A/N: Another one! I'm sorry, but I so love the Jazz and Viola pairing! They deserve more stories!

Dirty Little Secret

Viola's days had been growing excessively monotonous lately.

Every day, she would get up and drink milk and eat toasted bread. She would then call Arco, go outside and release the goats into the green fields of the Chorus Plains. Somehow, hours and hours would pass and she would delve into her bag from which she would produce a couple of slices of cheese and bread, which she would eat.

More hours would pass and she would get her goats together, lock them up and eat dinner.

Before she had been adventuring with Jazz and the others, she hadn't minded this life much. Now, however, the lack of stimulation was almost choking her.

To top that off, not even one of her goats had gone astray. Not one, not ever.

Viola wanted to rip the air out of her head and scream at the top of her lungs. You would think placing your life in danger every day would have been enough to snuff the taste for excitement out of a person, but no. Once you were done and had to go back to your ordinary life, it'd drive you insane because you couldn't possibly live anything like that on a daily basis ever again.

She should leave this place and do something – but what? She was too old to hang around Polka, Allegretto and Beat all by herself, she couldn't guard agogos in a forest and it certainly wasn't like she was going to Andante! Viola did not know if Claves and Jazz had got back together after they'd reunited the pieces of her soul, but she was enough of a bitter loser to certainly not care to confirm the answer with her eyes.

Once inside her home, Viola untied her hair from its usual knots with a sigh. She didn't want to think about Jazz again. Then again, she was living a routine and that just happened to be another part of it.

She should move to the city and see if she met someone who'd make her forget about the leader of Andantino. She really should. But let's be frank, Viola thought with a sneer. How many men did you know who would be capable of surpassing someone who had helped save the world?

With that thought, she cooked up a dinner of beef stew. The sun was about to set by the time she set down a plate and, as she was ready to start eating, someone knocked on the door.

Viola was so used to utter silence by now that she jumped on her chair.

Who could it be? Some worn-out traveler who'd gone lost and needed shelter? It was growing late, so the possibilities couldn't vary much beyond that. She did live in an isolated place in the world. It had been over two years since she'd last heard from her companions and she was certain none of them would visit her at this hour.

Imagine her surprise when, after the door was open, she found none other than Jazz standing on the other side, his clothes covered in dust and his eyes shadowed by the weariness of travels. His expression changed mildly after he saw her, but still, he composed himself and greeted her. "Hello, Viola."

Her spine trembled with shock. Viola blinked once. Twice. It really was him, wasn't it?

He raised one eyebrow at her. "Viola—"

"Yes!" She shook her head, a heavy embarrassed blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm sorry; I was just so surprised to see you!" She threw her door open and smiled. "Hello, Jazz. How are you?"

"I'm good," he nodded. "By your face, I'm assuming you don't get many visits… Haven't you heard from anyone?"

Viola shook her heard once more. "Not for a while now." She shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. "It's just been me, Arco and the goats."

Jazz made a sound with the back of his throat. Somehow, he did not doubt Viola. Her reaction seemed way too genuine for her to be lying. His eyes flicked to the room behind her, where he could see a plate of hot, steaming food.

At that, Viola gave a little jump. "Oh – I'm sorry!" she quirkily apologized, pointing to her small table. "You want some dinner? I've just made some stew."

"I wouldn't want to intrude," said Jazz. For some reason, he got the feeling she was much too disturbed to have him here… Perhaps Viola was much too used to being alone?

"You won't," she said. "Come on in. I'll set up a plate for you."

She turned her back to him and proceeded to walk back inside, where she opened up a cupboard and fished for a plate. Once that was done, she opened up a drawer and withdrew a knife and a fork. As she set them down, she asked, "What are you doing in this place anyway? I thought you'd be in either Baroque or in Andante."

Closing the door behind him, Jazz responded, "I thought I'd pass by and check on an old friend on the way to Ritardando."

For a reason, she seemed to cringe. "Ritardando?"

"Word is that a rebellion is at hand and Ritardando is its breast," Jazz explained. "There were quite a few people who weren't content with the union of the two countries – namely the nobility."

Viola frowned, picking up a cup and filling it with ale. "But they've got one of their own married to the King of Baroque. Pull up a chair, will you?"

"True, but Serenade is there because they wanted momentary peace, not their countries merged together."

Viola said nothing while she placed the food on his plate. Jazz eyed down the stew, the smell of rosemary caused his stomach to growl yet again and Viola to giggle slightly.

"Well then, sit down. Let us eat," Viola said.

Dinner passed by with Jazz filling Viola in with the news as she hadn't much to say of her quotidian… Jazz even got the feeling that she was growing increasingly tired of it, almost to a point of desperation. Jazz couldn't blame her; if he had to look after goats all day every day and get home to a pet, he would most certainly be desperate for a change of airs as well.

Then he began to notice the small changes in Viola. She was wearing her usual attire, but her hair was down. It wasn't that Jazz had ever thought of Viola as a stain on beauty but with her hair like that she… She was different – somehow less guarded and somewhat more feminine.

Her attitude too, had changed. She was beat… too beat, perhaps and at every mention of either Claves or Falsetto, she would cringe. Jazz suspected that she was guarding something from him. It was as though as he'd caught her off-guard and she just didn't have the energy or the will to put her defenses up again.

It was only later, after he had accepted some linden tea that Jazz realized what the thing was.

Just a casual brush of their fingers which, despite how long they'd traveled together, somehow had never happened before was enough. Viola had been handing him the cup of tea and her skin had softly teased his. A touch so light, so brief and still, Viola had frozen and apologized profusely for it.

Either she was too out of touch with common human contact, or something was wrong. Jazz asked her just that and, like always, Viola smiled tightly and replied, "No… everything's fine. It's nothing to concern yourself over."

Jazz set down the cup and rose up from his seat. "I get the feeling you do not want me here, Viola."

She held up her hands in front of her chest. "No, no! Not that. I do want you here, Jazz, but—" she nit down her lip and her face became similar to that of a child who had been caught in a lie. Then, she looked away and weakly whispered. "Truth is, perhaps I want you here too much."

Suddenly, Jazz felt a very strong stab of guilt. All this time, Viola too had had feelings for him… And he'd never noticed. For a man who prided himself on reading people, he certainly had come short on this one.

He looked at her, still astonished. With all the travelling and Claves's death and Falsetto's disappearance, perhaps he had had one or two fleeting thoughts of Viola, but nothing beyond that. Afterwards, his dearest friend had reappeared and Claves had been brought to life and the countries were united that his head had been something of a mess afterwards. Jazz had been so busy he'd been incapable of sorting anything out these past years.

"But really, don't mind me," added Viola, the lack of words from Jazz's part only appearing to have given her determination. "I really don't want to intrude."

Jazz had never thought that he had left not two women hanging on his decision… but three.

"Viola…" Her name died on Jazz's lips as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. His tender touch had caused Viola to look away and so his hand moved to her chin, shifting her face so that he could look at her in the eye. "Viola, I did not know—"

"Don't pity me, Jazz," interrupted an abrasive Viola. "That was the one reason why I never wanted you to know in the first place."

"But I don't pity you," said Jazz. "You're a strong, independent woman."

"Which is why I should know better." She made to move his hand, but Jazz kept it firmly in place. "Please drop your hand," she sighed.

"No," Jazz stubbornly denied. "I'm sorry, Viola—"

"I don't want you to be sorry!" she cut him off with a fierce shout. "Really, Jazz, why do you think I kept so quiet? You had enough trouble already and I wasn't just about to stride into your life out of nowhere and hope you'd choose me!"

Viola shook with nervousness. She had always been so careful not to give herself away and the routine she'd fallen into had made her do just that. She wished she hadn't wished for anything to happen. Then Jazz wouldn't know and she'd still be alone with a secret which was only hers.

"Let me go, Jazz," she was almost pleading.

"Viola," he mouthed.

"Please."

"No," he refused again.

She looked up into his eyes, trying to seem strong and resolute despite how much the trembling of her body said the contrary. "Why?" At least her voice was leveled.

With the tips of his fingers, Jazz brushed the side of her waist, left uncovered by her garments. Viola's breath got stuck on her throat and her lips parted in mild wonder. "Because, Viola…" Jazz's hand slid around her back, pulling her close to him. "I'm not entirely sure I want to."

A moment passed. Then another. One breath, two, three… Tension seemed to rise to such a point that Viola thought it was going to strangle her. It rose to such a level that it was nothing short of unbearable.

Then their lips crashed unceremoniously and she forgot it altogether. At that moment, Viola didn't want to think. She wanted to feel… feel Jazz's hands all over her body, squeezing here, caressing there; feel his lips, first locked with hers, with their tongues swirling together; feel his body, her own hands sneaking under his clothes to touch him wherever she could.

Somewhere along their vicious kisses, Viola realized she had no idea why Jazz was doing this.

It didn't matter. She didn't care to ask anyway.

Down came his jacket. Her skirt slid onto the floor. Then it was time for his shirt and the top of her vest. Jazz lifted her off the floor and her nails dug deep into his back, drawing a gasp from his lips. Viola pushed his hair, forcing Jazz to tilt his head before her mouth fell on his once again. By the time they'd reached her bed, his hair ribbon had come off and his dark hair was falling free down his shoulders.

Jazz laid Viola down on the bed, kissing her deeply all the while. He moved to suck on one of her breasts, occasionally nibbling at the nipple while his hand circled around the other. Viola moaned and Jazz's lips went further down, stopping when he pulled back to remove her undergarments and her boots.

Viola propped herself up on her elbows to observe him. When the last piece of her clothing was discarded, she sat up and reached out to him to tug at the waistband of his pants. Soon afterwards, his clothes, too, had come off and he stood naked in front of her.

She only had a short glance of appreciation before he pushed her back into the bed and parted her legs with his hand. Before his mouth followed, their eyes met but for a moment and he gave her the wickedest smile which caused her heart to skip a beat.

What his mouth and fingers did afterwards made it skip a lot more. Soon Viola was moaning his name and asking him for more. Jazz moved and, with a single thrust, plunged deeply into her.

She did not know for how long they were screaming each other's names, both lost in a feverish haze of mind-blowing pleasure. They shifted from time to time so that she was the one standing on top, or kneeling in front of him, or on their side, or back to their first position, where Viola crested and her world was only focused on that single point in time. Soon afterwards, Jazz joined her and collapsed at her side.

Once Viola had caught her breath, she turned to lay on her side. Her fingers tenderly scraped Jazz's cheek and, covering her hand with his own, he smiled. Viola could not say if it was because he had never smiled at her so accomplishedly but even though what they had been doing just moments before had been amazing, the pleasure then did not compare to the sudden wave of warmth that smile had stirred.

Jazz kissed her on the lips, then on the forehead and with her head on the nook of his arm, they fell asleep.

It was the best sleep she'd had in years. The next day, she woke up to the rhythm of his hand brushing her hair. She nuzzled his shoulder to sign that she was no longer asleep but remained silent.

So did Jazz. But he kept on running his fingers through her hair.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Viola was almost back asleep; it was his voice which nudged her awake.

"I don't know what to make of this," he admitted.

"Neither do I," Viola concurred. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

Jazz's hand moved to her jaw, which he traced. "Until now, we'll leave this a secret."

Viola nodded and for the last time that day, he kissed her. He kissed her so deeply, her world spun; then his lips left and it stood still and went back to being dull, as it had been for a long, long time.

Later on, as she watched Jazz walk away, Viola realized she wouldn't go back to her typical monotony. Jazz had left her with something which would always manage to break it off: this.

Their dirty little secret.