"Goggle-Eyed" || Tech X OC Marina

"Goggle-Eyed" || Tech x OC Marina

Author's Note: Hi friends! Coming in with the next portions of Tech and Marina's story! A tiny bit of time has past since they met with this piece. I am really enjoying their dynamic! As always this is part of @leenathegreengirl's Pabu AU, and she is responsible for the absolutely STUNNING art of them that is featured both in the cover and at the end with the full image! Seriously she did AMAZING because LOOK at how handsome he looks! That being said, I have a Tag list for the Wolffe/Perdita saga... I suppose it's only fair to open that up to Rex/Mae as well as this new... pair of friends... ~ M

Pairing: Tech & OC Marina

Word Count: 9.4k +

Rating: SFW

Warnings: Mentions of divorce; Mentions of character death; tooth rotting fluff

Summary: Tech and Marina continue to spend more time together, with their connection deepening in ways neither fully understands. As they reflect on their growing friendship, Marina begins to notice her feelings shifting, though she remains uncertain about what exactly she’s experiencing. She rationalizes her appreciation of his presence, trying to make sense of the quiet pull she feels, but doesn’t quite voice what’s on her mind. Meanwhile, Tech wrestles with his insecurities, particularly about his appearance. Will a small change be enough to force them to confront the growing tension?

Masterlist | Tech's Encrypted Files | Previous | Next (coming soon!)

Astonished. Flabbergasted. Dumbfounded. Confounded. Nonplussed. Taken aback. Stunned. Stupefied. Benumbed.

Goggle-eyed.

Marina found herself struggling to make sense of the overwhelming surge of emotions she’d experienced that evening. What had started as a simple, straightforward task—repairing a crucial piece of equipment—had quickly spiraled into something she hadn’t anticipated. She had left with a mind full of swirling realizations, not just about her past, but also… something else. Delight?

She couldn’t be sure. Emotions, to Marina, were often erratic and transient, slipping through her fingers like water. They weren’t something she cared to dwell on. It was the facts, after all, that mattered most. And the facts were undeniable: the man who had moved into her old home, taking on the role once held by her deceased husband, was a disruption. His presence was unsettling, tearing at the fabric of the life she’d carefully constructed in his absence.

And yet… there was something about it, something she couldn’t quite put into words. He wasn’t the source of the discomfort she expected. In fact, he was becoming something far more complex in her mind. Tech, once nothing more than a mere discipline defined by wires, parts, and tools, had evolved into something far more profound. It had become tanned skin and sly smiles, accompanied by an ever-more penetrating gaze that she pretended not to notice from the corner of her eye. It was the calming baritone of his voice as he explained his work. Tech was no longer just a craft; it was a man—one who now filled her thoughts with a growing list of words, a catalog of impressions that expanded with each passing day, adding new, more positive descriptors to her mental inventory. Every interaction, every moment spent in his company, seemed to shift her perspective, pulling her deeper into uncharted territory. She wasn’t sure how to process it, but the list continued to grow.

She wasn’t one for ambiguity. Marina liked things clear, straightforward, and logical. But for the first time in as long as she could remember, clarity seemed elusive.

The clone had, perhaps unwittingly, shown her something she hadn’t expected. In his honest simplicity, he demonstrated not only a quiet respect for her former life but also a recognition of the love she had lost. He admired Keiron’s work, and more importantly, he kept the memory of her husband alive in ways that others never had. When she asked, he shared details about their shared craft, holding Keiron’s contributions in high regard, never diminishing their significance. It was a gesture that, while small, felt monumental. The rare few who had known Keiron never seemed able—or willing—to honor his memory in such a way. It was often clouded by pity, as though his legacy was something to be mourned rather than celebrated.

Tech, on the other hand, was a blank slate. He didn’t carry the baggage of shared grief or whispered condolences, and his only connection to Keiron had been through their mutual love of building things. It wasn’t weighed down by history, yet it still felt significant. He had no reason to keep that connection, and yet he did, treating her husband’s work with the same respect and enthusiasm he had for his own.

For a time, the idea of returning to a life of normalcy had seemed impossible, even after so many years on her own. The weight of grief had never fully lifted, and the pity in the eyes of others had only added to her sense of isolation. But Tech—this unexpected presence—had slowly begun to change that. With him, she could let go of the heavy mantle of widowhood, if only for a moment. It wasn’t that she had forgotten Keiron or erased his importance from her life. But for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t “Marina, the widow of our beloved Keiron.” She was simply Marina again—a woman with her own space to breathe, to exist without the weight of others’ sorrow pulling her down. The chance to return to herself, free from the constant reminder of her loss, felt like a rare gift—one she didn’t know she needed until it was there, right in front of her.

But there was something deeper than mere respect—something more unexpected. Marina had found, to her surprise, that Tech's presence was actually comforting. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a quiet alignment that resonated in a way she hadn’t encountered before. Tech was, in many ways, a mirror of herself—blunt, unapologetically straightforward, and entirely unafraid to speak his mind. Traits she had often been shamed for, but in him, they felt different.

He was intelligent, his mind sharp and precise, and the way he articulated his thoughts often mirrored her own. His tone—the same one she’d been accused of using, the one others had called condescending—didn’t carry the same negative weight when it came from him. Marina couldn’t help but recognize the eerie similarity, the way his words seemed to echo her own mannerisms, yet there was a subtle difference. Where others had seen her intellectual tone as an attack, as an unwanted display of authority, they never seemed to perceive it that way with Tech. His words were never laden with judgment or condemnation; they were simply the expressions of someone who understood the weight of knowledge.

In a strange way, Tech seemed to be the first person who truly understood her—someone who didn’t distort her intentions through the lens of preconceived biases. When she spoke with him, it wasn’t about putting others down or assuming superiority. It was about sharing knowledge and exchanging ideas. But for some reason, that same approach, when applied by her, had often been misread by others as arrogant or dismissive. Yet with Tech, her words felt accepted, as though he saw them for what they truly were—a genuine attempt to communicate, not to dominate.

The more she spent time with him, the more Marina realized that this wasn’t just about being understood. It was about being seen, truly seen for who she was—without judgment, without the weight of other people’s assumptions. In a way she hadn’t expected, Tech had become a safe space, a place where she could simply exist without needing to defend herself or constantly explain her intentions. It was a kind of relief she hadn’t known she was missing.

A recent revelation struck her with a quiet force: Tech possessed a simple, unassuming kindness that she hadn’t fully appreciated until now. It wasn’t loud or grand, not the kind of charity that demanded recognition, but it was genuine nonetheless. He asked about her work, about the things that others so often dismissed or scoffed at, showing a sincere interest that surprised her. Where most people, even those who were close to her, had no real curiosity or care for her craft, Tech seemed to value it, not out of obligation, but because he truly wanted to know.

And then there was his way of caring for his siblings. The ease with which he maintained things for them, often without a second thought for his own needs, was a constant reminder of the quiet depth of his generosity. He never made a show of it, never boasted about the ways he helped, and yet it was clear that, in his world, their well-being always came first. Take Crosshair, for example. The mechanical reel, essential as it was, was clearly more important to Tech than his own need for food or rest. Marina couldn’t help but admire that quiet sacrifice, the way his actions always seemed to put others before himself, even when no one was watching.

Tech’s kindness wasn’t extravagant. It didn’t demand attention or praise. It came in the form of little things—small acts of care, of thoughtfulness, that didn’t announce themselves but instead simply were. It was the sort of kindness that never seemed to wane, but rather ebbed and flowed like the tide—gentle, persistent, and always present.

In a world where so many people made kindness conditional or used it as a tool for gain, Tech’s quiet sincerity stood in stark contrast. He didn’t need to be noticed for it, and didn't require any kind of acknowledgment. It was just who he was. And for Marina, that was something rare—something that, over time, she found herself appreciating more than she could put into words.

Marina made a conscious effort not to dwell on Keiron. After all, it had been years since his passing, and the ache of loss, while never truly gone, had softened over time. She had learned to move forward, to carve out a life that was her own, one that didn’t constantly call upon the memory of the past. It wasn’t that she had forgotten him; how could she? Keiron had been her world, and that part of her would never fade. But she’d done what she could to keep the memories from overtaking her present, from weaving themselves into every quiet moment, every new day.

But Tech, in his own subtle way, was beginning to infiltrate the routine she had built. At first, it was a simple presence—his quiet way of asking about her work, his casual remarks about his siblings and their needs, the small acts of thoughtfulness that added a quiet rhythm to her days. Yet, with each passing interaction, she couldn’t help but notice how his movements, his habits, seemed to echo the ones Keiron had once had. The way Tech lingered in the workshop, inspecting tools and gadgets with the same meticulous care, reminded her of the evenings when Keiron would do the same, lost in the hum of his work, with nothing but his craft to accompany him.

It was subtle at first—a flicker of familiarity that she quickly pushed aside, telling herself it was just a coincidence. After all, Tech was his own person. But then there were moments when she’d see him pause in the same way Keiron had, when he’d focus intently on some small mechanical detail, his brow furrowing in concentration, and for a fleeting instant, she could almost see her husband in him. It wasn’t that he looked like Keiron or mimicked him outright; no, Tech was very much his own individual. But the way he became absorbed in his work, the focus he put into solving problems, the way he treated others with that same unassuming kindness—it all felt like an odd, comforting reflection of what had once been.

Marina tried not to let it bother her, tried not to allow the comparison to take root. It was unfair to Tech, she knew that. He was not Keiron, and he would never be. And yet, there were moments when the lines between the two blurred—when the way Tech moved through her world with such ease, felt eerily familiar. In those moments, it was hard not to think of Keiron, not to remember the long nights spent side by side in the workshop, their conversations flowing as easily as the work they did.

But then she would pull herself back, reminding herself that Tech, despite the similarities, was different in ways that were undeniable. He was blunt, for one, where Keiron had always been more tactful. His sense of humor, dry and sometimes absent altogether, stood in stark contrast to the way Keiron had always laughed, the kind of laughter that had filled their home with warmth. There was a quiet strength in Tech that was different—more like a steady current, unwavering and calm, where Keiron’s had been a fire, always burning brightly, fiercely, and at times, unpredictably.

But in his own quiet way, Tech carried with him a form of baggage not so dissimilar from her own. His recent divorce, the painful rift caused by his decision to initiate the split, was a burden he bore silently, but it was one that mirrored her own experience in unexpected ways. Just as her widowhood had left her isolated, adrift in a world that sometimes felt too full of memories and too empty of connection, Tech found himself similarly alienated—an unwilling outcast in the wake of his decision.

Marina never asked about his past. It wasn’t her place to pry into the details of his life, just as he had never questioned her about Keiron. Their relationship was defined by a quiet understanding of boundaries—unsaid but deeply respected. She understood the delicate nature of loss and didn’t wish to push him into a space where he might feel exposed, just as she had once been when her grief was raw and fresh.

And yet, despite the unspoken agreement to avoid personal histories, there was something about the stillness of their shared time together that had a way of unraveling the walls they both built around themselves. In the moments when they worked side by side, when the quiet hum of their respective tasks filled the air, truth began to slip into their conversations—not in bold declarations, but in small, almost imperceptible ways. The weight of his past, his marriage, the pain of his decision, started to emerge in his words, in the pauses between sentences, in the way he sometimes stared off into the distance as though processing something just beneath the surface.

Tech didn’t speak of it directly at first, but in the gentle cadence of their conversations, in the soft exchanges that had nothing to do with the tasks at hand, it began to seep out. His words, casual as they were, began to reveal glimpses of his heartache. His explanations, more fragments than stories, hinted at the cracks in his marriage, the moments of miscommunication and misunderstanding that had led to its inevitable collapse. Marina didn’t ask for details. She didn’t need to. The hurt in his voice, the careful way he chose his words, was enough to convey what he couldn’t bring himself to say outright.

It wasn’t a dramatic revelation. It wasn’t an emotional outpouring. It was something quieter—something that formed slowly, like a river carving its way through stone. And in that same way, Marina realized that she, too, was revealing her own truths to him, without even meaning to. The stillness between them—the comfortable silence of two people working side by side—had become a space where vulnerability wasn’t forced, but simply allowed to exist.

A mutual understanding began to take root between them, born of the quiet respect they both held for their former partners. It was something unspoken but deeply understood. Tech did not harbor any resentment toward Leena, despite the painful way their relationship had ended. Even in the raw aftermath of their split, he still cared for her. The hurt was fresh, yes, but his words spoke of her with a tenderness that surprised Marina. He shared stories of their good times, those small, treasured memories that seemed to hold a quiet beauty—stories of a love that, though now distant, had once been full of life. The way he spoke of Leena reminded Marina of how one might describe an old friend with whom they’d simply grown apart, rather than someone with whom they’d endured the unraveling of a relationship. It was a love, locked in another time, but still genuine. And it was a love that, in its own way, helped Marina see that not all relationships, even those that end, are tainted by bitterness.

Similarly, Marina began to notice something else about Tech—how he seemed to pull out memories of Keiron that she had long buried. When she’d thought of her late husband in the years following his death, it was usually through a haze of grief and anger, a bitter ache over the empty space his departure had left in her life. She had always associated those memories with sorrow, and each reflection felt like another wound reopened. But when she shared those memories with Tech, they didn’t feel like that. Instead, they felt warm. They felt like a blessing, like a small light in the darkness, reminding her of the richness of her past without the sting of loss. There was no sorrow in those moments as she spoke of Keiron with him. Only a deep sense of gratitude, a quiet recognition that the love she’d once known had been profound, and that in itself, was something precious.

In a way, it was Tech who helped her see it. His presence, his quiet understanding, and his ability to listen without judgment, without expectation, created an environment where she could finally allow herself to reflect on Keiron without the flood of grief she had once feared. It was as if Tech had shown her that she wasn’t trapped in her sorrow anymore. She had moved through it, she had healed. And now, she could look back on that love with a sense of peace, rather than the sharp ache that once dominated her thoughts.

He had, unknowingly, helped her rediscover the depth of her own gratitude for having loved so deeply. And in that respect, it felt as though Tech had become more than just a companion in the present—he had helped her reclaim a piece of her past, transforming it from something painful into something she could cherish once more. And, in turn, how lucky she was to have someone like Tech, who could bring her back to those memories with such kindness and respect. It was a gift she hadn’t realized she needed until it was given.

In the relatively short time Marina had known Tech, his friendship had grown into something she deeply valued. What had started as a simple request to repair her boat’s engine quickly morphed into something far more significant. That first night had been spent not only fixing machinery but also learning from one another, sharing conversation, and filling a quiet space that both of them had been missing. Their time together was easy and unforced, a kind of companionship that made her realize how much she had been longing for this connection, even if she hadn’t known it.

Tech’s offer to help install the engine himself was a turning point, leading to more shared moments and an even deeper sense of connection. What had started as a technical task turned into an intimate tour of the boat, a look at her life, her home, her world. The boat was not just her mode of transport; it was where she lived, where she worked, and where she had spent years learning to be self-sufficient. Allowing someone else into that space was no small thing, but with Tech, there was an unexpected ease to it, as though his presence was just another part of the boat, fitting seamlessly into the corners where her daily life had unfolded.

Before long, Tech’s small acts of assistance became regular. He began making subtle modifications to the boat—small tweaks that helped her maintain her home and work environment more efficiently. It was clear to Marina that these weren’t obligations to him. He wasn’t doing it because it was expected or because she had asked; he was doing it because it was something he genuinely enjoyed. He told her it challenged him in ways that were satisfying, and she could see that. His mind worked through problems in a way that not only resolved issues but improved her daily life. His help became a reminder that he was invested in more than just fixing things; he was invested in her, in the life she had built.

But it didn’t stop at repairs. As the days turned into weeks, Tech’s interest in her work began to grow. Initially, it was just curiosity, but soon it became something more. He began gathering her reports, asking her to explain details, even reading them for fun. Marina was surprised, but there was something disarming about the way he engaged with her knowledge. He never made her feel like she was being overly academic or condescending, as she often feared. Instead, his questions were genuine, his desire to understand her work a quiet reflection of how much he respected what she did. Their evenings became filled with casual discussions about her research, each conversation a small exploration that allowed Marina to rediscover her own passion for her field.

Tech’s presence was never overwhelming. He didn’t force himself into her routine; rather, he became a comfortable part of it. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she found herself expecting to hear from him, to see him at least once during the day. There was something about his company that had become essential, a natural part of the flow of her life. She didn’t need to make space for him; he had simply slipped into the gaps that had once felt empty. His presence didn’t disrupt her, it complemented her. It was as though they had both found a quiet understanding, a rhythm that had been missing for so long.

With their growing connection came an unexpected candor, one that revealed fears, doubts, and the self-conscious shames she usually kept hidden from everyone else. In many ways, speaking with Tech felt like speaking to herself. But he had a kindness and gentleness toward her that she was often unable to show herself. When she opened up about her fear that everyone she grew close to inevitably met a tragic end, Tech tried to calm her, offering perspective. He explained that while she had undoubtedly been a victim of a string of unfortunate events, it was illogical to label herself as 'cursed,' as she often did. His words were soothing, a quiet reassurance that allowed her to momentarily let go of the weight of that belief.

In turn, she found herself trying to reassure him as well. She listened with genuine care to his deeper worries, those heavy concerns about his life and the choices he had made, but also to his more trivial musings. Whether it was a fleeting thought or a lingering fear, Marina offered him the same patience and understanding that he had given her. In these exchanges, a balance began to form between them—a silent promise that they could share their vulnerabilities without judgment. Each conversation, no matter how small, brought them closer, and in that closeness, they both began to find a space where their worries could be shared, acknowledged, and softened by the other’s presence.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

“I fail to understand how someone as methodical as you maintains such a non-functional hairstyle,” Marina observed, wringing saltwater from her hair as they emerged from the dive. The afternoon had been spent gathering specimens for her ongoing research, and Tech’s growing interest in her work had prompted his participation. Despite not being a natural diver, his analytical approach had proven advantageous.

Tech became aware of Marina’s gaze from the periphery of his vision. Her face remained mostly neutral, with the smallest hint of a smirk. It was the sort of expression that forced him to evaluate every aspect of his appearance—particularly his hair, or rather, the lack of it.

He’d first noticed the thinning during his cadet days. It wasn’t extreme, but it was there nonetheless. He suspected it was linked to his genetic modifications—Jango’s genome often predisposed men to hair loss, and he was no exception. The reality, however, was more uncomfortable: many women found it undesirable.

Tech raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "It’s an effective solution," he stated, his tone flat, but tinged with a subtle defensiveness. "It keeps most of my hair out of my field of vision."

Marina gave a quiet exhale, analyzing his mohawk with cold precision. The sides had regrown enough to form a near-blend with the longer middle section, and her gaze lingered. "Effective? I wouldn’t categorize that as such," she said, her voice devoid of humor but carrying a hint of clinical detachment. "It certainly attracts attention. Practicality, however, remains debatable."

Tech registered the warmth behind Marina’s words, but there was an analytical quality in her tone that made it difficult to simply dismiss her observation. He adjusted his position, momentarily avoiding her gaze as he unstrapped his gear. The discomfort had become evident—his skin was flushed from the sun, and the absence of sunscreen was now a tangible reminder of his oversight.

"Well," he began after a pause, his voice lowering just slightly, "it wasn’t always my decision." He drummed his fingers against his leg, each tap methodical, an attempt to redirect his focus. "Leena insisted I maintain it after we removed the inhibitor chips. She said it concealed my receding hairline." There was a rare nuance of vulnerability in his tone, a crack in the otherwise rigid exterior. Her comments had started as casual compliments but eventually revealed the true intent: she preferred the hairstyle as a way to mask his imperfections.

Marina’s gaze shifted slightly, her expression wavering as she processed his words. She hadn’t expected this level of introspection from him—the unease, the vulnerability beneath the surface. It wasn’t her place to pry, yet the weight of the exchange was undeniable.

Her tone softened, her words still concise but imbued with an empathy that was almost clinical in its precision. "I don’t typically address Leena’s influence, as it doesn’t concern me. But," she paused, choosing her words carefully, "I apologize if her preferences made you feel obligated to hide something that wasn’t inherently a flaw. I cannot fully comprehend the pressure you may have felt, but you need not carry that burden—especially for something as insignificant as hair."

Tech’s gaze flickered away, the discomfort still evident. But Marina wasn’t about to let him linger in that space. She stepped closer, her posture both firm and non-threatening, like a guide offering a new perspective.

“You don’t need to hold on to someone else’s perception of what you should look like,” Marina said, her voice softer than usual but still clear and direct. “You have the autonomy to choose what aligns with your sense of self. You’re practical, intelligent, and distinct in your own right. Your appearance should be an expression of that—not a reflection of someone else’s standards.”

Tech shifted slightly, his discomfort becoming more apparent, as his eyes flicked away. The vulnerability beneath his usual composure surfaced more clearly. “I don’t want to appear…” he paused, as if searching for the right term, “unattractive. I mean, my understanding of attractiveness was shaped by her preferences. And... well, women generally don’t find receding hairlines appealing. It’s a physical indicator of decreased testosterone, which impacts the body’s evolutionary drive for mating,” he explained, his words mechanical, attempting to hold onto his analytical approach even as his insecurities leaked through.

Marina observed him quietly, her expression shifting to one of understanding. She gave a faint, reassuring smile—subtle but genuine. “Tech, you’re not unattractive. You have qualities that go far beyond your appearance. There are attributes people, particularly women, prioritize that are unrelated to biology. And your hairline doesn’t define your value or identity. You shouldn’t let someone else’s preferences shape how you perceive yourself.”

Tech raised an eyebrow, his skepticism still evident. “You think changing it would help?” His tone was guarded, an edge of doubt threading through his voice.

Marina’s response was calm, with no hesitation. “I believe it may prove beneficial in assisting you with moving past someone else’s expectations. You deserve to see yourself the way that aligns with who you are, not the way someone else saw you. You need to feel comfortable and confident with who you are, not hold on to something that possibly never fit you to begin with.”

Tech seemed to consider this, his gaze drifting between Marina and the water as he processed her words. For the first time, the defensiveness in his posture eased just a little, and a flicker of realization crossed his face. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to let go of the weight he’d been carrying without even realizing it.

“I guess… it wouldn’t hurt to try something different,” he murmured, a hint of openness in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

Marina offered him a small but approving nod. “Exactly. And if you don’t like it, you can always change it back. But at least you’ll know it’s your choice, not someone else’s.”

Tech’s gaze softened as he met her eyes, something shifting in his expression—vulnerability mixed with gratitude. “Thanks, Marina,” he said quietly, his voice almost shy, but the sincerity behind it clear.

Marina gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, a simple gesture that felt more comforting than words could express. “Anytime, Tech. And for what it’s worth, I’ve got no issue with a more mature hairline.”

Tech gave a small, relieved smile, the burden of his self-doubt easing just a little. “Good to know.”

The atmosphere between them changed, the unspoken tension that had weighed down on Tech’s shoulders beginning to dissipate as he processed her words. He stood still for a moment, reflecting on the conversation—on her reassurance, the bluntness that still managed to be caring, and the understanding woven between her observations. It was a lot to digest. But something within him shifted. Perhaps it was time to stop trying to conform to an external image, to someone else’s idea of who he should be. Maybe it was time to embrace a version of himself that felt authentic.

As if sensing his internal change, Marina gave him a brief, encouraging glance before turning toward the boat. “Come on, let’s get something to eat,” she said, her voice light and casual. “Diving is very strenuous and we should maintain a period of relaxation before continuing”.

Tech nodded, grateful for the shift in focus to something as simple as food. It was a welcome distraction, but as he fell in step beside Marina, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between them. The awkwardness from earlier was still there, hovering at the edges, but now there was something else—something deeper. For the first time in a while, he wasn’t drowning in self-doubt. Her words had struck something in him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

They made their way inside the boat, the quiet, rhythmic sound of the water slapping against the hull creating a steady background to his thoughts. As they moved toward the galley, Tech found his mind drifting back to what Marina had said. “Not unattractive.” She’d said it without hesitation, so bluntly, so matter-of-fact.

The words replayed in his mind. That simple affirmation had hit harder than he expected. It wasn’t some vague attempt to placate him with empty niceties. She hadn’t sugarcoated her assessment—just laid it out, clear and direct. And in her bluntness, there had been something real. Something genuine.

But beyond that, there was the other part—the part he hadn’t anticipated. She’d noticed. She’d acknowledged his appearance, and in doing so, she’d confirmed something he’d long suspected: that, at least in her eyes, he wasn’t unattractive. The realization made something stir inside him, a warm flicker in his chest that he wasn’t sure how to interpret.

Was that… attraction? He’d always valued Marina’s straightforwardness, her no-nonsense approach to things. But now, he found himself wondering if he was reading too much into it. If it was possible that she might see him in a different light than just a colleague, just a friend.

His hand instinctively went to his damp hair again, and this time, the usual discomfort was absent. The urge to hide it remained, but it wasn’t as strong, and for the first time, he could almost picture letting go of that trivial burden.

But then, there was the question of what this might mean for their friendship. Was it moving too fast? Had he misinterpreted the simplicity of her words? Tech felt a strange knot in his stomach, a mix of uncertainty and curiosity, and for the first time, he realized just how much he hadn’t considered about their dynamic.

He didn’t know if Marina was thinking about any of this. But he couldn’t help wondering if, perhaps, things weren’t so straightforward anymore. If there was more to this connection than he’d allowed himself to believe.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

The soft thump of footsteps on the ramp caught Marina’s attention, though she didn’t immediately look up from her microscope. She didn’t need to; the rhythm of the steps, the deliberate pace, and the faint echo of familiarity told her it was Tech. He had made a promise the night before, one that was likely the reason she hadn’t bothered to glance up when the door opened.

“I have returned with the temperature regulator I mentioned—” Tech’s voice filtered into the small lab space, calm and steady, as always. Marina continued to peer through the lens of her microscope, her eyes focused entirely on the cellular structure of the mollusk she had been studying. The intricacies of the tiny organism’s internal architecture held her full attention.

“Thank you, I’ll be able to assist in a moment,” she replied, her voice thoughtful, almost detached as she jotted down her observations on a nearby notepad. "I just need to write down my findings before they slip away."

Tech paused for a brief moment, as if considering whether or not to interrupt. It was a habit she and he both shared—becoming so absorbed in their respective work that they overlooked the small courtesies, the greetings that others might find customary. It wasn’t that they didn’t appreciate those pleasantries; they simply had a way of diving headfirst into what mattered most at the time. It was something Tech had come to find oddly endearing about Marina, the way she was so fully immersed in her work, so consumed by the pursuit of knowledge that nothing else seemed to matter at that moment.

Marina’s pencil moved swiftly, her shorthand almost a second language as she recorded the detailed observations of the mollusk’s cellular layers. She was so deep in thought that she didn’t realize she was subconsciously pulling herself further away from the task of acknowledging Tech, the quiet rustle of his movements almost blending into the background hum of her work. It was only when a slight shift in the air, the soft rustle of a bag being set down, and the subtle weight of his presence drawing nearer to her that she finally realized how much time had passed. She hadn’t heard him approach.

“Did you need help getting everything set up?” she asked, her voice smooth and casual as she finally lifted her gaze from the microscope, her pencil pausing mid-air. Her expression was focused but not unkind, as if her mind was still slightly tethered to her notes.

It was then that she looked up and froze. Tech was standing there, the same steady presence as always—only this time, something had changed. His mohawk was gone.

In its place was a much shorter, tidier cut that framed his face in a way that made him seem... well, different. She hadn’t expected him to act on her suggestion, let alone so quickly. For a brief moment, she was taken aback, unsure of what to say. She’d advised him to prioritize his own preferences over someone else’s vision, but to see him take that advice so suddenly… It was surprising, in the best way.

Marina blinked, a flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she absorbed the sight of him. She hadn’t thought much about how she’d phrased her suggestion, but seeing him here, looking more comfortable in his own skin, it was clear he had done just that—he’d listened. And she hadn’t expected how good it would look on him.

Her surprise lingered for only a moment before she found her voice, though it held a softer edge than usual. “Well, I see you’ve taken my advice.” The words were playful, but there was an underlying warmth in her tone, an unexpected admiration for the change.

Tech, sensing her reaction, offered a small, sheepish smile. “I thought I’d give it a try. It feels different. I do not recall having maintained a style similar since we were cadets, but, I admit you were right. It’s practical, and there appears to have been positive benefits in not disguising something I cannot control any longer.”

Marina studied him for a moment longer, her gaze softening as she took in the change. His hair, now cut into a short, neat style, which reminded her of a crew cut—undeniably better she realized. The style wasn’t just a change in appearance; it was a reflection of something deeper—a willingness to prioritize his own needs over the pressures of someone else’s expectations. Possibly even face his insecurity head on. The result was quite attractive.

For a brief second, Marina froze, unsure how to express what she was thinking. It wasn’t like her to shy away from speaking her mind, but seeing him standing there, looking different—softer somehow—was surprisingly stirring. She hadn’t anticipated how aesthetically pleasing he would look with a change as simple as this.

Her gaze shifted, and she stepped closer to him, almost instinctively. The movement felt natural, unforced. She hadn’t expected to be moved by something as minor as a new haircut, but there was something about this moment, something about Tech’s quiet vulnerability that made her want to respond differently than she usually would.

Without much thought, she reached out—just a touch. She didn’t think about the action, but simply brushed the side of his hair with her fingers. The texture had a certain softness to it that she hadn’t anticipated. His hair, no longer styled in an exaggerated manner, now rested in a way that emphasized his features more naturally.

Tech froze, his body going rigid at the unexpected touch. He wasn’t used to just anyone being so close to him, certainly not in the intimate, casual way that Marina was. The contact was gentle, but it caused an immediate stir in him—an unfamiliar warmth that traveled through his skin, his breath hitching for the briefest of moments. His initial impulse was to pull away, to retreat into the safety of his personal space, but something in Marina’s calm demeanor kept him rooted to the spot.

The sensation of her fingers brushing against his hair was foreign, something he hadn’t experienced in a long time, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it made something in him awaken—something he couldn’t quite place, a feeling that was both pleasant and disorienting. Tech had always kept people at arm’s length, both physically and emotionally, so the fact that he didn’t recoil, didn’t pull away from her, left him slightly confused.

Marina, sensing his unease but unwilling to let him retreat into his shell, spoke with a softness that was rare for her. “You look really good, Tech,” she said, her voice quiet, but carrying an undeniable sincerity. There was no teasing edge, no sharp words—just simple, unadulterated truth. “It’s a good change. You look more comfortable. Dare I say… confident?” She asked with a slight chuckle.

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, Tech felt a strange mix of emotions. The quiet praise, the unexpected touch—it was almost as if she had reached beneath his surface, past the walls he had so carefully constructed. And to his surprise, there was no discomfort. In fact, there was a small sense of... pleasure? It was a strange thought, something he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge before, but Marina’s calm approval felt different. It wasn’t based on superficial standards or expectations; it was simply about him being who he was, in that moment, and he couldn’t deny that it felt good.

Tech’s response was quiet, his voice tinged with uncertainty but also a hint of something else he couldn’t quite place. “I... Thank you.” He shifted slightly, the flush on his cheeks more noticeable now, though he tried to maintain his usual stoic demeanor. It wasn’t easy, feeling this exposed—this open—but Marina had a way of making him feel seen in a way that was both unnerving and, dare he admit, kind of comforting.

If Marina had thought Tech was handsome before, witnessing the bright, beaming smile that spread across his face when she confirmed he looked good, only intensified that feeling. She couldn't remember ever seeing him smile so widely, but it was clear her compliment had struck a deep chord with him. Marina gave a small, approving nod, her gaze still gentle. “Anytime, Tech,” she said, her tone steady again, but with an underlying warmth. Then, she stepped back, giving him space once more.

Tech stood there, processing the moment, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch his newly cut hair. It was still a strange feeling, and yet, it was starting to feel more like a choice he could own, not something that was forced upon him. And that, more than anything, made it worthwhile.

He had truly taken her suggestion without a second thought, cutting his hair the night before he could talk himself out of it. He wasn’t entirely sure why he did it. He valued her opinion, but letting it push him to make a change felt like a bigger step than he was used to. Still, before his usual, logical mindset could take over, he grabbed the trimmer and tackled the overgrown patch down the middle, barely sparing a glance at his reflection.

The thick curls at the top of his head, once unruly and standing in stark contrast to the shorter, slightly grown-out sides, fell away in uneven clumps. He started at the front, shearing through the bulk with each deliberate pass, the vibration of the trimmer against his scalp grounding him more than he expected. His fingers brushed over the newly uniform length, the contrast between his freshly buzzed crown and the textured remains of his previous style disappearing with each careful adjustment.

Yes, his hairline was more visible now, his features a little sharper without the towering mop of curls softening them. But there was something undeniably satisfying about the low-maintenance cut, and the way it felt weightless, clean—almost like a reset. For that sense of ease alone, he figured he could handle whatever attention it drew to his hairline.

But as Marina continued to smile at him, her expression soft with almost childlike wonder at the change, something in him shifted again. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel the need to hide behind his usual barriers. There was a quiet understanding in the space between them, a softening of the edges, a subtle recalibration in the way they interacted. It wasn’t anything he had expected, but somehow, it felt like the right kind of change.

Marina’s words had sparked something in him—encouraged him to move past his discomfort and consider what he hadn’t realized he was missing. And despite his initial resistance, he found himself feeling surprisingly grateful for it.

As he processed the change, his voice came out slower this time, like he was still digesting it. “I didn’t think much of it at first,” he said, quieter than usual. “But I think you were right. I missed having it like this—the way I used to wear it during the war. I kept it slicked back from my face. It was practical, kept everything out of my way. It helped me focus, gave me a sense of control. And... I realized I missed that.”

Marina’s gaze softened, and for a moment, there was something almost tender in the way she looked at him. “That makes sense,” she said, her voice measured but warmer than usual. “I think this looks better on you. Not just practical, but…” She trailed off for a moment, considering the words. “There’s something about it. It highlights your features more, makes you look... more open? And, if I’m being honest, a little more attractive.”

Tech blinked, a brief flash of surprise crossing his face. He hadn’t expected her to be so direct. But Marina didn’t seem uncomfortable, just matter-of-fact, like she was acknowledging a simple truth. “I think it suits you,” she continued, her voice steady, but with a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “It's sharp. And... well, I can’t deny, it’s a good look on you.”

Tech swallowed, the words sinking in. It wasn’t just a reassurance or a vague compliment. She had really said it—he was attractive this way. The acknowledgment made something shift inside him, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Instead, it was grounding, as if the external changes were finally matching something inside him.

Tech couldn’t help but feel a slight flush at her words, a quiet warmth spreading through him. He’d been so wrapped up in how others had seen him for so long, particularly Leena’s influence on his appearance, that he hadn’t realized how much he’d lost sight of what he wanted. But Marina’s suggestion had unlocked something—a way to transition back to a style that had felt like him, but in a way that was his choice now. Even more than that, he found her alignment with his own preference to be refreshing.

“It’s an adjustment,” he admitted, his tone soft but steady. “But I think I’m starting to realize it’s not about changing who I am. It’s about reclaiming a piece of myself that was lost. It felt nice to just prioritize what I want and not worry about the outcome,”

Marina stepped a little closer, her eyes studying him with a thoughtful expression. “Well, I look forward to meeting this older, reclaimed version of Tech. I have no doubt this will continue to suit you if you let it grow or if you keep it this way,” she confirmed. Something about the way she seemed appreciative of his past, but also allowing him to grow was pleasant. More so than he cared to admit.

Tech studied her for a moment, a thoughtful expression crossing his features before he spoke. "We can’t all be blessed with something so distinct, to set us apart visually," Tech said, his words genuine. His gaze lingered on the silver strand of hair that framed Marina’s face, the one that stood out against the deep dark waves of her hair. He had noticed it the first time they met, the white streak seeming to capture the light in a way that made her presence feel even more ethereal. To him, it had become one of the things that defined her, an unmistakable part of her appearance that somehow reflected the complexity he saw in her.

“Are you referring to my eyes or my hair?” Marina asked, raising an eyebrow with a teasing yet intrigued look in her eyes.

Tech shifted slightly, his expression softening, his usual composure momentarily slipping. “Both,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with a quiet warmth. “Your features are... unique. I remember thinking the same thing the night we met. I can’t recall ever encountering someone with both mallen strands in their hair and heterochromia in their eyes. It’s... visually fascinating.”

A faint flush crept up his neck, coloring his cheeks as he realized how direct his words had been. He wasn’t one to get flustered easily, but there was something about Marina that made him lose his usual precision and guarded nature. The way her eyes held so much mystery and how the streak in her hair caught the light —it was a combination that was striking, yet so incredibly effortless as it was natural.

Marina, for her part, blinked at the compliment, caught slightly off guard by his openness. Her initial instinct was to deflect, as she always did when attention was placed on something she considered unusual about herself. But there was something in the way Tech had said it—without judgment, without awkwardness—that made her pause.

Marina blinked again, her eyes narrowing just slightly as she processed his words. "Visually fascinating?" she echoed, her voice a little less playful now, a tinge of uncertainty creeping in. She shifted her weight, her gaze dropping briefly to her hands, almost as if she was weighing his compliment against the feeling in her chest.

Her self-consciousness stirred at the mention of her imperfections, something she’d always struggled with. People didn’t typically find these things “fascinating”—they found them odd, something to be fixed or covered up. Her mind immediately flickered back to all the times she’d tried to hide the streak of white in her hair, the way it made her feel out of place, like it was a constant reminder of something that didn’t fit with her age range.

"Are you sure you're not just... being kind?" she asked, her voice quiet but laced with an underlying skepticism, as she tried to gauge his sincerity. "I mean, people usually don’t go out of their way to find imperfections attractive." Her eyes briefly flickered up to meet his, unsure whether she was simply overanalyzing the situation or if he truly meant what he said.

Tech could see the shift in her expression, and it made him feel a sudden pull of empathy, knowing all too well how it felt to be self-conscious about something others may overlook or criticize. He straightened slightly, choosing his words more carefully now, but still with the same warmth in his voice.

"I’m not attempting to purely be kind," he said, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I do find your features to be fascinating. I consider that fascination positive. It’s rare to see someone with both the mallen strands and heterochromia—They have a magnet quality."

His words were steady, but beneath them was an earnestness that felt real—no forced kindness, just the quiet observation of someone who genuinely appreciated the things that made her unique.

Marina tilted her head, her gaze studying him more carefully now, her initial uncertainty shifting to a mix of curiosity and disbelief. "But you really think that?" she asked, the question almost sounding like she couldn’t quite believe it. She hadn’t expected him to respond so openly, especially considering how often she felt the need to downplay those very aspects of herself.

"Yes," he affirmed, his eyes meeting hers without hesitation. "I do not feel I have given you a reason to assume I would fabricate a compliment in order to comfort your feelings, regardless of our friendship."

There was a slight pause as Marina absorbed his words. She still felt the familiar unease that came with being the center of attention for something she considered a flaw, but Tech’s straightforwardness and genuine tone made it harder to dismiss. Her heart rate steadied as she let his words sink in. He wasn’t trying to sugarcoat things or soften the truth—he truly saw her features as something worth noticing.

"I suppose... I admit to not being used to hearing someone frame it the way you did," she admitted softly, offering a small, uncertain smile. "Most people just... don’t look at my imperfections fondly."

Tech’s expression softened, and there was a quiet understanding in his eyes. "Maybe they should. Besides, I do not consider them imperfections at all," he said, his voice low but sincere.

The silence between them felt thicker now, almost palpable, as they stood just a few feet apart, each lost in their own thoughts but aware of the other’s presence in a way that made everything feel a bit more electric.

Tech’s mind drifted back to Marina’s features, the ones that had caught his attention the moment they first met. Her eyes, so striking and vivid, held a depth he hadn’t expected. There was something about the way the light hit them that made him appreciate the contrast between her different color irises. It wasn’t just that they were beautiful; they were alive in a way that made it hard to look away. Captivating was a good word for the effect, Tech thought.

And then there was the streak of white in her hair, the one that framed her face in a way that added a certain edge to her otherwise soft, dark waves. Tech had never seen something quite like it before, and while he knew she didn’t particularly see it as attractive, he couldn’t help but admire how it made her seem even more distinctive.

His attention shifted to her posture then, the way she stood with quiet confidence. She had physical strength, yet there was a calm power in the way she moved, deliberate and sure. Her features were delicate, but there was a sharpness that lingered. Be it the blue lines framing her skin, moving with the contours of her body, as the tattoos boldly stood out, or the lithe muscular structure she had.

Marina, for her part, had her own thoughts spinning as she took in the way Tech stood, every inch of him calm and composed, yet still distinctly masculine. She had never realized just how much his frame intrigued her—lean, but still strong in a way that wasn’t immediately obvious. His shoulders were broad enough to give him presence, yet his posture remained loose and fluid, never too rigid. The subtle muscle definition in his arms and chest made his clothes fit just right, neither too tight nor too loose. Not to mention, his extreme height.

Her gaze lingered on his face then, noticing again how sharp his jawline was, the way his dark eyes seemed so deep in contrast to the warmth that always radiated from them, especially when he was focused on something or someone. She couldn’t help but appreciate how his features seemed to soften when he wasn’t guarding himself so closely. His face wasn’t overly rugged, but there was something undeniably attractive in the way his expression shifted so effortlessly between serious and thoughtful. And his smile—subtle as it was—felt like a glimpse into something real, something less guarded.

It was then that she realized, with a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks, just how much she appreciated his physical presence. She hadn’t thought of him this way before, at least consciously. But now, as she took in the way he stood, his posture more open and relaxed than she had ever seen, she couldn’t seem to stop noticing the quiet strength in the way he held himself. There was something striking about his features that hadn’t quite registered before.

His face, angular and defined, seemed to capture the light differently now—his sharp cheekbones and strong jawline giving him a more mature, composed appearance. She noticed how his lips, fuller than she remembered, were now set in a way that exuded calm resolve. It was something she hadn’t noticed when he was always so focused on something technical, but now, in this moment, his expressions seemed more present, more... human. His golden skin caught the fading light, and Marina couldn’t help but admire how it seemed to glow with a subtle warmth. There was a clarity to him now, both in appearance and demeanor.

Tech caught the shift in her expression, and despite himself, he couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth through him. Now that he’d seen her gaze linger, the way her eyes softened when they met his, he realized how much he’d been thinking about her, in ways he hadn’t really acknowledged before. Her presence was striking, but it wasn’t just her looks that stood out—it was everything about her. The way she held herself, the confidence she alluded. Everything about her made him feel an unexpected sense of calm, despite the whirlwind of thoughts in his head. He hadn’t realized how drawn to her he’d become, how much he admired the quiet strength she had, both physically and mentally.

It became clear in the way he had subtly closed the distance between them. After Marina had gently stepped out of his personal space, careful not to intrude, Tech had unknowingly drifted back into the proximity they’d shared before. Even more telling, his hand had come to rest on the table behind her, a simple gesture that framed her within the space without being threatening. The air between them shifted, the quiet energy now charged, as both of them became acutely aware of how close they truly were.

They both stood there, each quietly acknowledging the attraction, but neither ready to act on it just yet. Instead, it lingered in the space between them, the unspoken connection hanging in the air. Both were more aware of the other’s physical being now, and while they weren’t quite ready to categorize the tension, it was there, building slowly but steadily, a quiet, undeniable truth they were both still processing in their own ways.

Tags

tbb tech x oc legacygirlingreen’s oc legacygirlingreen’s writing legacygirlingreen pabu au

Tunes-Giving Event: Tech/Leena (NOV 26)

From the moment Leena laid eyes on him, she was utterly captivated, and when Tech met her, he was equally fascinated by her free-spirited nature. Together, they’ve always shared an undeniable magnetic energy. Leena brings spontaneity and excitement, while Tech offers a sense of stability and grounding. It’s true that opposites attract, and their quirky, endearing romance is a testament to that. With bouncy, playful tunes that capture Leena’s adventurous spirit, and thoughtful, lyrically rich songs that reflect Tech’s intellectual side, this collection perfectly blends their contrasting personalities. These songs will not only make you smile but remind you of a love as unique and delightful as theirs.

'Cause my love is very deep and I know what you need

What can I do to fulfill your dreams? I wanna be with you

There she goes again

Racing through my brain

'Cause we could stay at home or watch the sunset

But I can't help from askin', "Are you bored yet?"

And I'll be yours until two and two is three

Yours until the mountain crumbles to the sea

In other words, until eternity

From my heart and from my hand

Why don't people understand my intentions?

Nice to meet ya!

EVENT MASTERLIST

(Special thank you my dear friend and creative partner @legacygirlingreen for making this event possible! She is responsive for all the writing, design layout, post editing & greatly assisted in song selections!)

💚Tag List💚

@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @sukithebean @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha @returnofthepineapple @justanotherdikutsimp @antisocial-mariposa @techs-stitches @resistantecho @kimiheartblade @dezgate

Tags

the bad batch leena the green girl legacygirlingreen

33 notes View Post

whiskysauers

5 months ago

ur personality is defined by ur favorite line in hallelujah

154K notes View Post

whiskysauers

3 months ago

"Tag" (A flashback) || Captain Rex x OFC Mae || Clone x OC Week 2025

Pairing: Captain Rex x OC Mae Killough (Bio HERE)

Word Count: 5.7k+

Rating: SFW

Warnings: honestly... can't think of anything. Tooth rotting fluff maybe?"

Author's Note: Day 2, let's go! This is a flash back to Rex's second trip to Pabu in which he spends some quality time with our favorite doctor. I hope this little fluffy moment before the Captain slips into denial over his feelings is a nice reprieve! Thanks again to @clonexocweek for organizing this event! Reminder this all exists within @leenathegreengirl 's Pabu AU! ~ M

Previous work | Chronological Next Work || Masterlist

Echo decided to take a last-minute detour. He couldn’t entirely blame him, though. Aiko had sounded distinctly unsettled over the transmitter, and while the issue might seem trivial to some, Echo wasn’t the type to let things slide. Rex didn’t mind the change of plans. After his first trip to the island, he’d found himself unexpectedly charmed by many things: the temperate climate, the stunning scenery, the peaceful atmosphere. And of course, the captivating doctor—

Ever since his first visit to Pabu, her kindness had quietly lingered in his thoughts. It even found its way into his daily life, hanging around his neck. That little piece of glass she’d given him? He’d never been able to take it off. Something about it just fit. Maybe it was the color, which reminded him of 501 blue. Or maybe it was simply the fact that it was the first gift he’d ever received that had nothing to do with his life as a soldier. Rex wasn’t entirely sure. But one thing was clear: he liked it. And he enjoyed her company even more.

When he’d given her his comm channel, he hadn’t expected her to actually use it. But she did—frequently. And soon enough, he discovered she was just as quick-witted as she was kind. She opened up about the little details of her life, and in turn, he shared his. She vented about long days at work—he couldn’t help but offer a similar complaint, albeit with the unfortunate addition of being shot at. There was something about the way she mixed playful banter with a deep sense of respect that felt refreshing. In her, he found a kindred spirit.

That said, he hadn’t quite found the time to visit again. Despite his best intentions, he’d been pulled into the whirlwind of responsibilities following Senator Organa’s agreement to join their cause. The senator’s connections and resources were proving invaluable in his mission to save as many of his brothers as possible. But all those new opportunities came at a cost: time. Time he didn’t have to spare for trips to distant islands or for the company of pretty doctors, no matter how much he wanted to.

Still, there was something comforting about the thought of her. Even in the midst of his increasingly hectic life, he couldn’t deny the small moments he spent conversing with her over com had become a much-needed reprieve. In her, he’d found more than just someone to talk to. She had become a friend—a rare connection he could hold on to in a world that often felt overwhelmingly solitary.

He couldn’t really fault Echo for insisting on stopping by to check on Aiko. In fact, it gave him a legitimate excuse to see his friend. He didn’t think anyone knew they were on the island, especially since he was able to navigate the streets without Omega’s excited cheers or the familiar presence of their brothers. Echo had made his way back to the house, but Rex knew Mae would likely still be at the clinic. For some reason, her work always seemed endless, as if she never truly left it behind.

The only light in the building came from the office, leaving the main area shrouded in darkness, still and empty. As Rex quietly slipped inside, a wave of uncertainty washed over him. He hoped his presence wouldn’t be unwelcome, but suddenly, he felt… nervous. There was no real reason to be, of course. But something about seeing her in person again felt like a daunting task. Despite having shared much information about him, including the trauma of Umbara—the darkest chapter of their deployments—there was still a certain comfort in communicating across distance. It was easier, less complicated. The idea of standing face-to-face with her again, however, felt weighty, almost overwhelming.

Before he could fully process his own hesitations, the door to the office swung open, and in an instant, panic set in. He instinctively took a step back, heart pounding, but then—chaos.

"Halt, intruder!" came the mechanical shout, followed by a flash of metal. It was AZI. Rex froze. He knew the Kaminonian droid had been assisting Mae, but he hadn’t anticipated being assaulted by a flying heap of circuits and gears, especially not while preparing to knock.

As AZI whizzed past him, Rex ducked instinctively, narrowly avoiding the droid’s enthusiastic attack. His heart raced, but just as he thought things couldn’t get more chaotic, Mae's voice rang out from the office.

“AZI, did you get em’?” Her tone was concerned and slightly frightened. Rex watched as she peaked her head out into the hall. In her arms was a large stick. Soon her eyes settled onto him, shifting from fear to surprise. The droid promptly stopped in midair, hovering awkwardly, as if unsure whether to continue its assault or obey.

Mae’s gaze shifted back to Rex, her lips parting in surprise. “Rex?” Her voice was softer than usual, a little more vulnerable. “What—what are you doing here?”

For a moment, Rex was taken aback by the genuine warmth in her expression. He’d half-expected a more formal greeting, but instead, she looked relieved—as if seeing him was a pleasant, unexpected surprise. The tension that had been tight in his chest loosened just a little.

“I… uh, I- Well Echo was checking on Aiko so I thought I’d give them space, and thought why not come check on how you’ve been…” he explained, his words still a little rushed, but the nervousness in his voice fading with each second he spent in her presence.

Mae blinked, the surprise quickly transforming into a soft, bright smile that lit up her face. “You came all the way here just to check in on me?” She took a step forward, her surprise giving way to an evident happiness, the lines of her face relaxing as she scanned him. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” she admitted, her voice light, almost teasing, but her eyes sparkled with genuine warmth.

Rex wasn’t sure why it made him feel lighter, but it did. The weight that had settled in his chest when he first arrived seemed to lift, replaced by something comforting, something warmer. She was happy to see him. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way her voice softened when she spoke.

He scratched the back of his neck, a half-hearted attempt to seem casual. “I know, I didn’t plan on interrupting anything, certainly not scaring you. I just thought it might be better to see you in person instead of just… over a screen or transmission.”

Her smile only widened at that, and she took another step closer, almost closing the distance between them. “Well, I’m glad you did,” she said, her tone gentle and full of sincerity. “It’s a nice surprise.”

Rex didn’t realize how much he’d been hoping for that until the moment it happened. A genuine smile, an unspoken warmth between them. It felt easier, this time, to be here. Standing in the same room. Facing her.

“You’ve been working late?” he asked, gesturing to the office behind her, where the dim light was still on.

Mae nodded, running a hand through her hair, looking a little sheepish. “Yeah, it’s been a long day.” She paused for a second, her smile shifting to something more thoughtful. “I didn’t expect you to drop by like this.”

“I can always come back another time,” Rex started, hesitant, as he thought about the disruption his visit might have caused. “I’m sure Echo will stay for the night—”

“No, don’t be silly.” Mae quickly dismissed his concern with a soft smile. “I was planning to make some caf and settle in for a quiet evening anyway. But… these reports can wait until tomorrow.” She paused, tapping the edge of the stick she’d been holding against the wall, her gaze thoughtful. “It’s not a problem at all.”

Rex hesitated, his voice sincere. “Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you from something important.”

Mae met his eyes, her expression firm and reassuring. “It can wait,” she assured him, setting the stick down and flicking the light switch before stepping into the hall. “So, Echo came to check on Aiko?”

Rex nodded, his brow furrowed in concern. “Yes, he was worried about her. She seems—”

“Stressed?” Mae finished for him, her tone soft, understanding. “She’s been carrying a lot lately. It’s not really my place to get into their business, but I’m glad Echo came. I don’t think anything I could’ve said would’ve eased her mind. Having him here will help.” She paused for a moment, then offered him a smile that was warm, but a little wistful. “That said, maybe we should give them some space... How about a walk by the water?”

Rex considered her suggestion, the idea of spending time with Mae alone weighing on him in unexpected ways. It was already dark by the time they’d reach the shoreline, and the thought of walking down by the ocean with her, when most of the island was silent and asleep, stirred something deep in him. On one hand, it was exactly what he needed—a quiet moment away from everything.

But on the other hand, the solitude of the night brought a kind of vulnerability he wasn’t used to. Being with her felt like a balance between longing and caution, the kind of tension that made him feel both alive and uneasy. He could already imagine the silence between them, the gentle rush of the waves in the background, and how they might both slip into that unspoken intimacy without the distractions of the world around them. His pulse quickened, both excited by the prospect of being alone with her and apprehensive about how easily things could shift. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for whatever might come of it, but the pull to be with her was undeniable.

He glanced at Mae, trying to gauge if she felt the same way. Her expression was relaxed, almost expectant, as though this wasn’t a big deal for her. She seemed so at ease with the whole idea, which made Rex’s apprehension all the more pronounced. He wasn’t used to letting down his guard so easily, especially not with someone he was starting to care about in ways he couldn’t fully understand.

"I guess a walk could be nice," he said, his voice a little rougher than he'd intended. "Quiet, though. Just... the ocean and us." His words hung in the air, and for a moment, he wondered if he had sounded too eager or too uncertain.

Mae smiled at him, and for a second, it was as if the world outside of them didn’t matter. Her eyes held a spark of something—curiosity, maybe, or maybe it was something deeper, something he couldn’t quite read. "Sounds nice," she replied softly, her gaze meeting his brown eyes with a knowing warmth that made his chest tighten.

He felt a little foolish for worrying at all. This was just a walk. But as he stood there, facing her, the anticipation of it—the closeness they would share—felt like something more. The tension between them was palpable now, even if it wasn’t acknowledged out loud. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little excited. Despite the uncertainty that simmered beneath the surface, something about being with her felt like it might be exactly what he needed.

"Alright then," Rex said, managing a half-smile, even as his heart picked up its pace. "Let’s go."

As they walked toward the path leading down to the water, the sound of the waves growing louder with each step, Rex’s thoughts settled into a strange, quiet place. This was uncharted territory for him. But for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t afraid to see where it might lead.

They fell into step beside each other, the soft crunch of sand beneath their feet the only sound accompanying their walk. The night air was cool, and a faint breeze ruffled the edges of Mae’s hair, the strands catching in the low light of the moon. Rex found himself stealing glances at her—at the way she moved, so effortlessly calm, as though she had all the time in the world. The silence between them was comfortable, but Rex could feel the weight of the moments stretching out in front of him.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The ocean waves lapped at the shore, rhythmic and soothing, and Rex’s thoughts wandered. He couldn’t deny the pull he felt, how he was drawn to her with every step they took closer to the water.

But still, there was something unsettling about it all—the quiet, the intimacy of the walk, the way his heart kept picking up speed every time Mae’s gaze flickered toward him. He wanted to say something, to break the tension, but his mind stumbled over the words. The idea of being with her felt like it could tip into something more, something he wasn’t sure he was ready for, and that uncertainty gnawed at him.

Mae must’ve sensed his internal struggle. Without looking at him, she spoke, her voice soft and even, as though she were testing the waters. "You know, I think sometimes we forget how much we need moments like this. Just… time to breathe."

Rex nodded, his throat tight. "Yeah. It’s easy to forget, with everything going on. But... this feels different, in a good way."

Her eyes met his then, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "I’m glad."

The words were simple, but they settled over him like a warm blanket. Despite the apprehension swirling in his chest, something in her smile made him feel… seen. Not just for who he was in the moment, but for all the things he had buried under layers of stress and distance. He felt a shift then—like the weight of the world had lifted just a little. Maybe he didn’t need to figure everything out all at once. Maybe he didn’t have to have all the answers. Tonight wasn’t about solving anything. It was just about being.

A soft laugh escaped him before he could stop it, surprising himself. "Funny. I’ve been running around trying to fix everything, and all I needed was this." He gestured around them, toward the night sky, the quiet beach, and most of all, her.

Mae’s smile widened at that, her eyes softening with something that almost looked like understanding. "Sometimes, all we need is to stop running. Let ourselves just… be."

They walked in silence again, but it wasn’t the uncomfortable kind this time. It was a silence that felt easy, the kind you shared with someone when you didn’t need words to fill the space between you. For the first time in what felt like forever, Rex let himself relax, the weight of his thoughts drifting away as they walked side by side.

The night stretched out before them, vast and full of possibilities, and in this moment, Rex found himself wondering if he was ready to stop running from whatever this—whatever they—could be.

Rex took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs in a way that was both calming and grounding. The sound of the ocean seemed to match the rhythm of his thoughts, steady and soothing. Mae was walking beside him, and for the first time in a while, he allowed himself to let go of the constant hum of responsibility that usually occupied his mind.

Still, there was a nervous energy inside him, an unease that didn’t quite dissipate. His heart would pick up speed every time their shoulders brushed, every time her gaze flickered toward him. He wanted to fill the space with words, something to lighten the tension, but he couldn’t find the right thing to say. The quiet between them felt more intimate than it should have, and yet, it was strangely comforting.

Mae seemed to sense his internal struggle again. She glanced at him, her expression a little softer this time. “You ever notice how the hardest part isn’t even the work or the responsibilities? It’s just... giving yourself a break, actually letting yourself take it.”

Rex let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve noticed that. We’re so used to running, we forget how to walk... slow down.”

She smiled, the kind of smile that made him feel like she really understood. He glanced over at her, hesitant, but then something in him shifted. Maybe it was the weight of the evening, the stillness, the way the stars seemed to blink down at them like silent witnesses. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn’t pressing him to open up, just walking beside him, letting him take his time.

He decided to give it a shot, let a little of the tension in his chest slip out.

“I remember something from my time in the war,” Rex began, his voice casual, as if he were talking about an old story. He couldn’t help the way the past sometimes resurfaced when he least expected it. “We’d been stuck in this remote outpost for days. No real breaks, no downtime. Just... constant motion. You’d think it’d be a bad thing, right? But one night, the whole unit got permission to just... sit by the fire. No orders, no targets, nothing but the fire and the night.”

Mae’s gaze softened, her full attention on him now. “That sounds rare.”

“It was,” Rex said with a nod. “We were used to working at full speed, and then, for once, we were told to take a breath. And I’ll tell you, it felt strange at first. Like I didn’t know how to just... exist. You’re so used to going all the time that the quiet, when it hits, feels like something you have to fight against.”

Mae’s brow furrowed a little, curiosity piqued. “What did you do?”

Rex smirked slightly. “Well, we sat there. No one said anything for a long time. Then one of the guys pulled out a radio. I don’t know where it came from—they weren’t allowed in the field. But he started playing the long range clone broadcast, and the rest of us just listened to whatever songs play, just laughing and talking, forgetting about the war for a bit.” He let out a small, almost surprised laugh at the memory. “We weren’t in combat, we weren’t worried about what was coming next. We were just there. And it felt... good. Really good.”

Mae’s expression softened, and her voice was gentle when she spoke. “Sounds like you needed that. A moment just to... breathe.”

“I did,” Rex said, the smile lingering as he looked at the ocean, as though he could still hear the echoes of that long-forgotten night.

Mae nodded, her eyes thoughtful. “Me too,”

Her words settled in his chest like a quiet promise. Rex let the silence stretch between them once more, this time without the anxiety he usually carried. He didn’t need to fill it with anything.

After a few moments, Mae broke the silence with a playful smack to his bicep. Before he could even react, she broke into a run, her laughter floating back to him. “Tag, you’re it!” Rex blinked, surprised at the sudden burst of energy. Tag? He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or protest, but he found himself caught up in the playfulness of it all.

Mae was quick—surprisingly quick—but Rex knew he wasn’t going to have much trouble catching her. The sand made it harder to get any real speed, but he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

He started after her, and it wasn’t long before he was closing the gap. Mae’s laughter rang out as she zigzagged through the sand, trying to throw him off. But Rex had been trained for speed. His long legs carried him easily, his body slipping into an effortless rhythm. Mae glanced back over her shoulder, clearly underestimating how fast he could move. “You’re not even trying!” she called, already out of breath.

Rex’s chuckle rumbled through the air, light and teasing. “I’m just warming up.”

Before Mae could even react, he closed the distance in two long strides, his boots kicking up sand as his eyes fixed on her, tracking every movement. He could practically sense the moment she realized how much ground she had lost—the sudden shift in her pace, the hesitation in her step. But it was too late.

In an instant, Rex reached out, his hands sliding effortlessly around her waist from behind. He didn’t even hesitate as he lifted her off the ground. His grip was sure, his arms strong, and in one fluid motion, he had her swept up into his embrace, her feet dangling in midair. It was as if time slowed for just a heartbeat, her body pressed against his with an ease that made her gasp in surprise.

“Gotcha,” Rex murmured, his voice warm with amusement as he looked down at her, his playful grin never wavering. Mae let out a surprised yelp, her laughter blending with her mild shock. The thrill of the chase still thrummed in his chest, his heart beating fast from the rush, but the feel of her in his arms, this close, added a whole new layer to the excitement.

Mae squirmed in his arms, half-laughing, half-annoyed. “No fair! I was winning!” she protested, but her smile was wide, her breath coming in quick bursts as she tried to squirm away.

“You started it,” he teased, his voice low and playful, the thrill of the chase still lingering in the air between them. His heart hammered in his chest, but it wasn’t from exertion. It was something else, something deeper that he couldn’t quite put into words.

Mae gave him a mock pout, the corners of her lips curling in that adorable way he always found irresistible. “You’re a cheater.”

Rex couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face, his gaze softening as he looked down at her. Her words were playful, but there was something else there—something unspoken in her eyes. His grin softened too, just a bit, as he let his thumb trace the outline of her side through the fabric of her shirt.

“I’m just fast. There’s a difference,” he said with a wink, his voice teasing but affectionate. The playful tone lingered between them, but there was a quiet warmth in the air as their gazes met.

Mae’s squirming slowed as she relaxed into his hold, a breathless laugh slipping from her lips. Her hands came to rest lightly against his forearms, her fingers curling slightly in the fabric of his sleeve, as though grounding herself in the moment. “Fine, fine. You win this time,” she said, her voice light, surrendering to the game.

For a moment, Rex held her there, his heart still racing, but his mind slowing down as he took in the feel of her in his arms. She was warm, close, her scent—the soft fragrance of jasmine and something sweeter—clinging to the air between them. He didn’t want to let go just yet.

Slowly, he began to lower her down, his hands lingering on her waist as he gently set her feet back on the sand. But he didn’t release her immediately. He kept her there for a second longer, feeling the steady thrum of her pulse beneath his fingertips, the subtle rhythm that matched his own. It wasn’t just the chase he had won—it was the moment.

When he finally let her go, his fingers lingered for a heartbeat too long before dropping to his sides. He took a slow breath, noticing the faint trace of her perfume still lingering in the air, the scent mixing with the cool night breeze. It made the moment feel even more intimate, a quiet connection between them that neither of them had spoken aloud.

Rex met her gaze, his smile lingering as he stepped back just enough to give her space. “Next time, I’ll let you have a head start,” he teased, but the underlying sincerity in his tone was unmistakable. Something had shifted between them, and he wasn’t sure what it meant, but he didn’t mind.

Mae’s smile softened, her eyes gleaming with something unspoken, before she scoffed playfully. “I don’t need a head start…” she said, her voice light, but there was a knowing undertone to it. The admission was wrapped in childlike defiance, and it made Rex’s heart skip a beat. Something about that vulnerability, the way she danced around the truth but still let him in, made him smile without even thinking.

Rex raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling upward in that mischievous way she was beginning to find endearing. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night,” he teased, his voice warm and light.

Mae gave him an exaggerated roll of her eyes, a grin tugging at her lips as she turned toward the water, the sound of the waves adding a peaceful backdrop to their exchange. “Speaking of sleep…” she hummed, her voice trailing off as she gazed out over the shimmering ocean, her thoughts clearly drifting. “You think we should head back, or…?”

For a moment, Rex didn’t answer, simply taking in the sight of her—her posture relaxed, her hair tousled from the game, the way the soft moonlight bathed her face. He didn’t want to rush the moment, and yet, he wasn’t ready to leave just yet either.

He stepped a little closer, his voice soft but sincere. “I don’t know... I’m actually enjoying this,” he admitted, the words surprising even him as they slipped out. He wasn’t sure why, but there was something about the quiet night, the solitude of being with her, that made everything feel... right. “Spending time with you,” he added, letting his gaze linger on her profile, as though trying to convey what he couldn’t put into words.

Mae’s gaze softened at his words, her smile turning more tender as she turned to face him. She didn’t say anything at first, simply meeting his eyes with that same unspoken understanding, the kind that seemed to fill the spaces between their words. Before she could respond, the soft beep of Rex’s comm broke the quiet tension between them, cutting through the moment with a sharpness that felt almost jarring. He frowned slightly, reluctantly pulling his wrist up to answer.

"Yeah?" Rex said, his voice a little less steady, as though he didn’t want to break the connection between them just yet.

“Rex, where are you?” Echo’s voice came through, faint but clearly laced with concern. “It’s getting dark, and you haven’t checked in. And, uh... you know Mae hasn’t come home either—” Echo’s voice faltered for a second, clearly not used to being the one on the other end of an unspoken silence. “You two alright?”

Rex sighed softly, glancing at Mae before giving her a small, apologetic smile. He was still hesitant, unwilling to pull away from this quiet moment with her. “Yeah, we’re fine,” Rex replied, his voice casual. "We're out here... just on the beach. Nothing to worry about." He didn’t want to say too much, not with the warmth of the moment still hanging between them.

Echo’s voice came back, quieter this time, but still laced with a subtle mix of concern and irritation. “Look, you don’t have to avoid the house or anything, but… It’s getting late, and someone needs to find Ma—” Echo suddenly stopped himself. Rex could hear the realization clicking into place. The silence stretched for a second, and Rex could practically feel the shift in the air.

"Wait," Echo continued, his tone now tinged with something else. “...You're with Mae. Alone. On the beach.” There was a brief pause before he added, “You know what? Never mind. You two have fun.”

The sharp click of the call ending was almost immediate, and Rex stood there, staring at the now-silent comm, the weight of Echo’s implications settling in. He looked up at Mae, his heart still pounding a little faster than it probably should be.

“That went well,” Rex muttered, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, even as a faint blush crept up his neck.

Mae’s expression was a mixture of amusement and something deeper, something playful and knowing. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms loosely over her chest. “Well, I guess we’ve officially been caught.”

Rex chuckled, stepping a little closer, though he didn’t say anything for a moment. Instead, he allowed the moment to settle again, the hum of the waves and the soft moonlight wrapping around them both. He found himself unwilling to break the silence too quickly this time, as though letting the sound of the ocean could fill in the spaces where words didn’t need to go.

“I guess we should head back,” Mae said after a beat, the hint of a smile still playing at her lips. But there was something different in the way she said it this time, something a little less certain than before, as though she wasn’t so sure about leaving just yet either.

Rex’s gaze softened, the playful grin still present, though it was tempered by the sincerity in his voice. “Yeah, I think we should... But I’m in no rush.”

Mae’s smile widened, and she took a small step closer to him. “Neither am I.”

The ocean breeze suddenly picked up, a strong gust that whipped through the night air, carrying with it a hint of chill that caught Mae off guard. She shivered slightly, her arms folding across herself instinctively. Rex noticed the subtle change in her posture—the way she had grown just a little more distant, her body reacting to the unexpected cold.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice soft, the concern there before he could even think twice.

“A little,” she admitted, her voice trailing off as she gave a half-smile, still feeling the bite of the wind. Before she could even consider moving away, Rex reached out. His arm encircled her waist, drawing her a little closer to him. The warmth of his touch was instant, and Mae felt her body relax slightly, the chill receding in the softness of his embrace.

When she didn’t pull away, Rex let his hold loosen just a fraction, wanting to make sure she felt comfortable. “Better?” he asked, his voice lower now, just above a whisper, as though any louder might break the sweetness of the moment.

Mae nodded, her smile softening. “Much better.”

The cool evening air no longer seemed as biting, but something else shifted in the space between them, something that felt like it went beyond the mere proximity of their bodies. The breeze seemed to carry a charge of its own, mingling with the unspoken understanding that lingered between them. There was a subtle tension, a sweet uncertainty in the air, like a question that hadn’t yet been asked but was sitting there, waiting to be acknowledged.

Rex could feel the steady rise and fall of her breath against him, the warmth of her presence making him want to hold on to the moment for just a little longer. The moonlight softened her features, casting a glow on her face that made her seem almost ethereal. His fingers tingled, wanting to reach out and maybe get a better hold on her, but instead, he leaned in slightly, drawn by the pull of the moment.

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to do it either. It’s not like he’d ever really attempted to do it previously. At least in this context. The more sweet, and wholesome pretense of showing appreciation and care, and not conveying a need or a want. His lips brushed against her cheek, just next to her ear, a playful, quick kiss that lingered only for a second. But in that instant, something in Rex’s chest fluttered, and he pulled back just enough to look at her, the air between them suddenly feeling impossibly delicate. His lips curved into a teasing smile, but there was something deeper in his eyes now—a warmth, an earnestness that hadn’t been there before.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a sincerity he hadn’t intended. “It’s been... a pleasant evening.”

Mae blinked at him, the playful spark still present in her eyes, but now softened with something else—something that spoke volumes in the way she gazed at him. She reached up, her fingertips brushing the spot where his lips had just touched her cheek, as though to keep the moment with her.

Her voice dropped lower, the usual lighthearted tone replaced by something sweeter, more intimate. “I’m glad,” she said, her gaze unwavering, and for a split second, it felt as though time itself slowed down around them. “Thank you for getting me out from behind that desk,”

The silence between them lingered for just a moment longer, a comfortable, easy space where words weren’t necessary. Rex couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he glanced at Mae, the feeling of contentment settling over him like a warm blanket. He let out a soft, almost relieved chuckle as he finally spoke, his voice light but affectionate. “Alright, I guess we should really head back before Echo gets any ideas.”

Mae’s laugh, light and musical, filled the air between them. It was the kind of sound that seemed to harmonize perfectly with the rhythm of the waves, the breeze, the calm of the night. “Yeah, we don’t want to give him more ammunition,” she teased, her voice still carrying that easy, playful tone.

Rex smiled even wider, the warmth of the moment seeping into him as they began walking side by side. The air between them, charged just moments ago with something unspoken, now felt simple, familiar. Just two friends, walking together after a night that felt effortless—peaceful, genuine, with no expectations. He didn’t feel the need to analyze it, not now. There was something beautiful in the quiet company of someone you enjoyed being around, and for tonight, that was enough.

And in that simple truth, he couldn’t help but feel grateful.

Tags

legacygirlingreen’s writing legacygirlingreen pabu au clonexocweek clonexocweek2025

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whiskysauers

3 months ago

Between Hearts and Ruin Pt. 2 "Someone New"

Summary: Tech and Leena’s marriage is strained, with mounting tensions that leave Tech feeling exhausted from carrying the weight of trying to fix their issues. Despite his efforts, he’s reached a breaking point, unsure of how much longer he can continue. The same night Tech starts to find some peace with his uncertain decision about their future, he meets someone new, stirring unexpected feelings. Meanwhile, Leena, who isn’t ready to let go, finds solace in the company of someone she knows only vaguely. Both are left questioning the path forward, caught between their unresolved past and the pull of new, uncharted connections.

Word Count: 10k

Pairing(s): Tech / OC Leena

Warnings: Mentions of splitting up, so much Angst in this bad boy, brief mentions of losing spouse

Author's Note: Hi friends! This is a 3 part story crossover between myself and @leenathegreengirl! All characters are part of her Pabu AU. All other chapters will be posted at the same time and linked below. Please check out her page to learn more about the AU if you are new, and if you have stuck around for a while... buckle up because it's going to get intense... You can find a link HERE on her account to a book version of the full story!

Masterlist |Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

As the last sliver of sunlight faded beneath the horizon, Tech made his way through the dense trees, heading toward the far side of the island. The solitude of the home had always been one of his favorite things—its isolation was his refuge. But he knew that wasn’t the case for Leena. She had always hated how cut off it was from the rest of the world.

Now, in the aftermath of their heated confrontation, the weight of everything—his broken marriage, Leena’s begging, and Kayden’s unexpected siding with his decision to leave— left an odd swirling in his stomach. The journey, already daunting, felt even more taxing in the stillness. With the sting of alcohol dulling his senses and his emotions a chaotic swirl, each step felt uneven, his boots catching on unseen roots beneath him. The ground seemed to shift with the weight of his thoughts.

Despite the unease he carried with him, there was an undeniable lightness in Tech’s chest. It was as if the burden that had weighed him down for so long had finally been lifted. For the first time in what felt like ages, he could breathe. There was a quiet relief in knowing that, slowly, others were beginning to see things from his perspective—not holding him solely responsible for the fallout that followed his decision to end the marriage.

Yes, he had been the one to initiate the split, and that made him the villain in their eyes at first. But with time—and the painful explanations that came with it—his friends and family had started to understand. They saw the cracks he’d long felt, the fundamental misalignment between him and Leena. It wasn’t just his perception; it was real, and now, they could all see it.

Tech just hoped that with this newfound understanding, they could finally begin to heal. They both deserved that.

There were no other homes on this side of Pabu—just the occasional wildlife that wandered through—and almost no signs of life beyond that. So when Tech finally spotted the faint outline of his house, he was taken aback to see a figure standing in the distance.

The lack of light made him hesitate. Who could it be, waiting for him out there? A wave of unease washed over him. Could Leena have ignored her sister’s plea and circled back, despite his insistence on having space? Maybe one of his brothers had overheard the argument and come to check on him. Mae had been stopping by every now and then, making sure he was managing, even bringing food when she thought he was getting too lost in his own head.

Whoever it was on the porch, Tech wasn’t in the mood for company. He was ready to send them on their way. And as he drew closer, his gaze locked on the figure, straining to make out the shape—at least enough to tell it was a woman. But just as he was about to get a clearer look, a voice cut through the silence. One he didn’t recognize.

“Finally. Shep said I’d find you here,” she said, hopping down from the railing she had been perched on and stepping toward him without hesitation. The faint moonlight barely illuminated her, leaving her features shadowed and indistinct. All he could discern was her slight, shorter frame and long hair, flowing down around her waist. Beyond that, he had little to go on.

Tech cursed himself internally for grabbing his glasses instead of his goggles. He didn’t expect to need them since he’d attended the party, and now he regretted not having the tactical advantage. If he'd had them, he could’ve gotten a clearer picture of who was waiting for him.

“Why would Shep send you to find me here? I do not know who you are,” he asked bluntly, stepping onto the porch, where the woman stood blocking his path. There was something unsettling about how comfortable she seemed in his space—it felt almost imposing.

“I don’t come on land much, especially not for small talk,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact. “I need help with my boat’s engine and I’ll be on my way. Normally, I can handle it myself, but the nature of this repair is a bit out of my skill set. Shep mentioned someone settled in the old shophouse and knew their way around mechanics. Considering this engine is responsible not only for my work, but also my lodging, it is imperative it is repaired.”

Her words were stripped of frills, no apologies or introductions sprinkled in. It was a way of speaking Tech used himself, and was often told came off as rude, but hearing it from her felt oddly refreshing. He didn’t often meet those who prioritized the content of their words over the pleasantries society demanded. Whoever she was, she seemed self-sufficient—likely isolated, and perhaps she spent so much time out on the water that is why their paths had never crossed.

With a sigh, Tech glanced over the motor’s outline. How she’d managed to lug it up here on her own, he couldn’t quite figure out. She must be stronger than she looked. Carefully, he slid past her, mindful not to bump into her as he opened the door.

“I can take a look, but I won’t make any promises,” he said, flicking the porch light on before coming forward to assist her in getting it inside to his workbench. The soft glow of the light revealed more than he expected. In the near-darkness, he’d only caught outlines, but now, under the warm light, her appearance was illuminated.

Her skin, paler than his but still kissed by the sun, was marked with stark blue lines—tattoos that covered her arms and torso. She wore a wetsuit, unzipped and tied loosely at the waist, with only a swim top beneath. The material tightly held her breasts in a way that presented them without drawing too much attention to them.

Dark hair, windblown and slightly frizzy from the sea air, framed her face in messy waves. But it was the strand of white at her hairline that caught his eye—a single, stark contrast to the deep bronze of the rest of her hair. The juxtaposition of it stood out, almost jarring.

Only furthering the odd clash of features, was the way the woman’s eyes looked. In the darkness it was hard to tell, but he almost thought they looked to be differing shades, but perhaps it was just the light playing tricks on him. If he had to guess one was fair, and one dark - a rare genetic disorder he’d hardly come across in all his travels.

“You’re staring,” she noted flatly, devoid of emotion, as if merely stating the fact rather than insinuating anything by it.

She wasn’t wrong. He was staring. There was something about her—something both strikingly familiar and entirely unique. Tech was certain he’d remember someone so visually intriguing, and standing here he was taking the opportunity to study just how complex her features appeared to make her so fascinating. But, he knew there were rude connotations with staring, especially at women.

“Apologies—” Tech told her, reaching out to lift the engine off the bench on the porch she had sat it upon, hoping the weight of it could distract him from the now creeping in guilt at his unintended reaction to studying her features as boldly as he had.

“That is unnecessary.” Her tone remained matter-of-fact. “It is a purely biological response. Men of sexual maturity usually stare at women upon first meeting to assess their suitability for mating purposes.”

Tech knew the statement was accurate. If anything, it was the kind of fact he might have casually inserted into a conversation himself. But knowing it was true and accepting that he was currently at the mercy of his own instincts were two very different things. For once, he found himself at a rare loss for words.

"I've made you uncomfortable," she said, her voice gentle yet knowing, as she noticed the lingering silence. With a slight step forward, she reached out, effortlessly lifting the other side of the heavy engine, helping him slide it inside with ease. Tech couldn’t help but notice the way the muscles of her arm, though slim, tightened as she moved, her strength evident in the graceful motion. There was something almost mesmerizing about how the delicate frame of the woman hid such a quiet, powerful strength.

"No," Tech replied, shaking his head slightly, his tone softening as he turned to face her. "You haven’t. You just... caught me off guard." He offered a faint smile, trying to ease the tension. She didn’t return the smile, instead, her gaze wandered across the interior of his home, taking in the space with quiet observation.

He hadn’t been here long—just a few months at most—and even then, he’d only bothered with the essentials. The walls bore the signs of a hurried repair, the bare minimum to make the place functional again. When Leena had suggested painting over the natural wood beams, he’d quickly declined. He preferred their rough, unaltered beauty over any kind of artificial touch. Instead, she had hung a few of her own paintings as a compromise. But after she’d left to stay with her sister, he’d taken them down. Not out of spite, but because they felt like a reminder of something he wasn’t ready to hold on to. He had turned them face down and tucked them away.

In the far corner, his bed was neatly made, a simple, practical setup. The only real sign of life in the space was the workbench, cluttered with tools and various projects. Otherwise, the room was bare, almost sterile—unadorned with any personal mementos or decoration. He spent most of his time here working, the space merely a place to rest and recharge. He hadn’t seen the point in making it more than that.

Tech couldn’t help but watch as the woman’s attention seemed to deepen, her eyes tracing every detail of the room with a growing sense of awe. Her posture shifted, the casual curiosity transforming into something almost reverent, as though she were witnessing something sacred. It was an odd reaction, one that stirred an unspoken question within him, but he didn’t voice it. Instead, he turned away, walking toward his workbench, his mind already slipping into the familiar rhythm of assessment.

He welcomed the shift in focus, even if it was an unexpected one. Despite the intrusion into his quiet evening, the distraction of repairing her engine was a welcome reprieve. His hands itched to get to work, to twist, tighten, and fix. It was something he had always excelled at—tinkering, problem-solving, creating order from chaos. The hum of machines and the precise motions of working with his hands had always been a balm for his restless mind.

As he stood before the workbench, setting his tools into place, a sense of calm washed over him. Here, in this space, he didn’t have to think about anything beyond the task at hand. There was comfort in the simplicity of it, the clarity that came with focusing solely on the work. And for tonight, that was enough. He would fix her engine, quiet the constant whirl of thoughts in his head, and let the hum of mechanical precision anchor him.

"You mentioned that you don’t often come upon land," he said, his voice casually probing, though there was a subtle undercurrent of genuine curiosity. He had noticed her mannerisms, the quiet confidence in the way she moved, the calmness that radiated from her despite the uncertainty in her eyes. There was something magnetic about her, a presence that intrigued him in ways he couldn’t fully explain. He found himself wanting to know more, eager to uncover the layers beneath the surface. The island was small, and his isolation felt even more acute with every passing day. Meeting someone new, someone like her, might be the distraction his disoriented mind desperately needed. He had to admit, he was craving a connection.

It wasn’t lost on him how the people here had aligned themselves with Leena, leaving him feeling like an outsider in his own world. Her departure had shifted things in ways he hadn’t expected, and as much as he tried to focus on his work, there was a hollow sense of loneliness gnawing at him. He was more than just a little intrigued by this woman, but he also couldn’t help but feel the weight of his own solitude. He needed something or someone to fill that space, even if just for a moment, to help him regain some sense of balance.

He waited, watching her closely, as if hoping for some sort of sign—an opening, a clue to the story she carried with her. Her response, when it came, was measured, but there was something in her voice that suggested she wasn’t used to speaking of herself openly.

"I don’t," she replied softly, her eyes briefly scanning the horizon outside before she turned back to meet his gaze. "I prefer the open water. There’s more freedom out there."

Her words were quiet, but there was a depth to them that caught his attention. Freedom. She said it as though it meant something much more than just physical space—like it was a lifeline, a choice that had shaped her in ways he couldn’t yet understand.

He nodded slowly, his curiosity deepening. "That must be… quiet,” he filled in the gaps. She preferred isolation, as did he. He didn’t mean to impose too much into the brief explanation he’d been gifted.

"It is," she hummed, stepping closer to the workbench as she watched him carefully remove the cover to reveal the intricate mechanics beneath. Her gaze followed each of his movements with quiet interest, her posture poised, almost as though she were taking mental notes. "I’d like to learn how to fix it, if you don’t mind showing me," she continued, her voice steady but with a note of earnestness. "I’m a fast learner, I assure you."

There was something in her tone—an unwavering self-assurance, mixed with a quiet determination—that resonated with him. It wasn’t just the request itself, but the way she framed it, as though she was accustomed to taking things into her own hands. The insistence on self-sufficiency, the desire to acquire knowledge—it was something he recognized, something familiar. It reminded him of himself, in many ways.

He paused for a moment, watching her carefully. There was a sharpness in her eyes that spoke of a mind that didn’t settle for surface-level answers. It made him wonder about her life before this—what kind of work did she do? She certainly didn’t strike him as the type to spend her days on a fishing boat. No, there was an intelligence about her, a kind of quiet brilliance that seemed out of place in the simple life of a fisherwoman.

As he considered it, he found himself intrigued—what else lay beneath her calm exterior? What had shaped her into this woman, standing here now, asking to learn the very thing he was most skilled at? There was a story there, one he couldn’t help but want to uncover.

“I don’t mind at all,” he said, his voice steady as he continued working, his focus shifting briefly to her. “It’s not often I get the chance to share my skills with a willing observer.” He noticed the way she relaxed, her shoulders easing from the tightness they’d held moments before, and it felt like a small victory.

It was then that it struck him—he hadn’t actually learned her name, nor had he shared his. A faint sense of awkwardness flickered in him. “Tech,” he said simply, almost as though it were enough explanation. She paused, her eyebrow arching in quiet disbelief. “I beg your pardon?”

The question caught him off guard, and in the dim light of the workbench lantern, he finally took in the full clarity of her features. He had been too absorbed in the task at hand, but now, noticing her expression more closely, he saw that her eyes were in fact distinctly different from one another—one a deep brown, the other a striking shade of blue.

"My name is Tech," he clarified, his tone a bit more deliberate now as he watched her reaction. He could see the confusion in her gaze shift into something closer to understanding, her posture softening further as she absorbed the answer.

“I suppose pleasantries were not properly exchanged,” she said, her voice softening slightly as she spoke, a touch of self-awareness creeping into her words. “Apologies. I’m not exactly skilled at handling... that side of human interaction, the way most people seem to manage so effortlessly.”

As she spoke, Tech caught the faintest flicker of something in her expression—an almost imperceptible hint of embarrassment, lingering in her eyes and the way she looked away briefly, as if she were retreating from her own vulnerability. It was a rare thing to witness, this crack in the calm exterior she had so carefully maintained, and for a moment, it made her seem less like the composed figure standing before him and more like someone who, despite her quiet strength, was still working out the nuances of human connection, same as him.

“I understand,” Tech said, offering a small nod. “It’s not a strength I possess, either.”

She didn’t elaborate further, and he didn’t press her to. After all, what more could be said on the matter? The silence between them stretched comfortably for a moment as she glanced down at his work, her focus sharp as she examined the mechanics with quiet interest.

“Marina,” she said at last, her voice softer now, as though sharing something personal.

“Your name, I presume,” Tech replied with a small, rhetorical smile, though his words carried a hint of curiosity beneath their casual tone.

“Yes.” She moved a little closer then, just enough to peer over his shoulder at his work without encroaching too much on his space. It was an act of quiet observation, and yet, he couldn’t help but be acutely aware of the subtle shift in proximity. Her presence seemed to fill the room in ways that made the air feel warmer, and he could feel the heat of her skin against his, even through the layers of his sweater. An odd, fleeting sense of discomfort stirred within him.

He felt the sudden urge to shed his sweater, as though it were too much to bear, the warmth of the room and her nearness intensifying that familiar restlessness. Without thinking much of it, he pulled the garment off, tossing it aside and adjusting his undershirt to cover his torso more comfortably.

“Fitting name for someone who spends all their time on the water,” he said, his voice drifting back into casual conversation. Small talk wasn’t unfamiliar to him, particularly with the way people had interacted with him over the years. The banter, though often fleeting, filled the spaces between moments like these.

“It is,” she agreed, her voice almost flat. “Just as Tech seems to suit someone who works with mechanics.”

Her words were pointed, but not unkind. There was a dry humor in them that Tech could appreciate, the way she spoke as though the names weren’t just labels, but something that defined their purpose. The banter, brief as it was, felt oddly comfortable, like two people who had learned the unspoken rules of conversation without the need to over explain.

Tech glanced at her briefly, a faint smile still tugging at his lips from their exchange. The humor was subtle, but it was enough to lighten the air between them. He found himself curious, though—there was something intriguing about her. In the quiet moments of their conversation, he could tell she was more than she let on. Her directness, the way she carried herself, and even the way she observed everything with such intent spoke volumes.

As his hands continued to work on the engine, his gaze drifted to her once more, still absorbed in her quiet inspection. Something in the back of his mind nudged him forward, pushing him to ask a question that had been lingering.

"So," he began, his tone soft but deliberate, as though he were testing the waters. "What is it that you do, Marina?"

The question was casual enough, but there was an edge of curiosity in his voice. Her name had already begun to unfold something deeper—like a thread that, once pulled, could lead to something more. He was reluctant to pry, but he couldn’t help himself. There was a spark in her that made him want to know more about her, what drove her, what she did when she wasn’t here, observing the inner workings of machines.

She didn’t answer immediately, and for a second, he wondered if the question was too forward. But when she finally spoke, her voice was calm, her words measured.

"I… work on the water," Marina said, her eyes never leaving the engine as she spoke, though a small, almost imperceptible smile played at the corner of her lips. There was something about her quiet confidence that intrigued him, but it was the weight of her words that caught his full attention. "I study wildlife—mostly marine life—to ensure that fishermen maintain healthy, sustainable fishing practices for each species. Pabu is a small island. We can’t afford to deplete our resources, not like other places might be able to. If we’re not careful, we could fish a species to extinction without even realizing it." Her voice softened as she spoke, and the distant look in her eyes suggested she cared deeply for the work she did. "There has to be balance. My hope is that the research I do can shed light on the species that inhabit our waters—how they interact with each other, what they need to thrive, and ultimately, how we can be better stewards of their environment."

Tech listened intently, absorbing her words. He had heard murmurs before—brief conversations between his brothers about the importance of respecting nature’s balance. He remembered Crosshair’s annoyance at a woman who had scolded him and the others for fishing in the same spot too often, but he had never really considered the logic behind it, at least not fully. Now, hearing Marina speak with such conviction, the reason behind her frustration became clear.

Her work was essential, perhaps more so than he had initially realized. The weight of responsibility she carried in ensuring the island’s natural balance didn’t falter resonated deeply with him. As she spoke, Tech found himself thinking of the other inhabitants of the island, many of whom likely viewed the ocean as a source of food and nothing more—never thinking about the long-term consequences of their actions. But Marina? She was thinking about the big picture. The long game. She saw the fragility of their existence, and more importantly, she was doing something about it.

“That is very sensible,” he said, his voice earnest. "Not many people have the scientific mind to think of things like that—to look beyond the surface and understand the ripple effects. It’s easy to just take what’s in front of you and not consider how it impacts the world around you."

Marina’s eyes shifted briefly to meet his, and for the first time, Tech saw something like a soft spark in her gaze—perhaps even a hint of appreciation for his words. She didn’t respond right away, instead letting his statement hang in the air between them as she considered it. When she spoke again, her tone was quieter, reflective.

"It’s hard," she admitted, a small trace of vulnerability creeping into her voice. "People don’t always understand why it’s important. They see the fish, they see the catch, and they only think about today. But they don’t see the big picture—the long-term effects that overfishing, pollution, or mismanagement can have on our waters and our way of life."

Tech nodded, his hands still moving idly over the engine, but his thoughts now occupied with the weight of her words. He understood the drive to protect the fragile balance of things. He had spent most of his life in a similar way—fixing things, repairing the unseen problems, ensuring that things worked in harmony. It was not all that different from what she did.

He gave her a thoughtful glance. "It’s a necessary fight, I imagine. But I can see how it might get lonely, standing on the edge of something so important and watching others not fully grasp its significance."

She didn’t answer at first, but the way her gaze softened and her posture relaxed just a little suggested he wasn’t entirely off the mark. After a beat, she spoke, her voice quieter now, almost wistful. "I’ve learned to be patient. Most people won’t get it right away, and that’s okay. What matters is that I keep pushing for it. For the future." She paused, then added, her tone firm once more, "The ocean has its own rhythm, its own cycle. If we don’t respect that, we’ll lose it. And we’ll lose ourselves along with it."

Tech stood in silence for a moment, absorbing the gravity of her words. There was a certain weight to the responsibility she carried, one that made him think of the work he did in a new light. In his world, the pieces often needed fixing because they had been neglected or overlooked. He hadn’t considered before how Marina’s world, too, was one of repair—only the damage was less obvious, and the cost of ignoring it was far greater.

“I think you’re doing important work,” he said at last, his voice low but steady. "You’re not just maintaining things; you’re preserving them. That’s not something most people even consider."

Marina gave him a small, grateful smile, the warmth in her expression making her seem more human, more approachable. It was a rare thing to see, and for a brief moment, Tech felt the isolation of his own existence shift just slightly. Maybe, just maybe, there were people out there who understood what it felt like to be on the outskirts while trying to contribute as much as possible.

“I’m glad to hear someone understands,” Marina said with a quiet, appreciative smile. "It’s not exactly something that goes over well with most people. I’ve been called just about every insult under the sun at this point.” Her tone was almost detached as she spoke, like these words, these judgments, were merely facts of life—inevitable, unimportant things that didn’t carry the weight of emotion for her. There was a certain strength in the way she carried herself, a level of indifference to the opinions of others that Tech couldn’t help but admire. She had mastered the art of dismissing negativity without letting it touch her.

Tech’s gaze flickered down to his clothes, and he was reminded once again that he was still wearing his dress pants. The realization hit him that, given the nature of the task ahead, these pants were woefully unsuitable for the kind of hands-on work he was about to do. He needed something more comfortable—something that wouldn’t restrict his movements or get ruined in the process. He had become accustomed to the simplicity of more casual attire, the kind that let him move freely and focus entirely on the task at hand. The dress pants, with their stiff fabric, felt like an obstacle, especially in a situation like this. On top of that, his glasses kept slipping down his nose, something that was becoming increasingly frustrating as he worked. He missed his goggles, which fit more securely and didn’t distract him from the task at hand.

“If you don’t mind,” he began, pausing as he considered his words. “I’d prefer to change into something more suitable for a complex repair like this one—” He trailed off as he caught a quick glimpse of her reaction. It was subtle, but he noticed her slight flinch, a reflexive shift in her posture as if she had misinterpreted his words for something else.

“I can come back later, if this is a bad time,” she offered, immediately backpedaling, clearly thinking she might have overstepped. “I shouldn’t have barged in on your evening like this—”

“No, that’s not the issue,” Tech cut in gently, his voice softening. He realized that he had inadvertently made her feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to such delicate dynamics, especially when it came to interactions like this. "It’s just… fabric like this," he said, gesturing vaguely to his formal attire, "it’s overwhelming, and I prefer to be in something that doesn’t distract me. Something more comfortable." He hoped his explanation would make sense. It wasn’t so much the idea of changing—it was the sensation of being too confined by his clothes, the lack of freedom. The weight of them made everything feel more intense, and he didn’t want to be distracted while focusing on the repair.

Her gaze softened in response to his words, and he noticed the tension that had lingered in her posture ease away. She regarded him for a moment, silent and thoughtful, as though weighing his explanation, before giving a slow, measured nod. “I see. That makes sense,” she said quietly.

Tech offered her a small, almost grateful smile in return, his appreciation for her understanding more evident now. With a brief glance towards a storage cabinet near the wall, he turned away, preparing to step out of the room. Realizing he needed a moment to change, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her a polite warning before he left. She didn’t raise her eyes from her inspection of the workspace but nodded in acknowledgement, her attention still fixed on the task at hand.

Tech hesitated at the door before leaving, reluctant to leave her alone, even though he knew it was unnecessary to feel that way truthfully. He didn’t particularly worry about her being alone in his humble space; the concern was more about her comfort. He understood how strange it could feel to be left alone in someone else’s environment. There was always that subtle sense of displacement, a quiet discomfort that could arise in such moments. He wanted to minimize that for her, even if it was just a small consideration.

Besides, the pressing need for more comfortable attire was calling out to him with every step he took away from the room. The confines of his dress pants felt like an increasingly oppressive reminder that he wasn’t quite in the right element for the task at hand.

Tech moved quickly as he stepped into the small bathroom. The soft hum of the wall light faintly in his ears as he undressed with practiced efficiency, eager to slip into something more practical. As he pulled his shirt off and changed into a simple pair of worn, comfortable trousers and a faded t-shirt, his eyes caught something on the bathroom shelf—a glint of metal, faint but unmistakable. It was his wedding band.

He paused for a moment, his hand hovering over the small shelf, fingers lingering near the familiar, weathered ring. The silver had dulled over time, the once-brilliant shine now softened with wear. Dings in the metal he hadn’t bothered to buff out, and the green stone in the center. He hadn’t worn it in a while—hadn’t needed to, not after everything had unraveled. Yet, there it sat, a relic of a past life. The sharp pang in his chest was fleeting but sharp, a reminder of what once was, of who he had been before everything had changed. He set it down gently, almost reverently, before turning away, the old memories already slipping back into their place, tucked away in the corners of his mind.

Returning to the room, he found Marina still standing near the workbench, but her attention had shifted. She was now examining something with quiet interest on the wall. She was standing in front of one of the wooden beams, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of initials carved into the wood. Tech paused in the doorway, watching her for a moment. The initials were old, worn smooth by time, but the marks were still legible—two letters carved deeply into the beam. He recognized them instantly: K + M

A strange, quiet tension filled the air between them, and he could feel the weight of the moment settle heavily around him. His chest tightened, but he said nothing, allowing her the space to observe as she continued to trace the letters, her fingers moving over them like she was seeking something, and he wondered why she bothered in the first place.

Tech cleared his throat, stepping fully into the room, his gaze flicking from the initials to her face. He forced a small, neutral smile as he moved past her to the workbench. "They’ve been there for a long time," he replied. "Before I got here." She jumped slightly, surprised at his return it seemed as she withdrew her hand from the beam, though her gaze lingered for just a moment longer. The quiet stillness in the room grew, the weight of unsaid words hanging thick in the air.

He shifted uncomfortably, the silence pressing in on him. "I—" he began, but the words stalled in his throat. "It’s nothing of importance and no reason to mention," he finished, hoping the explanation would be enough to let the subject slip away, even if he wasn’t quite sure how to move past it himself.

Marina didn’t press him. Instead, she gave him a small, respectful nod, clearly sensing the personal nature of the moment. "I am curious," she said simply, and for the first time since arriving she actually inquired something from him.

“I just felt wrong covering them up. My uh…” he trailed off, uncertain how to drop the information. Given her responses so far, he doubted she would be that judgemental, but a part of him liked the idea of not divulging his recent split. This was likely one of the only non-partial parties left on the island to his recent divorce, and something made him apprehensive to lose the nonbias so quickly. Ultimately her questioning gaze won out and he continued, “My ex wife wanted to carve over them.”

Her gaze didn’t falter, but there was a subtle shift in her posture, something softer and almost surprised at his explanation. The quiet respect she showed was exactly what he had needed, and for a moment, it felt like she truly understood without needing to say a word. The silence stretched for a beat longer, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was a new kind of space between them—something unspoken but mutual.

“Why didn’t you?” she asked, her voice soft but curious. It was a simple question, and yet it carried a weight that felt different than the judgmental questions he had grown accustomed to.

Tech glanced at the initials one more time before returning his gaze to her, a small sigh escaping him. “Because some things… some things don’t need to be erased. And-.”

The weight of the words hung between them, filling the room with an unspoken understanding. For a moment, neither of them spoke again. Tech felt the silence stretch longer than he expected, the air thick with the weight of his confession. The words he had shared about his past, his marriage, and his pain, left him feeling exposed, though only for a fleeting moment. But there was something else—something he hadn’t told anyone. Something that he wasn’t sure he was ready to share..

The secret had been buried deep inside him, a hidden truth that only came to light in the quiet isolation of this house. As he sifted through the remains left by the previous occupants of the house, Tech had stumbled upon something unexpected. A leather-bound journal, weathered and worn, but still intact. It had been tucked away on a shelf, half-hidden behind a stack of old tools.

Out of curiosity, he had opened the journal, and the first few pages revealed something that caught him off guard—a detailed, intricate set of mechanical drawings. The owner of the house, it seemed, was a man of remarkable skill. Sure, Tech was already adept at repairing machines, his mind well-versed in schematics and blueprints, but this was different. This man didn’t just fix what was already built—he created. He designed new, innovative machines from scratch, his ideas flowing seamlessly from his mind to paper. It was a talent that Tech recognized immediately—a raw, untapped genius in engineering that left him both awestruck and envious.

As he flipped through the pages, Tech realized that this man was no mere technician; he was a creator, a visionary in the truest sense of the word. Some people were born with the ability to craft new things, to see the world not as it was, but as it could be. The way this man’s thoughts were captured on the pages of his journal spoke to a brilliance Tech could only dream of. The drawings were so precise, so full of life, each one reflecting a mind that worked differently from his own.

But then, in the midst of all the mechanical designs, Tech came across something unexpected. Scattered among the diagrams were pages filled with scribbles—small notes, seemingly disconnected thoughts, memories, or musings. As he read through them, Tech began to understand that this man wasn’t just brilliant with machines—he had a heart full of passion, too. The romanticism in his words was undeniable.

One entry stood out to him more than the others:

Snow rested upon the steadfast earth in waves of crowning glory, soft and deep, Moonlight and the sea entwined in her gaze, where secrets gently sleep. A heart I hold, with love so tender, cherished in silence, pure and steep. Beneath the heavens’ gentle sway, the winds do whisper, soft and clear, Of fleeting dreams that dusk betrays, yet in her eyes, they reappear. The stars, like beacons, burn so bright, yet pale beside her presence here. The night, adorned in velvet dark, holds whispers of a love untold, Where time itself forgets to mark the moments as our hearts unfold. In her embrace, a warmth so kind, a solace deeper than the cold. Oh, let the snow fall ever more, a canvas pure for love’s design, For in her gaze, I see the shore where sea and sky in rapture twine. And in that gaze, I find my soul, forever bound, forever thine.

The man had written these lines next to a diagram for a new pulley system. The juxtaposition of beauty and logic, of creativity and practicality, baffled Tech. How could someone be so incredibly emotionally, artistically, and intellectually gifted all at once? It was a quality Tech had never fully understood, and yet it stirred something deep inside him.

As he read more of the journal, something shifted within him. His mind wandered back to his own life, to his relationship with Leena. In the early days, he had believed what he was feeling was love. But as time wore on, the truth became clearer—what he had mistaken for love was, in fact, a complicated mix of attraction and curiosity. The man who had written in that journal, though—he had something deeper. That was love. True love. The kind of love that transcended the mundane, the kind that grew between two people who understood each other at their core.

Tech had never felt that way about Leena. The more he reflected, the more he realized the misalignment in their marriage. There had always been a part of him that knew something was missing, something vital that wasn’t there. He had tried to fill the void with material things, with a change of scenery, with the hope that a new house, a fresh start, would fix everything. But it hadn’t.

He hadn’t understood it at the time, but now, after reading the journal, he saw it for what it truly was. He had been holding on to the idea of love, but he had never really known it. Not until he read the words of someone who had truly experienced it. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

That was why he had gotten so angry when Leena had suggested covering up the initials carved into the wood. They were more than just letters etched into a beam—they were a testament to something real, something that existed long before he had arrived. Love had been in these walls, in the house itself, long before he came to claim it as his own. To erase those marks, to wipe away the evidence of something genuine, would have been a violation—a moral boundary he couldn’t cross.

The initials, K and M, were a mystery he hadn’t solved yet, but he felt a deep obligation to respect them, to honor whoever they had been. He had no illusions about who they might have been, but he imagined them as an older couple, perhaps, whose love had lasted a lifetime before death had taken them away. They had left behind something priceless, something Tech could never hope to replace. In some strange way, he owed it to them—and to himself—to respect the depth of their bond by leaving the initials.

As he stood there, feeling the weight of Marina’s gaze on him once again, searching for the unspoken reason behind his decision to leave the initials intact, Tech found himself caught in a moment of hesitation. The question lingered in the air between them, but something in her eyes made him reconsider his instinct to retreat further into silence. Perhaps it was time to let someone in, even if that someone was a stranger. For once, sharing his thoughts—no matter how raw or uncomfortable—might offer him a sense of relief. The words he had kept buried were only making him feel restless and untethered. And Marina, unlike anyone else on this island, had no ties to the chaos of his past or any allegiance to the people who had once been a part of it. There was no judgment here—no baggage. Only the space to speak freely.

He exhaled slowly, his voice coming out quieter than he expected. "I found a journal when I first began to repair this abandoned house. It was the property of the previous owner. And when I read through his writing, it felt wrong—wrong to cover up something he had etched with love." He paused, searching for the right words. "I admit, I didn’t fully understand the meaning of love until I saw it in his words. The way he expressed it, so openly, so beautifully... It made me realize that what I thought I had known, what I thought I was feeling, wasn’t love at all."

As he spoke, something inside him shifted, like a heavy weight had been lifted ever so slightly. Putting those thoughts into words, even if only for her to hear, felt like a small but significant release. For the first time, he wasn’t just ruminating on the pain in his own mind—he was putting it out there, allowing the space between them to hold it for a moment. The vulnerability wasn’t as frightening as he had anticipated. And maybe, just maybe, sharing it with someone who had no prior knowledge of his life would allow him to make sense of it all.

For a long moment, the silence between them was filled with an unspoken understanding, as though the weight of his confession had silently settled between them. The air felt heavier now, charged with something neither of them could fully articulate. He could sense her hesitation to break the stillness, but eventually, her voice broke through the quiet.

"Would it be... alright if I saw it?" she asked, her tone gentle but laced with curiosity. Her words hung in the air, almost as if she feared he might reject the request, but there was something in her demeanor—something soft yet unwavering—that told him she wasn’t just asking out of idle curiosity. There was a sincerity to her tone, a sense that she held a reverence for people who once occupied this space.

Depending on how long she had been here, Tech realized that perhaps she did know the couple, and could provide him more clarity on them. He gave a slow nod, his fingers instinctively reaching for the drawer where he had tucked the journal away. He opened it carefully, feeling the weight of the leather-bound cover in his hands. Without a word, he handed her the journal, his fingers brushing lightly against hers as he passed it over.

Marina accepted it with quiet reverence, her fingers brushing over the cover before she opened it slowly. Her eyes scanned the first few pages, her brow furrowing slightly as she absorbed the words. It was clear from the subtle change in her expression that she was paying close attention, each line of writing seeming to draw her in deeper. She didn’t speak at first, simply turning the pages with quiet deliberation, as if allowing the emotions within the journal to wash over her in their entirety.

“Oh, Keiron…” she whispered softly, her fingers tracing the delicate script as she flipped through the pages. The name hung in the air like a soft breeze, charged with an emotional weight that both puzzled and intrigued Tech. Keiron. The man who had written all of this—Tech’s first true glimpse into the life and mind of the previous owner. His chest tightened at the realization, the unspoken connection between Marina and this mysterious figure suddenly feeling very real.

For a moment, the world outside the journal seemed to fade away, and all Tech could do was watch as Marina continued to read, her eyes flicking back and forth across the page, the weight of the words pulling her deeper into a place Tech wasn’t sure he had permission to enter.

Keiron

That name lingered in the silence, and Tech’s curiosity got the better of him. His voice broke through the stillness, more tentative than he’d like, but desperate to understand more about the person who had written those words, the man whose mind had so captivated him.

“Did you know the man who lived here?” he asked quietly, the question feeling too blunt, too direct, but his need to know couldn’t be contained any longer.

At the sound of his voice, Marina’s head snapped up, her wide eyes locking onto his with a jolt of shock. Her mouth parted in surprise, and for a moment, the air between them crackled with tension. Then, as if she were physically shaking off the sudden rush of emotion, she blinked rapidly and refocused on him, her composure returning as quickly as it had faltered.

“I would like to hope I did,” she replied simply, her voice steady, but her eyes were guarded, as if her words held more than she was willing to say. Her cryptic response hung in the air, thick with implication, but she didn’t offer more.

Tech’s brow furrowed. He could sense there was more to the statement, something unspoken that she wasn’t ready to share. But what did she mean? The question echoed in his mind, unanswered for now. Did she mean she had known him well, or was her answer steeped in more regret, or perhaps loss? For a moment, the silence stretched between them, thick and loaded with questions.

Marina broke the silence before he could decide, her gaze drifting once again to the wall, focusing on the carved initials. Her eyes softened as she stared at them, and her voice, when it came, was quieter, tinged with an emotion that had been carefully hidden until now.

“We were so young when he insisted on doing that,” she murmured, almost to herself, her fingers once again tracing the patterns on the wall. The words were like a crack in a dam—small, but enough to let the flood of memories surge.

Suddenly, it all made sense to Tech. Her quiet familiarity with the house, the way she had seemed to almost own the space, as if it had once been hers. The way she had observed everything so intently—almost as if she were measuring it, wondering what had changed. The way she had wanted to know about the marks left untouched. It wasn’t just curiosity—it was something personal, something deeper.

M. Marina.

“This was your home once,” Tech spoke softly, stepping closer, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. It was clear to him now, but saying it aloud felt like acknowledging a sacred truth. The house had been hers. The space, the memories, the echoes of love and life—it all belonged to her.

Marina didn’t respond immediately, but her eyes met his again, and with a quiet nod, she confirmed what he had already guessed. Her face was open now, but the layers of emotion she carried were still carefully folded beneath the surface.

“And…” Tech hesitated, not wanting to rush into the next question, yet unable to hold back the final piece of the puzzle. “Keiron?”

Her breath caught, and when she spoke his name this time, it was louder, more certain. The name had power, weight, history. And with it came the quiet ache of a love lost.

“Keiron,” she repeated, her voice thick with memory. Then, without hesitation, she met his gaze fully. “He was my husband.”

Tech’s heart skipped a beat, the depth of her words sinking in like stones in still water. She had been married to Keiron, the man who had crafted the journal, the man whose intimate, tender writings had resonated so strongly with Tech. Now it all made sense—everything from the journal to the carved initials on the wall. The connection, the emotional undertone in her voice when she spoke of him… it wasn’t just the story of a stranger to Tech. It was the story of someone who had once shared his own kind of love with Marina, someone whose presence lingered in the house even now, despite the passage of time.

The silence stretched between them again, but this time it wasn’t oppressive. It was filled with the weight of understanding, a mutual recognition that neither of them had to speak further. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if the house itself, with all its memories, was bearing witness to this quiet exchange.

Marina seemed to struggle for a moment, her lips pressing together as she looked down at her hands, fingers still lightly brushing against the journal’s pages. Tech knew she was far from finished, that there was more buried beneath the surface. But for now, the revelation hung in the air, and neither of them seemed ready to push it any further.

“I’m not entirely sure how to respond,” Tech admitted, his voice steady, though the weight of her words seemed to settle around him, heavier than expected.

“That’s okay,” Marina replied softly, her voice carrying a certain quiet strength, as if she had come to terms with the uncertainty long ago. “No one really knows how to respond, especially when it’s someone like Keiron.” She paused, as if weighing her thoughts carefully before continuing. “Keiron was adored by nearly everyone he met. His energy, his ideas… they captivated people, and they still do, even after all this time.”

She trailed off for a moment, eyes drifting down to the journal in her hands. A brief flicker of something—a mix of longing and sorrow—crossed her face before she refocused, meeting his gaze again. “I was... on the outskirts. I was never a part of that. Not really. I didn’t fit in the way people expected me to.”

There was a quiet vulnerability in her words, something she rarely allowed to show. But now, in the stillness of the room, with the journal in her hands and the memories clearly flooding her mind, it felt as though she could no longer keep the walls entirely intact.

“When Keiron died,” she continued, her voice steady but tinged with something raw, “I... I just wanted to remove myself from all of it. From the well-meaning words, the empty gestures, the apathy thinly disguised as empathy.”

Her gaze hardened slightly, a subtle bitterness creeping into her tone. “Everyone around me acted as though they understood. As though they cared—but I knew better. They were offering their sympathy, but none of them truly saw me. They couldn’t, not in the way I needed them to. So I stepped back. I kept my distance from their hollow kindness.”

Tech listened in silence, his expression softened. Her words carried a weight of grief that she had clearly carried alone for far too long. He could sense the pain behind her detachment, the desire to find some kind of solace away from the world’s expectations. It struck him then, how much she had endured, not just in losing Keiron, but in the isolation she had been left with after his death.

It was a sorrow Tech could understand, in his own way. The loneliness of being misunderstood. The exhaustion of pretending to be okay when everything inside you was breaking apart. The quiet realization that no one could truly fill the spaces left behind. He didn’t know what to say. Words felt insufficient in the face of what she had revealed. But he couldn’t just let the silence stretch between them either, not after hearing her truth.

“I feel like everyone’s silently blaming me for not doing enough to save my marriage,” Tech confessed, his voice quiet but laced with an underlying tension. “It’s as if I could have done more, should have fought harder, but the truth is... the marriage was doomed from the start. We were so fundamentally misaligned. The chaos, the uncertainty, the aftermath of nearly dying myself—it pushed us into a place we never should’ve gone. We tried to force something that was never meant to be.”

He exhaled slowly, as if letting the weight of the words out of his chest might make them easier to bear. “No matter how much I try to explain it, to make them understand that I wasn’t blind to it, that I felt the disconnect from the beginning, I can’t shake the guilt. Guilt for letting myself fall into something I knew wasn’t right, for indulging it, for allowing myself to pretend everything was fine when it was so far from it. But the worst part is… I still feel like it’s all my fault. That somehow, if I’d fought harder, if I’d been someone else, things could’ve been different.”

There was a long pause as he let the silence stretch between them, a quiet that felt oddly heavy, but also a little freeing. Sharing this with Marina wasn’t something he had planned on, but now that he had spoken it aloud, there was a sense of catharsis. He hadn’t realized just how much he was carrying until he voiced it—how much guilt, how much self-blame.

He glanced at Marina, unsure of how she would respond. Sure, he hadn’t lost Leena—she was still out there, still a part of the world. But in the end, he had lost something far more significant in that marriage. He had lost sight of who he was, what he wanted, what he needed. In the process of trying to make it work, he’d buried pieces of himself, sacrificed his identity to fit into a mold that wasn’t his. And when he tried to reclaim that lost part of himself, to become whole again, he had been vilified by those closest to him.

It was a struggle he wasn’t sure anyone could fully understand. How do you explain the complexity of something so personal, so raw, without being judged or misunderstood? How do you explain the self-doubt and the heavy weight of knowing you were both the architect and the casualty of your own mistakes?

Marina’s silence gave him the time he needed to process it all, but also, her quiet presence seemed to make him feel less alone in the weight of it.

“People don’t get it,” he murmured, almost to himself. “They see the end result, the way it fell apart, and they think they understand. But they don’t see the months, the years, the silent erosion of everything you once thought was solid. It’s not just about losing someone; it’s about losing yourself in the process. And when that happens, there’s no easy way back.”

She broke the silence with a lighthearted remark, the sound of her voice easing the tension in the room. "It sounds like you need better friends," she said, placing the journal carefully on the workbench and turning her gaze toward him.

Her attempt to lighten the mood was clear, and Tech found himself quietly grateful for it. The somber conversation had been heavy, and he was relieved to have the atmosphere shift, even if just a little. He let out a soft breath, shaking off the weight of his thoughts. Taking the conversational olive branch, he responded with a hint of a smile, "It sounds like you do as well."

She raised an eyebrow, her tone playful, though there was a quiet intensity to it as she leaned in just slightly. "Is that an offer to fill a vacancy, or is it rhetorical?"

Tech smirked at her response. "Could it not be both?"

"I suppose you’re right," she replied with a soft chuckle, her eyes flicking back to the engine, which they had both been working on for what felt like hours. The work was slow, but there was a certain satisfaction in the process, even if neither of them had made major progress yet.

After a beat of quiet contemplation, Marina shifted slightly, crossing her arms as she looked at him with renewed focus. "How about we make some caf, and burn the midnight oil trying to get this thing running again?" Her voice had softened with resolve. "I meant what I said earlier—I’d like to learn. Keiron, he was always the one better at this kind of thing. I do my best with what I know, but... it would be nice to have the knowledge on my own."

There was a quiet vulnerability in her words, a sincerity that made Tech pause for a moment, taking in the weight of what she was saying. She wasn’t just asking to learn mechanics; she was seeking autonomy, a sense of agency over her own life, something that had been influenced and shaped by the void of someone else for so long. It also sounded like a request for some companionship in their shared loss. Hers much more substantial, but his more raw.

Tech nodded, his gaze softening as he responded. "I think that sounds good. It gets quiet out here, and I wouldn’t mind the company either. I’ll get the pot started, and we can dive back into this mess. And who knows, maybe we’ll even get it running by sunrise."

Marina nodded, her eyes brightening with a flicker of something—perhaps a spark of hope or even a touch of excitement for the night ahead. "We’ll see," she said, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "But I’ll take that challenge."

With that, the silence between them lost its tension. It became a quiet hum of possibility, the gentle rhythm of two people, each in their own way, seeking to make sense of the fragments they held, working toward putting the pieces back together again.

Art but the wonderful @leenathegreengirl!

Next Chapter HERE

Tags

the bad batch leena the green girl legacygirlingreen’s writing pabuverse the bad batch fanfic

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whiskysauers

3 months ago

Tech's Encrypted Files Masterlist

[Initiating connection…] [Connection successful. Transmitting…] Subject: Tech - Personal Journal Entry This transmission marks the beginning of a new phase in my process of self-discovery. The objective is simple: to explore and document my experiences as I prioritize my own well-being for the first time in an extended period. I’ve realized that for much of my life, I’ve operated within predefined roles—first as part of the army and later as a partner to Leena. In doing so, I lost sight of my personal identity, possibly never fully understanding who I was outside of those functions. I now acknowledge that I am entering a phase of recalibration. This space will serve as a log for my journey, an area to process my thoughts and frustrations. I will also address the feelings of alienation I’ve experienced, particularly in light of being the one to initiate the divorce. It is important to clarify that this decision, though difficult, was made after considerable analysis of the emotional status between both parties. The action taken was an effort to end the cycle of mutual discontent. I harbor no ill will towards Leena; rather, I am simply exhausted from repeatedly failing to accommodate her desires while being unable to be myself. I still care deeply for her, but I believe this decision offers her the opportunity for a life without the restraint of my need for structure and isolation. I will also note the recent formation of a new connection with Marina, a widow from Pabu, whose existence I was previously unaware of. This individual has provided a new perspective, and I am inclined to continue exploring this relationship. I look forward to learning from her experiences, particularly in navigating life after the loss of a partner. Despite being a divorcee, I recognize that there are valuable insights Marina can share—insights that may help me understand my own path forward in a similar context. End transmission.

Art

Between Hearts and Ruin Event

Goggle-Eyed

Stories

(All these stories are by @legacygirlingreen)

Between Hearts and Ruin Event \_> I: "Breaking the Silence" \_> II: "Someone New" \_> III: "Spontaneity"

Goggle-Eyed (By @legacygirlingreen)

Data Log Entry 1