The Soldier and The Spy: Jay Halstead- Episode 2

Chapter 1

Thirteen Years Ago

It was pretty here, if he didn't think too long about where he was and why. Big trees in between the rows, flower bushes scattered across the grounds.

She'd loved flowers.

Loved anything that was bright and beautiful. Just like she'd been.

She'd picked this place herself, long before she'd gotten sick. She and his father had wanted to be buried together but she'd died first and now she would be alone. It didn't seem right. Mary Halstead had never been alone. For as long as he could remember she'd had people around her, friends from work and church, other parents from the PTA, all the women around the neighbourhood, young and old, nice and crotchety. Everyone had loved her. They kept saying it, giving their condolences when they saw him in the grocery store or on the street but he barely heard them anymore. They'd be here later. All the people who'd loved her would gather around this spot and watch her body be lowered into the ground, into the hole that wasn't quite big enough yet. The gravediggers had been working for a while but he supposed going by hand was a lot slower; his father hadn't wanted to pay for a machine. Jay didn't know if he thought that was cheap or appreciated- at least these men understood the importance of what they were doing. One of them had come over to chat with him before they'd started, an older fellow who tried to guide him away but he'd declined and eventually he'd given up. They shot a few looks his way, the same ones everyone did but he didn't pay them any attention, just watched them dig as he thought about his mother.

He'd come home three months ago expecting her to greet him at the door with a big hug and a scolding for not telling her when his flight was landing. Instead he'd found his father drinking whiskey alone in the kitchen at one in the afternoon. Instead he'd followed him up the stairs and found her laying in their bed, bundled up in blankets, her face wane and sallow, eyes tired, her normally broad smile suddenly so small.

It hadn't held the same punch when she scolded him.

And then she told him that she was sorry but she'd been keeping something from him. She was sick. Breast cancer. She'd found out a few months after he'd started his second tour but kept it a secret because she hadn't wanted to worry him. Jay understood that, understood her desire to protect him but it still hadn't stopped him from getting into a screaming match with his father or having words with his brother, for blaming him for not doing more. Logically he knew Will had done what he could, flying and even driving into the city every few weeks, which had been difficult considering he'd just started his residency, but it still hadn't felt like enough to him. Nothing did.

He'd never thought about how he would lose his parents, what child did, but he never could have imagined it would be like this. Never expected it would be so soon. He'd had no idea what to do, how to cope, and then one day he got a letter from Tess. Her reply to the one he'd sent right before leaving the base. It had been seven months since he'd seen her and only the second letter they'd exchanged but reading it was the first time he'd laughed in weeks. He'd written back immediately, at first trying to wipe his tears away until finally deciding to let them be. She wouldn't care. He hadn't gotten a response back, probably because she was still in the field, but sometimes Jay could calm himself just by imagining what she would say. She would tell him she was sorry, that she understood, and with her he would believe it. She would tell him to spend as much time with his mom as possible, with his whole family, to make the most out of whatever time they had and even though it was hard whenever he imagined her saying it he could try just a bit harder.

He and his dad put aside their differences, mostly by not discussing them, and when her prognosis got worse and Will finally came home the three had made their mother the entirety of their focus. They'd filled her room with flowers and taken turns sleeping over at the hospital, playing her favourite music and keeping her company; his dad even brought their old photo albums and they'd gone through them all, reminiscing on the past and allowing themselves to grieve what they were going to lose. It had killed him, acting like he was fine when really he was breaking inside. Of course his mom had known and when it was just the two of them he would let her hold him as he cried, memorizing her voice as she told him how proud she was of the man he'd become, how he was smart and funny and strong but that her favourite thing about him was his heart. Those moments had helped more than he would ever be able to express. Having that time to speak with her, to ask questions about her family, her life before him, to tell her all the things he never had before. How he'd broken her favourite lamp when he was nine, which she'd known, and all the times he'd snuck Ali into his room or snuck out and into hers, which she'd also known.