A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.
They knew something was wrong because he wasn't listening to music.
That was odd. If he had his helicopter parked out on one of the helipads for no good reason, then the probability of one of his old tapes playing was one. Not "probably." Not "most likely." If Baby was out on the helipad, then Pequod was listening to tunes.
Except today he wasn't. He was just sitting out there, in the shade of the helo, and had his arms crossed over his chest. Even from a distance, it was clear to see that he was seething about something.
It was creating an awkward air about Mother Base. Everyone was swinging wide of the Command Platform's helipad, despite the fact that that location was smack dab in the middle of Mother Base. So eventually the entire base seemed to be aware of the fact that Pequod was mad about something. And that, not so surprisingly, only seemed to make him madder. And the Boss knew he needed to step in.
He brought Ocelot with him, just in case. The gunslinger had half-jokingly said that the most dangerous thing in the world was a pissed-off Pole, and that he would know from the reports he'd devoured in his time with GRU, but Snake was skeptical about the "joking" part when it came to Pequod. He was a very large man in general, let alone for a pilot. No one wants to pick a fight with a six foot four refrigerator covered in tattoos. Especially when that refrigerator might be angry about something.
No one except him, apparently. Snake sighed.
"Pequod." He said, as he got within earshot of the pilot. No answer. The kid hadn't even reacted. Snake frowned. He might give the young man a lot of leeway, but straight up ignoring a commanding officer was pushing it. "Pequod!"
The young man turned to look at the Boss, his eyes slightly puffy and somewhat sunken. Snake knew that on off days the kid's eyes were sometimes red, and the stash of medicinal herbs that were used to make his phantom cigars would be suspiciously lighter, but this wasn't that kind of puffy red. Now he regretted being so harsh just a moment ago.
"Sir." Pequod said. No emotion, no joy. Just like a drone. Snake hesitated. Talking to people was still not one of his favorite things, especially if they were stressed or in emotional turmoil. Probably had something to do with his own fragility, even if he didn't want to admit it. He couldn't even bring himself to admit to the rest of the base that Paz had survived her fall all those years ago. So Snake cleared his throat and tried the first thing that came to mind.
"Are you okay, son?"
Wrong move.
"Do I look okay, sir? As a matter of fact, I'm about as fucking far from okay as you can fucking GET!" The young man rose up from his folding chair, and stomped away from them, practically gnashing his teeth in rage. One of the Mother Base soldiers tried to stop him from getting any further, but with one withering gaze Pequod caused the man to practically shrink. He stepped aside, and let the pilot storm off to parts unknown. Most likely his private quarters.
"Well, that could have gone better." Snake sighed. Ocelot was about to reply, but then he looked at something fluttering on the ground.
"Hang on, Boss." Ocelot said. He picked it up before it blew off of the platform and into the sea. It was a folded piece of paper, with what looked like shoeprints on it. "Looks like he had it under his boot, like he was trying to rub it into the ground."
"What is it, Ocelot?" Snake asked.
"Hang on, gimme a minute…" Ocelot said, as he fumbled with opening up the folds. He looked at the sheet of paper, reading it intently. And then, he let out a long and low whistle.
"What? What is it, Ocelot?" Snake asked. Ocelot looked at him, and gave a sardonic smirk with more sympathetic sorrow than genuine mirth.
"He got Dear Johned, Boss."
There was an awkward pause.
"Dear…Johned?" Snake asked, a completely bewildered look on his face. "Who's John? I didn't think that Pequod was-"
"No, no nothing like that." Ocelot said, chuckling a little bit. "'John' isn't anyone in particular, Boss. It's just a general term to refer to the standard format of the letter." He tapped the piece of paper in his hand. "The basic gist of it is that the writer, for some reason usually the lady, writes to her 'beloved' soldier abroad that things just aren't working between them anymore, and that she's found someone else. She's tired of waiting and worrying about things, and she wants to move on. She wishes him well…but it's over."
There was another awkward pause.
"Are you saying that…Pequod is acting like this because-"
"He got dumped, Boss." Ocelot said. He sighed, and made a sucking noise through his teeth. "Bit of a touchy subject, I'm afraid."
"No kidding." Snake muttered. "I, uh, don't have a lot of experience in the matter."
"Are you suggesting that you have no experience in relationships?" Ocelot asked, his eyebrow raising mischievously. "I don't think that EVA would be terribly pleased to hear you say that."
"…We're different." Snake said, recognizing how lame his comeback sounded. "Though I haven't seen her in a while. Did you keep tabs on her during the time I was out?"
"Last I heard, she was underground fighting against Cipher. Said it was too dangerous for her to rendezvous with you, but that she misses you all the same." Ocelot said somewhat quickly. He frowned slightly. "Might wanna give that one up, though, Boss. She didn't strike me as the settling down type."
"And I do?" Snake asked, staring at his lieutenant and raising an eyebrow. Ocelot chuckled.
"Good point." He said. "You know, Boss, it's going to be a busy couple of days on the base, and I'm guessing that you're not going to be flying any missions out to Afghanistan any time soon." Ocelot gestured to the rest of the base. "So while you're busy with Miller planning out the building of Mother Base and its future, I'll go see if I can find Pequod."
"You don't think I should check on my pilot?" Snake asked.
"Not at all. I'm just saying that maybe I should go first. Pequod might be a little bit intimidated talking to you of all people about it."
"If I didn't know any better, Ocelot, I'd say that you've got a soft spot for the kid."
"Guilty as charged." Ocelot said, chuckling as he held up his hands in mock surrender. "What, are you saying that you don't like Pequod?"
"He can be…tiring at times, particularly about his insistence on playing tunes in the helicopter on the ride back from missions, and I don't know where he gets the energy that he has." Boss said. But then he scratched his chin in thought. "But I'll be damned if I know anyone on base that has a heart bigger than that kid. And it does bother me to know that he's troubled by something." He cleared his throat. "Alright, fine. Why don't you go talk to him and gauge how he's feeling. I'll work with Kaz and set a few more development plans up. Need to give the BDU something to do; at this point, they're just making paper airplanes with blueprint paper waiting for something to happen."
"Good plan." Ocelot said. He chuckled darkly. "You know, I'm not one for making twisted jokes…"
"If you're about to point out how for once a Russian is trying to help a Pole instead of telling him what to do under pain of death or imprisonment, I think you'd best not tell Pequod that. I doubt he'd appreciate the irony."
"Obviously, Boss. I'm crazy, but I'm not stupid."
…
He first looked through the main lounge of the Command Platform, where there were a few of the soldiers on break lounging about. Some were playing cards, others were napping, and a few were even sleeping. Presently, he found what he was looking for.
"Commander Ocelot!" Wounded Fox said with a grin. "Come to join us for a round of cards? I was just about to soak Osprey and Rabbit dry."
"No time, unfortunately." Ocelot said. "I'm looking for Pequod. You boys seen him?"
Immediately, their smiles faded. Ocelot knew the answer before they even spoke.
"Yes, we saw him, but he didn't stop to talk." Osprey said. "He just stormed through the doors, grabbed his dinner, and then stomped off somewhere towards the barracks. He looked pretty pissed; not that I blame him."
"Great. So I'm dealing with a raging Pole." Ocelot said, sighing and facepalming.
"You're Russian, aren't you?" Fox asked. "Doesn't that make this just another Tuesday for you?"
"A mouth like that and you're cruising for a bruising, soldier." Ocelot warned. "Alright, I won't bother the three of you anymore. If all goes as planned, I think I'll be able to talk to the kid and get him in a suitable mood. Just, uh, call that one medic friend of yours if I stagger in here with a knife in my neck, okay? Pequod's a big kid, y'know."
"Of course, sir!" They all saluted his bravery.
…
It took Ocelot about five minutes to find Pequod. He was sitting up at the top of the Command Platform, on the brand new helipad that was resting right next to the "brain" of the Command Platform: that is to say, the location where the Boss and Miller and Ocelot planned their next steps. Pequod was sitting on the edge of the helipad, his feet dangling off the edge in the air and with his back to the approaching intel commander.
"Mind if I take a seat?" Ocelot offered, once he was within earshot. He heard a grunt, that he interpreted as an affirmative, and took a seat next to Pequod. Ocelot reached into the brown paper bag he'd brought, and pulled out an apple. Dinner was understandably light tonight; Basilisk, the on-duty cook, had the misfortune of working the Sunday shift: the day before the weekly shipment of foodstuff from the mainland.
They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound being Ocelot crunching on his apple. It was a pretty tart one, allegedly all the way from somewhere in Western Michigan. Ocelot made a note that he was going to have to stop there in the future; this was a damned tasty fruit.
"You hurting bad, huh." Ocelot said. It wasn't a question. Just a simple statement. Pequod nodded.
"I loved her, sir."
"Ocelot's fine for now, Pequod."
"…Ok. I loved her, Ocelot."
"How long did you know her?"
"Since I was eighteen."
"How long were you dating?"
"About five years."
"Wow, that's a pretty long time. Was it a sort of love at first sight thing?"
"No, it wasn't. I met her when I was eighteen, and didn't have the courage to ask her out for coffee until I had just turned twenty."
"What was her name?"
"Julia, sir. Just another girl from Chicago, like me. Wasn't a soldier, or anything like that. Nursing student. We'd been doing the long-distance thing for about three years. You know, while I was getting my wings and hiring myself out to anyone that needed the best damned pilot alive." He chuckled a little bit, and then sniffled his nose. "I thought she was the one, sir."
"What was she like?"
"Quiet, I guess. Cute as a button. Very reserved, and all that. I dunno, I just…I thought we were happy." Pequod shrugged. "She's also my first relationship, so I guess that skews things. But it still hurts." He looked pensive. "And here I was, thinking I'd get to give her this." He reached into his pocket, and was now holding a small box. He flipped it open, and Ocelot took a look at the ring inside.
"That's an impressive rock, Pequod." Ocelot said. He sighed. "Mind if I say something though?"
"Sure, sir."
"I'm glad that you didn't waste it on her."
Pequod shot him the ugliest glare he'd ever seen. Ocelot raised his hands gently.
"Let. Me. Finish. Yeah, young love is pretty and vibrant, like a flower that's just bloomed in the wake of winter. But it rarely lasts, and I don't think that a quiet little wife back home is the life that you want."
"How do you know what I want?" Pequod said, challenging him.
"Because I know you. I've seen you under stress plenty of times while flying Baby through the craziest of situations, and you know what I've noticed? You've never rattled. Don't know if you've got the nerves of steel, or if you're just smoking enough of Boss' private stash to calm yourself."
They both laughed at that. But then Ocelot continued.
"I've even seen it in briefing, when Miller had to detail a dangerous grab-and-rescue or a search-and-destroy mission where you were flying right into the fire. Never once have I seen your hands shaking, for example. Pequod, I don't think you'd be happy with a little cute-as-a-button wife with two kids and a dog and a white picket fence. You'd miss this life terribly."
"Are you sayin' I should just stop jerking everyone around and marry Baby?" Pequod asked, sniffling slightly and getting the intel commander to crack a toothy grin.
"No, but I wouldn't rule it out just yet. I'm saying that the real one is someone who will understand the life that you're living, and the career you've chosen. You're a helo pilot who makes a living as a mercenary. That is a frantic job, to say the least. You're never gonna be at your happiest unless you're indulging that thrill junkie in you. And whomever the right one is, and you will meet the right one, will understand that and appreciate it. Hell, she might love it even more than you." Ocelot paused, and then grinned. "Or he. I don't judge."
"Commander!" Pequod said. "I thought we were having a serious heart-to-heart here."
"Who said we aren't?" Ocelot asked. "I'm no expert on relationships myself, but there's one thing I know about people in general." He turned and looked at Pequod right in the eye. "There is nothing wrong with holding onto grief. That's human, and that's natural. But you can't forget to leave room to hold onto other things as well, too." He stood up, and started to walk away. "If you need any help or need someone to talk to, you know where to find me." He smiled warmly. "It'll be alright, kiddo."
With that, he left the young pilot to his thoughts.
…
Pequod sighed. It was nightfall, and he figured it would probably be best to dock Baby for the night. He radioed to the Intel team and air traffic control that he was about to bring Baby into one of the hangars for the night, and as soon as he received the all-clear he started his descent down the platform to the helipad where his helicopter was parked.
He reached Baby after a few more minutes, but then stopped short. He narrowed his eyes, staring at his helicopter suspiciously. And then he sighed.
"You're not fooling me, you know. I can tell when Baby's carrying something in the ACC."
There was a slight whoosh sound, and soon Quiet appeared, sitting cross-legged in the center of the ACC. She had a concerned look on her face. Pequod sighed, a tired smile on his face.
"Let me guess, you heard I was upset?"
A nod, the concerned look still on her face. Pequod chuckled darkly.
"Yeah, today hasn't been a good day. Though I'm feeling a little bit better about it than I was earlier. Ocelot talked me off of the ledge. I mean, it doesn't guarantee that I don't wake up crying my eyes out some day down the road, but I'm better."
Quiet leaned forward, the concerned look on her face a little more pronounced.
"No, there really isn't anything that you can do for me, Quiet. Though I really appreacite the offer, I do. It's just…" He looked at her, cocking his head to the side. "You ever have a relationship?"
Quiet scrunched up her face, and shrugged. Pequod did a double take.
"What do you mean, 'sort of?' You mean you had a bunch of meaningless hook-ups?"
A disgusted look and a fierce shaking of the head.
"Ok, ok. Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. But, what? You've never loved someone before?"
Quiet's face was like a tomato, and she refused to make eye contact. Pequod looked at her with confusion, but then he smirked with understanding.
"…I see. Well, don't give up hope. If a dumb Pollack like me can find a girl, I think a pretty lady like you can find the one you love too."
Quiet looked at him, a somewhat hopeful look on her face.
"Of course, I'm afraid that, while drop-dead gorgeous and sexy as hell with the way you blow peoples' heads off with that rifle of yours, I'm afraid you're just not my type, Quiet."
Quiet now looked completely unamused, with a little bit of exasperation in a 'how did I not see that coming' sort of way thrown in for good measure. She threw something at him, hitting the pilot on the face.
"Ow, hey! What the-where did you get a stuffed teddy bear?" He looked at it in complete confusion. He looked at her smug little grin, one that was far too self-satisfied for this kind of situation, and just rolled his eyes.
"Alright, you little jerk. You have succeeded in getting me to feel a little bit better about myself. Missio accomplished. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to dock Baby in th hangar."
An expectant look.
"Of course you can sit in here with me while I do it! What, you thought I wouldn't let you see how it's done? I'll even let you sit in the co-pilot's seat, as long as you don't. touch. ANYTHING."
An childish look of glee, and with a whoosh Quiet had materialized in the co-pilot's chair. She looked at him, and then buckled herself in and gave him a snappy salute.
"Smartass…" Pequod muttered to himself. He hopped in the helo himself, and as the rotors began to twirl he found himself thinking about the words Ocelot had told him. That he would find the "right one" soon enough.
He had no idea how soon it would actually be.
A/N: Just another day in the Seychelles.