A/N: well, well, well, guess what dear fans? Yup, i have spun out yet another long oneshot. This was partially brought on by my realization that there is a lack of one on one time with my two fav characters, and partially because i just finished writing a freakin graduate level paper on counseling Terry using existential theories! (no, i won't be posting that paper for several reasons, one being most of you won't really understand what i'm talking about). Anyway, like i was saying, i felt that i have neglected the Terry/Jazz friendship recently, and given how i ended the last fic, i thought this would be an interesting follow up. I tightened some strings here and there, but over all this is just a long but sweet Q & A session i guess. For those of you who have questions that weren't answered in the last fic (i.e. how Ter got that scar), this should offer some enlightenment. Anywho, enough of my boring words; now go, read on, enjoy, and review!
The sweltering July heat drives Jazz to seek shelter in her apartment. With the air conditioner on full blast and a fan blowing in her face, she flops down on the couch and grumbles her sweaty misery to the cat. Another week in this heat, and she won't hesitate to move to the north pole and enjoy what's left of the ice caps before she boils herself.
Suddenly, the most horrific sound known to man petrifies Jazz: the air conditioner begins sputtering before silence announces its death. Leaping off the couch, she rushes to an air vent hoping she might have heard wrong. However, her gut sinks to the floor when she feels nothing coming out confirming a broken AC. She can't survive in this heat with no relief. Groaning inwardly, she pushes herself away from the vent, grabs her bag, and walks out the door to enter Oven City.
Even wearing the shortest shorts and the thinnest cotton shirt she owns, she still ends up soaked in sticky sweat by the time she reaches the manor. However, when she opens the door to be greeted by a gust of cool relief, the trip suddenly becomes worth it. Dropping her bag on the floor in the kitchen, she opens the freezer and sticks her head in it smiling when the refreshing cold tingles her red cheeks. After a quick moment, she pulls out a popsicle, unwraps the strawberry flavored treat, and goes in search of Terry as she sucks on the refreshing ice.
After checking the study, library, and dining hall, she finds no sign of him anywhere. She continues aimlessly wandering the mansion, and as she walks by the second story windows, she finds Terry in the back yard scrubbing the floor of the empty pool. Frowning with curiosity, Jazz makes her way down and out into the blazing afternoon heat.
"Hey," she greets grabbing his attention. She walks over to sit on the edge of the pool dangling her legs over the side.
"Hi," he returns without looking up. He continues scrubbing the floor with a long handle pool brush.
"What'd you do to deserve this kind of punishment?"
"It's not a punishment."
She raises a brow at his answer. "So why are you doing this?"
"Why not?"
"Cause it's 105 degrees." He quietly shrugs as he continues with his cleaning duties.
Getting up, Jazz walks back to the kitchen. A few minutes later she returns with two chilled water bottles, two hats, and an extra bucket of soapy water. She hands Terry the bucket before jumping down to join him in the empty pool. She offers him one of the bottles which he gladly takes and thirstily gulps half of it down. After she's been thanked, she grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls it down forcing him to bend over. Once his head is within her reach, Jazz covers it with one of the baseball caps.
"You're such an idiot sometimes," Jazz sighs making him aware of how close he was to cooking his brain.
"Thanks," Terry replies with an amused smile.
After pulling her own hat over her head, she grabs a hand brush and starts working on the walls. They work in silence for a few minutes unaware of Bruce watching them from the second story window.
"So, how long is it going to take before the pool is ready?" Jazz asks moving down the wall to the deeper end.
"Don't know. This is the first time I've cleaned it out. Why'd you come anyway?"
"My AC broke down."
"I see how that inspires you to bake out here," Terry quips.
"Do you want my help or what, McGinnis?" Jazz replies frowning.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
With small talk failing, the two settle for a comfortable silence as they continue to scrub the years of dirt and algae that have stained the grout and covered the floor. As Jazz moves to the deeper end of the pool, she realizes that the wall is getting higher than she is tall.
"Crap," she curses under her breath when she stretches as far as she can but can't reach the top of the wall. "Where's the ladder?" She asks dropping her brushes in the bucket.
A moment later though, she's startled to have her feet leave the floor when Terry lifts her onto his shoulders. He hands her the brushes she dropped and takes up two of his own to continue cleaning the wall. Stifling a grin, she returns to work easily reaching all the way to the top thanks to Terry's help.
"You didn't have to do that," Jazz says anchoring herself on his shoulders by wrapping her legs around his body.
"A ladder is just a hassle; you'll have to move it every few minutes. This is just faster."
"I guess it's safe to say you're brain hasn't been completely fried by the sun," she replies playfully pulling the visor of his cap down. "So, you never said why you were doing this."
"Two things: access to a private pool, and it's summer."
"And Bruce is letting you?"
"He hasn't stopped me yet," Terry replies making Jazz look down at him. "He's been watching us from the window, haven't you noticed?"
She turns her head to look at the manor to find Terry's right. "How'd you know?" She asks looking down at him.
"I've known the man for almost seven years. You should be surprised if I didn't notice."
"What else do you know?" She asks handing him the brushes so he could wet them in the bucket.
"I'm not telling you anything. If I had to learn the hard way, it's only fair that you do too." She rolls her eyes at him and takes the brushes from his hands.
"By the way, how are we even supposed to fill this thing up?" Jazz asks suddenly realizing the massive size of the pool.
"In the shed where all the pool gear is stored, I saw this giant hose. I'm guessing it connects to the water line," he replies taking a few steps down the wall.
"You realize this is going to take us till tomorrow to finish."
"Then clean faster."
Scowling at the top of his head, she continues scrubbing away at the wall without saying another word. A couple of hours pass before the two finally have the entire pool scrubbed up and ready to be rinsed. After Jazz hops off of Terry's shoulders, he climbs out of the pool to fetch a hose and a pump. When he returns, he hangs the hose leading to the pump over the deep end and tosses a clean pool brush over to Jazz.
"Push the water towards the pump," Terry instructs as he starts spraying water from the shallow end.
"Why am I supposed to be the one to push the water?" Jazz asks scowling at the brush by her feet.
"Because I said so," he replies wetting down the walls. "Come on, get to it," he orders with a grin. When she sends a scowl his way, he points the hose at her spraying her down.
Letting out a laugh of surprise, she quickly hops away from the waters range. "Cute, McGinnis, real cute," she giggles as she picks up the brush and does as she's told
It takes another hour before they are done rinsing the sides of the pool and for the pump to suck up the dirty water. With the sun beginning to set, Terry helps Jazz climb out of the pool. As she returns the buckets and brushes to the shed, he takes out the large water hose he was talking about earlier and sets it up to begin the filling process.
"Hey, where's that hose you were using earlier?" Jazz asks.
"Why?"
"I found some chaise lounges that I can clean."
He points in the direction of the lawn where he tossed the hose earlier. After she drags the loungers out, he helps wipe them down with a rag after she dowses them with water.
"Thanks, by the way," Terry starts as he watches Jazz spray down the last chair.
"Thank my dead air conditioner," she replies before turning off the water.
"I'll send it a card."
"Are you hungry?" Jazz asks when Terry dries the last chair
"What are you making?"
"Nothing, you're making us something today," she replies walking past him.
"Uh, okay," Terry hesitantly replies following her into the kitchen.
As she moves to the fridge and pulls out a jug of iced tea, Terry takes out a loaf of bread intended for sandwiches.
"Turkey or tuna?" He asks when he grabs the rest of the ingredients from the fridge.
"Sandwiches? Really?" She asks unimpressed by his effort.
"You can only blame yourself for this one, Douglas."
"Turkey," she mumbles rolling her eyes.
As he prepares their lunch, Jazz takes a long gulp of her refreshing tea. Once ready, he slides her plate over as he takes a seat across from her. They eat in silence and study every detail in the kitchen except each other.
"You know what I hate about summer?" She suddenly asks after Terry finishes his meal.
"The heat?"
She shakes her head as she gets up to collect the empty plates and place them in the sink. "No, the sun. It gives everything that weird smell; know what I'm talking about?"
"Not really."
"Well, it's the way someone who's been outside smells like. You can tell they've been out in the sun because of it. It's like a weird sweaty, musty type of smell. The worst part is that it clings on you until you take a shower, and you only notice it when you're inside in the cool, humidity-free air."
"And that's what you hate about summer?" Terry asks resting his cheek on a propped fist.
"I hate summer in general. It's a terrible season, especially in Gotham. All you do is sweat and be miserable under an unforgiving sun."
"What's your favorite season then?"
"Fall."
"Why?"
"Cause of the colors," she replies smiling. "Every leaf takes on a different shade forcing you to pay attention to each one. Reds, yellows, even purple on the rare occasion. You look at a tree in the summer and there's nothing special about it, but in the fall…" her voice trails off as she imagines forests of golden trees that seem to shimmer. "And there's a smell to the air. It's not sweet or piney. It's… I don't really know how to describe it."
"Earthy," Terry replies.
"Yeah," Jazz agrees bringing her dreamy eyes to meet his. "But not overwhelmingly. It's got that subtle freshness to it."
"Especially after it rains," he adds leaning back in his chair.
"Exactly," she says slightly surprised by how he found the words she was looking for. "How'd you know?" A passive shrug is his reply. "What's your favorite then?"
"Winter."
"Winter?" She repeats surprised yet again.
"Yeah, what'd you think it was?"
"Summer."
"Why?"
"Short skirts," she replies with a teasing grin.
"Funny," Terry says rolling his eyes.
He downs the rest of his tea and walks out heading back to the yard. Hating herself for the stupid comment, Jazz follows him out to apologize.
"Hey, look, I didn't mean what I said back there," she starts.
"Relax, I'm not offended," he replies as he checks on the hose filling the pool. "Just surprised by your opinion of me."
She awkwardly stuffs her hands in her pockets and shifts her weight from one leg to the next. "So, why winter?"
With a sigh, he takes a seat on the edge dangling his legs over the side and watches the water flow out of the hose. "I'd rather be cold than hot."
Not buying his answer, she takes a seat next to him and nudges him with her shoulder. "Come on; I told you mine."
A moment of silence passes before Terry speaks. "Ever been through a blizzard?"
"A few times, yeah."
"My favorite part is right after, when everything is covered in snow. It's like time stopped and the snow makes everything look different. It gives you a different perspective of the world you thought you knew; a chance to see the city when it's quiet."
"It's like a getaway," Jazz adds. He lifts his head to look at her with agreement. "Just when you think you despise the city and would do anything to leave, the storm gives you a chance to love it again."
"Exactly."
They share a mesmerized gaze for a moment before Jazz suddenly clears her throat and looks away.
"It's getting dark," she says looking up at the golden sky slowly turning indigo. "I saw some lights in the shed that we can hang." She quickly gets to her feet to fetch them.
A sigh escapes his lips as he takes off the hat to run a hand through his hair. Something almost clicked there, but he quickly pushes it to the back of his mind. Now is not the time to explore something he shouldn't be feeling in the first place. Getting up, he helps her hang the string of lights on posts set up around the pool.
"So, you never told me when you actually started to cook," Terry says hanging his half of the lights on the last post.
"If you should know," Jazz sighs inserting the plug into the outlet. "It was by accident." She looks up at the lights scowling at the few that were burnt out. "I was in Atlanta, and the caretaker there had a weird way of punishing us; I'm not sure if it borders on abuse." She stretches out on one of the lounges before continuing.
"I was twelve at the time and already a regular trouble maker. So the caretaker, Dolly I think her name was, found out I had snuck out the night before. So I wasn't allowed dinner that night, and while the other kids enjoyed their dry meatloaf, I was forced to sit in front of the TV with the channel stuck on the Food Network. I guess Dolly's intention was to make my stomach eat itself while I watched appetizing food being prepared, but I actually became interested with the whole cooking process instead. You could say that there were times I intentionally got in trouble 'cause it was the only way I could watch the Food Network without interruption. After I turned 18 and left child care services, I taught myself to cook using what I watched."
"Well that backfired on poor Dolly," he jokes as he takes a seat on the lounge across from her.
She laughs at the remark. "Yeah, I guess it did," she sighs. "So what's your favorite dish?" She asks as she stares up at the darkening sky.
Lying down and clasping his hands behind his head, he gives his answer some thought. "I don't know; I pretty much eat anything that's edible."
"Oh come on, everyone has that one dish that waters their mouths uncontrollably."
"Well, if I had to pick one thing, it's catfish."
"Catfish?" She asks with a perked brow.
"Ever had it?"
"Once a while ago. It's a versatile fish; you can pretty much cook it into anything."
"My grandma makes the best oven-baked catfish on the planet. I don't know what she does to it, but when it comes out, I never seem to have enough. If she didn't live in Florida, I'd probably be over her place every weekend to have some."
"Maybe you should plan a trip sometime."
"Nah; she doesn't really like me that much anymore."
"Cause of your record?"
"Yeah; she's old fashioned. You'll always be a hooligan if you end up behind bars once," he says repeating the words his grandmother once said.
"Doesn't she know what you've been doing lately though?"
"Not sure," he shrugs. "Mom tries to talk to her about me, but from what I understand, Grandma Macy doesn't really ask much after me."
"That sucks."
"Gotten used to it."
They quietly lay next to each other listening to the gushing water fill the enormous pool and watching the last sliver of sun disappear into Gotham's bay.
"God, the nights are just as hot as the days," Jazz complains as she takes off her hat and fans herself with it.
"At least the sun isn't beating down on us," Terry replies.
"Always the optimist," she quips. She looks up at the darkened sky and watches as the first stars of the night begin to shine. "Stars are out tonight."
"Hm," he acknowledges staring up.
He gets up and turns off the string of lights surrounding them so they can get a better look at the gems scattered in the sky. He returns to his seat and continues star gazing in silence.
"What's it like being up there?" Jazz asks.
"What do you mean?"
"In space. One of the Justice League's head quarters is up there, and you've been to it, haven't you?"
"Yeah, a few times."
"So what was it like?"
"Honestly, kinda intimidating."
"How come?"
"You realize just how small and insignificant you really are." She turns to look at him for a second before bringing her eyes up to the twinkling sky. "I remember when I first got there, I looked out the window and saw the earth for the first time. It was enormous; the scale of it is indescribable. Pictures don't prepare you for what you see in real life. It really puts things into perspective.
"Anyway, there was this hurricane forming in the Gulf of Mexico, a pretty big one too. Leaguers were being dispatched to help citizens evacuate and save whatever they can of their cities. But in the end, not even Superman could stop the storm from making landfall. It made me realize that no matter how important or powerful you are, there will be times when your effort won't make a difference. That scared me; it meant that sometimes failing is inevitable no matter what I do."
"Sometimes it isn't about failing or succeeding, though," Jazz starts. "Sometimes it's about that effect you have on the people who experience what you've done no matter how small or insignificant you think it is," she replies making Terry scoff.
"Did you read that on a fortune cookie?" He asks with a cheeky grin.
"No," she grins back realizing how philosophical she sounded just then. "I mean let's face it, you can't save everybody in this city no matter how hard you try; people die under your watch, but the thing is, they still believe in you and trust you to save them. They may lose people they love, but they eventually make meaning of their loss and move on."
Looking at her, Terry finds himself once again grateful for these moments they share. Her simple, straightforward words help him reason and find a way to reassure growing anxieties. He's amazed by how cool she appears now as she stares up at the sky seemingly unaware of the profound effect she tends to have on him. A shooting star cuts across the sky and slices through his string of thoughts.
"Did you see that?" She asks with childlike awe.
"Yeah," he replies turning his eyes skyward. "Make a wish."
"That's a waste of time," she scoffs.
"Cynicism can get old sometimes, Jazz. Just close your eyes and make a damn wish."
Smiling, Jazz does as she's told and the two sit in silence as she finds a wish to make.
However, the quiet moment is cut short when Bruce suddenly makes his presence known. "Are you two going to keep lounging around or are you going to get to work already?"
The young adults exchange glances before reluctantly getting up and following Bruce to the cave's entrance. "So what'd you wish for?" Terry asks looking down at his partner.
"That we'd have the night off for once," she replies before the two snicker at the ironic twist.
-continued-