Endurance
Fandom: Avatar
Pairing: Trudy/Grace
Rating: R for language and subject matter
Warnings: Lesbians and sex. Please click the blue arrow if this offends you.
Length: One-shot ~2500 words
Summary: Trudy has the luck to find everlasting love on an alien planet with a woman who can't think past her research. femslash
AN: A kind reviewer has mentioned that Senate has overturned the Don't-Ask-Don't-Tell as of December 19, 2010. (It may be noted I wrote this fic in the summer of 2010.) I had heard it was in the works but had no hope for it, given the way our recent elections have gone. Take victories where you can find them. I for one am glad that this bit in the story is now inaccurate.
Grace once asked her how the fuck she'd ended up on a shithole like Pandora. It didn't matter what Trudy had said; Grace knew the truth even as she'd asked. It was all probably still in the Colonel's files: that Trudy, ace pilot, on the fast-track to become an officer for the old US of A Airforce, had been found in a compromising situation with a fellow female officer, and that don't-ask-don't-tell clause didn't actually save her ass from a dishonorable discharge—one that her family had immediately copied as well.
Miles found her, made her see the worst side of the situation, and had her agreeing to pilot for him on another planet, far away from her disapproving family and the shame of her discharge. She'd shown up on Pandora without a fucking clue what to expect—a baby compared to most of the men Miles had pulled together.
She didn't want to kill native ass or to blow up shit; she wanted to fly, and Miles gave her that. He gave her fun reconns, operations that took skill, and even in her wide, cumbersome Samson Trudy felt like a hawk. So long as she had that she refused to miss Earth and the people she'd left behind there.
Grace and her team had been on Pandora longer than Trudy. She'd known about them but never crossed paths professionally with any of them until Grace called a pilot's meeting. Trudy would never forget her first impression: Grace, tall and thin in a pair of tech overalls, red hair wild, leaning akimbo on a cafeteria table and chain-smoking. She just looked at them all, one by one, and though Trudy had gone head to head with some of the worst on this planet (including the Colonel), she was hard-pressed to maintain direct eye-contact with the woman.
"So here's the fucking deal," she'd started, gesticulating with her smoking hand. "I need a pilot. I don't want a crazy son of a bitch who wants to shoot every-fucking-thing on this planet. So Rosta, get the fuck out of here, you bastard. You know I hate you so why the fuck are you here? Get out of here and let one of Miles's other cocksucking spies report to him." The aforementioned man got up and left after flipping Grace the bird. Grace curled her lip over her cigarette.
"I need a pilot, one who knows this planet, knows how to get into the jungle and out of it quickly and quietly—someone who isn't afraid to pick me up god-knows-where and at god-knows-what-time. I need someone without a happy trigger finger because I will be interacting peacefully with the Na'vi. I also need someone who can fly in the Hallelujah mountains without splattering us all across a piece of floating rock. So if you can do that, let me know." Grace took a long drag and looked between them all again. "Fucking Christ, what a bunch of horseshit," she said, almost to herself. Without warning, she walked out of room.
The other men in the room glanced at each other, muttering their insults. Trudy had the feeling that Grace had a few screws loose, but who didn't to be on this planet? She put in a written app to Grace's lab, and Grace called her in—at first it seemed only to laugh at her.
Grace didn't offer her a seat, nor did she sit herself. They stood in the middle of the coveted research lab, with men and women lying in pods, plugged into their Avatars. Grace didn't allow any mercenaries into her laboratory, and Trudy tried not to stare around her like the wide-eyed novice she was. There were lots of rumors about what this place looked like and what went on here, but Trudy was still impressed by the glossy newness and pungent sanitation around her. It was the single clean area in the surrounding grungy base.
A contrast to her surroundings, Grace stubbed out a cigarette and lit another, blowing an idle smoke ring as she studied Trudy. Finally, she said, "You know, I thought I was on this planet with the shittiest, dumbest bunch of marines Miles could scrape out of the gutter, and here you are, sending me a fucking fine cover letter and resume." Grace grinned at Trudy and took another long drag. She kept it up for a few beats longer than Trudy was comfortable, but Trudy stared back, figuring this was part of the initial test. Grace's eyes finally fell away, and they traveled her body down and back up again. Whatever Grace saw made her shake her head. "You're just a fucking kid."
A shot of anger worked through Trudy. A kid? She'd flown in fucking Argentina; she'd seen shit that would stay with her for the rest of her life. The fuck did this civilian scientist get off on telling her she was a kid? "I'm twenty-nine, ma'am."
"Don't blow a gasket," Grace said with an infuriating condescending smile. She judged Trudy for a moment before she rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine. Ms. Chacon, you're far younger and brighter than the average Jo around these parts, and quite frankly, I wonder why you're here."
"I can fly here, ma'am. And I'd like to fly for you and your team."
Grace took her hand and shook it in a firm grip. Her sardonic grin was warm. "Well, the interview was just a formality anyway. Welcome to the team."
Their first foray into the Hallelujah Mountains was a little hair-raising for Trudy. She'd flown in them before, but only twice, and she'd always had a copilot. This time she was alone except for Grace, who would be no help in a piloting accident or a Na'vi attack. She just couldn't figure out why Grace would set up a station way out here in the middle of no-man's land. It seemed a little extreme just to get away from the Colonel and Selfriedge.
Despite the dangers and her mental bitching, Trudy couldn't deny her own excitement. Just the two of them for at least two nights up in complete seclusion. She held no illusions about Grace possibly wanting her—Grace didn't give a damn about much that didn't deal with her research, and Trudy didn't have a fucking clue about most of that—but hell if her mind didn't whisper suggestions about the possibility of a satisfying fuck with a woman she found desirable.
There were no mishaps, no close calls, and Trudy was actually pleased with herself when they touched down next to a tiny trailer that Grace was stocking up. She cut the engines, shut down and covered her baby, and followed Grace into the trailer half an hour later with the first set of supplies. She hoped there was a bunk somewhere in the cramped piece of aluminum. Despite a few fantasies about a king-sized foam mattress, she was a realist.
It took her over two hours to unload all of Grace's supplies. Thoughts of sex were far from her mind in the meantime aside from thoughts like, 'fuck Grace and fuck this project and fuck these goddamn supplies'. Aching and exhausted, she flopped into a free chair and ate her pasty dinner unenthusiastically, her mind occupied by watching Grace work on an Avatar plug-in bunk—lots of typing, lots of frowning, lots of smoking.
"So," Grace finally said, eyes glued to her portable's screen. "What brings a young, bright pilot like you to Pandora?"
"Air Force discharge," Trudy replied truthfully. Grace took her eyes from the display and gave Trudy a direct look. She took a breath, screwed up her courage, and said, "Don't-ask-don't-tell shit."
Grace's mouth pulled into a wry smile and she shook her head. "This day and age we still have that piece of shit clause in our military's contract. That originated over two hundred years ago during a spy-scare, and it was unfounded then." She pulled on her cigarette. "But why Pandora? Why not a career flying for an Earth or space airline?"
Trudy shook her head. "I flew fighter jets. The kind most people don't even know exist; invisible to radar and to the naked eye. I flew some of the fastest jets on the planet. I couldn't go to flying some giant jet for stupid yuppies that want to go on vacation for a week."
"I imagine your Samson was quite a change."
"You imagine right." Trudy allowed herself a moment of humor. "It's nicer in the sense that I don't have to wear diapers anymore." Grace's eyebrows shot up, and Trudy realized a moment too late Grace was the only woman she'd found attractive on this planet and she'd just admitted to her she'd worn diapers as an adult woman. Her blush was so hot it hurt. "Flying missions would take over 24 hours. Men got a fucking pee tube, but hell if they could figure something out for women."
"Men, the bastards."
They shared a laugh while privately Trudy was grateful that Grace had had tact for once. Trudy excused herself for the back room to bunk up for the night. She left Grace tap-tap-tapping away at her portable. Sometime later, she jerked awake at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. "Easy, Trudy," Grace said.
Trudy looked at her and her heart began to thunder. "Are we going to fuck?" She'd only managed a whisper.
"I would like to," Grace replied lightly. Her eyes dropped to Trudy's breasts and her hand slipped into Trudy's underwear just like that.
Having sex with Grace was far different than Trudy had previous pondered. In conversation, Grace always seemed somewhere else, thinking about things far more important than the words exchanged, deep in her thoughts even during direct looks. She was spastic and quick in her motions, always doing something. But during sex, Trudy felt and knew she was Grace's only thought, only concern, and Grace moved agonizingly slow. She was thorough but gentle and steady. And Trudy knew that when she touched Grace, Grace thought only of her and their actions together.
As good and attentive as Grace was in bed, she was hell on a relationship. She never remembered important dates, half the time forgot details of Trudy's preferences, and she disappeared for days on end without any forewarning or explanation. Trudy was more than thankful for her position as Project Pandora's pilot because she had a legitimate way to keep track of Grace's location and occupation.
But they managed, and years slipped by quickly and happily for Trudy.
Grace didn't know the date of their sixth year anniversary but she nearly ruined it. Trudy had remembered, and she snitched some of the coveted fresh produce grown in Hell's Gate's own tiny indoor greenhouse to make a fruit salad sort of concoction. She bribed the lab to fake an equipment malfunction so Grace wouldn't plug in to her avatar so they had the whole day blessedly free. That meant Grace typed manically away at her portable for at least six hours before Trudy distracted her with the food, then sex-both of which were glorious.
Afterwards, lazing in the warm pleasure of satiation, Trudy opened her mouth and asked a rather dangerous question, capable of sending Grace itching to start work again. "How do Na'vi have sex?"
"Mm," Grace mumbled. She'd finished her first cigarette of the night and her breath was smoky on Trudy's ear. "The queue, the braid. They use them to connect to their mounts, a neural connection... We'd guessed it before, but it was only recently confirmed."
"So they hook up braids between people for sex?" Trudy turned that concept over in her mind. "Sounds funky. Bet you want to try it, huh? Or have you already?" Frightening thought. She felt vaguely betrayed by the notion, but could she really be upset if Grace had used her avatar and had sex with some Na'vi in it?
Grace snorted. "The Na'vi mate for life. I don't even want to touch that with a fifteen foot pole. I find human sex to be perfectly satisfying thank-you-very-much. So stop being insecure."
"Shut up; I just asked." Trudy coaxed a quiet chuckle from Grace. They lapsed into silence, and Trudy congratulated herself on a successful anniversary, even if Grace didn't know it. She'd just about fallen asleep when Grace shifted and spoke.
"A new set of recruits will be arriving in a month. There might be a worthwhile pilot on board."
"Hm?" For a long moment, Trudy didn't understand what Grace had said. "You mean, as a copilot." She sat up and looked at Grace, whose face was grim and turned away. "You'd better fucking mean a copilot. Fuck, Grace!" Grace continued her silence. "You can't be breaking up with me. It's our anniversary for crying out loud!"
Grace blinked. "Oh. So that was why we had the fancy dinner."
"Grace!"
"Trudy." Grace's mouth was a tight line. "I'm almost sixty. I live for my research. You—"
"What, I take time away from your research? A few hours a day I take from you, and what, that's too much?" Trudy's anger bubbled out into bitter sadness. "Grace... No, don't touch me."
Grace sat back against their padded bunk wall and pulled her hand away. "Actually, I was going to say that you're half my age with your whole life ahead of you. Your contract here runs out in a few months, and that carrier's the last one coming for at least a year. At least consider going back to Earth."
"You aren't leaving."
"That's the point, Trudy. I'll be here for the rest of my life. I don't want you to make your life decisions because I'm here. Hell, I've been married to a man and a woman and neither one of them could stand me in two years."
"Kinky," Trudy couldn't help but say.
"Not at once, you dolt."
"You're the dolt, Grace. I've been with you for six years, with all your bad habits and one-mindedness. I love you anyway. That's not going to fucking change. Plus, I fucking like it here, you aside."
Grace's face shifted through several emotions too quickly to catalogue. "At least give leaving some consideration."
"Too late." Trudy turned over and settled down to sleep, feigning peace of mind. "I renewed my contract two months ago."
"Fuck, Trudy!" Grace had a hand on her waist. "Goddammit." After a moment of brooding over Trudy's shoulder, Grace slid down behind her and put an arm over her body. After a long silence, she finally asked, "Six years, really?"
"Six years today."
"Fuck me," Grace cursed. "That's longer than both my marriages combined."
Trudy just patted her hand. "Get used to me being here, Grace. I'll stick to you like a fucking plasma grenade."
Grace's arm tightened around her, and she just sighed against Trudy's neck. "I am used to you, and I don't think that's ever happened before."
That was even better than an 'I love you'.
At first Trudy liked Jake. Then she hated him for all the change he caused. She never had a doubt how Grace would conduct herself: for the Na'vi, of course. Trudy defected from the corps for Grace alone—she wasn't a tree-hugger and no beautiful native race was enough to make her turn enemy of her own people. It was a suicide mission, but she would protect Grace as well as she was able. Which turned out to be not at all.
The fact that she was able to fly to the most sacred piece of land the Na'vi held dear was nothing to her. She sat in her Samson and held Grace's hand while they waited for Jake to collect her. They didn't speak except Grace's feeble attempt to tell Trudy to go make a life for herself and Trudy's terse, 'shut up, Grace'. She hoped, but all the hope in the world didn't save Grace. Later, she cried when Jake told her Grace's words at the Tree of Souls: 'I've got to take some samples' because it was Grace, it was all her, the embodiment of her life and her love.
The upcoming battle gave Trudy something to occupy herself with. The Na'vi were good to her, painting her baby with war paint, the children soberly playing around her. Trudy took comfort that the next battle was basically a suicide mission. There was some point in all of this, but it was damned hard to see without Grace to remind her.
In the end, she went out with a bang and hoped that somehow, someday, some part of her would be taken into this planet, and she'd find that piece of Grace that lived there and they'd be together, the two of them, surrounded by what Grace loved most.
-end-
