“I can’t just leave him there!” her brother sobs, straining against the grip Jessica has on his arm, pulling him up and away towards the helicopter. Towards safety, “I can’t!” he repeats and pulls again. But Joshua is injured and tired and heartbroken, whereas Jessica is not.
And anyway, Jessica has always been stronger than him. Physically and in this, “That’s not him, anymore!” She shouts back at him over the loud rhythmic beats of the rotors spinning through the air, “We have to go, Josh!”
Her brother goes limp, the fight gone out of him completely. She does not particularly care whether it is out of exhaustion–his body having given up under the strain–or at the truth being so coldly presented to him; he stops fighting her, and together the siblings board the awaiting helicopter.
“Let’s go!” Jessica shouts at the pilot, strapping Joshua’s prone form into a seat before clambering into the passenger seat in the front.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Chance shoots back before lifting them all up into the sky.
From this distance, the lone island they depart from looks like nothing more than a toy. A model volcano, the likes of children’s science fairs everywhere. Except somewhere in the bowels of this volcano is the shell of a base for an organization that almost destroyed the world–if it hadn’t been for her bleeding-heart brother and one integral little fact:
The twins look awfully similar to their mother.
—
Almost ten years after the near disastrous end of the world, Joshua tries to put the matter out of his mind. He knows his sister worries–wants him to go back to seeing his therapist again–but he thinks, maybe in this specific matter, he will refuse her.
He keeps himself active and involved in the sleepy little community he’s chosen. Somehow, even with all the fame and recognition trailing behind him like an unwanted hanger on, the people of this town have kept a respectful distance while still welcoming him into their fold.
He coaches the little league hockey team. Admittedly, strange, since it’s not something he grew up doing himself–but he was one of the leaders of a vigilante strike force that saved the world before he turned twenty. Fifteen kids isn’t as daunting.
To be honest, he thought the gear would be the problem–guards and pads and a helmet like armor, the hockey stick only one step away from the staves the strike force used– but the frigid air and the scrape of skates on ice keeps him removed enough that he can remember:
This is not Xanadu Island.
It is not the buzzing, oppressive humidity and the scorching, sulfuric heat. It is not running through the trees with the knowledge that enemies are chasing, so close, too close. That his bravado may have led good people to their deaths.
That Joshua left him behind.
No, it is just a small town’s little league hockey team, and now he is only Coach Joshua–not Commander Ortega, face of the Hesperian Corps that saved the world.
—
Someone has been selling government secrets to terrorist groups and Jessica is going to comb through every single document in this building to find out who.
Chance walks after her–a more leisurely pace than her war march–calm, and a little amused. This is not the first time he has seen her like this, nor will it be the last.
Unlike her brother (may God watch over that poor kid), Jessica used her time as one of the Hesperian Corps’ Commanders Ortega as a stepping stone into her current occupation. A self made one (her call sign is Lady Liberty, which is hilarious in so many ways–frankly, Chance thinks it should be Liberty’s Guard Dog).
While Joshua’s face got plastered on so many news outlets (and fresh faced caricatures of him still get made into TV shows and movies with titles like Hesperian Heroes), Jessica’s role was not quite overlooked so much as deliberately understated. A reputation is only helpful when it’s under control and, over time, the Hesperian Corps has now become nothing more than a resume-padder.
Still, it’s not like Jessica isn’t frightfully good at her job. It takes an unholy fifty four hours (of which, Jessica only slept a maximum of six) and twelve pots of coffee before she’s pinpointed exactly who the traitor is.
And then, she draws it out.
The woman–a temp who had been hired on permanently several years ago, and now enjoyed the lofty position of senior analyst–is included in a group of other employees who blink around at the mess of folders and documents that their conference room has become. Jessica has them sit, a coolly expectant order that gets them all scrambling for chairs (Chance stays standing, two steps behind her like he almost always is–unless he’s in a cockpit, that is).
This is not the first time Jessica has done this, nor will it be the last, but the expression on her face is just as satisfied as ever as the traitor is arrested and dragged away, kicking and screaming. The remaining employees gossip amongst themselves, fleeing the room as soon as Jessica dismisses them, no doubt to spread the tale. This is not an unusual sight.
What is unusual is the way one of them stays behind; watching and waiting and letting Jessica initiate the conversation.
“Ms Savoy,” Jessica says, irked at the power play, but not letting it show (Chance knows he will be hearing about it during the flight home).
“Commander Ortega,” the woman returns, nodding in acknowledgement.
“Agent will do,” Jessica smiles, bright and sharp and deadly, “What can I do for you?”
Savoy tilts her head back–that backwards instinct of defiance in humans–and gently corrects, “It’s what I can do for you, Agent Ortega. Where is your brother?”
Jessica blinks, the only give away to her confusion, “My brother is retired.”
“Yes, yes,” Savoy rolls her eyes, “The conquering hero safely tucked away in the middle of nowhere. Except you might want to check again–the lovely townspeople of Cooperston haven’t seen him in three weeks.”
Chance can feel his own spine stiffening, shoulders tense at the news–he can only imagine how bad Jessica’s is. She hisses a breath between her teeth, but the lack of response is enough to confirm Joshua’s chosen haven and her own lack of communication.
“Now then,” Savoy continues, confident in her victory, “Would you like help in locating your brother, Commander Ortega?”
~
A/N: … I’m rather pleased with this! I mean, a little shaky in some places, but over all: I am greatly pleased 😀
(so, if you couldn’t tell, I was reading Star Wars fanfiction before I went to sleep last night and this is what happened to my dreams)
JackSGreyson Says 