The circus grounds had transformed into a chaotic battlefield, Caine’s booming voice echoing overhead as characters darted around with brightly colored blasters in hand. It was another one of his “games”—ridiculous, over-the-top, and impossible to ignore. Today, it was a full-scale gun game, the cast forced to partner off.

Liz ended up with Jax. Blonde hair falling into her face, blue eyes sharp with focus, she held the oversized blaster close, following his lead through a maze of cartoonish obstacles. On the surface, she seemed calm, even capable, but her silence spoke louder than anything. While Ragatha called encouragement across the field and Gangle squeaked nervously from cover, Liz kept her words clipped and her distance steady.

Jax noticed. He always noticed.

“Y’know,” he said as they crouched behind a wall of stacked props, paint rounds splattering nearby, “most partners talk during these things. Little teamwork, little banter. But you? You’ve been real quiet. What’s that about, blondie?”

Liz’s grip on the blaster tightened. “Talking doesn’t win the game.”

“Neither does sulking,” Jax shot back, smirk tugging at his lips. He peeked over the barrier, fired off a quick shot, then ducked again. “So what’s the deal? You always this chatty, or just saving your words for something special?”

She hesitated, eyes narrowing at the paint-splattered floor. Finally, her voice dropped, almost lost under the chaos around them. “Sometimes I think about… before this place. What I left behind. And it makes me wonder if talking about it here just makes it worse.”

That caught him off guard. For a second, the grin slipped. Jax studied her, ears twitching as he leaned closer. “So you do think about it. Thought I was the only genius dumb enough to hang onto that kind of baggage.”

Liz finally met his gaze, cautious but steady. “You’re not.”

A silence stretched between them, rare and heavy in the middle of Caine’s orchestrated madness. Then, just like that, Jax chuckled, slipping the mask back on. “Well, ain’t that sweet? Guess we’re both sentimental wrecks under all this. Don’t tell anyone, though—I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Despite herself, Liz almost smiled. For the first time since arriving, she didn’t feel entirely alone in the memory of what came before.

⸻

That night, long after the game had ended and the circus halls had grown unnervingly quiet, Liz’s composure cracked. Her chest was tight, breaths shallow and uneven, thoughts spiraling too fast to keep up with. Panic clawed at her, leaving her trembling in the empty corridors.

She stumbled around a corner, hoping no one would see her like this—and froze when she realized someone already had.

Jax stood a few feet away, leaning lazily against the wall as usual. But the instant his eyes landed on her, the smirk he always wore faltered. His ears twitched, posture shifting as he took her in.

“Whoa,” he said, his tone different this time—lighter on the sarcasm, heavier with something else. “Liz… what’s going on with you?”