"Do you want the radio on? What music do you like?" Jase fiddled with the dial on the stereo of his car, half watching the road ahead. I gazed out to the brilliant blue expanse as far as the eye could see.
"Classical," I surprised myself with the response. I hadn't really intended to say anything. Jase and I had spent maybe seventeen hours in each other's company, but less than ten words had escaped my lips during that time. I was so deeply confused, and angry. I could feel a constant rage boiling beneath the surface, and yet, one glance from him and it simmered away meekly. I hated him passionately, it was the strongest feeling I'd ever had about anything. Even after my mum had passed, even as a child dealing with her erratic mood swings and neglectful parenting... none of it compared to the strength of the emotions I held towards Jase. Soft piano erupted from the speakers. He listened for a while as the notes rolled to a crescendo.
"This is what you listen to? You can tell who this is?"
"Schubert." I responded. I'd always loved classical music. No words, no outdated synthesised drums, no autotune. It relaxed me. It seemed a cruel reminder within the confines of the car, considering I could do anything but relax.
"This is me," Jase announced as he pulled the car into a drive beside an immaculately presented house. Three huge magenta bougainvilleas lined the front garden, a carefully manicured hedge archway stood over paved steps, beginning the pathway to a glossy black front door. The house was a pleasing shade of ocean blue, the columns, panels and windows contrasting in crisp white. It looked like a thoughtfully remodelled beach house.
I had considered insisting on remaining inside the car, but the inviting exterior persuaded me in. I followed Jase as he unlocked the door, stepping inside to tap in a code on the alarm system. It was nearly like a show home. The hallway was off white, with beautiful hardwood floors and industrial lamps hanging overhead.
"Do you want to wait here? I'm going to grab a TV from upstairs," Jase bounded up an elegant modern staircase, leaving me alone in the hallway. I peered around the corner of the wall to a large open plan space. A marble topped island stood in the centre of the kitchen, barstools positioned with equal distance between each of them. A sumptuous looking cream couch sat in front of a white colonial fireplace, a huge flatscreen looming above. Newly built in cabinets stood either side of the TV, floor to ceiling, half cupboard half shelves filled with deliberately arranged books. It was all so... tasteful. And expensive. I'd expected a mini fridge and a tattered leather reclining armchair. It suddenly dawned on me that he could be married. This home was far too elegant and poised, it could have had a feminine touch. The idea of Jase sleeping next to a woman made me feel nauseous. Would he be gentle? Would he caress her face and stroke her hair, speaking softly and soothingly as he had done to me? The beautiful home suddenly felt toxic, I seized the handle of the front door and forced myself out on to the porch, breathing in the warm air. Jase emerged down the stairs a moment later, carrying an enormous TV in his capable arms.
"Would you mind getting the rear door?" He tipped his chin towards the car. I headed for the vehicle obligingly, opening the door and stepping aside to let him shunt the TV on to the back seats. I sat in the car, waiting with the air conditioning blowing on my face as Jase raced back to lock the house up. The idea that he could very well have a family of his own was burning in my mind. Why did it make me feel so ill? I couldn't imagine him being... normal. Was the grislier part of his job where he truly got to be himself? When returned home to a partner waiting with outstretched arms, did they have any idea what he was capable of?
"Let's hope there's no traffic over the bridge," Jase murmured as he started the engine. I was done with my small talk for the morning, a familiar surge of anger bubbling beneath the surface.
I was late to the appointment at the Naval medical centre, traffic congesting the bridge and freeway to a near gridlock. I wasn't looking forward to being poked and prodded again, or answering inane questions.
"How are you feeling?" Asked the nurse, in the pleasantly modern examination room. What did she want to hear?
"Fine," I lied. What else was I meant to say? 'I yo-yo between murderous rage, sheer terror, and absolutely nothing at all'. They would only insist on the anti depressants they'd already tried to push on me.
"Well that's good. It's really important you take your vitamins and eat well. After some time careful exercise is a good way to ease yourself back to full fitness. Your consultant will give you all that information, I'm sure," she carefully peeled back the dressing on the last wound across my wrist. "I think it's ok to leave this to the elements now, it's scarred a little but it looks nice and clean." I was fully healed, how miraculous. "Right, we'll just take your blood pressure and see you again in a few days."
The appointment was quicker than I'd expected, with minimal prodding. I'd banked on it taking up most of the afternoon, which meant less of the day to spend avoiding Jase.
"What are you going to do for the rest of the day?" The nurse asked cheerily, reading my mind as she inflated the monitor around my arm.
"Shopping," I mumbled.
"Oh- retail therapy, that's nice. Blood pressure is very low, we'll have to keep an eye on that. Just take things slowly. And you have a lovely afternoon," she peeled the band from around my arm and smiled warmly. I tried my best to smile back a little.
"Thank you," I stated quietly, and exited the room. Jase was waiting outside, standing opposite the door with crossed arms.
"All okay?" He asked. I nodded. "They took the dressing off?" His eyes darted to my wrist. I nodded again unnecessarily, he didn't need the confirmation.
We travelled north, away from the only two locations I'd been to. Vehicles crammed along the freeway, crawling along behind one another in a slow snake of traffic. Slowly but surely it seemed to ease a little, until our car also relieved the slew with a left turn into a huge parking lot for the superstore. 'Target' identified the building in large bold red letters; two obtrusive circles, one smaller inside the larger to illustrate it's namesake branding the building. I should have been excited. Under normal circumstances I would have been, there was something oddly intriguing about going to a supermarket in another country. What would you find there? What would be different? Instead, I felt nothing but dread.
Jase at least didn't attempt further small talk. He turned the engine off and glanced to the TV in the back seat. Once all the doors were closed it wasn't noticeable at all, the windows were tinted in what I supposed was a standard CIA modification. I took a deep breath as we headed for the entrance, wondering why I was so anxious. This was no different to walking down the hall of the medical centre, after all. But it is. These are normal people. Civilians. No one here would understand. I needed to get out of my own head. I was glad of the occasional streams of consciousness, it reminded me that I did have free thought and that I was experiencing life. But in some sense it was a hell of a lot easier, albeit emptier, to go through the day entirely numb.
I grabbed a large cart from the bay, walking forward with trepidation and Jase beside me. A member of staff at the entrance smiled happily and handed Jase a leaflet, which he glanced at and tossed into the trolley.
"Shall we do the clothes first?" He said, as though I'd never been shopping before and it wouldn't have dawned on me that perishable items should be picked last. I aimed the cart towards a huge womenswear department, concentrating totally on the weight of the trolley and the physical exertion it took me to wield it in the right direction. Ignore the halogen lights. Ignore the wide expanse of space. Ignore the strangers everywhere. I weaved up and down aisles until I found the things I needed; leggings, joggers, jeans. Pyjamas were important, I needed something other than the tiny shorts I'd been supplied with. When I wheeled round to the underwear aisle, I hesitated. I'd never bought intimates with a man before, let alone one I wasn't intimate with. I'd have to actually speak.
"I just need some bits from down here, I'll only be a minute," I said as firmly as I could, starting to push the cart forward.
"I am familiar with women's underwear, Paige," a ghost of a smirk crossed his lips as he strode casually beside me. "I'll stay with you."
He flickered his eyes between each open end of the aisle as I selected a few basic things, nothing fancy. I almost wanted to pick up big, comfortable granny briefs, but opted for black cotton shorts instead as I glanced sideways at Jase's imposing frame. He wasn't trying very hard to not look like a bodyguard, but then again nobody would suspect that someone shopping for clothes in a supermarket would be in need of a personal security detail.
The aisles became busier as we pressed further into the store. Eyes forward. Push the cart. As we turned into the toiletries, I wanted to turn around and go home. Trolleys lay haphazardly down the strip of tiles lined by toweringly high shelves, their owners busy reaching for items or wandering around to browse. My heart began to drum a little in my chest. Jase must have sensed the trepidation, seizing the side of the red cart as I gripped the bar tightly. He drew us forward into the thick of the crowd.
"What do you need?" He leaned his head to the side to address me, looking forward all the while.
"Moisturiser," I mumbled, gazing anxiously at the three ladies perusing the shelves I needed to get access to. "I can leave it."
"Which one?"
"I don't know..." My heart leapt into my throat as Jase turned the cart and manipulated my steps, so the front was jutting out into the middle of the aisle and my back was to the shelves. He kept his hand still and leaned towards the products, excusing himself to a customer as he seized a few different tubs and tubes.
"Choose one in a minute," he pulled the cart, and me, forward and led us safely out of the congested aisle. He looked tense, and irritated. I'd never really considered it much before- just how pissed off he would have to be at being issued with babysitting duty. The way Jack had raised his brows in surprise when he mentioned Jase's name, in shock at his retirement from active duty as much as the security gig he'd been given. I must have been a thoroughly resented assignment, possibly just as much as I resented him.
I was exhausted by the time food started piling into the cart. Jase threw questions towards me, asking what I liked, what I'd eat, if I preferred diet coke to regular, what milk I used... I responded in shrugs or one word answers. A haze of disorientation had settled in when we reached the checkouts. As my hands moved in an uneasy rhythm I focused suddenly to realise I was unloading the cart with Jase's assistance, a task I'd evidently started with absolutely no conscious awareness at all.
The cashier flashed a pearly white smile to us, though I realised it was more for Jase's benefit than for my own. She thinks you're a couple. It must have looked like a strange match to her. She was probably in her late twenties, with highlighted blonde hair and a pretty face. After every few items she rang through, she glanced up at Jase's impressive figure and striking face. It was funny to observe, she assessed his body and stole secret looks at his features as he piled bags into the cart. The unsettling thing was that I may have well done the same, if I didn't know him. It was enough to make me feel sick all over again; the unnerving magnetism he exuded quite accidentally. I'd noted that in Jordan, there was something not quite comfortable about him. Where Ant was hot headed, quick to curse and bash fists, honest and down to earth; Jase was almost too calm and collected, calculated and suspiciously unemotional. How did that serve to be part of his charm to the unwitting members of the opposite sex? Whatever it was it only made me dislike him more than I already did, which was no mean feat.
"I'm sorry-" the cashier blushed. "The last few digits on here are missing, I'll get someone to grab the code." She pressed a call button beside her till and placed the pyjama set down.
"No problem," Jase eyed a man strolling past carefully.
"I think its four two nine zero," I said shakily. I needed to lay down.
"Do you work for another store?" The cashier smiled politely as she re-punched in the first numbers of the product code.
"No I... looked at another size before I got that one and I remember the label," I explained hurriedly, embarrassed by my strange skill.
"Four two nine zero... that's right. Wow, nice memory. Thanks Adam I got the code," the cashier called to a colleague bustling his way towards the till, who spun around instantly to return to whatever he had been interrupted from. Jase handed me a light bag to load into the cart, and turned back towards me with a long receipt in hand.
"I was going to-" I began, knowing the money deposited in the account I'd been given was more than enough to cover the shopping trip. He pulled the side of the cart again, my feeble guidance scarcely making a difference against the laden trolley.
"Let's get this back to the car," he interrupted, looking left to right constantly as we crossed the lot. With a sinking realisation I understood what he was thinking. I had such an impressive memory, yet under questioning I'd begged him to believe I didn't remember anything else...