Jordan woke early the next morning. The cold pierced him deep, the warmth of his mother long gone. He wasn’t sure when she left nor was he surprised. He dreamt, maybe a memory, of her holding him when he was small, singing a different song. You Are My Sunshine. A song that he only realized was just as sad as the one she sang last night.

He didn’t have long to prepare for the trip. Without turning on the TV, he went about his normal routine in silence, yawning infrequently. He tossed old clothes on the couch, expecting that they’d be waiting for him when he returned in three days.

Walking to his room he found that his mom’s door was partly open. Only now, approaching it, did he hear the shower running in her bathroom. She had her own connected to her room, while the one he used was the main one for the house at the end of the hall. She often told him to avoid using her bathroom and he had no reason to disobey her. He’d peeked into it a few times and it looked normal enough.

Her bedroom itself was also normal. Boxes of random stuff in the corner, no TV, plain walls. Her bed was medium sized. Frank described it as Spartan once, comparing it to Jordan’s own. Only, where he kept toys and little personal effects on display atop his dresser, she had nothing. No statues, no pictures. It was simply a place to sleep and keep clothing.

Which is why he stopped by her cracked open door. There, on her bed, was something new. A black briefcase, larger than he was used to, with shiny silver latches. An intense curiosity burned in Jordan about what she did for a living. One that was reignited and doubled by meeting the woman from last night, the first person he’d ever seen related to her work.

Stepping gingerly into the room, he did his best to quietly reach the case. Trembling fingers reached silvered clasps, undoing them at the same time. The case opened without further prompting, startling him. It was not the nickeled, all too distinctive gun, situated at the top of the case that caught his eye, nor iconic badge that sat proudly in view. It was the uniform that he saw first, that sent his whole world into chaos.

A uniform he’d seen almost every day of his young life. A uniform worn in every live action segment of that cartoon she hated so much. The Titan uniform given only to Agents of the Supreme United Nations Taskforce. Thoughts of why she had this quickly bled to how, and then back to why again. Confusion was cut through by the sound of the shower ending.

Acting quickly, he shut the briefcase and with trembling hands latched it shut. Trying not to trip over himself he scurried out of her room, grabbing whatever he needed that he could reach and racing for the door. His heart hammering in his chest, he dropped to the porch after shutting the door. This wasn’t possible.

That shouldn’t exist in his life. That couldn’t have been in his mother’s room. That uniform was something reserved for active combatants working under the Supreme United Nations, with the white stripes symbolizing a high rank. The live action segments never featured real Agents, but they did wear authentic uniforms and equipment, often to explain the difference between the cartoon and the reality.

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He knew Agents were allowed anonymity but reconciling that with his mother was too much. Yet, for as hard to grasp as it was, it didn’t seem impossible. Small things fell into place. How bruised she could be when coming home, how often she was gone and for how long, her attitude towards the dumb cartoon. He didn’t know what to do with any of this.

The bus arrived not long after. In a daze he climbed onto it. If one asked him, he wouldn’t have realized that it was a different bus from normal. He stumbled down the aisle, sitting roughly where he knew he always sat, ignoring the cleaner and more modern interior. Looking back, he saw his front door open. Maria watched him, frowning lightly. Worries that she knew he saw it were squashed in an instant. That wasn’t possible. Instead, he realized, she looked concerned. He realized she was going to leave for work soon.

Leave to join the Taskforce again. To do some unknown, dangerous mission. Something that could maim her or worse. And he was unaware, all this time. Shame tore at him as her warm brown eyes followed the bus on its journey, until he could no longer see her. Jordan’s chest hurt. That woman. Christine, that was the blonde’s name. She said she worked in Houston. He’d try to find her, he resolved. He needed to talk with her.

He nearly jumped when someone sat next to him. Though even in his shock, he knew who it had to be. Looking, he found the expected bright green eyes. Steph was looking past him, out the window where his attention was fixed.

“You care about her a lot, don’t you?”

“I,” he paused. His brain was too fried to deal with this. He couldn’t summon the energy to play these dumb games or guess at what Steph wanted. So, he wouldn’t. “Yeah.”

“I think she cares about you even more,” she said.

“Maybe.”

She shook her head, dirty blonde hair flowing. “Nah, I can tell. You mean more to her than anything. Not all parents are like that. I would know.”

He didn’t get to respond before she smacked his arm. “During the trip, try to have fun. That death march across the city is a drag but you should be okay. On the third day is when you’ll get to relax. We’ll be in different groups until then. We’re doing some higher-level SUN nonsense compared to your grade, but when the third day comes, I’ll try to find you.”

He looked her dead in the eye. “Why do you like me?”

His grey eyes held her green as he stared at her intently. He wanted to understand what she was after, what she was about. Something looked off about her as he unconsciously nudged forward to see them better. Her eyes widened when he got closer, unflinching. A blush bloomed across her face, highlighting her light freckles, betraying her ever present teasing demeaner. She broke eye contact, giggling.

“Jesus, Jo’. You grow into those looks and you’ll be quite a heart breaker,” she said after a moment composing herself. “You’ll embarrass a girl talking like that. Do I need a reason?”

“I guess not.”

“You could be somethin’ special, Jo’. I’m going on back now, don’t want to crowd out your friends. Talk to you soon,” she said, getting up.

“Yeah,” he said.

Her blushing gave him no satisfaction, no thrill. It didn’t make him appreciate her looks. He still didn’t get it. She was probably pretty, from what others talked about what they thought was attractive, but she didn’t elicit any feeling on that front. But, cutting through the games and the teasing, she was nice to talk to. Maybe he needed to be more direct like that in the future.