Homecoming

"JJ, if you need a rest, take some leave. Don't hand in a resignation."

"Captain, you've seen my record."

"I have. I know you can't stay in one place for long."

And yet, the man had fought tooth and nail among several stations to bring him in — the Captain among them. After winning that fierce competition, he'd never imagined Jay would up and quit out of the blue.

Jay Jenkins — the Asian man the Captain and the crew called JJ — was truly a puzzling, strange sort of person.

It wasn't through the lens of racial stereotyping; mysticism was probably the better word. He was, quite literally, a mystery of a man.

"Still, this is the first job I've held for over a year. Besides the military, that is."

"Well, hah. Should I take that as an honor?"

The Captain clicked his tongue in genuine disappointment. Jay had quick reflexes, and whatever you taught him, he'd master after watching it done once. His abilities were so exceptional that his short stint here had even earned him a medal — that said everything.

Which was exactly why the Captain had treasured him more than any other firefighter under his command.

"Your spot will be waiting. If you ever want to come back, just call."

Well... would he actually be able to come back? Reading the vague expression on Jay's face, the Captain frowned.

"You're headed somewhere far, aren't you? Where this time? Chicago? Boston?"

"Korea."

"Korea? You told me you had nothing there except a brief stretch from when you were a kid."

"That used to be true."

Jay's life had been nothing if not restless. Maybe it was his nature — never able to put down roots anywhere — but he'd spent his years moving from place to place, too busy living to spare a single thought for Korea.

That is, until he checked the social media account he'd thrown together half-heartedly at the urging of an old squad mate and then forgotten about, and saw the message waiting there.

His biological father's wife — a woman whose title he wasn't quite sure how to name — had written to tell him that his father was battling terminal cancer, and that he wanted to see Jay.

After only a moment's deliberation, Jay had replied that he would come. He'd been planning to quit this job soon anyway.

"My father may not have much longer. I figure I owe him a visit."

"Your father? You mean — not Mr. Jenkins, but your biological father?"

"Yes."

"And here I thought you were adopted."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"There are... complicated circumstances."

He'd originally lived in Korea, gone with his mother to the States after his parents' divorce, then his mother had remarried... A family history so tangled it was hard to explain even to himself.

Besides, Jay was never the type to share the private details of his life.

"Well, I'll get going then."

Jay rose from his seat and shook the Captain's hand with a smile. It was a light, unburdened smile — one without a trace of regret.

That expression was exactly what made the Captain's disappointment sting all the more.

"Korea's just a visit, right? Come by sometime when you're back."

"I will."

Someday, maybe... It was the place he'd stayed longest after the military, after all. He had grown genuinely fond of it.

"Hey, JJ."

Jay had hoisted his massive Boston bag over his shoulder and was reaching for the door when ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Captain called him back.

"Williams's death wasn't your fault. It was an accident."

"...I know."

Knowing it changed nothing about the fact that the man had died right in front of Jay's eyes. Swallowing the bitterness as best he could, Jay walked out of the Captain's office.

In the apparatus bay, the crew had gathered around a game of poker.

"JJ! Come play a hand!"

"Oliver, I'm afraid I'll have to shelve my chance of taking your money forever."

"Forever? So you really are quitting?"

"I am. Take care, you losers."

Jay walked out with such a spring in his step you'd think he was coming back for his shift tomorrow. Is he actually quitting for real? The stunned firefighters could only stare at one another.

So today's my last day here too.

Jay glanced back over his shoulder. Beneath the sign with its bold lettering stood the red fire engine he had serviced and polished so diligently.

What should I try next?

Not that it mattered yet — first, he had to see his father. A weight settled in his chest all the same, and Jay let out a quiet sigh.

The moment Jay stepped out of the fire station, Oliver — who proudly called himself Jay's best friend — flung open the Captain's office door.

"Knock before you open."

"Captain, did JJ seriously just leave?"

"What did it look like — a joke?"

"No, but who just up and bolts like that?!"

"He's been saying he'd quit for ages."

He had repeated it like a mantra — that he was never one to stay anywhere long, that someday he might wander off in search of some other line of work.

It had gotten worse after Williams, a fellow firefighter at their own station, died in the line of duty. Watching a man go like that, right in front of him — the Captain understood. He just hadn't expected him to leave this abruptly.

"It's not like you don't have his number. Social ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠media exists — you could reach him from halfway around the world."

"Still, come on. We even planned a farewell party for him."

And the guest of honor had already slipped away. Oliver grumbled his way back out, and the Captain pulled up Jay's application to the fire department, running his eyes over it once more.

Enlisted in the US military straight out of high school. Years of service as a Navy SEAL, deployed on frequent overseas operations, accumulating commendations — a decorated hero with medals to spare.

A Silver Star was no small thing. It was a résumé that would open doors anywhere, and yet Jay had supposedly hopscotched across the entire country after his discharge, switching jobs at a pace of one week to two months at a time.

"Unbelievable..."

Going by the superhuman résumé alone, he ought to have been the picture of the stoic Asian stereotype — but Jay never fit it. Then again, Jay had rarely talked about himself at all.

"A riddle of a man, right to the very end."

The one and only personal conversation they'd ever had had been about his biological father. Sighing, the Captain buried the résumé in the deepest recess of his drawer.

"So, you've quit the fire department too?"

"Yes."

Before flying to Korea, Jay had stopped by his parents' home, where he was welcomed with open arms.

"Good. That was dangerous work."

His mother, Maria Jenkins, was practically glowing with relief, but his father couldn't quite hide the worry on his face.

"Son, isn't it about time you settled down?"

"This way of living suits me better."

"If it's what you want, I'll carve out a place for you at my company. Someone like you would find his footing in no time."

It was no empty offer — he meant every word. Jay was sharp, blessed with that singular talent of his. Anyone else would have put down roots somewhere and seen that gift through to the end, but Jay drifted instead, swapping careers like changing coats.

His parents' eyes brimmed with boundless trust. The warmth of it filled Jay's chest to bursting — and yet it didn't bring him pure joy. Reading his expression, his father hurried to add:

"Don't take that as pressure."

"I'm always grateful to you both."

"None of that. Parents exist to catch their children when they fall."

The corner of Jay's mouth lifted. Not a single drop of shared blood between them, and yet the two had loved him as though he were their own flesh and blood.

Jay's family history read like something out of a drama. His biological mother had divorced his father, settled in America, and met Henry Jenkins — the man he now called Father — in a second marriage.

And so Yoon Jae-hee became Jay Jenkins.

Henry cherished Jay like a true son, despite the absence of blood between them — but the marriage between Jay's biological mother, Jeong Yeon-jae, and Henry Jenkins did not last. She was killed in a car accident.

Afterward, his father remarried the woman who was now his mother. Maria Jenkins had two children from her previous marriage, which meant Jay suddenly found himself with a stepmother and siblings to whom he shared no blood at all.

"Good — going to Korea is the right call. He's still your father. You should see him off at the end."

"Yes."

"See him off well, son."

Wrapped in a crushing bear hug from both parents, Jay headed for the airport.

Complicated as the family history was, it was, in its own way, a warm and loving home. His parents treated Jay like a born son, and he got along with his mother's children like full siblings — the awkward early years felt like a distant memory now.

And yet it was Jay who had fled into the military, unable to shake the feeling that his place in that family had come unmoored.

So that's why I've never been able to settle anywhere.

This is your calling. You've got a gift for it. People said that wherever he went — and it never lasted. He lived free, and yet something inside always felt hollow.

The trip to Korea had not been a smooth one.

The classified operations he'd been deployed on during his military years had drawn attention from certain parties, and he'd even had to sign non-disclosure oaths. In exchange, they'd smoothed his way with every courtesy.

The airport he finally arrived at felt foreign to him. After collecting his luggage and clearing the gate, Jay scanned his surroundings.

"Mom, yeah, I just landed."

"Let's grab something to eat before you head home."

Holy crap, did you see that guy? He's insanely handsome.

First thing to fix — this whole Korean-American accent. Lingering around the airport, Jay eavesdropped on the conversations streaming past him, absorbing the pronunciation, the cadence, the rhythm of everyday speech.

"Ah, ah. One, two, three. Hello, nice to meet you."

Does that sound less like a gyopo now? Having rebuilt his mental blueprint of the language from mere minutes of listening, Jay finally stepped out of the airport.

No... it can't be. Jay hailed a taxi and rushed to the hospital.

"Hello."

"Oh — hello."

The moment she saw Jay, Park Hyun-ah — his biological father's wife, whom he'd arranged to meet at the café — flinched in visible surprise.

Built like a barn door yet perfectly proportioned, he could have passed for a model. His handsome features resembled her husband's, but there was a gravity in his bearing, a weathered steadiness that spoke of a man who had seen more of the world than his years allowed.

The way he claimed the gaze of everyone around him — he seemed more like a celebrity than her own celebrity children did.

"Thank you for coming all this way."

"Not at all. Please, speak as comfortably as you like."

Jay studied Park Hyun-ah. Her eyes were swollen from weeping, but she carried herself ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with a certain composure — the long vigil of her husband's illness seemed to have left her already prepared for the end.

"I heard you grew up in America... what should I call you?"

"Just Jay, please. Then may I... call you Mother?"

"Of course."

It's only a word — a form of address, nothing more, he told himself. And yet, as his father's wife, calling her ma'am or auntie would have made for an odd picture too.

"So Father... has passed."

"He went peacefully this morning."

Park Hyun-ah studied the tangle of emotions on Jay's face.

"Did he... talk about me often?"

"He always said he was sorry to you. He used to say it was his great sin that tore the family apart."

Huh. If you ask me, I'm the one who broke the family. Judging by the warmth in Park Hyun-ah's expression, his father had evidently spoken of him only fondly.

"When he found out we'd reached you — that you'd be coming to Korea soon — he was so happy. He said there was something he absolutely had to say to you..."

"...I see."

Jay's throat had gone tight. He took a long swallow of his coffee.

"Mother, is this the right box? Do-joon said it was, but..."

"That's the one. Thank you for driving the kids over, Manager."

"No need. It's my job."

The brief silence was broken by a man. He waved off Park Hyun-ah's courteous thanks — plenty of celebrities treated their managers like hired hands, but this family never failed to be polite.

The moment his eyes met Jay's, the manager froze. Good lord — who is that man? An undiscovered gem, right there in the flesh...

Oblivious to the man practically salivating, Jay was looking past him. A young man and a young woman stood there, still carrying the softness of students.

They look like him.

Like each other, and — faintly — like Jay himself.

So these are... my brother and sister.

The slight puffiness around their eyes — no doubt from their father's death.