Chapter Text
Jake Kadam likes these moments of calm. He’s unlike his mother in that regard – who isn't happy unless she's in a firefight somewhere. He enjoys this rare peace; a brief moment of existence outside of the hard, fractious reality to which he exists, the daily grind of Pandoran life. But he’s found his little pocket of belonging with Ray, Alex and Loady.
He wouldn’t trade it for the all the peace in the world
He’s on sentry tonight, but it doesn’t stop him from tapping his boot to one of his mom’s silly little songs; spurs jingling at his heel to the rhythm in his head. His watch – or rather his father’s watch – is open and placed next to him on the rock. The holographic image of his sister smiles brightly, making a cute gesture for the camera as she glows a cyan hue. She’s kept him company through a few long nightshifts now. It’s become something of a habit to set the watch open next to him while he keeps a sharp eye out for danger. She watches over the watcher, like her namesake.
He hears the crunch of dry gravel behind him, but he doesn’t clip the safety off his rifle. He knows who that is by the sound of their footsteps. Nearby, NoMercy doesn’t even stir.
Loady.
Jake glances over his shoulder as his companion appears out of the dark and steps into the light of the campfire. He gives a half smile at the sight of those two locks of hair arching from the top of her head. He likens them to little antennas. He sometimes imagines grasping the ends between his thumb and forefinger, drawing them downwards then watching them spring back up when he lets them go again.
But he doesn’t, because his mom taught him some manners “Hey."
“Hi,” she replies, and her lips are curled into a soft smile – almost as if she’s glad to see him. It still takes some getting used to.
Jake picks up his watch to make room for her. “Can’t sleep?” he asks. To be fair, who really could? Not with Alek snoring away like a sick Monglet in a shack nearby. Even NoMercy doesn’t make that much noise.
She shakes her head, and the strands bounce with her in a positively endearing way. “No. Too much going on up here,” she replies, tapping her temple as she settles herself onto the rock next to him. She pulls her legs up so she sits, cross-legged upon the stone. That can’t be comfortable.
“And Alek is snoring again,” he says with a raised brow and tone.
He’s learning to read her mouth and voice now, so he feels a little happy rush when her lips twitch with amusement and she laughs. “That too,” Loady says as she leans back on her palms.
The sky stretches above them, surprisingly light considering the time. He’s not even sure why he bothered with a campfire either. It’s warm enough that Loady doesn’t seem feel the cold even in her bardot shirt and overalls.
Jake thumbs the watch chain as she leans over. “Hey, who’s that?” Loady asks as she peers at the photo, as inquisitive as ever. She’s always thinking, always talking, always asking questions about everything she encounters. She seems to race at a five hundred miles an hour, and they all stumble and struggle to catch up. It used to both annoy and exhaust him.
Now he takes comfort in it, which doesn’t make the least bit amount of sense. Funny that. He likes a quiet and easy life, she’s anything but quiet and easy.
Jake thumbs over the smiling face of his sister – the sister he never knew. He wishes he did. “My half-sister, Angel. Jack's daughter,” he admits. It’s the first time he’s mentioned it to anyone. It still feels straight up strange on his tongue.
“Oh.” Loady peers at the photo again, and he can’t help but notice the shapely line of her throat as she tilts her chin slightly. “She’s very pretty,” she comments.
"Yeah, she was."
"Where is she now?"
His fingers curl tighter around the watch. He’s not upset, he tells himself, he’s remorseful. Hard to be upset over someone you have no real emotional attachment to. But he still puzzles over the strange feeling in his chest. “She died. Before I was born.”
There’s a heartbeat or two of silence. “I’m sorry Jake,” Loady replies, her voice just audible over the crackling of firewood.
His stomach tightens. “So am I.”
“Do you…” she pauses for a moment, grasping for her words like she isn’t sure what she’s supposed to say in such a situation. Jake doesn’t even know himself. “…want to talk about it?”
Jake hesitated. He wasn't really isn’t sure if he wants to talk about it. What really is there to say? Other than the fact that his father’s life was completely fucked up. His father is still fucked up, Jake considers. The long absent father is alive again and adjusting to this new Pandora where he’s not a big deal anymore – and his beard.
And Jake should be furious. He knows it. He knows his gut should knot with anger, and he should read the riot act at his father. He knows what he should say, and do.
But he remembers how his dad’s hands trembled as he fixed Jake’s broken tenth birthday present, how his eyes were glassy and shiny like marbles as he spoke about Angel, his baby girl.
And he just can’t.
“No it’s okay. I didn’t really know her."
"Well alright, if you're sure"
"I am…But Loady?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks.”
Her head quirks slightly, hair brushing softly against her shoulders. In the light of his little camp, it’s the colour of fire. “For what?”
“For offerin’…Most people don’t give me the time of day ya know, much less ask me if I want to talk about my dead sister.”
Her mouth tips in a frown. “Why not? You’re a good guy Jake.”
Jake sighs. Apparently for most of Pandora, he wasn’t good enough. “When you have…well, when you have my face, people don’t sing your praises. Don’t matter what you do.”
“Well, I think your face is just fine, and that you’re just fine,” Loady insists, her voice sunny under the stars. His cheeks flush even though he knows he shouldn’t put too much stock in it, because this is Loady and this is just how she is.
But hope is a stubborn dog to put down.
“Heh, at least someone other than my mom thinks so.”Jake presses a button on the side of the watch. Angel’s holo image disappears and she’s replaced with a photo of his parents from their younger days. His father is grinning and making what he probably fondly thinks is a cool gesture to the camera, and his mom has her hands curls in his collar as she plants a kiss against his cheek. They look ludicrously happy - and good - together.
They still do. Even now. He's seen how his mother's eyes seem to glow with concealed affection when his father emerges into their little kitchen; bitching and complaining about how his beard doesn't suit him, and the sunglasses he has to wear to hide his recognisable eyes aren't the least bit cool. Handsome Jack brings her a brightness that Jake can't even begrudge. She's given sixteen years to raising him, protecting him - all while mourning the loss of his father.
Loady notches her glasses up slightly as she cranes close to him again. “Is that your mom?"
"Yeah."
"She hasn't aged at all," Loady comments.
"No she really hasn't," Jake replies. The photo must have been taken when his mom was barely twenty one. Sixteen years later and she still doesn't look a day over thirty. He hopes he'll age as well as his mom.
She glances at him. He can tell by the way her chin tilts just so. "You know, you look like her."
That comment goes straight into his heart and he can't respond for a moment. He's never been anything but 'Handsome Jack's son'. He's never been allowed to imagine anything else. Pandora won't let him.
"You think so?" he asks, and he hopes she doesn't catch the initial croak in his voice.
"Yeah." She peers at the grinning photo of his parents. "Your mom very pretty too,” Loady continues, oblivious to the gravity of her comment. It's just as well.
So are you, he thinks because he isn’t brave enough to say it.