Life Sentence
- Chapter 4 -
Taking The Slide
by TeeJay
—==''''==—
Summary:
Corporal Jake Sully is hit by a piece of shrapnel and finds himself lying in a Venezuelan VA hospital with a pair of useless legs and a big hole blown through the middle of his life. Pre-movie.
Author's Note:
Crimson Masquerade, thank you so much for your lovely reviews. They always make my day. And if you're falling head over heels for Tom, I think that's going to change with this chapter. ;o) Which brings up an interesting point, because I think in writing my version of Tom Sully, I was essentially writing myself. In retrospect, I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing...
A huge thank you to goes out J who offered to beta-read this story for me. You've been a great help!
Just a little remark on the side... We are in the year 2146 or 2147 when Tom is supposed to ship out to Pandora. Why would there still be paper money? (Quote Jake: "... a guy with a gun ends his journey for the paper in his wallet.") Everything else is hi-tech in this era, I honestly can't see people paying cash with paper money anymore. Thus, I'm just gonna ignore canon and rewrite this idea a little. You'll see.
Disclaimer:
There's a few dialogues and scenes towards the end of this story that were taken from a 2007 version of the movie script, so these are obviously not mine. Neither are the characters or situations of this story or the movie. They are property of James Cameron, Twentieth Century Fox, Lightstorm Entertainment or other copyright owners. No copyright infringement intended. Mr. Cameron, it has been a blast, playing in your sandbox. I hope you don't mind.
Rating:
Rated T (PG-13) for language
—==''''==—
Jake squinted as he approached his apartment, wheeling himself down the hallway. The figure hovering near his door looked familiar.
"Tommy," he beamed at him sheepishly, holding out his fist for his brother to tap.
Tom didn't play along. He only looked at Jake with a determined, almost angry expression.
"Geez, you're drunk. I can smell it from a mile away."
"'Drunk' may be too strong a word, little brother," Jake said, slurring the words, the same impish smile still on his face.
Jake fumbled in his pocket, fighting with the key card for a long moment as his twin looked on with contempt. He finally managed to free it and opened the door.
"Come in, come in, to my humble abode. Make yourself rrrrright at home."
Tom shook his head. This wasn't like Jake. What the hell had happened in the last few weeks? It had been difficult to keep track of his brother. The avatar training program had started two months ago, and the schedule was as tight as any schedule could be. There was never enough time for catching up with friends and family. Or sleep.
Jake had eluded him somehow. Tom hadn't had the time to track and trace unanswered calls and messages, and he had put Jake's unavailability down to bad timing. Now, his suspicion that it was something more, something worse, was reinforced by his brother's inebriation.
Entering the apartment, Tom looked around, trying to ignore the mess. There were no chairs in Jake's apartment—what for? Jake had all the chair he needed. Clearing away some dirty clothes from Jake's bed, Tom sat down on it.
Jake wheeled closer, his smile now almost a snarl. "So, what brings you here? Come for another round of patronizing? Or... let me guess, more indoctrination." Opening his arms invitingly, he continued. "Bring it on, I can take it."
Tom sat as if carved from stone. "Jake, what are you doing?" he asked in a shocked voice that was just above a whisper.
"What am I doing? What do you think I'm doing? I'm having fun. Isn't that what life is supposed to be about?"
"By getting drunk off your ass?"
Jake smiled a mockingly knowing smile. "Ah, here we go. I feel the beginnings of a lecture."
Tom couldn't take this. He got up and grabbed Jake's shoulders, pushing him in the direction of the bathroom. "Take a shower, Jake."
"Oh, wait, I stand corrected," Jake retorted. "Not a lecture, an order. Nice. I've really missed this."
Tom let go of his brother, feeling empty and helpless all of a sudden. He went over to the tiny kitchenette, leaning forward with his hands on the edge of the small counter. He didn't know why there were tears burning behind his eyes. Tears of guilt, maybe? For accepting the mission to Pandora, for not having spent more time with Jake, for not having made more of an effort?
He heard Jake's voice from across the room, sarcastic, with a provocative undertone. "Hey, brother, please don't disappoint me. Where's your zest? I'm waiting."
Tom sucked in a sharp breath. His voice wavered as he spoke, on the verge of breaking. "I didn't come here to give you a lecture or orders or to patronize. Jake, I'm worried. It's like I'm losing you. I don't know how to get through to you anymore. I'm not sure how much longer I can do this."
There was a long silence, and Tom finally turned around. Jake was rooted to the spot, all color drained from his face. He slowly shook his head, then said in a low voice, "Let me take a shower."
Tom lifted his head. "You need help?"
"No," Jake said quietly. "Thanks."
Tom acknowledged with a short nod.
A few minutes later he heard the water being turned on as he roamed around in the cupboards. There had to be coffee somewhere. Along the way, he encountered long-expired protein bars and moldy bio packs. 'Jesus, Jake,' he thought. It was a long way down to the bottom, but he could feel that Jake was already taking the slide.
He finally found the instant coffee powder at the back of one of the upper cupboards, one that Jake would not be able to reach without help. Wondering how it may have gotten there in the first place, he opened the jar and sniffed carefully. Still good. Sort of. It would do.
Two mugs with water were quickly placed in the microwave. He checked Jake's drinking water rations, thankfully there were enough left for the rest of the month. He had a fleeting suspicion that his brother wasn't spending too much time in this place anymore. He didn't want to imagine where he was hanging out instead.
The milk concentrate in the fridge was curdled, and Tom got rid of it, wrinkling his nose at the smell. It'd have to be black coffee. Maybe that was just as well.
Jake looked a lot more like his old, sober self when he came over from the bathroom fifteen minutes later. Dressed in fresh clothes, smelling faintly of minty toothpaste, it made a hell of a difference. Tom had in the meantime tidied up the room somewhat. Jake's tiny apartment was now almost habitable.
Tom held out the steaming mug with coffee to Jake, who gratefully took it. For lack of seating, Tom went back to the bed that was really nothing more than a cot, and sat down. Jake carefully followed, and Tom thought he could detect a hint of regret in his eyes.
They were silent for a long moment before Jake quietly said, "Look, I'm sorry."
Tom looked up but didn't meet his brother's eyes. "I'd like to believe that you are, but let's just say I'm willing to accept it as a peace offering."
"Fair enough."
"Jake, can we talk about this?"
"About what? Me getting drunk?" It wasn't sarcastic or angry, it was a simple question.
"No. I mean, that's a part of it, but I'd like to know what's up with you. You're never there when I call. You don't answer any of my messages. I know you'll hate me for saying this, but I even called the Rec Center because I just couldn't get a hold of you for weeks on end. They said you haven't been down there in months. Is there something going on with you I should be worried about?"
Jake looked down at his hands that were cradling the coffee mug, feeling the warmth of the insulated metal on his fingertips.
"I don't know what you want me to say. You're not my mother. I'm not a little kid anymore that needs looking after."
"Jake, that's never what I intended."
"Felt like it sometimes, though."
Tom sighed. He hadn't known that Jake felt like this. "I'm sorry about that," he muttered. "For the patronizing and the lectures too."
Jake shook his head slightly. "Don't be. I probably deserved it. Didn't hurt that you read me the riot act every now and then. Gave me a conscience. But you can't keep doing it, Tommy. At some point you gotta let me live my own life."
Tom sipped at his coffee, the bitter taste stinging on his tongue. "Yeah. But, you know, that would be much easier if I had some kind of reassurance that you're not gonna do something stupid or get in trouble."
Jake smiled a crooked smile. "You know me. Trouble finds me, whether I want it or not."
"Exactly. And that's what has me worried."
Jake met Tommy's gaze. "Look. You're all wrapped up in your Pandora thing. And, I mean, I get it. You've been talking about that planet ever since Dad showed us the pictures when we were still kids. You gotta stop worrying about me and do your thing. You deserve this. But what you don't deserve is feeling like you need to mother-hen your idiot brother. One day down the road, you're shipping off into space. And I'm still gonna be here. On my own. Doing just fine."
"You make it sound so easy."
Jake wheeled closer and took his brother's hands in both of his to reinforce his words. "Tommy. It can be easy. You just gotta trust me, okay?"
Tom sighed a long sigh. "Okay," he finally agreed.
—==''''==—
"Hey, Tom," Norm Spellman approached him. "You done the Thanator simulation yet?"
Tom swiveled his chair around, turning his attention away from the experiment he was working on. "Yeah, did it yesterday. Kinda scary."
"Hard to believe we're shipping out in three months. Doesn't feel like we've been at this for almost three years."
"Yeah," Tom acknowledged. It was an unwelcome reminder, and he suddenly felt guilty for not having been touch with Jake for a while. Time was passing so fast, the last four or five months had gone by in a flurry.
"Man, I really gotta talk to my brother," Tom muttered, more to himself than to Norm.
"Don't remind me. I have, like, ten unanswered messages from my mom," Norm said.
Tom grinned. "You better get to it, Spellman. Being on the receiving end of mom's wrath is never a good thing."
"Why, you got some experience?"
"Not really. My mother died six years ago."
Norm's smile faded. "Sorry."
Tom looked at him with a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Norm, don't worry about it."
Norm nodded, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Look, uh, I got this report I need to finish."
"Yeah, okay. See you later."
"Later," Norm said and left the room.
Tom also got up and walked over to the comm station, initiating a video call to his brother. It didn't come as a surprise that no one picked up at the other end, so Tom left a message.
"Hey, Jake, long time, no see. You know, I, uh, I'm shipping out to Pandora in three months. We should catch up some time. I have a day off next week. How about I come down to see you? Call me, okay? Bye."
—==''''==—
It was shocking even to Jake, the way his face stared back at him in the mirror. Swollen and split lip, an ugly purple bruise on his cheekbone and a black eye to go with it. It wouldn't usually bother him so much, but he was already dreading Tom's reaction to it. Too late now, Tom would be waiting for him.
He grabbed his keycard off the kitchenette counter and left the apartment.
Out on the street, Jake was hit once again by the smell. You could almost taste the toxicity in the air, and every morning on the news they would issue warnings about how long you could stay outside without wearing a filter mask before it would do harm to your body.
He stopped at the traffic light and stared up at the levels of the city. Maglev trains were whooshing overhead on elevated tracks, against a sky of garish advertising. When the traffic light changed, he pushed forward, pumping the wheels of his chair to keep up with the marching torrent of anonymous, isolated souls.
The diner where Jake had suggested he and Tom could meet had been the place of choice not for its ambiance but for its convenience. It was just a block away from Jake's apartment and he knew the food was edible and affordable.
He suddenly remembered something from way back, in the hospital after his accident. Tom had said he'd somehow get the money to get Jake's spinal fixed. Three years had passed and the 'somehow' had never occurred. Eventually, Jake had stopped hoping for it. He could barely get by on his benefits, and even though allegedly the RDA paid anyone who was willing to join SecFor and ship out to Pandora serious money, they wouldn't start paying you until you actually arrived. Jake knew Tom was already helping out financially as much as he could, so Jake's dream of ever being able to walk again had gradually trickled away.
Tom wasn't there yet when Jake got to Scotti's. A few regulars nodded casual greetings as Jake wheeled over to this usual spot. It was a darker corner of the establishment—and Jake liked it just that way. Being in a wheelchair caused enough of a stir, and Jake had never been one for wanting to be in the limelight.
Katey, one of the waitresses, came over. Seeing his face close-up, he could see she tried to hide her initial shock. "Hey Jake. The usual?"
"Actually, I'm waiting for someone."
"Oh." This seemed unusual, Jake never brought any company. "I'll come back later, then."
Jake just nodded.
Five minutes later, Tom entered the diner. His eyes scanning for his brother, he finally saw him at the table at the far end. He walked over at a brisk step, taking off his coat before he sat down, never really looking at Jake.
"Hey, sorry I'm late. The train connec— Whoa."
For the first time, he noticed his brother's bruised face. "Jesus, Jake, what happened to you?"
Jake smiled wanly. "This? Oh, it's nothing. Had a little... altercation."
"Altercation?"
"I'd rather not talk about it, okay?"
Tom was silent for a moment. 'Not okay,' he thought, but he didn't say it out loud and swallowed it down.
Katey came back to their table, taking in Tom's facial features. "Identical twins, huh? Cool," she said while chewing on her chewing gum.
Jake ordered lite beer, Tom iced tea.
"Nothing to eat?"
"Give us another minute, okay?" Jake said.
"'K," Katey echoed, looking slightly annoyed.
Jake watched her rather well-proportioned booty as she walked away until Tom's voice drew his attention back to his brother. "So, what's good here?"
"Uh... The burgers are okay. Wouldn't recommend the hot dogs."
Come to think of it, Jake hadn't had any sausages that tasted right in a long time—not since their childhood family trip to Alaska. None of the meat analogs he had tried could compare to the real deal.
When Katey came back with the drinks, they ordered their meals. After a few casual inquiries about how Jake was doing, they fell into easy conversation about Tom's work and the training program. When Tom was enthusiastic about something, he tended to ramble on and on. It was just the way Jake liked it because it meant he wouldn't have to talk about himself.
Still, he knew they would come back to that topic sooner or later. Tom had a way of latching on to Jake's pant leg like a pertinacious terrier. He didn't have to wait long.
"And now, after almost three years, I can't believe that they're actually going to fire me out there, into space." He propped his chin up on his hand with his elbow on the table, looking at Jake for a long moment. "Sometimes I'm asking myself if it was really the right decision."
"Are you kidding me? I would have kicked your ass if you hadn't signed up. You've dreamed about this since we were little."
"Yeah, but that was then. When we still had a family. When you..."
"... could still walk?" Jake finished his sentence.
"Yeah. No. I didn't mean it quite like that."
"Then how did you mean it?"
Tom sighed. "I'm at a loss here. What am I supposed to think? I'm leaving in a couple of months, I'm gonna be four and a half light-years away, on another planet, in another star system." He lifted his arms in frustration. "You're the only family I have left. This would be a lot easier if there was some kind of support system, you know? If I knew there was someone looking out for you."
Jake narrowed his eyes for a second, taking in his brother's expression. "Don't you remember what I told you, that one night you came to see me and I was drunk?"
"Yeah," Tom said in a resigned voice. "You told me to trust you."
"So, let me ask you. Are you? Trusting me?"
Tom looked at Jake's face, his eyes catching on the bruises and cuts. "I mean, geez, Jake, look at you. God knows what kind of fight you were in that earned you this," he pointed at his brother's face. "How can I trust anything or anyone, knowing that people are beating you up?"
Jake frowned. Way to jump to conclusions, but of course Tom wasn't far off. "Who says anyone beat me up?"
"Was it because of the wheelchair? Jesus, I can't believe people would assault someone just because they're disabled!"
Jake let out something between a snort and a laugh. "Is that what you think? That I got beat up by some asshole with a violent passion for discrimination? Boy, Tom, you're really a lot more naïve than I pegged you to be."
Tom frowned. "Wait a minute. What are you saying?"
Jake slowly closed his eyes and opened them again. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."
"The hell it doesn't matter. Are you saying you're going around, provoking fights. Shit, Jake, why?!"
"Can we not talk about this? It was a one time thing, okay?"
Tom didn't buy it, but what was he supposed to do? Maybe Jake needed professional help. Back in Venezuela, they had recommended that Jake should see a psychiatrist. Tom had looked into it even before bringing the idea to Jake, but there were no State-funded programs for trauma victims with permanent injuries anymore. Veterans' Affairs wasn't accepting responsibility either because some dickhead consultant had reviewed Jake's case and attested to the fact that Jake had acted on his own accord rather than his sergeant's orders during the attack that had resulted in his injury. Between the physio and making a living for the both of them, there just wasn't any money left.
But now, being put into cryostasis, Tom wouldn't need any money for the next six or so years. And once he got to Pandora, he'd make more than he could probably spend out there.
Tom looked at his brother intently. "Have you ever thought about getting professional help?"
At first Jake didn't know what his brother was talking about, but then it dawned on him. "A shrink?" he laughed hollowly. "Are you serious?"
"Yes, I'm dead serious. Look at what you've been through. You haven't ever really talked about it to anyone, have you? Instead, you've become this angry, bitter person. I mean, look at yourself. Do you like what you see when you look in the mirror?"
Jake was too upset to even give it a moment's thought. "And what do you care?"
"I care because it seems to me like you're on some kind of warpath with the world and yourself, trying to find someone to punish for what's happened to you."
"Ooooh," Jake said mockingly. "Here we go. Why would I even need to pay for seeing a shrink when I can have you for free?"
Tom shook his head. They were back to this again. "This was a mistake. I should never have accepted getting into the Avatar program."
"Oh yeah? Reality check, Tom, not everything is always about you. None of this is your fault—not the fact that I'm bound to a wheelchair for the rest of my life, not the fact that no one wants to hire a fucking cripple, and especially not the fact that I have a black eye and a fat lip. I mean, sure, if you wanna blame me for your feeling guilty, go right ahead. God knows, you blamed me for enough things in your life."
Tom's mouth was a hardened line. Why was it always coming back this? His intention had been to make this somewhat of a farewell conversation. Things with the program were ramping up now, and he didn't know if he'd get another chance to make the trip down here to see his brother again in person before he flew out. Yet, they were fighting again. And he couldn't bite back the anger that was welling up inside of him.
"Blame you? Yeah, right! Like when I blamed you for not being able to afford summer camp because you wrecked the car? Or when I blamed you for getting kicked out of Westwood because you kept beating up Billy MacLaren. Or when I had to repeat a semester to take care of mom because you were out on tour in Guatemala. And did you ever take responsibility for any of that? No, you've always been real good at dodging your way out."
"Is that what this is about? Responsibility? You know what? Maybe it's because no one's ever fucking trusted me to be responsible for anything. You were always the responsible one, the one everyone knew would grow up to be something, would make a difference in this world. And who was I? That's right, I was always just Jake Sully. Brother of Thomas Sully. Who would tag along in your shadow."
"That's not true, and you know it."
"Do I? How would you know, you've never been in my shoes."
"That's right, Jake, and the only person who could have done something about it was you. If this is the life you chose for yourself, to hang around in shady company, getting beat up for the fun of it, then that's your choice. There ain't a damn thing I can do about it. Not from here and not from outer space, and especially not if you don't want help."
Jake's eyes were dark with determined anger. "Is that what it comes down to? That I'm not the person you're trying so hard to make me into? Well, then I'm sorry and I hope you have a great life out there on Pandora, trying not to think about your reject brother who just can't seem to conform to who you want him to be. You know what? I'd rather die than be that person."
Tom swallowed. Somewhere deep in his gut it felt like a serrated knife was being twisted with brute force. In a controlled, quiet and cold voice, he said, "Fine. Then nothing should make you happier than the fact that I'm gonna be out of your way and out of your life for the next eighteen years."
He roamed around in his pocket for a cash chip. The one he was carrying had more credit on it than his meal was worth, but it didn't matter. "Here," he put the chip on the table. "Keep the change. You might need it."
He got up and looked down at his brother. "Goodbye, Jake. Have a nice life."
He walked away without another word. Out in the street, in the gray haze of the polluted city, he let the tears of anger and disappointment run free.