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"You're up early," Amir says, catching Jaz on his way back from the vegetable garden. The sun is barely above the horizon.
"Yeah, I guess." She's just come back from a run. He hadn't even heard her leave.
"I was just about to start on breakfast," he offers, holding out the basket demonstratively. Since coming back from Iran, she joins him sometimes, sitting on the counter and watching him. Jaz isn't a morning person and she rarely strings more than a few words together before at least one cup of coffee, but the quiet company is nice. He's grown used to it.
"I'm gonna stay out here a minute," Jaz says, climbing onto the picnic table.
"Do you want company?" he asks. He's learned to trust her answer; pushing with her gets nowhere but shut down.
She nods so slightly that Amir almost misses it. Setting the basket down, he climbs up beside her on the table.
"It's Elijah's birthday," she says after a minute of silence. "He should be here."
"Yeah," Amir agrees quietly. It makes sense, why everyone's been a little extra edgy the last couple of days.
"Usually I do okay, you know? But, fuck, it hasn't even been a year. Last year..." She trails off, her head tipping back, her breath hissing through her teeth. "Last year he was right here."
"You're still doing okay," Amir says. "You are literally the strongest person here, Jaz. And you know I'm not just saying that. Or at least I hope you do."
"A fuck lot of good that's doing me right now," she croaks, her eyes closed like she's trying not to cry. "This...being here without him, it's worse than any torture they could ever come up with."
"I know." Amir frowns, hunching forward over his knees.
"Does it ever get easier? Do you ever stop dreaming about them still being here and waking up and realizing they're...not?"
"My advice? Hold on to the dreams as long as you can." Amir can't think of the last time he dreamt of Mazia.He dreams of the bombing all the time, but not of her. It takes a second to conjure her smile, her laugh.
"It's weird, missing him."Jaz's voice pulls him back, and he can tell almost instantly that it's intentional. Even grieving, she's too perceptive for her own damn good. "Him being here means you wouldn't be."
"A sacrifice I would gladly make."
Jaz moves closer to him, her feet joining his on the bench. She leans carefully into his side, her arm pressing against his. "Lucky for both of us, you don't have to. I think you've sacrificed more than enough already. Plus, I'd like to think Vallins had a little something to do with you and Hannah."
"Oh, you think so?" Amir chuckles, still thrown off by Jaz's closeness. He's not sure if it's more for her or for him, but he certainly doesn't mind it either way. "Then I'm grateful. And not just for Hannah." He's a part of this family now, a family without guilt or strings. A foreign concept he's slowly getting used to.
"I'm not supposed to tell you, but we just keep you around for your cooking," Jaz says, barely containing her grin, the melancholy ebbing out of her.
He scoffs and rolls his eyes. "I'm wounded. Should've considered telling me that after I made breakfast...See if I cook for you now."
"Oh, you will." Jaz hops off the table, gone from his side as quickly as she'd arrived.
"What makes you so sure?"
"Because I'm on overwatch next," she says simply. "Come on, I'm already starving and you cook slow."
Gathering the basket of vegetables and herbs, Amir shakes his head in amusement.
Inside, she helps him chop ingredients and asks him about going home in a few weeks to finally see Hannah, carefully avoiding any talk Vallins, or death, or family. It's just as Preach finds his way into the kitchen that Jaz rests her hand on his arm.
"For what it's worth? I'm really glad you're here." It means more than a simple 'thank you' ever would.
"Yeah." Amir smiles. "Me too."