A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reading and commenting on the fic - it's amazing. About the pregnancy speculation, I never planned to go there with the fic and I won't. It's ironic that so many symptoms of pregnancy are experienced in heartbreak. The storm is upon us, hang in there and I promise it will be worth it. Again, enjoy x
Monday, 8.10am, Lucy's All-day Breakfast Diner, New York.
Evelyn only agreed to leave on Thursday night once Joss' got her appetite back, could make it through a decent workout and was presentable enough to receive her son. They had been through these motions three times already: after her deployments in Afghanistan and Iraq, and on the fateful day in 2004 when she filed for divorce. Luckily, the stipulations didn't include not thinking about him, not longing for his touch on her aching body or not hearing him in every song on the radio. She went cold turkey: for now, she allowed herself one song that wasn't on the gospel CD set Evelyn had left behind: her father's favourite, Fly me to the Moon.
"Look Carter. I don't know what went down in the woods with Die Hard or why you cut your hair. All I know is next time you better pick up the damn phone. People care about you."
"You can tell people, to ask him when you see him." She smiled at how protective he was of her.
"That rough?" He asked. She shook her head indicating she wouldn't talk about it. "Tight-lipped as ever."
She rubbed a strand of hair between her fingers. "As for this, I needed to let go."
"Lynne dyed her hair once. Honey blonde. Six weeks later she wasn't cut out for cop life and she'd met someone new."
"We're all someone's ex Fusco. How's Lee doing?"
"He made tryouts for the Youth Hockey Summer Camp. One step closer to Pro."
"That's great, congrats."
He lowered his voice. "What's this I hear about you and Walker at some fancy hotel, yucking it up at the bar on Friday?"
She thought on her feet. "He was hitting on my soror at the bar, not me; he tried to take over our girl's night out."
He sighed with relief. "I knew it couldn't be true."
The waitress gave them the bill. She threw down $30 before he could see it. "Keep the change." The waitress beamed with gratitude.
"I can't let you do that, you only had an omelette and toast."
"For the heads up about Paul. We're even."
10.30am, Frankford, Delaware.
John's workouts had intensified due to his daily doping; it gave him an edge and suppressed the sexual desire he couldn't quench. He trained to fight, he trained for survival, readying his body for war. Every ball slam, every whistle of the bamboo sticks cutting through the air, and every whip of the rope was therapeutic; draining him of the energy to think of her. He was in a transient state, devoid of anxiety, capable of anything. Beads of sweat formed a pool on his stomach as he hit the 500th bicycle rep. He collapsed, spent, flat on his back. A thought crept in.
The ottoman. Being restricted to the bedroom did nothing but fan the flames; fuelled by Jose Cuervo and Van Hunt's Her December she shoved him onto the ottoman at the foot of the bed, lifted her skater dress around her waist and rode him until her straight laces on the back of her dress came undone. All he could do was lay there and take the rocking of her hips; all her pleasure, all her pain. His orgasm was punctuated by a thud.
You break it, you buy it John.
Technically you broke it.
He slapped himself back to reality. He had work to do, chasing up the leads he got from his friendly talk with Radovan before he flipped the 275 pound body into the river.
11:15pm, 8th Precinct.
Captain Miller had made changes to his office in the short time she had been away. A matching set of mahogany furniture sat on a green diamond rug. His family photos adorned the bureau. She scanned the room for the picture of her father in their platoon from the other side of his pedestal desk.
"Welcome back Detective."
"Glad to be back Captain."
He smiled at her, and satisfied her curiosity with an 8 by 6 inch copy of the photo she was looking for. "I'm having it professionally framed."
She traced over her father's face with her thumb. "I came to apologise for how I addressed you Captain. I could've handled it better."
"It happens to the best of us." She handed back the photo. "The very best." He said, referring to her father.
"Informally speaking, we visited him on Saturday; mom, Taylor, Paul and I."
His eyebrows raised involuntarily. "Paul and Evelyn?"
She cocked her head at the rosary beads on the desk. "He works."
He let out a hearty laugh, she remembered how his entire face used to betray his uniform. He regained composure. "Now Detective, you've been capped."
"Contract hours?"
"43 and not a minute over." He waited for her protest.
She gritted her teeth. "Fine."
"Fine?"
"To be honest, I've only got a few months left before Taylor moves to D.C. And if this is how I can spend more time with him, I'll take it."
"If you're not the spitting image of Evelyn..." He shook his head. "How is she?"
"She's fine, considering."
"16 years." He shook his head again. His police aide knocked and entered, reminding him of a speaking engagement he had upstate. "I have to cut this short. Duty calls."
"Of course." She stood up. "Give Aunt Crystal my best. It's been too long."
He gave her a friendly nod. "Yes it has. Another time."
She text Walker afterwards.
- Made contact.
2.30pm, Frankford, Delaware.
John unhooded the three Transportation Officers. They were sitting, handcuffed, with their feet in buckets of water. "I have some questions guys. But first, a little science lesson. When water comes into contact with an energised electrical circuit a thing called electrolysis occurs..."
3.20pm, Mulberry High School.
"...the electricity starts to break down the water into hydrogen and oxygen gases. if it continues for a long time the gases can build up to an explosive mixture. As that's happening the wires in the circuit could start heating up as the heat generated by the water breakdown causes sparks. It's called a cascade effect. One thing leads to another and either the circuit breakers kick out or a fire starts." Taylor explained, drawing stick figures and spirals on a piece of paper.
"That actually makes sense." Cecile sipped on a latte. "Are you coming to the Film Festival?"
"Can Bella come?"
"If you want."
"What's up with you two?"
"Your girlfriend is too uptight. She makes it so easy. I'm just playing Teh-lorre."
"Oh. Right."
"Besides, Prince Thembinkosi Dlamini of the Zulu Kingdom is taking me to Prom."
"Prince who?"
"My father thinks it will be good to show Pan-African solidarity with those Xenophobic attacks going on." She showed him the news feed on her bedazzled tablet.
"Isn't that far-fetched?"
"I don't understand."
"People won't stop committing violent acts against foreigners because you went to Prom with a Prince. Why don't you go with someone you actually know?"
She looked out the window at the grey car she was escorted in. "Because no-one dates the girl with the security guard. I read your assignment, it's better."
"But,"
"You're still writing from English to French; that's why your grammar is bad. You have to write in French alone – don't translate because the phrasing is different. You should watch more films."
"Fine I'll go, but lay off Bella."
4.30pm, Frankford, Delaware.
"Finch. I need everything you have on Havel." He looked at the three dead Transportation Officers. "I need to corroborate some details." He hung up before he could hear the voice of his dearest friend.
6.00pm, Perennial Hotel, Manhattan
"Play it again." Joss commanded, referring to the phone call he played her on Friday evening.
"The Babyjet has landed and it arrived with extra baggage." Colonel Taylor said to his second-in-command.
A hearty laugh followed, Lieutenant Colonel Miller replied. "They don't know what they're in for."
"That call is from your father's phone log, December 23rd 1990. One year after his success in Operation Just Cause, he was under investigation. A transfer of $400000 was traced to an off-shore account in the Cayman Islands linking back to Noriega's replacement. Payment for stolen military weapons. Account name: Babyjet."
"So you think my father betrayed his country? His record is exemplary. There were many investigations Mars, trying to bring down my father as he rose up through the ranks. They said he was too good, and couldn't be that clean, but he was. I'll bet my life on it."
"The transfer was made on December 24th 1990. The same day your father met with Miller. The money's been untouched for all these years. If it wasn't for a RICO operation we wouldn't have found it. Miller was honorably discharged from the Army a few months later and they were never seen together again. I need you to gather intel on what was said on Christmas Eve 1990. The audio was destroyed when the investigation was closed."
Joss was calm and steely. She put the DVD in the laptop. The time stamp on the footage read: 7.45pm, 04/18/1976.
"What's my name?" Josiah asked, taking off her bunny slippers. On his knees he was still taller than her.
"Daddy." Evelyn laughed in the background, slightly shaking the camera footage.
"What do they call me?"
"Sir Captain Taylor sir."
He tickled her. "My little comedian. What's my real name?"
He wasn't ready for her punchline. "Jet."
"Where'd you hear that?" The camera became more than a bit shaky.
"Uncle Vinnie. Put another steak on the grill Jet!" She mimicked.
He stared at the camera with concern then collected himself. "My real name is Josiah Emmanuel Taylor. J.E.T. What does that spell?"
"Jet. You're not a jet, you're daddy."
"Actually," He lied. "I am a jet, I can fly to the moon and back and not get tired."
Her eyes grew. "Wow! Can you take me?"
He flashed another look off-camera. "When you grow up. For now you're a Babyjet and I'm gonna fly you all the way to bed."
"I won't get tired." She said.
"I bet you will." He looked into the camera, relieved.
The screen went black. He turned to her. "I'm Babyjet,Mars."