writing and crying

Looking out the window, you mentally steeled yourself for the coming day. Being tech support on an alien planet was not for the faint of heart. Endless tickets submitted for faulty screens, malfunctioning ops halo stations, glitchy control panels, ect. Why did you go into tech again? Oh, right. In-demand job market and semi-decent pay.

At least you got to wake up to some of the most beautiful scenery in the galaxy. Sighing you jumped out of bed and headed to the shower, getting ready for the day.

…

Skipping breakfast, you finally got to your computer to check what the day’s tasks would be. You scrolled through getting a good idea of the tickets that had already been submitted this morning. One caught your eye. Parker. Great. He would definitely expect to be first in line.

You rolled your eyes.

Grabbing everything you needed to investigate the faulty ops halo station in the control tower, you headed out.

…

Entering the control tower, you saw Parker, Quaritch with several of his OpSec guys, and a man in a wheelchair all gathered round the Ops Halo Station. You saw Quaritch leaning against the station, “jarhead clan? Ha! And it worked?”

He turned to look at the man in the wheelchair, who responded, “hey, I’m practically family. They’re gonna study me. I have to learn to be one of ‘em.”

“That’s called taking initiative, son. I wish I had ten more like you.” Quaritch turned away from the table and spotted you.

He had taken a liking to you when you had initially arrived on the planet after you dropped your sketchbook to avoid spilling coffee all over his desk. You had never been so scared as when Colonel Miles Quaritch looked over the many sketches of him you had done in secret. He was such an expressive man, you couldn’t help yourself. There were dozens of them. His eyes roamed over every single one, taking in the smooth lines that illustrated the dynamic range of his emotions.

He ended up complimenting you on your talent and you profusely apologized. He assured you it wasn’t necessary and he was flattered. You two grew closer after, and eventually he wrangled you into designing a motif for the front of his personal Dragon Assault ship. Over time, your relationship evolved from one of friendship into something a bit more… flirty? 

You often spent your lunch breaks in his office. It was quiet and you were maybe the only person besides Wainfleet that Quaritch actually liked. You had gotten to know him pretty well. You learned about his three tours in Nigeria as a Marine, how he got that trio of scars on his scalp, and even about his love of white chocolate mochas. He was quite enamored with you, but you were oblivious to his affections as he was.

The Colonel leant against the station that you stood by. You had been waiting for a lull in the conversation to jump in. He said under his breath, trying to maintain the illusion of paying attention to the conversation happening in front, “this is a nice surprise. Almost thought I wasn’t gonna see you today, sweetheart.”

You fiddled with your backpack strap. Putting on a facetious tone, you nudged his shoulder with yours, “aw shucks, Birdie! Careful, you might make me blush. Really though, you were bound to see me at some point. Parker keyboard smashes everything like he’s a toddler just learning about buttons.”

Parker’s voice reaches your ears. “Look. Look, Sully. Just find out what the blue monkeys want. You know, I mean, w-we tried to give ‘em medicine, education, uh roads. But, no, they like mud. And, that wouldn’t bother me, it’s just that their uh… can you? Can somebody just…?”

You waved over at Parker, getting his attention. “Hey, Parker, I got your ticket.”

Rich, ever the saint, went over and helped put an image of Home Tree on the halo table.

The tension in Parker’s shoulders evaporated as he spotted you, as if you were an angel sent from Computer Jesus himself. “Oh, finally! Get over here. Can’t we get some better buttons and panels that don’t break after two weeks?”

“I’ll look into it, boss.” You knew that nothing other than appeasement was going to get you out of a dreaded Unskippable Parker Cut Scene ™. 

You went over to the control panel and accessed the internals with your tablet to run some diagnostics. You had a hunch the malfunction was from Parker’s bricks for hands, but you were always thorough. 

You mindlessly listened to the conversation while you worked. You had gathered the man in the wheelchair was named Jake Sully and he was an Avatar driver. His job was to find out what the Omatikaya wanted in exchange for turning their home tree into an unobtanium mine. He had three months to do so.

You didn’t see Dr. Grace around, so you assumed this was a plot the three of them had concocted without the knowledge of the Avatar program team. You made a mental note to ask Quaritch about that later.

Parker wraps up the conversation saying, “I like this guy!” He claps Jake on the shoulder.

Having finished your diagnostics, you began to pack up your equipment. You were trying to think of how you were going to tell Parker that you needed to order another panel from the fabrication department. Hearing your name, you look up to see Quaritch crooking his finger, “come over here.” Putting the last cable in your bag, you hopped over to the Colonel.

“I want to introduce you to Jake Sully. He’s an avatar driver, who just so happens to be a Marine.”

“Oh, another brother in arms? No wonder why you and Birdie get along so well.” This plan they had hatched was making a lot more sense now.

Jake looks between both of you. He chuckles a bit. “Wait, HE lets you call him “Birdie?””

Quaritch tried to pretend he wasn’t perturbed by the bewilderment rolling off Jake. He crossed his arms and straightened his posture. “I, sure as heck, let her do whatever she wants. This little miss is the best systems admin in the Alpha Centauri system. Isn’t that right, sugar?”

You preened under Quaritch’s compliment, feeling your face heat ever so slightly. “That’s a little extreme. Definitely not in the entire system.”

Jake holds his hand out to you, “well, it’s an honor to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”

Shaking his hand with your own, you made a mock gasp. “Oh and he’s respectful too?” 

If you hadn’t looked over at the Colonel, you wouldn’t have seen his expression sour as you joked with Jake. But you did. You wouldn’t have seen the jealousy written across his visage, if you didn’t know him so well. But you did.

Thankfully, you were saved by Lyle who came to whisk the Colonel away to wherever. You continued to talk to Jake, since Parker was busy. He told you about how his twin was the science guy and he, the jarhead. You told him about how you liked to draw and how you got to know the Colonel so well. “Um. I hope this isn’t too forward. But, if you wanted to, I could draw a portrait of you and your brother.”

He became visibly uncomfortable at that. You mentally kicked yourself. Great, not the best thing to say. “I-I’ll think about it.”

“Of course. It’s totally up to you.” You let him know where your office was, if he ever needed to find you and excused yourself.

You eventually found Parker, told him what you needed to order, and handed him the data pad to sign.

…

Two days later, you were in your office responding to emails asking whether or not a badge scanner was broken or needed an update. Typical systems admin stuff. A soft knock was heard on the other side of your office door. “Come in!”

To your surprise, Jake Sully wheeled in. “Hi, Jake! What can I do for you?”

He wrung his hands together. “Well, I’ve been thinking about the portrait of my brother and I, and I would really like you to do it.”

“It would be an honor, Jake.” Tears welled up in your eyes. Despite knowing Jake for only three days, you both just clicked. You got up and crossed the room to hug him.

…

Jake and you had started spending lunches together. You, sketching his face, trying to capture the emotions he displayed. Jake found as many pictures of his brother as he could, pulling from old albums in the cloud, pictures he posted to social media. It was difficult because Pandora was so far from Earth, communications were sent through a laser-based network, rather than a traditional fiber-optic cable network. Similar, but different. Kind of like Jake and Tom.

They looked uncannily similar, but did have some noticeable differences as most twins did. Tom had slightly more downturned eyes and had broken his nose when they were kids. Jake had more prominent freckles and, an ever so slightly, wider smile. 

Jake insisted he and his brother weren’t that close, but you could hear the pain when he spoke of him. You saw the sparkle return to his eyes when he told you about the things they got up to as children.

One day, Jake and you were having lunch as usual, when there was a knock at the door. You both looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Shrugging at him, you said, “come in!”

And in sauntered the Colonel himself, hands on his hips. Looking between you both, he scrutinized the scene in front of him. Pictures of Jake and Tom scattered over your desk, your sketchbook open with tens of doodles of Jake’s expressions, both of your meals, and your phone discarded to the side. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding, sugar?”

You felt yourself pale. You felt like you were a kid being caught red handed. With what? You didn’t know. “Yeah, Jake and I have a project we’ve been working on.”

Quaritch crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Is that so?”

Jake shuffled in his chair across from you, “I forgot I have a thing today. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. See you tomorrow.” A large hand shut the door behind Jake and engaged the lock. You gulped, feeling like you could cut the tension hanging in the air with a knife. 

“Sweetheart, you’ve been naughty.” He just stares at you, his jaw clenched, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“W-what did I do?” You were genuinely confused. You didn’t think he would have a problem with you spending some lunches away from him.

He set his hands on the top of your desk, leaning over it into your space. He chuckled darkly, “don’t play coy with me, Missy. You haven’t been at lunch lately.”

“I told you-” you tried to explain that your relationship with Jake was completely platonic, but he cut you off.

His eyes lit up with anger at your denial. “You need someone younger? Is that it?”

“What? Miles-.” The venom in his voice caught you off guard. You had never seen him like this. You shook your head, trying to wrap your mind around what was happening.

He lifts his hands off the desk, walks around to your chair, places his hands on the arm rests, and cages you in with his arms. “I bet he takes real good care of you, huh?”

Oh. 

Oh. 

You smirked, his reasoning finally settling into your brain. You straightened your back, leaning up to his face as he loomed over you. Your hands traced up his arms towards his biceps, his sleeves pulled taught over the muscles. Trailing one up farther to caress his cheek, you cooed, “oh, Birdie. No one could replace you.”

He was silent. His brain went full blue screen of death. You were sure that he never expected you to return his attraction, affection, infatuation? Slowly, his brain was able to reboot and come back online. “Sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

You tangled your arms around his neck, hauling yourself up from the chair. His arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him. “Don’t I?”

You pushed him into the desk, forcing him to halfway climb onto it, and you kissed him. Allowing every ounce of affection you’ve felt blossom from your lunch dates to pour into his mouth. Up to his brain. To make him see he was the only one.

He pulled back from the kiss, his cheeks red, lips plump. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle because you made Colonel Miles Quaritch blush. 

“Birdie, you look cute when you blush. You should do it more often,” you saw the scarlet dusting across his cheeks grow even deeper. You gave him another quick peck on the mouth before you disentangled yourself from him. You could see the wheels turning in his head. He was processing someone else having the upper hand for once. He backed away from you, his hand coming up to felt his lips, like he was uncertain whether the kiss was an illusion.

Reaching the door, he placed his hand on the knob, unlocking it. He turned around and pointed at you, “this ain’t over, sugar.”

You winked at him, and sank back into your chair, twirling around, “I sure hope not, Birdie.”

He narrowed his eyes and raked his eyes over your figure. He adjusted his pants, shamelessly. You could see them growing tighter around his hips. You bit your lip, unable to stop your mind from wandering. “You know where my quarters are?”

You scoffed. “Of course.”

“2200 hours.” With a final smile thrown your way, he disappeared through your office door. He called as he walked down the hall, “don’t be late!”

Your smile grew even larger as you gave yourself another spin in your chair, “I won’t!”

…

You were not late.

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