Chapter 21

I am

This wouldn't be like before. Last time, when she chose to go alone, she had nothing but the clothes on her back and Usa-chan in her arms. Because of this she got horribly lost, and a whole host of other circumstances resulted. It was hard to lament her judgment however. Due to her careless actions she managed to meet someone wonderful. Still, she wasn't going to do that again. This time she had her purse, phone, and money. Something like that wasn't going to repeat itself.

Las Vegas became very familiar to her by now. Her current whereabouts, her landmarks, and other areas nearby, everything was in her head and she could navigate without getting lost. When telling the taxi driver where to go, she had no fear of history repeating itself. She also knew if he was going to give her the runabout to increase his fare. They went West on one freeway, North on the next, and got off at the overpass that Jordan had lead her the day before on their walk. The hotel that casts a shadow over his apartment was now before her.

"It's in the back, turn here."

For a while had the sun disappeared behind the mountains to the West, but a bit a light still brushed the sky a medium-dark azure. However, Las Vegas considers this the start of night. Lights ignite and the buildings are highlighted in neon and other assorted colors. It was a bit funny, but the only time she could experience this sight was the first night after she arrived. In her state she couldn't appropriately appreciate the spectacle. Now it looks so beautiful. Jordan sees this sight every night. Does this ever become old, or does the magic still exist even after long?

Because the gate was down, she had to get off at the end of the parking lot. It shouldn't have been a big deal, as the walk wasn't particularly far, but as she heads towards his apartment Iori was becoming increasingly nervous. All that determination and bravado from back at the hotel has now almost completely washed away. Iori wants to see him, but what if Jordan didn't want to see her? What was she supposed to do then?

Movements becoming robotic, it was a miracle she manages to walk at all. Her heat beating so fast in her chest she could drop dead at any minute. Fingers trembling, sweat dripping from her brow on this cool night, everything points to a disaster in the making. Was it too late to turn around now? No, her friends will never forgive her after the performance she gave. Before she realized it, she'd stopped walking. With an effort she pushes herself forward, now worrying about what she should say after knocking on the door.

Those stairs don't look very safe. As she ascends, her unsteady legs and the loose railing make the task nearly impossible. Heights were never a problem for her, but only now did she fear falling. For a time she had to stop and take a break, but after hearing someone open a door on the first floor, she darts up to the top.

His door is now before her. Iori made it this far, only one more thing stood before her. No amount of forethought could prepare her for this, so she takes a leap and knocks on the door.

"Jordan, are you there? It's me, Iori." There was no answer. Was he ignoring her? "I know Ritsuko might have said some terrible things, but she was just worried about us, and-" she was making excuses and apologies, something she didn't want to do. She starts again. "It doesn't matter what you've done, well, it does, but, well-" no, that wasn't what she meant. "Please, could you open the door? I want to talk to you again. I want to see you."

In her best words, that's what she wanted to say. A simple request, and a simple statement. "I want to see you." This was her ultimate effort. It was up to him to open the door.

The door did not open.

Sadness threatens to overtake her, but she steels herself. Was it supposed to be that easy? Just because she was rejected, was she supposed to give up after just that? No! She couldn't! This was her fight, and she would not lose so easily.

"Everything you've done for us! We really appreciate it! The sacrifices you made! It was cruel of us to let you walk away! I don't want it to end that way!"

Still, only silence.

Tears bit at her eyes, but she would not allow herself to cry. But her strength was draining and she needs a rest. Lowering herself, she sits with her back to the door.

"You know, I didn't tell everything to my friends when we were reunited. There were some things I wanted to keep to myself. Actually, when you came back this morning, I was a jealous. A little bit because you called Azusa beautiful, but also because I realized I wouldn't be keeping you all to myself anymore. I'm sorry for being selfish, and I'm sorry if I were ever rude to you. Sometimes it's hard for me to be honest with other people, and maybe even with myself. Hey, and that question Ami asked but I wouldn't translate, she asked if you liked younger girls. Heh, how could you? Someone as immature and selfish as me. Impossible, right?"

There was a noise, but it was the door next to his that opens. It's a kid maybe only a couple years older than her. Sticking his head through the gap, it's a bald young man of Asian decent. Iori doubts he'll recognize her.

For a very awkward moment he stares at her. Iori smiles weakly and waves. The kid pulls himself back inside and slams the door. So that was Jordan's neighbor. She didn't know what to make of that.

That short encounter drained some of the willpower out of her. Was she wasting her time? Was she only being a nuisance? Maybe it was time she shut up and wait for Jordan to make up his mind. Surely he wouldn't leave her to sit at his doorstep without giving a word, would he? No. He'll either let her in, or tell her to go home. She could only wait and hope.

But before she goes silent, there was one more thing she had to say, "You shouldn't have shaved your beard. I didn't think it looked bad."

No daylight remained, but because of all the Las Vegas neon the stars didn't come out. Looking to her left Iori sees the backside of the hotel with the fountains. To the right were the massive towers that were supposed to be a miniature city all on one lot. An ambitious product, the daughter of Minase was surprised to learn it was finished at all, but as she heard it they have to implode one of the towers. It wouldn't be surprising if her family actually owned one of those lofts.

"Iori?"

That voice could only belong to one person, only it wasn't coming from the door, but the stairs.

"Jor!" quickly followed by, "den?"

It was the man alright, but there was a haggard expression on his face, his backpack slung over his shoulder, and a case of beer in his hand so large it might have been better to call it a crate. This wasn't exactly the reunion she was expecting to make. It couldn't be possible that Iori-

"Did I beat you here?"

"What do you expect?" for the first time, she hears his raised voice. "You decided to make your dramatic revelation all the way on the far side of The Strip! Do you know how many buses I had to take, and how long I had to wait at each stop? It took me two hours just to get on this side of the freeway!"

Cowering at his voice, but for some reason she isn't exactly scared. This was exactly the kind of tone Iori remembers, the halfway playing and halfway serious joking he did. It was if nothing happened this afternoon, and he was mad at her for ditching him on a date. All then tension and stress bolted out of her muscles, but it was replaced by something else. He was gone, so he heard absolutely none of her confessions from the heart. Would she have to say all that again? She'd die of embarrassment!

"I-um-that is-we were-" Iori was a stuttering mess.

Jordan sighs and brushes past her. Placing his crate of beer on the ground (it's so heavy Iori can feel the ground shake beneath her feet) he goes into his pocket and retrieves his keys. Without saying a word he takes his beer and goes inside. Iori fidgets, not knowing if she should follow.

"What are you doing? Come on in."

"Yes!" and she scampers inside.

This was the point she wanted to make it to, but now that she's here she doesn't know what to say. The first thing that pops into her mind is,

"Why do you have all that beer? Were you throwing a party or something?"

He answers, "No. I was planning to get so plastered I'd forget this day ever happened."

Definitely was he sour, but Jordan didn't exactly sound mad. Iori knew what this was; he was restraining himself, but this tone was the same as when he always talked. Does this mean he was always restraining himself? After everything she experienced, and what she now knows, it's difficult to think it's not true. Was this not why she returned her in the first place? Didn't she want to help him, help him just as he helped her?

"Stop that!" she shouts. "Stop trying to act like everything's okay!"

Jordan's pauses halfway to the kitchen, an expression that's beyond shock, "What in the world are you talking about?"

"You! Quit acting like what happened doesn't bother you! It's okay to get mad! It's okay to get angry! Just stop acting like everything's fine and normal!"

His confusion doesn't leave that easily, but he puts his crate back down on the ground and joins Iori in the living room.

"I think I know what's going on, but you've got the wrong idea. I'm not mad, or angry. What I've done is my fault alone. It's not right that I get upset at you or any of the other girls."

"But it's not fair!"

"'Fair' has nothing to do with it. It is the way it is. I've made peace with my sins, and I'm living my life dealing with the consequences."

Those tears were threatening her again, "But, you can't. A person like you shouldn't have to suffer like this. It's just too sad!"

Jordan sighs again, scratching his head as he searches for the words to say next, "I won't deny that I'm suffering, as I guess it's pretty obvious, but it's not because of guilt."

Something about that felt odd. No longer was she on the verge of crying, but his statement seems off. He didn't feel guilty because he killed women and children? Could that possibly be right?

"I know what your thinking. What I told you was only half of the story. Actually, you're the only ones I've told that half. Everybody else knows the other, and that's the one that'll follow me wherever I go."

Only half? What possibly could be more terrible then what he's already said?

"Could you tell me, everything that's happened?"

Dropping his head in overly-dramatic fashion, "I knew you were going to ask that. Well, I guess I'll be making good use of all this beer after all."

. . .

After tiding up a few things and allowing himself to cool down, he starts his story as he sits on the floor, leaning against the coach, "I guess I'll start with why I decided to enlist in the Army. Back in High School I was a tall, skinny, nerdy kind of kid. Computers and video games were my life. Well, I worked as an unpaid intern at a television station. Been doing it for a couple of years. I was a wiz with cameras, lighting, and all the sound equipment. Likely could have gotten a paid position right out of High School, but something happened. I only managed to intern at the TV station because I worked the morning news program, and after that I'd go to school. I jumped around positions to wherever they needed that day. Camera Operator, Sound Engineer, stuff like that. That particular day I was working as Technical Director. That's the person who controls what's actually broadcasted on-air. We were in the middle of a normal morning show, when the news wires explode telling us that a plane flew into one of the Twin Towers. It sounded too unreal to be true. In less then a few minutes we had the live satellite feed and we all saw it for ourselves; smoke billowing from it's side as if it were hit with a rocket. We all thought it was terrible accident, so we all thought it was just one of those things. It was getting late and I had to get to school, so I was just about to hand over my station when I saw the second plane run into the other tower. I didn't go to school that day."

Jordan took a bit of the break. He was already on his third beer. The crate sat next to him on his right while he was piling the empty cans on his left. When he wasn't pulling another beer out of the crate, he was using it as an armrest. Iori was watching this from the easy chair next to the computer in the corner of the room.

"Watching it happen live, and sticking with it all day, learning all the new information as it was happening, it left a huge impression on me. Because I was there, filtering back to all my friend at school through text, it felt like it was my responsibility, that this was my mission in life. I knew at that moment I'd enlist after graduating. I nearly enlisted after turning 16, but my parents insisted I finish High School first. That was perhaps my only concession. In the mean time I took my classes, got excellent grades, and got into sports and bulked myself up. Right after my graduation I headed into the recruitment office."

Six beers down.

"I was ready to be sent wherever they wanted me. Afghanistan, Iraq, wherever. I wanted a rifle in my hands and my boots on the sand. As it turns out however, the Army had different plans for me. They knew of my technical background so they wanted me working with machines. I didn't think that was too bad and thought they'd have me working with jeeps and tanks. I was wrong."

Ten. He pretty much shotgunned the last two.

"They had this new technology they were working with, Unmanned Ariel Vehicles. Small planes that can be flown from the ground through remote controls. Not exactly what I'd planned for my military career. I flew the RQ-11A/B Raven. It's a small short-range plane with only a camera. It's used to take aerial photographs and record intel for the guys on the ground. It was an important job, but I couldn't really stand it. I wanted to be in there, fighting. My distress didn't last too long, however, as developments in technology lead to an armed UAV. I jumped at the chance. MQ-5A/B Hunter."

Thirteen. For a while he stops talking, looking only at the ceiling. Iori wondered if he was starting to get drunk.

"It's getting too easy to kill people these days. I sat behind my controller, moved with the joystick, and fired with a button, all from the safety of my terminal. It's numbing. It felt like playing a video game. They're not people, they're targets and icons. You're so disconnected from the element of war it's very easy to forget the human faction. You hit the target, go for a drink to celebrate, get lai-" Jordan coughs, though it sounds rather forced. After clearing his voice he starts ago. "Then you get up the next day and plan for the next mission. It's simple and becomes a routine."

He's at 17, but doesn't reach for another can. Has he finally hit his limit?

"Well, over time things escalate and it becomes less routine. The planes get bigger, the bombs get deadlier, and the rules get more confusing. Congress gets involved. The processes get more intricate. We have to submit every mission on paper, it needs to be approved by the higher-ups, we have to warn the officials of the country we'll be active in, and eventually we'll get to fly the mission. But too much time is passing, information gets leaked, targets escapes, accidents happen. Cases of civilian casualties increase, propaganda has our names and faces on it, things are starting to turn very dirty and very ugly. And then there's what happened to me."

After a long pause, he starts on number 18. Iori realizes this is going to be the most important part of the story. She was already on the edge of her seat, but now she practically floating.

"At the time I was piloting the MQ-1C Sky Warrior, a real nasty piece of work. We got some intel of a stronghold in Pakistan. After going through all the channels, word of our mission leaks to the terrorists. They vacate, but they leave a little present in their place. I run my mission, hit my target, and call it a day. I don't find out till I watch the news the next morning. My mission, my missile, killed a dozen little kids. We still don't know how they got them there, but they moved a classroom full of children into their former base."

Covering her mouth as she gasps, Iori can only imagine the horror he was feeling at the moment. But he said this was only half the story, so something must have happened next.

"All our intel was spot on. All the T's crossed and I's dotted. There's outrage and threats of a congressional hearing. However, the Military Panel felt I wasn't at fault, so none of this came back on me. If I had just lowered my head, ended my current tour, everything would have been fine. But I couldn't, I had to be an idiot. I went out, got drunk, and destroyed my plane."

After pausing, it's clear he hasn't finished that thought, "And a couple others."

Unlike the others, Jordan doesn't neatly stack number 18, but crumples it in his hand and throws it at his front door, but his aggression's so passive it's hard to decipher his current emotions.

"If it was just a rifle or a jeep, I would have been thrown in the brig and let out after a couple of weeks. Because those planes are so expensive, and there's so much controversy in their operation, I get Court Marshaled. They throw the book at me. Abandonment of Duty, Sabotage, Public Intoxication, plus a couple more I can't rightly remember. Dishonorable Discharge. I thought at worst I'd get a Bad Conduct Discharge, but I looks like I really pissed the wrong person off. I really got screwed."

Dishonorable Discharge? Iori wasn't familiar with that term.

"It's basically the worst possible thing that can happen to you. You're pretty much branded a criminal. I was stripped of all my benefits, civil rights, and a bunch of other stuff. Everything I'd built for the past 5 years, poof, gone in an instant. I was shipped back home in shackles."

"Your," Iori was compelled to say something, but it was difficult expressing these words, "family?"

"Ah, my family. I guess I didn't mention them at all. My dad was in the Army, my uncle was a Marine, and I got three cousins in the Navy, a forth also in the Army. It's safe to say I come from a military family. They weren't too thrilled to hear what I'd done."

A shame of the family. Iori could somewhat relate. Everybody around him cast such a big shadow that it was impossible to not feel the pressure to follow in their footsteps. Actually, the girl would bet there had been some issue even before he made up his mind to enlist. The only daughter of Minase had also been ridiculed and chastised by her family when she chose to debut as an idol, so she could imagine the same happening to Jordan. From his story he sounded as if he wanted to fully pursue a technological career, and that must have been an issue with his family. Then after he's pulled along in a path he never wanted for himself, and failed, it's easy for Iori to see how he might be treated. But even after all that's happened, there should still be at least one person in his corner.

"Your mother?"

Jordan laughs with such a warm expression on his face, Iori's surprised and blushes.

"Yeah, my mom. She was against the idea of me joining the military since the beginning. She fought tooth and nail to keep me out, so I thought when I returned she'd be completely judgmental. As it turns out, she was the only one who wasn't. Nowadays she's the only one who really talks to me anymore." Lifting his hand off the crate of beer, he flicks his thumb behind him, "I left that room for her. She's the only one who visits me, so it felt natural to leave it for her. I guess that makes me a momma's boy."

His expression and smile brightened so considerably when he spoke of her, it was clear he loves her deeply. Iori likes how he looks right now, and wants it to continue longer.

"You two are close?"

"Who do you think learned me how to drink?" He laughs again, "Christ, nothing good ever happens when the two of us are together."

Actually, Jordan's responses seem to be drawing more questions then answers. Picturing this woman he calls his mother is impossible for Iori.

"After walking into town and showing my yellow identification papers, even the inn wouldn't open it's doors to me," he suddenly says.

Sounding painstakingly familiar, Iori couldn't finish saying, "What" before she realizes to what he was referencing, "Jean Valjean." Jean Valjean was not only the name of her dog, but the central character in the timeless masterpiece Les Misérables, which so happens to be in his bookshelf next to the front door. Valjean was a convict whom couldn't even find a roof to sleep under because of his former criminal status. Swiftly does this lead him to commit two more crimes, and he spends the rest of his life to his dying day trying to redeem himself. Was Jordan trying to say the fictional character and himself were similar?

"By law, every time I apply to a job I have to declare that I've been Dishonorably Discharged from the military. Do you think many bosses want someone like that working under them? Before TV stations were tripping over themselves to hire me out of school, now they won't even return my phone calls. I have all this knowledge and skills, and nobody will let me use them. I'm an usher at a movie theater, that's the best I could do."

Now she knows what he meant. In the story Jean Valjean had to fake his identity to make something of himself. Even his adopted daughter didn't know his real name. However, in this day in age Jordan doesn't have the luxury of being able to do something of that caliber easily. Or maybe he has. Actually, the episode with the Guerrilla Live was a gray area/bending the rules that could be expected from someone who isn't on the favorable side of society. He might be a mere usher, but Iori was certain he had many things going on under the table. How else would he know someone like Vanessa, the manager of the World Famous Maurus?

"That's me," Jordan says, spreading his arms wide as if this were the conclusion of his life, "this is the man on whose doorstep you'd been waiting. Broken, without hope, without a future. The best I could do for myself is this apartment, and sweeping popcorn and tearing tickets. I'd understand if you are disappointed and want to leave."

Every word of Jordan's entire story only reaffirmed everything she before believed to be true about this man. Haunted by a tragic past, a human mistake, he does for others what he can't for himself. Selfless, honorable, generous, humble, virtuous. There's nothing in him for her to be disappointed. There was only one way for her to respond.

"No, I'm not leaving," Iori stands, walking to his front as he lounges on the floor. "We need you. We-no, I can't do this without you. Jordan, you're more then your job, this apartment, that bike you ride, you are so much more! What you've done in your past has molded you into someone who can do incredible things today. I know you have more planned, more up your sleeve. Are you going to let this little setback, this little exposed secret, stop you from selling out our concert? You want this relationship to end even less then I do."

Did he really put his frustration behind him shortly after being outed by Ritsuko, or did his mood immediately clear after seeing Iori waiting at his doorstep? Impossible for her to know the truth, but Iori believe that he was downtrodden up to the point he started climbing the stairs to his apartment. Of everything she'd just said she was completely certain. Nothing he could say would convince her otherwise.

Grunting as he lifts himself up, "Oh you think you know just every-"

As he stands on his feet, for a moment he loses his balance and teeters. After he steps forward to regain himself, his abdomen smacks Iori in the face. The poor girl is forced to grab onto his sides to keep from being knocked down.

"Sorry about that, guess I stood up too fas-"

What was a clutch for support, soon turns into a hug. Iori draws herself infinitely close and wraps her arms around his back. She can feel the man suddenly turn ridged. At a loss for words, stuttering, the girl has complete advantage over him.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know," Iori honestly answers, or as honestly as she was capable. "I just want to."

Jordan sighs, then pats her on the head (seeing as she's too short for him to hug her back).

"You can do what you want to too."

As if a bolt shocks through his entire body, he jerks, "What are you saying?" his voice is panicked.

"Do what you want. Don't let your past keep you from what you want." These next particular words came out forced, "You like Vanessa. Don't think because what's happened to you you don't deserve to be happy with someone else. She must see it too, that you're a great person. I bet she's just waiting for you to ask her out."

Ruffling her hair kind of hard, "You little brat. Think you know everything, don't cha?"

When satisfied with her embrace, Iori backs away and asks, "Okay. So what do you want to do?"

Crossing his arms, Jordan play-acts like he's thinking really hard, completely obvious that he already has an answer in mind. After a few seconds, "I think I want to crash a birthday party."

For as much as she thought she understood him, there were still times like this where his responses seem completely out of left field.

"Eh?"