AN- So, at almost a year, this story is completed, save for the epilogue and possibly a bonus chapter. I worked my butt off to get this chapter (7,328 words, 21 pages on MW) completed in time, staying up FAR past my bedtime in several instances so that I could have it ready by Christmas Eve. So here it is, my gift to you, my faithful (though oft silent) readers. Hope you have happy holidays, and you like this chapter. A few things to be noted: there is both graphic sex, and extremely graphic violence, as well as plenty of swearing with this one, all of these things justified in this being both the final chapter as well as the chapter portraying the final showdown. DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE! There will be a short note at the conclusion of this chapter, just to give you heads up.
So, without further ado, the last chapter of Pandora Sucks! Read, enjoy, and please review! Reviews make such wonderful Christmas presents!
SHATTERED DREAMS
Trudy sat a short distance away from Harrison and the other two RDA troopers, keeping watch while Harrison explained the situation. The two new men seemed more concerned and freaked out than angry, but she kept her submachine gun at the ready and an eye on the two of them just in case she had to defend herself. Any thought of the two troopers hurting her fled when the black one, Sergeant Shabazz, shot her a look. "No offense, Sergeant, but you two look even worse than we do. You should let us take the first watch. We were actually holed up in a nice little nook about half-a-klick away from here. Once we woke up hearing gunfire…well, we came running. Better to die with friends than live alone, I always say." He stood up, wiping raindrops from the face lens of his exopack. "Jackson, you got the other side. Radio check in every fifteen, don't fall asleep, you know the drill." The tall and lanky private nodded, and moved off, stepping carefully on the roots, weapon held at the ready, his head constantly moving.
Trudy tilted her head towards Robinson as Harrison made his way over to her. "One of yours?" she asked, voice scratchy. Man, she was tired as hell. Harrison only nodded in reply as he walked past her and slid down the roots to the ground, and she followed right after him. Moments later, they were at their rucks, pulling out foam mats and sleeping bags. She moved methodically, mechanically, not really thinking about it, too tired to care. So it came as a surprise when Harrison dropped his mat and bag right next to hers. She shot him a look, but he just shook his head. Sighing, she said nothing, but instead took off her boots and socks, and lay down on top of her sleeping bag. Right now she knew that if she tried to go inside the bag, she'd start sweating even more and be very uncomfortable. She'd go under once her body got cool enough. She had just drifted into a light doze when she felt Harrison shift next to her.
She ignored him…or at least tried to. Kinda hard to ignore someone when they tentatively draw you into a hug. "Okay, seriously, what's going on?" she snapped, annoyed now. She had almost, almost fallen asleep. "If you don't answer I'm cutting your balls off with a dull stick." He chuckled at that, pulling her even further into his arms, and despite her words, Trudy didn't resist him. The memory of his faux attack seemed ages ago, and she'd go straight for his exopack if he tried anything stupid now. But there wasn't any violence or anger in the way he held her, just a steady warmth that she had missed, the warmth of another person's silent support. When was the last time she had been simply held, with no thoughts of having sex or for any other reasons but the comfort that an embrace offered?
"Just a feeling I've been getting," he murmured, answering her question. However, he did not elaborate, and she punched him in the chest with what little force she could, given the position they were in. He scoffed, obviously not hurt, and drew her even closer so that their torsos were touching and their legs tangled together. Now his warmth completely surrounded her, and she fought the urge to blush. Trudy Chacon did not blush like a little schoolgirl. "A feeling of finality, that our journey is drawing to a close, one way or another." He paused, and the silence drew on. Trudy sighed and dropped her face into the crook of his neck, inhibited by her exopack. "Trudy…" he started again, and she froze. He just called her by her first name…he never called her by her first name! "I just want to say that you've done a great job, and I hope that at least you make it to safety. You deserve it."
Now it was her turn to scoff. "Come on, Harrison. What, are you trying to come on to me or something?"
She expected a lighthearted 'no' so it was unnerving when he didn't answer for a few minutes. "Would you…would you want to?"
Now she was blushing, schoolgirl be damned. Harrison was attractive, and after what they had been through together, he seemed all the more attractive. She didn't doubt that it would be fun…she paused, listening hard. It sounded like the rain had picked up, coming down hard enough that if they stayed quiet, Shabazz and Robinson wouldn't hear them. Thankfully none of the rain got through the root system, so they should be able to remain relatively dry. Now, to return to the issue at hand. Did she really want to have sex with Harrison? The answer…was yes. Thinking about having sex with the tall and built sergeant was tightening her loins, and she fought the urge to whimper. No whimpering, not yet! She cleared her throat before speaking, but her voice was still low and breathy. "If you particularly want to, then why not? I still owe you one, I suppose. Just as long as you don't choke me out again, you ass."
He chuckled humorlessly. "I doubt Matsu can see us now, and even if she could, I don't care." And with those words, everything changed. They weren't just holding each other anymore. Now there was a charge in the air. When Harrison made no move, Trudy took the initiative, splaying one of her hands on his warm, broad chest. Even through the fabric of his jacket, he felt like a furnace, alluring in his warmth. His hand came up, and slowly cupped the side of her neck before running his fingers down her back, slowly, gently, tenderly, and her breath hitched in her throat. She knew that this was more a release of physical tensions than a demonstration of personal feelings, but the way his eyes hard darkened and the look on his face sent a tingle running through her, igniting her senses. She grasped his free hand and placed it on her chest, and his warm palm found and pressed against one of her breasts. She couldn't help the small mewl that escaped her, nor the way she arched her back, pressing his hand even closer, nor the way her breasts tightened. Maybe she had been more attracted to the tall, muscular sergeant than she had originally thought, she admitted to herself rather breathlessly.
All thoughts fled her head when the hand that had previously been running down her back grasped her rear and pulled her flush against him, pressing her against the evidence of his own desire, and she clutched his shoulders, wishing to all the world that they were still back in the waystation, where she could at least kiss Harrison without worrying about suffocating to death on a toxic atmosphere. She really, really wanted to kiss him! "Harrison…" she breathed, and he rolled the two of them over so that his bulk pressed against her, possessive and protective at the same time, and she moaned, biting her lip to keep from getting too loud when his muscle-hardened thigh pressed in between her legs, putting wonderful pressure on the spot that was now aching for his touch.
"James," he murmured, and she blinked in confusion. "My first name is James." He rolled slightly off of her, and his hand replaced his thigh at the junction of her legs, and she whimpered, fingers digging into his broad shoulders as his fingers pressed upwards, rubbing her there. Even through the cloth of her pants and her underwear, it felt wonderful, and she was soon gasping as his fingers rubbed tight circles against her still clothed entrance. When she had given the go ahead to have sex, she had almost expected to go straight into bumping uglies, but she did not find it too surprising that Harri…no, James was concerned about her pleasure as well as skilled at making her feel things she hadn't felt in too long.
"Oh, God!" she moaned as he pressed against her particularly firmly before rubbing against her almost frantically, startling in the speed, and it was enough to send her over the edge for the first time, and she grit her teeth, groaning and somehow managing to not scream by some miracle. In the panting haze that followed her orgasm, she was faintly aware of him unbuttoning her pants and slipping his hand into her underwear.
"My God, Trudy, you are wet down there," he murmured, a flash of male arrogance shining through in his eyes, and she tried to frown at him, but it was very difficult with the way his deliciously warm and calloused finger tips were dancing at her wet folds, and…unghhh! She groaned heavily and arched her hips up when he slipped one finger into her, and she panted at the feeling of his finger, deep within her, slightly stretching her out, preparing her for the thickness that was going to come later…that had better come, because if he stopped now, she would kill him, consequences be damned! All thoughts of death and dismemberment ended when he added a second finger and began to idly pump them in and out of her slick tunnel. "I'm glad I haven't lost my touch," he grinned, though she could see a deep sadness hiding behind his eyes. Memory of a former lover? She's worry about that later. Now, she was more concerned with the wonderful pressure he was building within her with his fingers.
Then he curled his fingers while they were still in her and she couldn't help the cry of ecstasy that tore from her throat as his rough finger pads rubbed against a spot that made her see stars. Looping her arms around his neck, she pulled herself up and tight against him, almost crying with the waves of pleasure that tore through her. Encouraged by her actions, his fingers moved faster and faster, and the coil within her wound tighter and tighter until the dam broke, and everything exploded into pure pleasure. She wasn't sure if she cried out or not…she hoped not, but she could make no promises. Not when she just had a toe-curling orgasm. He withdrew his fingers, and she could see her wet release upon them, and she flushed even deeper as he wiped them off on a rag he quickly produced from his rucksack. She could only watch, languid from the aftermath of her release. He soon was unbuttoning his own pants, and soon she was staring at his penis, tip shiny with pre-cum, and she licked her lips as she shifted her hips. He was not small by any conventional standard…hell, by any standard that she knew of.
Expecting him to climb on top of her and ravish her into a very welcome oblivion, she was surprised when he lay down on his sleeping bag and pulled on her shoulders so that she was draped over his chest, their faces separated only by their exopacks. "Please, you be on top." Trudy froze, staring at him in surprise. The way he said it…he truly wanted her to be on top, in control, it wasn't just a favor that he was granting her. It was touching, and welcome. She threw her legs over him and reached into her pants and rearranging her underwear as he moved his shaft so that it was at the right angle. Biting her bottom lip, she lowered herself so that he was nudging her entrance. Taking in a deep breath, she dropped down fully, and they both groaned. He was big, but not big enough to hurt, for that she was thankful. Tentatively, she rocked her hips forward, reveling in the sharp of pleasure that followed after it. Soon, she was bouncing up and down, whimpering at the sensations assaulting her like a relentless and rising tide, bringing her closer and closer to release.
His hands found her hips, guiding her even though she was the one in control, and her hands dropped down to his shoulders as she leaned forward, breasts bouncing in her bra with each thrust. "Can't hold out much longer!" he hissed, and she only moaned in agreement. Barely three thrusts later, he grunted, teeth clenched and face red with exertion, and she felt him twitch within her as he seized her hips with fingers as firm as bands of steel as he drove as deep into her as he could. It was the sensation of his seed hitting her inner walls that sent her over the edge, and for the third time she orgasmed, this one even stronger than the last two. When she finally regained her senses, she found that she was lying on Harrison's chest, both of them panting hard and fast, still connected as he slowly began to soften within her. She rolled off of him, wincing slightly as he slid out of her. She ignored the twinge as she grabbed the rag he had used earlier, first wiping off her slit before giving the rag to Harrison so he could tend to his softening erection. Moments later, she was spooned against him, his arms clutching her possessively as they both drifted into the best night of sleep they had so far on this taxing misadventure. Neither of them dreamt.
The next day, they were moving hard, trying to cover as much distance as possible. With more mouths to feed, what food that she and Harrison had brought with them wouldn't last as long, and Shabazz and Robinson hadn't ever made it to a waystation, so the food that they had recovered from other soldiers and crashed Samsons was almost out. However, they were more than halfway back to Hell's Gate and whatever waited for them there. They had crested the proverbial hill. It was all downhill from here. Not only that, but she was happy. A little sore in her hips, but happy nonetheless. She could almost describe the way she felt as happily languid. She was happy even after Shabazz's knowing grin she got when they broke camp. So what if he knew? She hopped over a small stream, wincing slightly at the movement. Oh, she couldn't WAIT until all this was over. The beauty of Pandora's terrain was losing its allure now, and she really truly missed the metal halls of Hell's Gate. She would kill for a real bed, that was for certain.
She looked left and right, spotting the others in their respective positions of the modified fire team wedge that they were travelling in. Harrison had point, with Robinson on his left rear flank. She was on the right, just about parallel with Robinson, and Shabazz was on her right, maybe five paces back from where she was. She shot him an annoyed glance as he crossed the stream and began to make it up the short but steep slope the water had cut into the ground over who knew how long. Do a quick sweep back to Harrison, and-
His arm was up, his hand unclenched, fingers spread wide. Stop and take cover. Immediately she took a knee and raised her arm, copying the hand signal. Had he seen something? She looked back to Shabazz to make sure that he saw the sign just as he crested the ridge, puffing slightly. He saw her, nodded, and began to take a knee. There was a whine, crack, and the sound of glass shattering, and Shabazz jerked backwards, screaming, hands flying to his exopack, blood spraying the inside of the now shattered mask, red leaking through the spider web cracks as his body disappeared over the lip of the small ravine. "Oh, God!" she yelped, immediately dropping all the way to the ground as bullets began to fill the air and peppering the ground around her, kicking up dirt and stone. She slithered backwards to the stream and rolled down the embankment. Now that she was behind a comforting bulwark of earth, she crawled over to the now still Sergeant, her hands and knees kicking up sheets of water as she moved.
He lay half submerged, blood staining the water red, tendrils of the bloodied water making way down stream, and she fought the urge to throw up at the way his body twitched sporadically. He was dead, and even if he wasn't, with a broken exopack he wasn't going to last long anyway. Unable to stop herself, she peered into his mask, looking away and gagging at the sight of caved in flesh, bone and brain matter clearly visible. She could only pray he didn't feel any pain. Unable to do anything else for the dead RDA trooper, she pulled his rifle away from him, quickly slinging her submachine gun behind her back as she grabbed desperately for the two grenades he had in pouches on his ballistic vest even as the sound of gunfire didn't diminish. She didn't know how long until the enemy forces assaulted forward, but it wouldn't be long. The sound of splashing water behind her had her whirling around and brandishing Shabazz's rifle, which she noted was sticky with his blood in a small and semi-hysterical corner of her mind, one that she ignored for right now.
It was Harrison and Robinson, Robinson holding a bloodied arm, face white but determined. "There's at least eight of them, four are keeping us pinned in this creak while the other four move around! I saw them moving to our left, upstream from here, so we need to haul ass right the fuck now!" Harrison snapped, face tight with rage. "It's Matsu!"
"No shit!" she snapped back, already crawling further downstream, the two of them following her lead. "The water curves to the right up ahead, so we might be able to make a stand up-!"
A concussive wave cut her off, deafening her, disorientating her as a ringing seemed to split her head, and she collapsed, coughing. The blast had been close enough that it had knocked the wind out of her, and she shook her head, red water dripping from her exopack mask, and she realized with horror that she was lying down in the water that Shabazz was bleeding into. Scrambling to gain her footing, she spun and began to wildly fire into the trees and bushes that lay behind them, unable to hear the curses that their pursuers were shouting as her bullets flitted amongst their numbers. Her rifle ran dry, and she cast aside the weapon, retrieving her submachine gun. "Harrison, Robinson, report!" she shouted as loud as she could, trying to ignore the dizziness that had overtaken her.
Instead of a report, Harrison came running down the stream, dragging a severely wounded Robinson behind him, ignoring the bullets flying around his head, angry white and yellow hornets that sought his flesh to pierce. "Help me!" he shouted, and though Trudy couldn't fully hear what he said, she could read both his lips and the desperation in his eyes. She stood, grabbed Robinson under his armpit, and the three off them ran as hard and as fast as they could. By some miracle, they rounded the curve in the creak, and unceremoniously dropped Robinson as Harrison stood up and began to fire aimed shots down towards where their attackers were. Trudy saw to Robinson, ignoring the burning in her legs and arms as well as the way she sucked in huge breaths of air. Again, she had to fight the urge to vomit. The young private was crying, tears pouring down his ashen cheeks as he grit his teeth through the pain. And what pain he had to be in. Both his legs were shattered and oozing copious amounts of blood. Trudy swallowed heavily as she looked him in the eyes, tears gathering, helpless and angry.
"I don't know what to do," she whispered, shaking her head, hating her weakness and hating those that did this to Robinson. They would pay! "Oh, God, there's nothing that I can do!"
"I know!" Robinson half growled, half sobbed. "I'm only slowing you down, please…!" He stiffened, writhing with an agony that Trudy couldn't comprehend. "Please," he begged, crying out, "just get outta here! Gimme some grenades, I'll buy you some time!" His hand reached out and snagged Harrison's ankle. "I been hit in th'gut 'n legs, sar'nt, I'm a dead man. Gimme grenades, and I'll surprise 'em fer sure!" He stopped writhing, and instead began to breathe heavily. "C'nt feel nuthin' n'more, go'an, git!"
Her hands fumbled into the cargo pocket where she had stuffed Shabazz's two grenades, and handed them both to the private, and he smiled like he had been given the best toy on Christmas Day, a tear sliding down his cheek even as blood ran from the corner of his mouth towards his ear. "Thanks, pretty lady, now could you prop me up so I'm facin' th'sunsabitches?" He was no longer crying, though she was openly sobbing as she repositioned him and handed his rifle to him. He shot her another calm, happy smile, no doubt miles into shock by now, and Trudy could only stare at him as Harrison grabbed her by her armor and nearly lifted her off her feet, getting her moving again. The last Trudy ever saw of Private Robinson was him sitting in the muddy, bloody water, one hand stroking his rifle as his other hand patted his grenades, a vacant smile on his lips as his legs bled into the water.
Then she had to turn and run down the deepening ravine, watching where she was stepping. They couldn't have been more than fifty paces away when the volume of gunfire picked up substantially, followed by the two thunderous booms of grenades detonating. She wanted to turn around, and head back, but then there was more gunfire, followed by a deathly silence. She swallowed bile as Harrison clambered up the side, and she followed him up the slope and to a small cluster of trees. He dropped to the prone and peered down the scope of his rifle, and she crouched down, weapon held at the ready. By now her hearing had cleared up enough that she could hear voices and movement further out. There! She saw movement, and then a silhouette, and brought up her gun to engage, but Harrison beat her to it, his rifle roaring out in anger, and she watched with a deep sense of satisfaction and an ugly joy as the man dropped, squirming in the way that something squirms prior to death. A lethal hit.
The rest of the enemies stopped being so loud and obvious after that, and Harrison fired four more times at quivering bushes and possible targets, and Trudy fired a few bursts as well, but there were no screams signifying that he had made a hit. He cursed as he rolled fully behind his tree and went into a reload. "Trudy, watch the flanks, I think they're-!"
A hail of gunfire from their right, and a baseball bat strike to her shoulder, spinning her around and knocking her down, though by some grace she managed to keep a grip on her weapon. "Fuck!" she howled as she tightened up into a ball, bullets dancing around her, sending dirt and stone and wood stinging into her unprotected flesh. Six revolver shots from much closer, Harrison returning fire with the one weapon that he had available to him. All too soon, however, his revolver went silent, and things grew quiet all around them, save for her cries of pain. However, she couldn't give up, not after Shabazz and Robinson. Gritting her teeth, she shifted to her knees, and then clambered to her feet, knees shaky, breath coming in gasps from the effort. It was at that moment that Matsushita and two other RDA troopers emerged from the line of brush that they had been concealed in. "You bitch!" Trudy snarled. "I'm going to cut out your heart and fucking eat it!"
"Trudy, get out of here, now!" Harrison snapped as she took a step towards the three of them, and she shot him an incredulous look. "They're here for you, I'll hold them off!" To prove his word, when one of the two men with Matsu ran towards her, Harrison rushed him, drawing his knife as he ran. Before he could get to the charging man, Matsu tackled him, hard, and the two went tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs. She stepped forward to help him, but the ground before her erupted in a spout of mud, a shot ringing through the air.
"Run, little missy, or I'll kill you like I killed that snot-nosed ki-!" Before the smug prick with the rifle could finish his taunting threat, Trudy had turned, aimed, and squeezed the trigger, hosing the man down with lead, not caring when her submachine gun ran dry…not caring until the last man standing let out a howl of rage before charging her, jumping over the still struggling Matsu and Harrison. Shocked at the pure hatred in the man's eyes, she turned and bolted, dropping the submachine gun, knowing it would only slow her down. She wouldn't be able to reload while running before he'd catch her, but without its extra weight, she might be able to outrun him.
Run she did. Great, leaping strides, as nimble as a deer, moving in a wide circle, but despite how fast she was pushing herself, she could hear him catching up, heavy booted feet pounding into the jungle floor behind her, drawing closer with each searing breath. He finally caught her right when she was leaping over a fallen log. "He was my best friend!" the man roared with pure hatred running through his words, and she could hear him launch himself through the air before catching her in a tackle, driving the wind from her lungs as they crashed into the ground. She tried to shake past the stars that had exploded across her vision when her head bounced off the ground and scramble away to try and find something to fight with, but to no avail.
The man's hand latched onto her ankle with the strength of a steel band, squeezing hard and wrenching her back towards him, something in her ankle popping at the great pressure he was exerting, and a new wave of pain swam nauseatingly through her body. Before she could even scream or throw up, he was on top of her, screaming profanities and striking at her with all his strength, one blow knocking her exopack askew, and her lungs began to burn as the Pandoran atmosphere began to scald her lungs. There was a small pause in the attack, and through the pain and the shock and the dizziness she saw a glint of razor sharp steel. He had a knife. Her arms surged up just as his surged down, and she managed to stop the blow. Not for long. Her arms were already shaking with exertion, and she felt him press down and down and down, only a few more inches and the pain would be over, it would be so easy just to relax, and…NO!
Using his own strength against him, Trudy used his arms as leverage as she scooted further down in between his legs, the knife burying into the ground where her head used to be. Before he could rip the knife out of the earth, Trudy's hand found a target: the man's testicles. She grabbed them both, and squeezed as hard as she could before twisting and pulling until she felt one pop like a grape. The man screeched, all thoughts of stabbing her undoubtedly fleeing from his mind as he threw up in his exopack, and Trudy pushed up and rolled over so that she was the one on top. Her hand found and pulled the knife out of the ground before driving the honed steel into the crook of his neck, tip aimed towards his heart. He gurgled, red mixing with the green and yellow of his vomit as blood surged from his mouth, and he struggled for a few more moments, trying to breathe when breathing was impossible.
Speaking of breathing…Trudy readjusted and tightened her mask, clearing it before taking in a relieved breath. The man below her was still, and she could feel his body shift as certain muscles relaxed, and the corpse both shit and pissed. Thank God she couldn't smell that, thanks to her exopack. She rolled off of the cadaver, whole body shaking, and she couldn't help but lie like that for a minute or two. When would the stupid deaths end? Why did so many good men have to die? She felt no compassion for the dead man lying next to her, but Shabazz and Robinson seemed like good, honest men. Her throat tightened as she thought of Robinson. She wished that she had gotten the chance to get to know him better…but it was too late for such thoughts. Groaning, she rolled onto her stomach and slowly got to her feet, feeling as though she were a hundred years old. However, that didn't stop her from placing one foot in front of the other, moving towards where she had last seen Harrison, moving like a soulless zombie, but moving nonetheless. She needed to link up with Harrison. Now that Matsu was no longer a problem, everything should be so much easier to do. Now getting to Hell's Gate seemed like a real possibility, instead of just a-
"Well, I'm impressed, you managed to actually kill him. But can you kill me?" Heart sinking down to her toes, Trudy looked up to see Matsu approaching her, bloody knife in one hand, and…oh, God no. "I see you noticed my special weapon here. A Na'vi arrowhead…the neurotoxins stop the heart in what, five minutes? I got that orientation so long ago I hardly remember. I bet Harrison is trying his hardest to remember right now." She idly twirled the arrowhead in her hand, blood visible along its sharp edges. "I was originally planning on using this against you, but I'm not one to use a trick twice. I think I'm going to enjoy cutting you to shreds with Earth steel."
"Why not just kill him?" Trudy spat, rolling her shoulders and ignoring the blood still dribbling down her arm from the bullet wound. She was so hopped up on adrenaline it didn't even hurt, something she hoped would continue for the duration of the fight. "Why torture him?"
"He needs to suffer," Matsu sneered, tossing aside the bloody arrowhead, her knife spinning in her hands, switching from one hand to the other with practiced, effortless tosses. "He aided and abetted a traitor, sleeping with her, arming her, not even arresting her. So, he needs to receive his punishment. Don't worry," she smirked, "I have the antidote to the neurotoxin. If you want Harrison to live, just give up and let me kill you, and he'll get the meds before his time is up. Or…" this time her grin turned evil, poisonous. "..or, you could kill me and give it to him yourself. Just remember, his time is running out."
"So stop talking!" Trudy snarled and leapt forward with a quick, diagonal slash. Matsu laughed and fluidly slipped back, dodging her blow. "Why won't you just die?" A quick jab forward, and Matsu stepped to the side, her unarmed hand snaking out and grabbing Trudy's wrist, blade flashing twice, two lines of burning pain cut into her skin before she released her wrist and danced back and dodged Trudy's backhand slash. The blood running down her arm in hot red rivulets sent alarms ringing through her head. Matsushita was a frightening in-fighter. Better than she was. Better than Harrison. But Harrison was running out of time. Should she just give up? Did Harrison mean enough to her that she would willingly let Matsu kill her?
The next few frantic, racing heartbeats were spent in a flurry of blows, knives flashing in the bright Pandoran suns as the steel sought glistening flesh as sweat and blood flowed freely. It might have been beautiful to watch, had the stakes not been so high. As Trudy stumbled back, a brief thought occurred to her as she watched Matsu skip back, still light on her feet despite the deep slash on her left forearm. She had deliberately taken the blow that had been aimed for her right wrist. But, oh, if only things had been different. Matsu was flawed, so very flawed, but she would have been fun to spar against had things not wound up the way that they had. They might not have ever become friends, but comrades-in-arms…it was too late for such thoughts. Now, she had to concentrate on the way her lungs burned from how hard she was breathing, the way she was now bleeding from four slashes and the bullet wound, whereas Matsu only had the one cut on her defensive arm. She had to concentrate on how both she and Matsu wore ballistic vests that protected their vital organs from a direct knife attack, turning the fight into an endurance match: who would bleed out faster? That was easy, her. Now the question was would she bleed out before Harrison died? Probably not. Leading to the prior question, did she care enough about Harrison to die for him?
…Yes. She would die for him. But not to her. Were it a death found by jumping in front of a random bullet or another such situation, she would lay down her life for Harrison…she would die for James Harrison. But not to her. She couldn't let the woman in front of her win. She needed to pay for what she and her cronies did to Robinson and Shabazz. All these thoughts and more whirled through her head in the time it took for her to suck in another breath, and she watched as Matsu darted forward, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. Giving one last desperate move her all, she too leapt forward and tried to stab low, the blade whistling through the air, the tip angling up at the last minute, darting for Matsu's crotch. Matsu hissed a curse and her arms dropped in a block that trapped Trudy's arm. Matsu ducked low and spun before surging upwards, jamming her shoulder into Trudy's armpit, and there was an odd, muffled pop, causing her knife to drop from her nerveless fingers as she screamed in pain, a pain that doubled as Matsu effortlessly flowed into a judo throw, the world spinning as Trudy flipped over her shoulder before slamming into the ground with a jarring crash. She coughed weakly as Matsu straddled her, and she tried to fight, swinging weak fists at Matsu, and was largely ignored as Matsu brought her knife high above her head. "Your ass is mine, bitch!"
The knife came down, and Trudy grabbed Matsu's wrist with both hands, but Matsu just smirked, dark eyes glittering with hatred. "That won't save you, Chacon. Nothing can save you, now. Now, you pay for rebelling against humanity and stealing the closest thing to a father that I've ever had on Pandora!" Matsu snarled as her other hand dropped on top of her wrist and the knife began to inch downwards, blood dripping from the cut on Matsu's arm and onto Trudy's exopack…her exopack. Exopack! Letting go with one hand, Trudy reached under the bottom of Matsu's exopack and tore it off her face with a scream of anger. Matsu gasped in surprise and rocked back, the hand with the knife in it reaching for her throat as she began to cough and choke. Black hair plastered to her sweaty face as she jerked to her feet and stumbled back, shaking her head as she tried to breathe in an environment that would not sustain her.
Trudy rolled to her feet and grabbed her dropped knife with her left hand and she ran forward, forcing her hurt arm into action, grabbing Matsu by the shoulder strap of her armor before dragging the razor sharp blade of her knife across her throat, cutting deep, severing the carotid arteries as well as her windpipe, and her blood sprayed out of the wound, coating Trudy's hand, arm, and exopack with the red, thick liquid. "And you pay for being a sadistic bitch!" she hissed, slamming Matsu's writhing body onto the ground before searching her pockets for the one thing that could save James. After only a few minutes of frantic searching, she found the auto-injector, and was up and running, images of James's face flashing before her eyes. He couldn't have much time left! It seemed an eternity later that she finally reached him where he lay on the ground, frighteningly still. She slid to a halt next to him, and was relieved to see that he was still drawing breath, but that relief was severely tempered by the fact that his face was a deep mottled purple, and his veins were severely distended. Cursing, she fumbled with the auto-injector, and the moment she had the protective cap off of the injector tip, she jabbed it into James's neck, the injector jerking slightly in her hands before hissing, and she only prayed that she had gotten to him in time.
She began to breathe easier when his breathing slowed and his skin began to gradually return to a more normal hue. Convinced that he was no longer in danger from that particular threat, she searched him for other wounds. She found them quickly. A deep slash on top of his right hand, deep enough that she could see bone, and it looked as though some of his tendons had been severed, if not all of them in that hand. A tear in his left sleeve revealed the wound inflicted by the arrowhead, the stab deep, the flesh immediately surrounding the wound an ugly black color. But now that his heart wasn't going to stop in the immediate future, she bound both his wounds before seeing to her own injuries, figuring that they could figure out why his skin was black around the wound. Suddenly exhausted, she fell back onto her butt, and began to shake. She didn't know what else to do…she would wait until James woke up.
"Troodeechakone?" The deep voice came from behind her, and faster than she thought possible, she was crouched over James, teeth bared and knife drawn, still bloody from her fight with Matsu. A Na'vi male stood four meters away, hands held up in peace. "I come representing Toruk Makto, and have been tracking you many days and nights. Told to recover body from metal Ikran, but no body there. Instead sign of two people leaving. Trail hard to follow, especially after storms, but I find you. Told to take you to Sky People's base as soon as I find you or body. Toruk Makto will meet you there."
Trudy stared at the towering Na'vi who looked back her with an impassive face for a few seconds before breaking down and sobbing. After all the hell that she and James had been through, they could have waited at the downed Samson and been rescued without any of the terrible things that had happened happening. She didn't want to cry, and she felt weak as hell with each tear that coursed down her cheek, but she couldn't help it. Finally her tears subsided, and she shakily stood, gesturing down at the still unconscious James. "Fine, but he comes with me. No matter what, he comes with me, from now on." The Na'vi nodded, and strode forward before gently scooping up James.
"Follow me, Ikran is not far away." Muted with the overwhelming relief that coursed through her, Trudy tossed her bloodied knife onto the ground, glad to be rid of it, and of the need to carry a weapon. A few moments later, she was sitting behind the tall Na'vi on his Ikran, clutching his waist as they flew through the air. Hours later, they reached Hell's Gate, where Norm, Max, and several other scientists greeted them with shock and joy in equal measure even as they rushed James to the infirmary. The next day, Jake came to Hell's Gate, and scooped Trudy up into a great hug as his…wife?...watched them both, a soft smile on her lips. She personally walked him down to James's cot in the infirmary, where he was awake, though exhausted from everything that had happened. He acknowledged that he was a prisoner with no way to escape Pandora, and would not try to cause any individual harm, be they human or Na'vi, and Jake agreed that this was good enough for him. Harrison would not have to spend his time in a cold prison cell. Before he had fully recovered, Trudy had made sure to take a team of scientists and what few RDA troopers remained behind and recovered the bodies of Shabazz, Robinson, and Matsu, Matsu being a last minute addition more out of pity for the flawed Corporal than any sense of duty. All three were giving last rites and buried within the Hell's Gate compound, Shabazz and Robinson with marked graves, Matsu in an unmarked plot.
A week later, he was well enough to be released from the infirmary, and he made his way to where Trudy was staying. She had news for him. Their single night in the jungle had resulted in the unexpected: she was pregnant. He had blinked, then nodded, and then asked what she wanted him to do. Her reply was simple: be there for his child. Shit happens. The child was neither a curse nor a blessing, simply another step in their lives, the first human child to be born native to Pandora. They both knew full well that though one would gladly die so that the other may live, they were not in love, at least not yet. Both were happy with the deep friendship that they had both earned, even after their positions were reversed. Time could change that, especially after their child was born. Now they were content with their hard-won friendship. Now Trudy was the watcher and James was the prisoner, though neither would ever admit to as much. The only thing that either of them cared about was that they had started their trek through the Pandoran jungle together, and despite all odds, they had finished together.
Their tale would become a legend in Na'vi society, showing the tenacity of the Sky People, as well as their dedication, despite the horrors that their race was capable of committing. Sergeant James Harrison, Prisoner of War of the Omaticaya People, made sure to document the trials that he and Warrant Officer 2 Trudy Chacon went through, even managing to approximate the path they took through the use of the holomap he had had with him and the use of the base's computers, preparing for the inevitable human return. This documentation would be his first report to the human fleet, the first of many, for James Harrison was a man of duty, and his duty was not over yet, and would not be until the day he died. However, that was in the future, and now he could simply bask in the feeling of not only being alive but also of persevering through yet another great difficulty set before him. That was enough for him, as he knew it was enough for Trudy Chacon. Now, he would wait. All told, he would wait less time than expected, for the wrath of the humans was fast approaching…
AN- So, the second author's note to this chapter. Yes. I did just go there and have all that stuff happen, even that thing that you didn't expect. Yeah. You know what I'm talking about. All jokes aside, this fanfic was a pleasure for me to write, and I'm glad that I had such supportive and at times corrective readers helping me out and prodding me along when I needed it. I need your help one last time. With the last sentence and much of the upcoming epilogue suggests or will suggest, there is the possibility of a relatively non-canon sequel, one that will no doubt run completely away from the vision that James Cameron has for the next movie in the Avatar series. Same characters who will remain in character (to the best of my abilities, I am human and therefore fallible after all), as well as new ones that will hopefully blow you out of the proverbial water. However, with upcoming events in my collegiate and military life, I can't really make any sort of promise as to the frequency nor the consistency of the chapters in this hypothetical sequel. So now I have to ask you, my readers, a very important question: Do you want to see that sequel? If yes, then I will toil away to produce a masterpiece to astound you all, if your answer is no, I dare say that a great deal of time will be saved for everybody. Please review or send me a message with your answer. I would like to write this sequel, but not if it will not be well received. The lives of Trudy, Harrison, the Na'vi, and the oncoming human fleet rests within your capable hands. Choose well, reader, choose well.
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