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It's not the first time she has drowned. Not quite.
Once when she was four years old, she'd jumped into the pool without her floaties on.
Once when she'd been kidnapped and waterboarded for information.
And now, when she tried to save Parker.
She barely remembers the first time. She just knows that at some point, everything went still and muffled. She remembers her eyes burning from the chlorine. But that's it. Her parents had fussed over her for days after, and she hadn't understood why.
The second time, she remembers. She remembers almost everything about those three days of hell. She remembers the wet cloth clutched over her face, she remembers her lungs burning and gasping for air. She remembers her head being pulled back by her hair, and she remembers fading in and out of consciousness. She remembers tasting the vomit on her tongue, but she doesn't remember throwing up. What she does faintly remember is liquid pouring out of her mouth, her nose, even her ears. She'll never forget the feeling of liquid dripping out of her. She has never felt more sick in her life. She remembers losing track of time and hoping, begging, her team to find her.
The third time, all she remembers is the darkness gently wrapping around her and taking her away until someone grabs her. After that, it's hazy. She remembers freezing, she remembers being wrapped in a blanket, and - what she assumed to be - McGee's arms holding her steady while she was yelling at Parker, begging him to stay alive.
Now, she is in California in her new office sitting behind a desk and staring at the paperwork. Or pretending to. Her eyes are looking down at the paperwork but if she's honest with herself, she's thinking about the voicemail again. The one he'd left her when she was, well, trapped and drowning.
She can still hear his voice saying 'I'm sorry' and she remembers the first time she'd listened she could tell the exact moment Kasie had intervened to keep Jimmy from saying what she assumes Kasie would've labeled as stupid. But a part of her isn't so convinced she would've called his words, whatever they would've been, stupid. Hurtful, maybe, or harsh. But not stupid, because they would have been the truth. Regardless of what she'd wished to believe, the truth was that it had been over the moment her father visited. It had been over the moment she'd said for now and meant it.
She finally moves her eyes away from the paperwork and out of the window instead. It's a big window and she can oversee most of REACT's training base with the ocean in the far distance. Her eyes get lost in the slim stripe of ocean faster than she would like to admit. She misses it. The feeling of water surrounding her, making her a part of water itself, and letting her drown out the noise.
It's always been comforting to swim and escape whatever reality she had been enduring. But now, now she hasn't gone swimming in a month. She hasn't drowned out the noise and she hasn't felt herself become one with the water, she hasn't been at peace. She's been shielding herself from everything and anything that could mean getting hurt, having to deal with more pain. Not that that shield has been infallible. She has been up at night, staring, thinking, running, even doing paperwork, wishing it would be different.
Swimming has been a part of her ever since middle school. It's everything that running and sparring can't give her because no matter what, no matter how small, her father's voice is always there in the back of her mind telling her to push, to show character, to not be weak.
But swimming belongs to her, and only her. The second her head is under water, and the noise is drowned out, she can pretend she is fine. That everything is fine, that her world isn't falling apart. She can focus on finding an even rhythm to move her legs and arms instead, without having to hear her father's voice, criticizing and pushing her, at the same time.
She hates that she hasn't gone swimming once since almost drowning. She hates that she is scared, not of the water, but of losing the comfort it's always given her. She wants nothing more than to jump into a swimming pool - or the ocean, now that she lives so close to one - and swim like nothing happened, but every time she made it to the swimming pool, she'd been overcome with a paralyzing fear, frozen.
She might just hate that even more than not swimming, because if there is one thing her father drilled into her more than anything else it is to never let fear paralyze her, to always be quick on her feet, to keep it together.
The sound of a notification pulls her back to reality, and she checks her phone to see how important the message is. It's from Kasie - either it's about when she can come to visit Jess in California or it's about Jimmy. Or she is asking her to come back. All are topics she has been avoiding for quite some time. She hesitates before eventually opening the message.
Sun, 9 Jun
Miss you.
Miss you, too.
Tue, 11 Jun
You need to come back.
I can't, sorry.
At least for a visit.
The team's kinda breaking apart.
And Jimmy is moping around.
He broke up with me.
But are you doing any better than him?
She takes a breath. She knows she's not, she's not sleeping, not laughing and joking as much. And she almost writes back No, but when her finger hovers over the send button, she can't press it. She's always had a hard time letting people in. So she opts for something safer instead of the truth.
...
I'm okay.
Okay is not good.
Sooo, come back? Pretty please.
I can't just come back, Kase.
I do like this job.
And I haven't gained days off yet. But I'll come as soon as I can.
Promise?
Promise.
She puts her phone down and picks up her pen instead, trying to focus on the paperwork in front of her again. But the last message she'd sent to Kasie keeps coming back to her. Promise. She'd promised something she would try her best not to let happen. Something she wanted to avoid at all costs. She hates doing that to Kasie. She's her best friend, she tells her more than anyone else. And she misses her terribly.
She sighs, leaning back in her chair. She loves it here, the work, the people, even just the place. There are so many memories she's made here so long ago, good ones, but it doesn't feel like home now. It feels like something is missing. Her apartment has close to no personal decorations - part of the reason why she keeps holding off a visit from Kasie - and she wouldn't say she's formed any long-lasting friendships here, more like acquaintances.
The day drags on, and so does the paperwork, it feels like a never ending mountain. She hadn't anticipated so much paperwork, and she always takes some to her apartment, even if it's just so she has something to do. She's almost done with the paperwork, when her assistant (yes, she has one now, and it still feels surreal to her) drops off another batch of case files and paperwork to go through, with an apologetic smile. Jess just smiles, knowing she will take at least half of it with her to her apartment.
She does end up taking half of it with her, though it is slightly less than anticipated. She takes a beer out of the fairly empty fridge and gets settled on the sofa, the pile of files already waiting for her.
The paperwork is finished and sorted just after one a.m., two empty beer bottles next to the stack of files. Jess rubs her eyes, then checks her phone; no new messages, no missed calls. Not that she really expected any.
She turns and tosses in a bed that is too big for just one person. Or maybe it just feels empty because she's been sharing a bed for the past two years. She checks the clock on her nightstand, hoping it's an acceptable time to go back to the office. It's not. She sighs, glaring at the neon numbers telling her it's two thirty-five a.m.
She turns on her stomach and buries her face in the pillow. She rolls back on her back again, staring at the ceiling. When she looks at the clock again it's two thirty-seven.
Two thirty-eight.
Two forty.
Two forty-two.
Two forty-three.
With a groan, she frees herself from the blanket and her feet hit the cold tiles, sending a shiver through her body. She gets herself another beer and settles on the coach again. The apartment is fancy, nothing like she expected. And it doesn't feel like her either, she never would put so much thought in furniture, she probably wouldn't even have the money for half the stuff.
Her apartment has a window front, overlooking the ocean. The pit in her stomach - the one that's been keeping her from sleeping in the first place - grows even more when she looks at the ocean again. It feels odd, feeling nauseous seeing the ocean, when it used to bring her the feeling of peace and freedom.
The pit in her stomach grows even more when she thinks of her dad teaching her not to be paralyzed by fear, the guilt consuming her. It's exactly what she's doing, letting her fear control her. She hates it, more than anything. She hates being controlled. The nauseating feeling travels up her throat, almost making her throw up.
It slowly turns into a burning feeling, and she can't sit still. Her fingers fidget around the beer bottle and she tips her left foot in a rythm she doesn't know.
Screw this, she thinks, after twenty minutes of sitting around, fidgeting anxiously, and feeling like everything is just wrong.
She stands in her walk-in closet (that is ridiculously big and because of that only half filled) taking an abnormal amount of time to choose a bathing suit. It's stupid, she knows, but she also feels anxious to choose, as if she will somehow make the wrong decision. Again.
In the end, she wears the one she's had the longest, grabbing a towel, goggles, her phone and keys, and makes her way down to the private swimming pool, reserved for Navy and REACT training. She has supervised a few training sessions, always keeping a safe distance from the water.
The room is dark, but as soon as the motion sensors detect her, the place lights up. She hopes no one sees her. She puts her towel down and her phone and keys under it, keeping them safe. Taking a hair tie from her wrist, she pulls her hair up in a high ponytail, pulling the tie tighter than it needs to be.
The watch feels a little heavier than normal, as she takes it off. She lingers, holding the watch and tracing the initials, before putting it under the towel, too.
Her heart beats faster than it should walking the few steps to the edge of the pool and sitting down at the edge. She puts her goggles on and slides her ponytail through the space in the back.
The moment her feet touch the water, the memories come rushing back.
The ship. Parker bleeding out.
Cold, dirty water surrounding her. Realizing the rope wasn't tied to her foot anymore.
Finally breathing again, finding hope. Not getting the valve to move. Banging against the steel.
Hearing voices.
Letting go.
Screaming at Parker to stay alive, because she couldn't go through that again.
She pushes herself off the edge into the water.
It feels better than expected. Her head underwater, drowning out the noise even though there is no noise, not really. It's all just in her head. But she knows that, she's always known that.
She comes back up and all the noise comes back too. All the images she can never get rid of.
She finds the start of the lane and pushes herself off the wall as hard as she can. Her arms cut through the water as strong and determined as ever, legs following suit. Her mind is on autopilot, but that's good. Because swimming and autopilot means no thoughts, no voices, no images. Peace.
When she gets out of the swimming pool, she feels lighter, as if the weight of the world has been lifted from her shoulders.
She's careful not to damage her valuable items hidden underneath the towel, when she takes it to dry herself. Her phone lights up on its own, white numbers staring at her. Three forty-one am.
But her eyes latch on to the message notification that popped up on her screen. It's from Victoria. She knows what it will say but she opens it anyway.
Mon, 10 Jun
Day 32
I got an A on my science final!!
I tried to get him to buy me plane tickets to California. Didn't work :((
That's amazing Vic, I'm so proud of you!
...
I miss you
I miss you, too.
We'll see each other again.
Tue, 11 Jun
Day 33
Wed, 12 Jun
Day 34
The sinking feeling in her stomach is back faster than it ever left and she can't help but wonder how many more of these messages she will get, telling her that, maybe, just maybe, she did make the wrong decision.