Flinging her keys on the table, Jax let out a stress laden sigh. It was a relief to be out of that bar. She didn't like emotionally manipulating people, even when she was on the job. Possessing the knowledge and ability didn’t necessarily mean that she wanted to abuse them. People deserved more than that.

Going in there tonight, she'd had so much determination. It was supposed to be so easy. She'd reestablish the connection, set up a plan to start working for him, and leave. Badda bing, badda boom. But now? He'd shown her that he was still in there. His heart and soul were still in there. That warm laugh had been honest when it sang of the soul that still existed underneath. And that jaw that could cut glass...

No. No distractions. She had a job to do. She wanted that promotion, and this was the best way to get it. Complete this investigation, and she'd move up. Her Captain was a rewarder of good, honest work and that was what she wanted to deliver. Lance was making it complicated.

Stopping herself from reaching for more whiskey, she started the electric kettle instead. At 12pm, didn’t need more liquor. She'd just end up doing something stupid.

*Brzt.* That damn phone. Wait. Who had this number? She'd only give it to...

--LK: Hey beautiful. I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.

What the hell? Not twenty minutes ago, they were saying their awkward goodbyes, and now he was checking on her? What did he think he was some kind of protector? She rolled her eyes and tossed her phone on the table right after her keys. He needed to get out of her head. If only for tonight. She didn't feel like herself right now, and she needed to get that back. Video games? Reading? She needed to do something that felt like herself. Something grounding.

She turned on a podcast, and wandered into the spare room. In all of this, she needed to treasure her home. If all went according to plan, she'd have to move once the investigation closed. Yes, most of the perps would be in jail, or WitSec, or something like that. But there was always a chance that they'd miss someone, or someone would get away. And she couldn't be here. If she was going to single handedly take down a big drug ring on the East Coast, there had to be safety at the end of it. And that was mostly encompassed in her moving out of the area. Worst case scenario, she'd end up in WitSec herself.

"Is it worth it?" Her best friend had asked her.

Family estranged, she didn’t have much of anyone anymore. So, for the most part, she only had Sam to lean on. She hadn't even wanted her around to begin with.

Sam had come along and essentially adopted her. A drug bust at a club that had only been successful because Sam was the designated driver for her group of friends. Sober enough to spot a deal in the back of the club, she told the bouncer that someone was dealing to a minor. The bouncer alerted Jax's undercover team. Somehow, the dealer's boss caught wind of what went down, and put out a hit out on Sam. They'd taken him down eventually, and Sam was safe now. But Jax still watched over her like a guardian angel. Her selfless act, her responsibility, had drawn Jax to her. But they stayed friends because Sam wouldn't leave her alone. Honestly, though, Jax was glad for it. Sam was good for her. She was good for the world.

She'd told Sam what happened; given her a brief rundown of her new assignment. Everyone in the precinct knew they were friends. And it was very likely that there was a mole. There's always a mole when a big investigation opens up in a syndicate like Steele Workers. They flip someone close enough to get the vital information. So Sam would probably need to go into WitSec too if it all ended badly. A shame, too. She was getting famous on Instagram as a model, and Jax would hate for her to have to give that up. Sam didn't even let her consider not taking the job. So here she was.

All of this meant that Jax could not fail. She needed to take down Steele Workers efficiently, and completely. She needed to take Lance down for Sam’s sake.

One more night to be herself before the long nights of surveillance and reports and dates (if she could lure the right person in) would begin. Tonight was her night to get all of the stress out. Before she could miss any more of her podcast by thinking, she switched to some blues. Easy, wordless, feels music that wouldn’t carry her thoughts into a place she didn't want to be right now.

Turning off the tea kettle, she poured the last glass of pinot out of the fridge. She'd need to go grocery shopping if she was going to entertain anyone. This particular assignment was going to require her to live the lie to its core, and she wanted to be prepared for all eventualities. Of course, she couldn't get too many groceries. She'd just been "fired" from her job after all. Telling Lance she was low on cash had unfortunately hogtied her, and she'd need to be careful about being frugal going forward. Granted a cop's salary, a detective's even...it was nothing really special. But she'd gotten used to the niceties. Like red wine in the fridge, wet food for her cat, and the occasional bath bomb. Hopefully, whatever job Lance was able to find her in Steele Workers would be lucrative enough to continue her little comforts. She was allowed to stay human in all of this after all, wasn't she?

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"God," she thought to herself. "Listen to me. Whining. Because I might not be able to afford a bath bomb." Looking around her spacious cottage, she forced herself to remember how lucky she was. Even Sam the burgeoning model didn't have the luxuries she had. Steady paychecks are a luxury like no other.

*Brzt brzt. Brzt brzt.* Unknown number calling. *Brzt brzt. Brzt brzt.*

"Hey Lance...What do you need?" She couldn't keep herself from sounding impatient. This was her last night. Despite what this clingy, well-meaning dofus might think, she actually enjoyed her solitude. She wasn't the pining kind. She wasn't waiting around for his call. So what did he want?

"Well damn girl! Remind me to never date you." Jax could barely hear Sam's voice over the thumping beat in the background.

Jax froze. "Sam. How did you get this number? This is supposed to be a private line. This isn’t safe."

"Well if I'm going down with you, I might as well enjoy the ride, right?"

"No. Sam. You can't just-" Jax sighed. Her headache was getting worse. "Who gave it to you?"

"Harris from vice. The one who was with you on Our Night?”

“Harrison, Sam. I’ve told you like a thousand times.”

“Whatever. He's been tryna get on my good side since then. He'll do almost anything I ask. Everyone knows you and I are an item, babe. May as well just enjoy having someone under the blankets with you!"

Jax cringed. "God, that's so cheesy. How many have you had tonight?"

"Not too many. You coming out?" Sam sounded so hopeful. Jax didn't know why she still hung out with the gaggle of idiots she heard screaming in the background.

“I think I’m going to stay in. Last night of freedom, you know?” Jax rolled the wine around in the glass, contemplating going anyway. She really loved hanging out with Sam, and she could stand to cut loose a little.

It wasn’t often she found someone that she truly enjoyed spending time with. Especially a woman. But with Sam it was different. Knowing without a doubt that Sam would support her in anything, and love her without question or reserve was a security she never knew she needed.

“Well if you decide to come out, the thems wanted to bar crawl on Jefferson. You’ll have to hunt us down.” Jax heard more screaming in the background. “We might need to leave soon, though. They just broke some glasses.”

“Do I need to send someone out there to break them up?” Sam’s mother-hen act made no sense to Jax, and she’d grown weary of seeing her friend used and abused.

“Nah girl. I can call Harris if I really need to.”

“Sam. It's Harrison…”

“Right. Damn...Well, anyway. You enjoy your evening. Give Spriggs some scritches for me. Do a cleanse. Get that stress out.” Sam spoke in short sentences to respect her privacy around her drunk friends. As inebriated as Jax was sure they were, it was definitely overkill. But she appreciated it just the same.

As if summoned, the Maine Coon Munchkin sauntered into the hallway like he owned the place. More fluff than cat, his calico fur and bent whiskers made him the sort of cat most kids would have overlooked in the pound. But when he’d come up to her while she was working on her car, and meowed demands for food and love, she’d had no choice. The Spriggan had chosen her.

“What do you say, Spriggs? Shall we do a cleanse?” While he never jumped into her arms outright, he never struggled away when she picked him up for cuddles. He bumped her chin with his head. “A cleanse it is, then.” She changed into some green plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized Guinness tee. The less fabric clinging to her skin, the better.

The air of the still room welcomed her as she entered. A collection of mismatched antique furniture, jars of dried herbs, a few granite mortar and pestles, and research material galore. This was a place she could truly be herself. And those places were dwindling. Especially now that she’d invited Lance to the Fisherman’s Knot.

It still baffled her sometimes. Her abilities and her belief in God collided like meteors a few years ago. Somehow the combination of the two made sense to her. It reconciled the complexities of her childhood in a perfect practice that was unique to her.

Careful around Spriggan’s fur (he wouldn’t leave her alone. He could probably tell how stressed she was,) she lit some candles, turned on some low acoustic beats. Grinding some valerian and chamomile flowers with a mortar and pestle, she breathed their gentle scent. Sedatives, they’d help her relax and let out some of what was bothering her. Adding a little jasmine and some boneset, and she was ready to get started. Putting as much of the ground herbs into the tea diffuser as she could, she poured a knuckle of cold water over them before filling the rest of the cup with the boiled water. Scrunching some lovely fragrant oil into her hair, she sat in her armchair. Spriggan meowed from the table, and she saw him next to the sage.

“Really? Sage?” Jasmine kept her chuckle to herself. A wonderful idea, of course. But she did love to tease the little bundle of attitude.

“Meow!”

“No Spriggs. We don’t need it. Come on, I’m ready.”

“MEOW!!”

She chuckled, “Alright, alright! I hear you!” Lighting the bundle of sage and juniper, she began saining the room. Amid the smoke, Jasmine was reminded of the shaman she’d been researching lately. The practice of warding off negativity with thick, herbaceous smoke was a staple in so many cultures. Her own ancestors called it saining, others called it smudging. It’s prominence amongst the cultures of the world was proof of its effectiveness.

“There. Happy?” She waved a circle around Spriggan. With a disgruntled murmur he jumped down and paced in the center of the room waiting. Rather than sit on the floor in the middle of the room as he demanded, she sank again into the worn armchair next to the window. Total comfort during a cleanse would produce maximum effect. Breathing in the spicy scent of the space, she forced her shoulders to relax, and her jaw to unclench. This assignment wouldn’t be successful if she went into it with any sort of stress weighing her down.