Chapter Text
—-
This room, with its four metal walls and sparse furniture, the memory of screams are held in it.
Grace's hands shake, her ears ring, and all she can do is stare at the ceiling, stare in front of her. Maybe if enough time passes, if she stares long enough, it will all simply go away. Go back to how it was, before.
"Ms. Augustine?"
She shakes her head, raises one of her hands to her mouth, pulls down and let's her jaw go slack.
She can barely hear whoever is speaking- voice are hazy, the world is spinning. The memory of her sister screaming-
"Grace. Grace, come on," a man says, and she suddenly registers the hand on her shoulder.
"What, Max?" she snaps, wanting nothing more than the sink into the floor.
"The baby.." a woman starts, and Grace gasps and shakes her head. She can't. She can't do it. She's weak, she can barely keep herself upright. "Please," the woman whispers, and the bundle in her arms let's out a small cry.
Grace had already raged, screamed and thrown, and now she wishes to sit and wallow in the emptiness that threatens to swallow her.
"That baby deserves a family, Grace. And you're the only family she has left. Don't- don't do this."
A storm swirls inside her, the memory of her sister, the future that her baby is. Grace's niece. A piece of her, a piece of her sister.
"Give-" she starts, but her voice catches. "Give her to me. Give her to me."
The baby is a grounding weight in her arms, and she bats away the hands that try to help her. She doesn't need them. She needs herself. But maybe she's been spilling over a bit too much, been working too hard. She needs an outlet, a place to pour out her energy.
"She looks like you," Max whispers, and Grace has the strength to open her eyes.
She scoffs. "No. She looks like her."
—-
"Grace," he says, and she is still hazy, still trapped in the fog. All she can do is look at the baby in her arms, raise one of her hands to trace her face. "We-we have a birth certificate, if you know what you want-"
"I know," Grace snaps, tired of being under minded and treated like glass. She's not glass. She's fucking steel, and everyone in this forsaken base will know.
But, Max is her friend. "Sorry," she mumbles, eyes lifting to meet his.
"It's okay." He doesn't comfort her, doesn't smile, simply shifts and places the paper and pen on the coffee table next to her. "Whenever you're ready." he says, but Grace knows she'll never be ready.
She waits until he leaves, then she holds the baby tight in one hand, unfurls the paper. Everything is filled out. Except for the name, and a place for her signature.
Max was right. This baby deserves to be around family, right? And she's the only family left. She has to do this, has to give the baby this, give her sister this.
She puts the end of the pen in her mouth, uncaps in angrily, shuffling the baby. She sniffles, and Grace stops, stays still until the baby calms. She mutters a curse under her breath.
“If I had a baby," her sister mutters, tapping her fingers, "I would name her Y/N.”
Grace flinches at the memory, but forces it down.
"Y/N…” she says, liking the way the name feels. "Y/N." She writes the name down, thinks that this is no trouble. Until-
Middle name, the line reads, and Grace knows it's optional. Knows she doesn't have too.
She writes it down anyways.
Y/N should have a piece of her mother.
—-
"Why did you have to die?" Grace mumbles, feeling the baby cough against her again. She looks down, fondly. "Tired yourself out? All done crying?"
Then, as if she heard her, the baby starts crying again. Softer, this time, like a call, like she's missing something. Someone.
"I know, I know, I know," Grace repeats, "I miss her too, I know."
She stands, bouncing the baby like she's supposed to, right? She thinks she knows that. Saw it, somewhere. Maybe in one of those baby books her sister was obsessed with.
She stops in front of the one framed photo in the room. She thought about smashing it. But the baby should know what her mom looked like, right?
"Why did you die, Josephine? Why the fuck did you die?"
—-
"Aunt Grace, will you tell me that story again?"
Grace sighs as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed, soft pink bedsheets ruffling.
"Sure," she smiles, even though she's sure that YIN has it memorized by now.
Y/N smiles so brightly, looking so much like her mother, and Grace has to bite her lip as she pulls up the cover to her neck.
"Okay, now. So there was this woman, right? Her name was Josephine, but everyone called her Josie. She was kind and smart and all those amazing things that everyone says about everyone- but she really was. She was so kind, flowers bloomed for her and all that. She was smart, won all these fancy awards that didn't mean much. She was one of the first scientists to come to Pandora, too. Josie loved Pandora. She loved the plants and the wildlife, and she loved the Na’vi. But there was something she loved above all else- a man named Martin. He was a solider, strong and brave, all those things. They loved each other a lot, and eventually, Josie became pregnant. Everyone was so happy for her, but no one was happier than her and Martin. Then, one day, Martin was helping Josie in the woods, because she loved to try and find new plants-"
Y/N gasps and pulls the covers over her mouth, but leaves her eyes peeking out over the top. Grace can't stop the laugh that pours from her lips.
"Shh, Aunt Grace, keep going, keep going!"
"There was an angry thanator that came out of nowhere. Martin fought bravely, but he ended up getting hurt. Josie cried when as she pulled his head into her lap, but Martin could only smile. When she asked him why, he said that he had saved her and their baby. That was most important. Josie was sad for months and months, until her baby came. It was hard, losing Martin, but she did it, for her baby. Then, they lived happily ever after, or whatever crap you like.”
Y/N let's the blankets drops, smiles wide and let's out a relieved laugh, even though she already knew what was going to happen.
"Okay;" Grace sighs, doing her final check of the room, her mental list. Teeth brushed, pajamas on, story done. "It's late. Time for you to go to bed, baby."
"Okay," Y/N groans, drawing out the word and throwing her head back with a smile. "But I- Aunt Grace,"
"What is it?" Grace asks, taking her hand. Her smile falls, and she looks down at the sheets mournfully.
"Am I kind and smart? Pretty, like Josie?"
"Oh," Grace breathes, her smile softening. "Yes, of course you are, why wouldn't you think that?"
"I don't know," she mumbles, chin tucked to her chest. "I just... I wanna be like Josie. My middle name is Josephine, so I should be like her, right?"
"You are." Grace squeezes her hand. "You're smart and kind, and I'm not just saying it because I love you. I'm saying it because I know it."
She sighs, eyes meeting Grace's. "You really know so?"
"I know," Grace smiles. She places her finger on Y/N's chin, making her smile. “You're a lot like Josie. You've got a little piece of her in you, ya' know."
She thinks for a moment, processing, before she smiles and tucks herself into the covers again.
"Thank you, Aunt Grace. Goodnight, I love you."
"Love you too, baby."
—-