JAY

A BUZZ CLOUDED my senses, numbing the unwanted feelings and tucking them away in the darkest corners of my heart.

I just wanted glass after glass of that delicious golden drink people kept offering me. My escape from the daunting reality.

I remember being slumped over a table, tracing the dark contours of the rough wood, yelling for another drink to be brought to me .

I can see a face... pointed with an upturned nose and a haughty expression. I distinctly remember comparing the expression to Umbridge from Harry Potter. I called them 'Toadie'.

I remember...bright lights and eardrum-shattering music. I can hear Toadie shouting in my poor ear.

"What....know...Analyst Wilson?" They asked, leaning closer. I caught a whiff of cinnamon perfume and smiled drowsily.

"Something biiggg!" I extended my arms in a wide arc to emphasise my point. I smacked Toadie in the face and giggled at their disgruntled expression.

Through a combination of wild gesticulations and stumbled words, I managed to spill the secret of my best friend. I don't remember why I did it, or what Toadie said to convince me. But that was the colossal turning point in my life.

"Remember Toadie," I slurred, putting a finger to my lips. "You...cannot...tell...anyone!"

"Don't worry, Special Agent." Toadie's voice was sweet with a loving edge filled with malice. "I won't tell a soul!"

"I- I was drunk," I mumbled, staring at my hands. "I don't- I don't remember- I think I told someone? But, it wasn't all my fault! You also went too far by comparing me to that woman."

"I admit that was a low blow." Wilson nodded, but her eyes blazed with what I could only recognize as a daunting, fiery anger. Her knuckles turned dangerously white. "But what you did was abysmal. Did you know that people left messages on my desk? People calling me the most disgusting of names because your little drunk confession went on my fucking files!"

I froze, my heartbeat shattering in my ears. "People left notes on your desk?"

Wilson huffed and tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear. "Yeah- minor stuff though, thanks to Chief Wright's interference it cooled down. But as I was–"

"What sort of things do they write?"

"Eh?"

"What sort of things do they write?" I don't know why I was getting so angry.

Wilson waved her hand like she was swatting at a fly. "Honestly, you shouldn't even worry about it, just minor stuff of the past."

"Yes, but what?"

"Look, Carter, I think you're missing the point here–"

"What do the notes say?" I pressed once more.

Wilson brought her knees to her chest and hugged them tightly, as if she was trying to close me off as much as possible. "I... I think the last one called me 'tainted', a 'traitor' and um...some derogatory terms. But you're missing the point. Carter, I cannot trust you until–"

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

Averting my gaze, I wrung the flimsy material of my shirt. "I'm...sorry. For everything. I should not have gotten so drunk. I shouldn't have told anyone about what you'd told me. I should not have ignored you and broken our friendship so easily. I am... so sorry. You don't- you don't have to forgive me. But just know I am sorry. That I really am."

A heavy silence ensued, broken only by our quiet breathing and the humming of the plane.

"Carter," Wilson's voice was soft with a faraway sliver of vulnerability laced in its edges, one that I'd never heard before. "I know that many people don't trust me because of...because of the unorthodox way Chief Wright brought me in. But no one at the Agency knows what I've had to overcome and what I've done to survive. No one."

"I know."

"I had to do many things to get to where I am today. And then for the first time in years, I told someone. My only blunder was telling my mistake to you."

"I'm sorry."

Wilson extended her right leg and slumped against the wall, gesturing between us. "This is a start. I don't- I don't know how to feel right now."

"Completely understandable. Please take your time to tell me. I shouldn't have rushed you earlier."

I made to stand up, but was surprised when Wilson grabbed my hand.

She flushed and let go. "Sorry, it's just- I'm not feeling great right now. I don't like planes. Could we- I mean, could you please stay with me for a bit?"

"Yes." I responded immediately, adjusting my position to be next to her. "Do you... want to talk about it?"

"A little bit, but I don't know how much I can say."

I waited, giving Wilson the time to gather her thoughts. Even if she decided she doesn't want to tell me, that would be fine too. I'd already caused enough damage as it is.

"I also want to apologise." Wilson shifted and offered me a tentative smile. "It was too far compare you to the Wicked Witch."

I laughed at the old nickname. "Honestly? deserved that . I was behaving like her."

Wilson's green eyes softened and her lips curved down. "I heard what happened. Did you attend the funeral?"

I shrugged, my eyes tracking the blurred outline of the cheap-selling food cart. "I had to. After all, I needed to play the role of the perfect son, didn't I? It was basically a bunch of disgusting sycophants sucking up to our family, hoping for some big pay out. They kept saying 'oh I'm so sorry! Is there anything we can do?' and 'Your mother was a great woman.' Afterwards, Nate literally danced on her grave. Pretty sure our family is cursed now."

She chuckled, and I was strangely glad to see her smile.

"You're not like her," Wilson nodded, as if she was merely stating an obvious fact. "Definitely not. You're way nicer."

From anyone else, this would probably sound like a reluctant effort of comfort. But from Wilson, it was like receiving a bouquet of roses and a large chocolate bar.

I will take this as a win.

"Thanks." I faced away from her to hide my wide, growing smile.

"As for why I don't like planes." Wilson's right knee bounced up and down, her eyes resting on the iron cart. "We'll need a drink or two for this."

To my utter horror, Wilson reached up and grabbed three cans of Coca Cola and several bags of pretzels right when the hostess was chatting with a friend, slyly grabbing them before turning around as if nothing had happened. She popped open a can and offered it to me.

"Wilson! That's illegal!"

"Depends on the point of view. I prefer to call it 'appropriating the snacks into my stomach'."

"That's stealing or, as I like to call it, theft!"

"Tomayto, tomahto." She chugged down half can and sighed. "Oh! I needed that caffeine... now, where was I?"

"Before committing a crime? You were talking about why you don't like planes."

"Oh right... so, you remember my secret, right? You know, the one you spilled."

I squirmed, a tight ball of guilt lodged in my throat. "Yeah. I, uh, you worked in a–" I lowered my voice so only Wilson could hear, "crime syndicate for a while, before joining the Agency."

Wilson gave a light snort, drawing circles on her right knee. "No need to sugar-coat it, Jay. I was a criminal when I was a kid and worked in a red light area for a bit. I made friends with the wrong people and paid the goddamn price because of that."

She took a shaky breath and took another swig of the drink. I popped open my own can. We clinked our cans together, the sound cutting over the soft rumble of the engine.

"I was on a plane. With my supervisor." Wilson winced and clicked her tongue against her teeth. Her nails started forming a series of bloody crescents on her palm. "I wanted out. I just...couldn't do it anymore. But I didn't know what to do. I was so fucking scared. I wanted to alert one of the passengers, but no one paid attention. They probably thought I was just a typical kid throwing a tantrum."

"Thankfully, a flight attendant noticed my distress. She managed to make up some excuse, and I was able to go to the back of the plane. She simply asked: 'are you in danger?'. I nodded. That moment changed my entire life. This story has a happy ending. But when I'm on a plane? I get scared most of the time. I just remember things. Things that I would pay all the gold in the world to not remember."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I stayed silent. What could I say? Words like 'it's okay' and 'I'm so sorry' felt empty and could never even remotely convey what I thought she felt. Hell, I didn't even know what I felt.

Tentatively, I wrapped my arms around Wilson's shoulders. She tensed, like a small, frightened animal entrapped by a poacher, and I waited. Finally, she hesitantly relaxed into my embrace. I tugged her closer, and I felt her shift on me, her head going to rest on my shoulder.

After a few minutes, her breathing slowly evened out and relaxed. Tufts of black, curly hair fell across her face as she puffed them away with each small breath. Her eyes fluttered closed while she nestled deeper into my side.

I noticed I had been tapping out a rhythm on her shoulder without even realising it.

Short-long-short-short-short-long-short-short.

I didn't even realise I had been doing so- it was instinctual, as if it were an old habit I'd forgotten.

My head drooped down and my eyelids dropped as if someone had attached two double weights on them. I'm sure that just a few minutes of sleep won't hurt, right?

************

So Ada and Jay have started opening up to each other yay! It would be a shame if... something happened now right? 😊 

Next chapter: Revenge

I hope you guys liked it!

Stay safe and thanks for reading :)