the two of them, Shun let out an annoyed huff but obeyed, pushing away from Kano’s bedside and veering around the curtain to disappear from sight. Despite his anger, the door didn’t bang when it closed, announcing his departure.
Spine still stiff, Jasmine eyed the remaining, bedridden man, who was in the midst of folding up the transfer request forms and placing it next to his empty takeout box.
“He is right, though, Captain,” Kano commented with some degree of care, returning his attention to her again. “This needs to be a team decision and not just you. I respect that you’re not having an easy time of it, but we deserve a say in this as well.”
The more time I spend on Jaz's story, in her world and with her teammates, the more I fall in love with it all. You know how some writers have a story that's their "baby" and they spend quite seriously years writing, editing, and perfecting it?
Well, I think Jasmine and the ins and outs of Anomaly, Not Prodigy are going to be my baby. There's so much potential for the story, so much to be explored and developed and put into play, from characters to world politics.
It'll be a good place to seriously work on my paltry worldbuilding skills, too, which have been in dire need of sharpening for some time now.
And I comment all this because I was editing back through the above drabbles and was struck--yet again-- with how very much I love this story and the people who live in it. Kano and Shun. Zach and Daniel. Ren. Mio and Levi (though I haven't written much of them yet). Min. Whitecourt. Captain Jasmine O'Haire.
Yeeeaaaah, this story is definitely going to end up being my baby. Sigh. Oh for the work ahead of me.
If the lead-up to these drabbles are confusing, let me know and I'll fill you in on the details. And even if it's not confusing, let me know what you think, yeah? I adore feedback of any type.
Thank you for your patience with my erratic posting schedule, and for reading.
Ad astra per aspera.
To the stars, through difficulties.
