Tunes-Giving Event: Echo/Aiko (NOV 28)

OC Commission: Doc! (Shoutout to @leenabb104104)

Ignoring that I literally lied about having that next chapter out soon, I recently commissioned a lovely artist for some art of my OC Doc in Calling All Skeletons! Here she is!

AAAAA I LOVE MY GIRL SO MUCH!!!! GO GIVE @leenabb104104 ALL THE LOVE! SHE IS AMAZING!!!

"I have her! ...I lost a few men in the process, but I would have gladly paid a hundred times that number for such a prize."

#MYSTober day 9: Rebellion.

April 5, 2063

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

Baldur's Gate, but they're all ensigns on a Galaxy-class starship

Tunes-Giving Event: Crosshair/Kay (NOV 24)

It’s difficult to prioritize yourself when your entire life has always been shared with someone else. For both Crosshair and Kayden, learning to break free from the shadows of the past and allow their true selves to emerge isn’t an easy task. Crosshair struggles to heal from his trauma, while Kayden has always lived in the background, overshadowed by her twin sister. But as they each navigate the changing dynamics brought on by their siblings' blossoming romance, they begin to discover something unique and meaningful in the friendship they’re building. 

This collection of songs captures the hope, fear, uncertainty, and deep connection between Crosshair and Kayden. With a mix of energetic tracks for their brighter moments and tender ballads for their quieter times, these songs reveal how both characters shine in their own way—finding strength, solace, and a sense of belonging in each other’s company.

The experience of survival is the key

To the gravity of love

Looking at you, holding my breath

For once in my life, I'm scared to death

I'm taking a chance, letting you inside

the stars may be fallin'

I'm still coming for you

I love this feeling

But I hate this part

I wanted this to work so much

Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place

Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace

Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste

It all revolves around you

Meet Kayden! 

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

"Lady by the Sea" (1/2) || Tech x OC Marina || NSFW

Author's Note: Hi friends! I wanted to pop in briefly before this one with a few important reminders. This is part of of a larger AU created by my friend @leenathegreengirl and I. Decisions have been and will always be agreed upon mutually, including the way this story was written. As always, she is responsible for the beautiful cover art (full image at the bottom of the text). Additionally, I'd like to take the time to remind readers that I am an autistic adult. I have been diagnosed since I was a young child - shocking since I was a child during the early 2000s when most doctors believed that cases of autism in girls was virtually non existent/only presented in the stereotypical representation of males. And while I'm not trying to reopen the debate on if Tech is/isn't autistic and/or a good representation of autism, I will continue to write him with those tendencies. There are many things I see in myself (and how it manifests for myself personally) in his canon character. Same can be said for how I write Marina. So I wanted to provide some explanation for those who maybe don't have much up close experience with autism. This installment does include stimming. Stimming can be done for a variety of reasons and look different for every person. I stim when I am nervous. I stim when I am angry. I stim when I am happy and the variety of each of those actions differs depending on how I need to regulate my emotions. "Happy stimming" can look different from person to person, but a common form of this is flapping one's hands/arms. I, admittedly struggled to put this action into words and when discussing it with my real life partner he did express that while the body language itself may appear awkward (the movement can look a bit stiff), he still finds it endearing as a person who loves and respects me. I am sure when you reach that portion, you will understand what I am referring to. Additionally, the concept of masking is described in this. While I did not blatantly use words like 'stimming' or 'masking', please note that I hoped to convey these in a way that shows how they act in reality. Autistic people usually learn to mask their more physical manifestations in order to fit in. I am no exception. So when writing this piece it did become a bit cathartic to express Tech learning to overcome 'masking' as he views Marina expressing her own stims without fear or worry. Anyways, I hope that these concepts come across alright - I do struggle to put my experiences as a person who's been diagnosed even after all this time. But I am more than happy to continue the conversation with anyone wanting to know more. Thanks for reading this slightly longer note/disclaimer. Also, this will have a part 2 I plan to get up next Tuesday! Happy Reading, M

Pairing: Tech x OC Marina

Rating: NSFW

Word Count: 13.3k

Warnings: mentions of nudity, mentions of passionate embraces, mentions of slight childhood bullying, brief mentions of divorce/widowhood

Summary: Tech accompanies his new friend with examining a deep sea fish migration and gets more than he bargained for...

Masterlist | Tech's Encrypted Files | Previous | Next (Coming Soon!)

Tech immersed himself in all material he could find about the mōlī fish migrations, reading up on every documented detail ahead of the evening. All Marina had mentioned was that the creatures surfaced near Pabu’s beaches only once every few years, and that the event itself was a spectacle worth witnessing. That alone piqued his interest—deep-sea fish capable of rising to the surface was an extraordinary phenomenon, especially considering that the pressure of the ocean only shifted enough to allow such a migration in a rare, cyclical pattern.

The fish’s ability to glow with their own internal light as they navigated the depths was both scientifically fascinating and naturally awe-inspiring. To say that Tech was intrigued was an understatement. His mind, always attuned to the marvels of biology and the natural world, buzzed with the possibilities of what he might learn from observing such a rare event.

Ever since that day when Marina had acknowledged his appearance, Tech had begun to feel something strange whenever she was near. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was certainly unfamiliar—an unexpected shift in his usual equilibrium. At times, his heart would race, an irregular thudding in his chest that caught him off guard. His palms would sweat, an odd dampness that seemed to appear out of nowhere. There was a warmth that would spread through his bloodstream, almost as if his body was responding to some hidden signal. And if he happened to look at her for too long, a dizzying lightness would sweep over him, as if the world itself had momentarily tilted.

He couldn't quite make sense of it. These phenomenological responses weren’t things he typically experienced, and they didn't follow the same logic as his usual responses to stimuli. He knew something was happening—he could feel it, this strange stirring within him that didn’t quite fit into any of the categories he usually applied to his own emotional or physical states. But what was it? Perhaps an allergy to a fragrance she wore? That seemed the most likely given he only experienced the changes when she was closer in proximity to him.

Despite the confusion, there was a part of him that couldn’t deny the underlying excitement that pulsed beneath all of it. It was an energy he hadn’t felt before, an electric current that surged through him whenever the marine biologist was near, even if he couldn't pinpoint the exact cause. 

But the strangest part was that he couldn’t explain why this felt so important. He had a tendency to dissect everything in his life, to categorize things, break them down, and understand them through logic. Yet, no matter how much he tried to apply his usual methods of analysis, this sensation didn’t fit neatly into any of his mental boxes. It was as though his mind was searching for patterns, but finding none, which only heightened his fascination. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that when she was around, the world seemed to shift just a little, like everything was suddenly more vivid, more... alive. 

And more than that, he felt an overwhelming sense of ease, as though there was no need to explain himself. The quirks and behaviors he had spent years trying to suppress—the very things that had made him feel alienated, even from those closest to him—suddenly didn't seem to matter. In Marina, he saw reflections of those traits he had long struggled with, the things that had once set him apart in a way that felt isolating. Yet in her presence, those differences didn’t feel like barriers but like an unspoken bond, a quiet understanding between them. The relief was profound, deeper than he realized. It wasn’t just that Marina accepted him; she seemed to instinctively know him in a way that was both rare and deeply comforting. In her, he found a kindred spirit—a mirror of sorts—that reassured him he wasn’t so alone in the world after all.

Marina was more than she appeared. While she had a sharp, scientific mind and a direct approach to life, she also embodied the culture of her people. A native of Pabu—an uncommon heritage, as most were refugees like him—she held tight to their distinctive culture. Her connection to their physical traditions, like tattoos, and her reverence for the moon and tide cycles, reflected a harmony that enhanced both her analytical side as a scientist and her spirituality in a way that was rhythmic. Having never fully been able to do the same, he found it interesting one could walk that line with grace and ease. Particularly the way in which she framed her scientific discoveries as something noble and worthy of protecting simply for their beauty.

It was a quality he was finding increasingly admirable. 

After presenting his findings to Crosshair, Tech had been met with a curt, dismissive response. His brother, in typical fashion, had simply called him a “kriffing idiot” before shutting down any further discussion. Tech, as always, had tried to prod for more details, to understand why his findings—his observations—were being so lightly dismissed. But Crosshair had only shrugged, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he said, “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

Tech, unsurprisingly, had no doubts that he would eventually crack the puzzle. He always did, after all. But the response, or rather, the lack of one, left him feeling oddly disappointed. He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly, but there was something about Crosshair’s refusal to elaborate that gnawed at him. It wasn’t just the dismissive tone—Tech was used to that—but the evasiveness, the unwillingness to help him interpret the strange phenomenon that had been so consuming. His brother’s typical bluntness had given way to a kind of aloofness that felt out of character, and it left Tech feeling as though something important had slipped just out of reach.

Tech wondered if it was stemming from his brother’s proximity to his ex wife. Kayden and Leena were twins after all. Perhaps it had something to do with his loyalty to his fiance and thus her family, that he remained so tight lipped. It also might stem from the one bad interaction that Marina had experienced with Crosshair, getting under his skin in a way Tech knew would be hard to rectify - even if he did believe his brother to be in the wrong. Regardless, Crosshair was not willing to help and that left Tech on his own to figure out what the feelings meant on his own. 

And yet, Tech refused to let the confusion dampen his plans for the evening. He was determined to help his friend with her research, and in doing so, witnessed a rare scientific phenomenon that only a few were privileged enough to observe. The other, more personal aspects of his curiosity—those feelings of comfort that had begun to stir within him—would have to wait. There was no need to try to interpret them just yet, especially when there was so much data to be gathered. He could analyze the rest later, on his own time.

So, as Tech made his way down the familiar island path, his footsteps light but purposeful, he found himself reflecting on the strange sense of urgency that had overtaken him as he prepared for the evening. He had spent more time than usual adjusting his appearance before leaving his domicile—straightening his shirt, making sure his hair didn’t have cowlicks, even using a bit of fragrance he usually found overwhelming. Normally, he didn’t care much for such details, but tonight felt different. There was a subtle pressure to look “right,” though he couldn’t quite articulate why he felt the need.  It was irrational - something Tech rarely allowed himself to indulge - but for some odd reason he couldn’t stop. 

The evening air was cool as he walked, the full moon casting a soft, silvery glow across the horizon. His path was dimly lit by the lamp he carried, the small light barely enough to illuminate the trail beneath his feet. The wind tugged at the edges of his shirt and ruffled his short brown hair, but Tech barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere, caught up in the quiet hum of the night and the curiosity that continued to pulse beneath his skin.

As Tech neared the dock, his heart seemed to beat a little faster, his steps subtly quickening as if the evening’s arrival had suddenly become more tangible. The familiar sound of the gentle waves lapping against the shore was drowned out by the heightened rhythm of his thoughts. He was almost there—so close now—and yet, the closer he got, the more acutely aware he became of the small details that he’d never cared about before.

Reaching the end of the path, where the dock stretched out over the water, Tech paused for a brief moment. He took a slow, steadying breath and looked down at himself again, though he knew he had already checked his appearance at least three times before leaving. His shirt—hanging loosely over his waistband, as if that made any difference—felt too tight in some places, too loose in others. His hands hovered awkwardly over his clothes, as if trying to adjust them, but they didn’t need adjusting. His boots, polished to an extent that he rarely bothered with, seemed to gleam in the dim light, too pristine for someone who spent most of his time in the lab or among machinery.

He wasn’t sure what had come over him. He never worried about these small, superficial details. But tonight, as the torch light swayed gently in the wind beside him, something inside his chest fluttered, and he couldn’t stop himself from second-guessing every movement, every decision. Did normal people behave this irregularly in the face of unresolved tension? The thought flickered in his mind before he quickly dismissed it. He was overthinking. He knew that. But even as he tried to calm his nerves, a persistent hum of uncertainty remained.

He glanced at his reflection in the dark water below, seeing only fragments of his face on the moonlit surface. There was nothing out of the ordinary about his appearance, nothing to suggest that this evening was anything different from the others.

Tech took a step onto the dock, the familiar sound of the wooden planks creaking beneath his boots seemed unusually loud in the stillness of the night. His nerves were on edge, his heartbeat pulsing in his ears, and just as he neared the end of the dock, he saw movement ahead. Marina’s head appeared around the corner of the houseboat’s door, just enough for him to catch sight of her. She didn’t step out fully, but her eyes locked on him immediately, and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. 

“You made it,” she called out, her voice carrying a slightly higher pitch than usual. There was a certain brightness in her tone that stood out, almost at odds with her usual reserved demeanor. His heart did a strange little flip at the sound. It was unexpected, and yet, not unwelcome. He had grown used to her more measured, often serious way of speaking, especially when it came to her work. But tonight, her voice carried a volume and enthusiasm that felt almost unfamiliar, and the shift was enough to make his chest tighten. “Come on in,” she added with an encouraging smile. “You’re just in time.”

Tech’s pulse quickened, his legs feeling a little more wobbly than usual as he drew closer. He nodded, though the response felt inadequate, and the sound of his boots hitting the dock again was all that broke the silence between them.

Marina smiled again, this time more softly, before slipping back inside the boat with a quiet rustle of fabric. The door clicked gently behind her, and Tech stood there for a moment longer than necessary, his mind racing with the odd sensation that something had shifted between them in those few seconds. Raising his hands only slightly, he flexed his hand before releasing it as if it would calm his nerves purely through the subconscious act alone.

Tech stepped inside the galley, the lights inside dim, as the boat swayed gently beneath him. He’d expected to find Marina inside, maybe preparing her notes or getting things in order, but as he stepped through the door, he realized she wasn’t there. He frowned briefly, confused, until he heard her voice, light and inviting, calling out from the deck.

“Out here!”

He turned on his heel, setting the torch in his hand on the table while the wooden floor creaked beneath him as he headed toward the back door that led out to the deck. As he stepped outside, the cool night air met him, the wind tugging at his shirt as he squinted into the moonlight, eyes readjusting to the low light.

And then he saw her.

Marina stood near the railing, looking out over the water, the soft glow from the sky casting an ethereal halo around her. The moonlight bathed her in silver, but it wasn’t just the soft illumination of the night that caught his attention—it was her. Her appearance was startling, yet captivating, and for a long moment, Tech stood frozen, unsure how to process what he was seeing.

She wore a flowing skirt that draped loosely around her hips, the fabric cut with slits on both thighs that revealed glimpses of her toned legs as she shifted her weight. The skirt moved with the breeze, and as the fabric fluttered, it drew his eye to the intricate blue tattoos that trailed down her thighs all the way to the tops of her feet, dark lines of color like fluid streaks of ink. 

Her top was not that unlike the kinds of things he’d seen her wear in the past. It was a simple piece, barely covering her chest, leaving the rest of her skin exposed. He was used to her wearing swimwear under wetsuits for diving, and while the shape of this was not far off, the impracticality of no sleeves and just a simple piece of fabric wrapped around her breasts was enticing. The top’s fabric was light and airy, enough to offer coverage but still reveal the smooth expanse of her arms, shoulders, and midriff. 

A gold chain wrapped around her waist, resting just above the waistband of her skirt, its delicate links glinting in the low light. Beneath the chain, Tech’s gaze lingered on the metal along her naval—a small, subtle piercing he hadn’t recalled noticing before, but one that seemed to add to the overall softness of her appearance. 

Her hair, usually tied back neatly when they worked together, was loose tonight, the dark strands swaying lightly in the wind as the few white pieces reflected the moonlight. It framed her face beautifully, soft waves cascading down her shoulders. As he looked longer he noticed the addition of smaller plaits, wrapped in thread or ornamented with more gold cuffs or beads. The sight was so striking that for a moment, Tech’s thoughts scattered, unable to form anything coherent. The combination of her exposed skin, the delicate jewelry, and the raw elegance of her posture was overwhelming.

His breath caught in his chest.

Marina turned slightly, her eyes catching him as she noticed him standing there, frozen in place. Her lips curled into a subtle smile, one that seemed almost playful but also knowing, as if she’d caught him off guard.

“You coming, or are you going to stand there all night?” she teased, her voice light but with an edge of curiosity.

Tech blinked, his gaze shifting away from her exposed skin, though it was almost impossible to look away. His heart raced again, but this time it wasn’t from the excitement of the evening’s research. No, it was something else entirely—something deep in his chest that he had a sinking suspicion he may finally know how to name.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were stuck. His brain was sluggish, processing too many things at once. The sound of his boots moving along the deck was the only thing that filled the silence.

As he joined her by the railing, he couldn’t help but steal another glance at her, his mind still reeling. She was breathtaking, but it was more than that. There was a rawness in her beauty tonight, something that made her feel more real, more present than ever before. Sure, he had acknowledged she was objectively attractive, but now that seemed arbitrary. This was a type of transcendent glow he couldn’t quite placate. One that existed simply from one’s own natural beauty and not the artifice of cosmetics but instead existed in sunkissed skin and salt waved hair. 

Marina glanced at him, the faintest glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Are you feeling alright?” she asked, her tone still light, but there was an understanding in the way she looked at him, like she could see right through his awkwardness.

Tech cleared his throat, his hands instinctively moving to adjust the sleeves of his shirt, though there was no need. So his fingers worked their way down to the friendship bracelet woven by Omega along his wrist, fiddling with the frayed strands that hung loose. He swallowed hard, finally managing to say, “You—uh, you look incredible.” His voice came out quieter than usual, and he wasn’t sure if it was the way her appearance had stunned him or if it was something else entirely, but his words felt like they barely scratched the surface of what he really meant.

Marina’s smile deepened, and her eyes softened, almost as if she could hear the unspoken things in his voice, the things he wasn’t saying aloud. She stepped a little closer, the gentle sway of the boat bringing them even nearer to each other.

“Thank you,” she said simply, though her smile held an unmistakable warmth that sent a ripple through Tech’s chest. 

Tech shifted his weight, feeling an awkward tension settle in his chest as he glanced at Marina once more. His eyes, despite his best efforts, betrayed his thoughts, lingering on her for just a second longer than necessary. He cleared his throat once more, trying to divert his focus. "Not that your appearance isn’t appreciated," he started, his words falling a little flat, but he pushed through the discomfort, "but I thought we were going to study the mōlī fish migration tonight. This does not exactly seem suitable for scientific research." He gave her another quick glance, hoping she wouldn’t catch on to the hesitation in his gaze, but he couldn’t help himself. The way the soft moonlight reflected off her exposed skin, the way the gentle sway of the boat seemed to amplify her presence—it was all too much to ignore.

Marina looked at him, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in her eyes, but she didn’t respond right away. Instead, she shifted her gaze downward, fiddling with her hands as if she were suddenly unsure of something, the usual confidence in her posture faltering for just a moment.

She took a slow breath and then glanced back up at him, her expression softening slightly. “I don’t recall saying we were going to study them,” she replied, her voice light but tinged with an edge of playfulness. “I only asked if you would join me in witnessing their rare resurfacing. There is a difference, you know.” Her lips curved into a small, almost apologetic smile, but the shift in her demeanor made it clear that there was something more to her words. Not only that, but that his comment was dulling the odd behavior to which she’d displayed since his arrival. 

Tech blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He had assumed she’d planned to document the event, the way she had so carefully detailed the scientific significance of the mōlī fish migration in the reports she’d given him. But now that she mentioned it, she hadn’t actually said anything about studying them. The realization took him a moment, and he found himself searching her face, trying to read between the lines of her playful tone and the uncertainty that now lingered in her hands.

“So this is not strictly a scientific observation?” Tech asked, his voice quieter than intended, a slight confusion lacing his words as he tried to wrap his head around what she was implying. Her statement seemed to suggest something far more personal—something more intimate—and yet, he couldn't bring himself to vocalize it outright. Instead, his mind raced, wondering if there was more to this night than he had initially understood.

Marina seemed to sense his hesitation, the way he was trying to make sense of everything, and she finally met his gaze. “It’s a chance to witness something rare, Tech,” she said softly. “And I thought it might be more meaningful to share it with someone who... well, who might appreciate it in their own way.” Her words trailed off, leaving an openness that hung in the air between them, and Tech felt his chest tighten, unsure of how to respond.

For a moment, the night seemed to hold its breath, the sounds of the water below and the rustling of the breeze the only thing filling the space between them. He looked down, unsure of what he should say next, his mind still caught on the subtle shift in the tone of their conversation. “I—well, I do appreciate it,” he said, the words feeling inadequate even as he spoke them. “I just didn’t realize it was... that sort of experience."

Marina watched him for a moment, a thoughtful look crossing her face. She took a small step closer, her voice lighter, though still laced with a quiet concern. “Tech,” she began, her gaze softening, “if you no longer want to stay... if this wasn’t what you expected... It's okay. I understand if this isn’t the kind of experience you had in mind.”

Her words hung in the air between them, the gentle sway of the boat adding a quiet rhythm to the moment. Tech’s heart skipped, and he immediately felt the weight of her question pressing down on him. The idea of backing out now—of saying that he didn’t want to be here, with her, after everything—felt wrong. His mind scrambled for a response, but his thoughts collided in a haze of uncertainty.

“No, no—” Tech quickly interjected, his voice coming out more rushed and loud than he intended. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “I want to stay. I just misunderstood, that’s all.”

He paused, his words hanging in the air between them, and he watched her carefully, as if searching for some clue that would help him make sense of this situation. Was she angry? Had he said the wrong thing?

“I still do not fully understand,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "What I mean is, I do not understand why something like this—this event—seems to be affecting your behavior. Not in a bad way, of course, I just—" He cut himself off, realizing he was rambling. He wasn’t good at putting his thoughts into words, especially when they were clouded with feelings he didn’t yet fully comprehend.

He looked down at the water, trying to collect himself, the stillness of the ocean beneath them somehow helping to calm his scattered thoughts. The breeze tugged at his sleeves, and for a brief moment, he felt like he could collect his bearings and make sense of it all. “I look forward to uncovering the reason,” he added, his voice more measured now. “If you’re willing to explain it to me, that is.”

It felt like he was asking more than just for an explanation. He wanted to understand her, to understand why this moment—this rare event—was affecting her so deeply. There was more going on here than just the mōlī fish. And, whether or not she admitted it, it seemed tied to something more personal, even if that something wasn’t a detail she was ready to reveal. He was still unclear if it was something from her life directly or if it involved him somehow. 

“I suppose I am acting abnormal to the baseline you’ve come to recognize,” Marina admits, her words trailing off as she pauses. There’s a quiet shift in her demeanor, a subtle vulnerability that Tech can’t quite place. He doesn’t press her, though—he simply watches, his gaze flicking to her from the corner of his eye, noticing the way she draws in a steadying breath.

Then, to his surprise, she reaches out and grabs his forearm. The unexpected contact startles him, and he tenses for a moment before forcing himself to relax. His heart thuds loudly in his chest, but he doesn’t pull away. She seems to sense his hesitation and, after a brief pause, she tugs him gently away from the railing.

“Come on,” she says, her voice soft but resolute. He follows her wordlessly, curious as she leads him to the front of the boat. There, she lowers herself gracefully onto the deck, dipping her feet into the water with a practiced ease as she settles in.

Tech hesitates for a moment, watching her, noticing the subtle tension in her shoulders and the way her movements seem more purposeful than usual. He sits next to her, his boots coming off quickly, socks discarded as he rolls his pant legs up. He mimics her posture, dipping his feet into the slightly chilled water, feeling the coolness of the sea seep into his skin. He hears Marina sigh beside him, the sound soft and heavy with something he can't quite name. Her leg bounces up and down on the lower dock, his eyes tracing the exposed skin momentarily as it moves before they settle on the way she’s weaving her fingers in and out of each other. It’s then Tech realizes she’s perhaps nervous. 

For a long moment, neither of them speaks. The night air hums with a quiet energy, and Tech is keenly aware of the silence that lingers between them, a silence filled with more than just the sound of the waves.

Finally, Marina’s voice breaks the silence, hesitant, as if her words have been waiting to be said for years. “Twenty-eight years ago, my mom went into labor,” she starts, her voice steady but heavy with something unspoken. This is the tone he is used to from her, and not the one she had been adopting the evening thus far. “My father wanted her to seek medical assistance, but she refused. She said the Pabu natives had been giving birth by the sea for generations, and she would uphold that tradition. I was born just as the mōlī fish came up to the surface.”

She pauses, her eyes unfocused as if she’s seeing something far away. Tech stays quiet, letting her find her rhythm. He pictures the scene she’s describing—her mother, the glowing mōlī fish rising from the water, and the life-and-death balance of the moment. Regardless of his own less than organic conception and birth, he still held much regard for the process that natural born people experienced. 

“My father told me,” she continues, her voice quieter now, “that my mom was so happy to see me there, hovering above the water, glowing. And for a moment everything was perfect. In the end she didn’t make it. But she got to experience joy there in the end.”

The words hang between them, heavy and raw. Tech feels a tightness in his chest, the weight of her grief lingering in her tone. He’s not sure how to respond—how to offer comfort without crossing some line. So, he stays silent, simply listening, watching her closely as she opens up, trying to hold on to every word she’s offering as his fingers drum along his leg.

Marina exhales softly, as if the telling of it has exhausted her in ways she hadn’t anticipated. Her gaze flickers to him, just for a moment, searching his face as if to gauge his reaction. But she doesn’t wait for him to speak—she continues.

“Despite my more scientific mind,” she says, her voice thick with emotion, “I admit to behaving oddly when I witness this event. There is a joy to it. I understand sorrow as it commemorates the passing of my mother would be more appropriate but the grief I feel for her is less in losing someone and more in losing out on the opportunity to know someone so vital to who I am.” She pauses and Tech considers her words. He knew the feeling. Quite well. He - like other clones - were a product of Jango Fett but there was a disconnect from the man that existed. He did not know him, but he was him, at least genetically speaking. That left an odd hole in his existence few could articulate.  

“I wish I had a better descriptor and believe me I certainly have tried to rationalize one. It’s not just the fish, it’s not just the science of it. Seeing this makes me feel connected to my mother. A woman I never knew. This migration... it’s a part of me, in many ways. I understand it is likely just a coincidence in timing, and there is no real reason to put such emphasis on the movement of aquatic life.”

Her words linger in the air, heavy with the weight of everything she’s shared. Tech feels his heart pounding in his chest, his mind struggling to find something to say that could capture the depth of what he’s just heard. For a moment, he simply watches her, taking in the way the water reflects in her eyes. From his position he can only see the lighter of the two. It’s as though the entire night has shifted, the scientific curiosity he’d arrived with now feeling small in the face of Marina’s story. He has no words that feel sufficient to meet the moment, but somehow, he knows that what she’s shared has opened a door to something much more meaningful between them.

Tech swallows, his voice soft yet sincere. “I did not realize. I didn’t understand how much this truly meant to you.” He pauses, collecting his thoughts before adding, “There are times when behavior might seem illogical, but that doesn’t make it any less valid.” His mind drifts back to earlier, when he had almost scolded himself for the extra, seemingly unnecessary effort he’d put into his appearance, and he hopes she’ll understand that he’s acknowledging something important. That sometimes, acting against reason doesn’t make the experience any less real or worthwhile. He, too, occasionally finds himself in that space, where actions defy explanation, and it’s not a bad thing.

Marina doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she turns her gaze toward the water, watching the gentle ripples.  The air between them is filled with a quiet understanding, a connection that feels deeper than anything Tech has ever experienced. He doesn’t know how to make sense of everything he’s feeling at this moment, but he knows one thing for sure: he’s grateful she’s shared it with him. Grateful, she trusts him enough to allow him to see this side of her—the one that’s more than just the scientist, the one who carries the weight of her past with grace and quiet strength.

“I apologize for not saying anything earlier. Or if my unnatural behavior is off putting to you in any regard” she admits, her gaze still drawn to the water, though her voice grows just a little more vulnerable. “But... I’m glad you’re here. I was not quite sure why I invited you, but now that you’re here, it feels... right.”

Tech listens intently, his eyes never leaving her face, the quiet moonlight catching the curve of her features. His chest tightens in a way he can't quite place, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like everything else falls away. The gentle sway of the boat, the soft ripples in the water—they all fade into the background, and it’s just the two of them, sharing something unspoken.

She glances over at him then, her expression open, her gaze steady. The depth of her words sits heavily between them, and he feels a strange, pressing need to somehow ease it—to say something that conveys just how much it means that she’s trusting him with this. That he understands that sometimes behavior may be irrational and that is okay. That she shouldn’t feel the need to dull herself for his sake. That she’s making him feel a comfort and acceptance he’s never felt before. But even as he searches for the right words, something else presses on him, a pull that he can’t ignore.

He finds his hand reaching out instinctively, brushing lightly against her arm at first, just enough to confirm she’s still here, still with him. There’s a flash of heat at the contact, one that catches him off guard, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lets his hand slip around her shoulder. His palm flattened around the skin, drawing her closer, the movement slightly awkward yet almost urgent. It’s not entirely deliberate, not like he’s thought this through, but something in him just... needs to be close to her.

Marina doesn’t pull away, her breath catching for the briefest moment, but she leans into his touch, just slightly, her warmth against him undeniable. The sensation spreads through him, and for the first time tonight, Tech feels that curiosity that’s been plaguing him slips his mind, so that he can focus on the here and the now.

She doesn’t seem to mind the closeness, and yet her eyes stay focused on the water. But the air around them feels different now, charged. He wonders if she can feel it, too—the way their proximity seems to spark something between them that perhaps started friendly and is now shifting into a place he hadn’t considered.

His voice comes out quieter than usual, the words soft and hesitant, as if he’s afraid to break the moment, afraid that acknowledging what’s happening might somehow make it disappear.

“I’m honored that you trusted me with your story,” he says, his voice huskier than he intends. “I didn’t expect to be part of something so... meaningful to you tonight. Also although I admit your behavior is unexpected I assure you it it is not off putting,”

For a moment, the only sounds are the gentle lapping of the water and the soft rhythm of their breathing, but the silence isn’t comfortable. It’s thick with something unspoken, something lingering between them—something neither seems ready to name.

“Sorry if I overwhelmed you when you were expecting research,” she says, her brow furrowing with concern, as if suddenly realizing the weight of what she’s done.

“Nonsense,” he replies, his words warm, almost soothing. “Whatever’s happening right now is far more important than anything I imagined for this evening. I—” He pauses, watching the way her gaze traces his face before he continues. “I’m glad I came.”

Marina’s smile deepens, soft and tender, a quiet affection blooming in the curve of her lips. She shifts slightly, turning her body more toward him. The opposite shoulder to the one he is holding nestles against his outstretched arm, resting against his bicep. The subtle movement brings her even closer, her side brushing against his, her warmth seeping into him like a fireplace on a cold night.

“I’m glad I get to share this with you,” she whispers, her voice barely a breath, as if the words hold the power to change something between them. Her hands reach up, settling carefully on his shoulders, hesitant, testing his reaction. When he doesn’t pull away, she lifts them higher, the soft contact sending a shiver through him.

Tech feels the delicate pressure of her fingers against the sides of his goggles, her touch tender as she gently slides them off, resting them on his forehead.

The air between them thickens, heavy with all the things neither of them dares to say. His breath catches in his throat as he watches her, unable to look away. The world around them seems to hold its breath, charged with a palpable tension—an unspoken electricity in the space between them. And yet, all he can do is sit there, inches from her, caught in the stillness, the moments stretching, building into something far more than either of them can voice.

Something in him shifts again—an unfamiliar desire to be even closer, to bridge that last small gap between them. He doesn’t know if it’s the way her gaze flickers to his lips, or the warmth in her voice that makes his chest tighten in a way he’s not used to, but before he even knows what’s happening, he moves—slowly, deliberately—his one hand still resting on her shoulder, but now his other hand drifts slightly, brushing against her back. The contact is light, tentative, but the way she leans into it just enough makes his heart race in a way he didn’t expect.

Marina's breath catches as Tech's fingers trace the curve of her back, sending a spark through her skin that seems to resonate with the beat of her heart. The world around them feels still, like a held breath, and for a moment, everything else fades into the background. It's just the two of them, the tension between them thick and palpable, like an unspoken promise hanging in the air.

Tech’s gaze flickers down to her lips, and the space between them becomes so small, so charged with possibility that he can feel it in his chest, in his fingertips. There’s an electric pull, something magnetic drawing him closer, and he leans in slightly, just on the cusp of closing the distance between them. 

Marina’s eyes are locked on him, her pupils dilated, her breath steady but quick. She’s not pulling away. She’s not hesitating either. And that simple truth makes everything feel even more real—more intense. He wants to kiss her. He knows it, and it feels right, and the moment is stretching in a way that makes time slow to a crawl.

But then, just as their faces draw even closer, just as Tech can almost feel the warmth of her lips against his, she gasps, her eyes snapping toward the water with an excitement that almost knocks the air out of his lungs. “Look!” Her voice rises with a mixture of joy and wonder, pointing urgently at the water. Her fingers tremble with excitement as she points toward the glowing light in the distance, the mōlī fish rising to the surface. The air shifts instantly, the moment between them slipping away like sand through his fingers.

Tech follows her gaze, heart still racing, but now the quiet, intimate connection feels like it’s been severed. His eyes take in the mesmerizing sight of the fish, their glowing bodies casting a soft, ethereal light just under the water’s surface, a breathtaking natural phenomenon that he would never have expected to be so enchanting.

Marina’s face lights up, the wonder in her eyes infectious as she watches the fish dance in the water. Her excitement is so pure, so unrestrained, that it fills the space between them, pulling him into the moment with her.

Tech glances at her, his chest tightening at the sight of her so animated, so alive with joy. Despite the moment slipping away, despite the rush of disappointment that’s flooding through him, he can’t help but feel a heat spread through his body. She’s so present, so open, and even as the tension between them eases, something else starts to settle in its place—a deeper respect for her in this moment.

As she springs to her feet, a smile as bright as the sun spreading across her face, Tech instinctively pushes himself up to join her. Her excitement is palpable, her eyes shining with awe as more of the glowing mōlī fish begin to surface, gracefully swimming closer to the boat. For a fleeting moment, Tech is completely absorbed in the wonder around them, the sheer beauty of the sight washing over him, making him forget the tension that had nearly clouded the evening. But just as he feels he’s taken in the full splendor of the scene, his gaze shifts, and he catches sight of Marina again.

He’d grown so used to her normal behavior. Marina was calm. She was an overcast sky in the early morning. Still. Subdued. Only occasionally allowing subtle humor to break past her otherwise stoic nature. Her excitement was rare to witness and often came in the form of soft exhales through her nose. She was not robotic per say, but she aligned more with his own behavior. This explosion of emotions was far cry from the woman he had come to recognize.

She’s standing next to him, her eyes wide with pure amazement, her body practically vibrating with excitement. Then, without warning, she twirls on her toes, her arms flung out as if the rush of joy is too much to contain within the confines of her frame. Hands shaking and arms moving up and down like a bird preparing for flight. The movement, albeit a bit unnatural, somehow radiates with him. The sight of her, so unabashedly filled with childlike wonder, almost causes him to lose his balance and tumble into the water, a soft laugh bubbling up in his chest. The fish, radiant in their bioluminescent glow, are undoubtedly breathtaking, but the image of Marina, watching them with such unfiltered reverence, is far more captivating to him given how much it diverges from how she behaves normally.

Tech’s thoughts drifted back to his cadet days, remembering how, in moments of pure elation—whether from a new discovery or a successful training exercise—he would often burst with an energy he couldn’t quite contain. His body would betray him in those moments, trembling with excitement, his hands fidgeting or his feet tapping without his consent. It was natural then, but as he grew older, he began to realize that such outbursts weren’t typical. He wasn’t very old when the awareness started to creep in, and it became undeniable when Crosshair, ever the sharp observer, coined the word ‘odd’ to describe it. He’d mockingly called him "Porg," a nickname that reduced his genuine expression of joy to something silly, something to laugh at. But to Tech, it wasn’t funny. The playful teasing only made him retreat further into himself, and he learned to suppress those exuberant displays of emotion. His joy became something quieter, less noticeable—just the subtle tapping of his leg or the rhythmic rubbing of his hand along his pant leg. Or adjusting his goggles on his face.

Now, watching Marina, he was reminded of how he used to be, before the Kaminoans, the regs, and even his own brothers pointed out the “oddities” in his behavior. There, in Marina’s uninhibited excitement, he saw a reflection of the boy he had been—a boy unashamed of his physical reactions to joy. And for a fleeting moment, he wondered if he’d been too harsh on himself, too quick to stifle what felt so natural. The way Marina let herself be fully absorbed in the present, unrestrained by the world’s expectations, made him question whether perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing after all. To be so overwhelmed with joy that it couldn’t be contained, that it spilled out in visible, almost childlike expressions—it wasn’t something to hide. It was, in its own way, a beautiful form of unbridled freedom in the stimulation.

Despite the magnetic pull of Marina’s enthusiasm, Tech knows he would never forgive himself if he didn’t fully appreciate the mōlī migration. With a reluctant sigh, he tears his eyes away from her, pulling his goggles back down over his eyes, ready to dive into the scientific beauty of the moment. The fish’s movement is hypnotic, their delicate, fluid motions like the flicker of flames. The glow they emit is far brighter than he expected, not the soft glow he imagined, but a radiant blaze, as if the creatures themselves are stars come to life beneath the water.

The faint rustling of fabric reaches his ears, and he assumes it’s Marina shifting to get a better view. But then a sudden splash disrupts his focus, pulling his attention back toward her.

Tech’s eyes widen, and his breath catches in his throat as he processes what’s happened. Marina—who was just beside him moments ago, fully clothed—is now in the water. Most of her clothes are gone, replaced by the shimmering glow of the fish, as she giggles and splashes, completely uninhibited. The water around her glows with the same bioluminescence, the fish swirling around her in a dance of light. Though the rippling waves distort her form, the sight is almost painfully beautiful, the contrast of her laughter against the ethereal glow of the sea creating a surreal, intoxicating image.

Tech’s mind races, struggling to process the scene in front of him, but no matter how he tries to focus on the migration, his eyes can’t help but be drawn back to Marina, glowing in the water, a part of the wonder that surrounds them.

His mind struggles to find a foothold, every logical thought slipping away as his gaze lingers on Marina, her laughter echoing softly through the night air. The glow of the mōlī fish reflects off her skin, casting an otherworldly light over her, as if she’s become part of the sea itself. He watches as she lets herself be swept up in the magic of the moment, her movements light and carefree, as if the ocean had swallowed up any trace of the world beyond. The sight is so intimate, so unguarded, that it feels like something he shouldn’t be witnessing.

He takes a step closer to the edge of the boat, unable to tear his eyes away from her as she floats in the water, the gentle waves caressing her. The water around her ripples with a thousand tiny points of light, the fish weaving in and out of her, creating patterns in the depths.

“Marina…” he whispers, almost to himself, but his voice is drowned out by the splash of water as she dives beneath the surface, her form momentarily disappearing into the glowing abyss. The stillness that settles around them feels as though it could stretch on for eternity. Watching her, Tech is overwhelmed by a rush of emotions and memories, each one flooding his mind in quick succession. He is reminded, in a way that feels almost profound, how much he has come to appreciate her presence in his life. The camaraderie they share has only deepened over time, becoming something more than just companionship—something rich, layered, and almost essential. He’s grateful for the way she brings to light forgotten parts of himself, things he had long buried or suppressed.

In this moment, Tech realizes just how much he’s grown to cherish her, even the simple fact that she helps him reconnect with things he hadn’t known he missed. He smiles inwardly at the thought of how he had once been haunted by Crosshair’s teasing of his behavior—those sharp remarks that had driven him to push down his true self. But now, he finds himself longing for a time when he could be so open with his feelings, when such things weren’t a source of shame. And then, there’s the kiss—the one they almost shared just moments ago. The tension lingers, unfinished, a whisper of something deeper, something that still hums beneath the surface.

Then, she emerges again, her hair shimmering with water drops, her eyes sparkling as she surfaces and looks up at him. There’s something in the way she gazes at him, like she’s silently inviting him into her world, the one she so freely shares with the ocean. The one where their minds, behavior and drive are so aligned it is nearly frightening at the implication. She reaches out her hand, her fingers glowing faintly in the light below, and for a moment, Tech feels his heartbeat quicken.

Without thinking, he reaches toward her, his own fingers trembling slightly as he brushes against hers. Marina doesn’t pull away. Instead, she holds his hand, her grip light but firm, as she uses the other to tread water near where he is still on the lower dock. She tugs him gently, her voice soft but urgent. “You should come in,” she says, her words breathy but filled with intent. “It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before.”

He stands torn, caught between the magnetic pull of the moment and the cautious voice in his mind, still echoing with warnings of what could go wrong. A part of him longs to remain on the sidelines, safely observing her joy from a distance, savoring the comfort of his own space. Furthermore this is something important to her, he hardly wishes to intrude. 

Perhaps it’s the lingering sting of the recent separation, the doubts it has left in its wake. Leena had always asked him to be more spontaneous, to embrace the unpredictability of life, but Tech had never been able to force himself to step into that kind of freedom. The mental block that surrounded the idea of spontaneity made it seem impossible—an unscalable wall. It wasn’t until now, watching Marina in her uninhibited joy, that he began to understand why. He had always thought of himself as adaptable, able to adjust to any situation, yet the idea of exposing himself, of allowing his emotions to spill out freely like Marina did, terrified him. It wasn’t just about the fear of rejection, but the deeper vulnerability that came with it. Even around the people he cared most about—his brothers, who had seen him at his most guarded—it had never felt safe enough to be this open, this raw. Not since he was younger anyway.

But now, in the quiet realization born from watching her, he understood something fundamental. Marina wasn’t afraid to be herself in these rare moments, to express her emotions without hesitation, and in that, she mirrored him in ways few could. The way he was wired—his need for order, his logical approach to everything—could be celebrated, not hidden away. Yet, on the flip side that he could be a logical person who did on occasion experience the illogical. There was no shame in being different, in feeling things deeply and allowing those feelings to show physically. The quietness of his own emotional expression had always felt like a burden, but watching her now, free in her own display of joy, he realized it was a strength—a part of himself that could be embraced because she was so alike him in all his other moments.

Perhaps it’s also the unexpected depth of his own growth—growth that had crept up on him quietly, unnoticed, until he found himself living it in real time. The ease with which he now shared his thoughts, the vulnerability that had once felt foreign to him, felt like a revelation. It was the kind of openness he had never thought himself capable of, and yet here he was, offering it to a new friend with a comfort he hadn’t anticipated. Maybe it’s simply the way Marina—this fiercely honest, no-nonsense marine biologist—had just giggled, her laughter spilling out in a raw, unguarded way that felt as though it could never be contained. The sound was unpolished, loud, awkward even, yet there was a purity to it that resonated deeply within him. For the first time, he understood what it meant to let go completely, to embrace joy in its most unrefined form.

But as he watches her there, bathed in the soft glow of the bioluminescent fish, surrounded by the starlit sky, something inside him shifts. In that moment, a realization settles deep within him: he doesn’t want to just observe anymore. He doesn’t want to remain on the sidelines of his own life. He wants to be part of it. He wants to feel this—the uncontained excitement—just as she does. He yearns to be someone who is steady and structured, yes, but also someone who isn’t afraid to let his emotions rise to the surface without hesitation. Not because it’s expected of him, but because, for the first time in a long time, he understands that it’s the person he wants to be. The person he is becoming.

Watching Marina now, he feels a bridge forming to the boy he had once been on Kamino, the one who could laugh freely and celebrate his small victories without fear or shame. That boy, once buried beneath years of self-restraint and calculated detachment, stirs within him. For the first time in years, Tech feels a connection to that part of himself he thought was long gone.

Tech realizes, with quiet clarity, that he has grown tired of allowing his need for structure and control to keep him from fully engaging with the world. He had never fully processed the association of the fear of rejection with his inability to express joy, especially with Leena. When she had pointed out his emotional reserve, his reluctance to embrace spontaneity, he had convinced himself it wasn’t about her—about meeting her needs—but about the deeper, more internal fear that had plagued him for so long. The fear of making himself too large, too visible, too vulnerable. The fear that if he let himself go, even for a moment, he might damage the relationships he cherished.

It was an illogical fear, he knew that now. He understood that Leena, with her kind heart, would have accepted him for who he was, no matter how restrained or intense his emotions were. But understanding and acceptance, he realized, were two very different things. Leena’s kindness had never been in question, but he wasn’t sure she could ever truly understand him—not in the way he needed her to. And that, he knew, wasn’t a failing on her part. Few, if any, could understand him in that way. The diversion from his ‘normal’ behavior as a child had always felt harsh. But as for his relationship to Leena in that regard, he was to blame, for never giving her—or anyone—the chance to see him for all that he was in his adult life. He’d been too prideful and too guarded.

The difference now, however, is that Marina’s natural alignment with his usual subdued nature, combined with this brief but undeniable indulgence in behavior outside of the norm, offers a sense of security that he’s been searching for. It makes the idea of finding equilibrium feel less elusive, as though it’s finally within his reach. The overwhelming effect feels freeing. Like a mask falling away almost.

Without another word, Tech begins to pull off his clothes. His movements are swift, almost instinctive, the need to be in the water—closer to her—growing more urgent with every passing second. He sheds his shirt, his pants, until he's left only in his undergarments. The cold air rushes against his bare skin, and for a moment, he hesitates, but Marina's eyes never leave him. There's no judgment in her gaze, only quiet encouragement, like she’s waiting for him to take this leap. 

In the final moment, he hesitates before removing his goggles. Part of him wants to keep them on, to let the ever-present recording device capture this moment for eternity. But something within him holds him back. He wants to remember this moment—not as footage, but as a memory. It feels too significant to store anywhere other than his own mind. With that thought, he takes them off, switches off the device, and sets the goggles gently down on the deck. 

He steps toward the edge of the boat, his heart racing in his chest, and then, with no more hesitation, he jumps.

The water greets him like an old friend—cool, enveloping, and vast. As he plunges beneath the surface, the world above him vanishes, swallowed by the deep. The water rushes over his head, and for the briefest moment, the world goes still. It’s as if everything that had weighed him down—the doubts, the fears, the things he couldn’t control—suddenly disappears, dissolved in the embrace of the ocean. It’s a release, a cleansing he hadn’t known he needed, as though the water was washing away all that had kept him bound to the edges of himself. 

Tech spent much of his early life on Kaminon, gazing down at the vast, murky depths of the ocean that surrounded the facilities. The cold, isolating waters seemed to stretch endlessly, a constant reminder of the distance between himself and the world beyond. Life there was quiet, distant, and impersonal. But Pabu... Pabu was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was a place of warmth, a stark contrast to the chill of Kaminon’s waters. The island felt like an embrace, welcoming him with its vibrant energy—pure, unspoiled paradise. However, this side of Pabu, where science intertwined with something deeper, something far more personal, was beginning to leave a profound impression on him. Every passing moment only deepened the impact, and Tech couldn’t help but feel the pull of something greater taking root inside him.

For a long breathless moment, he’s suspended in the glow of the bioluminescence, his body weightless and free, surrounded by the quiet hum of the sea. The light from the fish swirls around him, lighting up the dark water like scattered stars in the night sky, and it feels like the world has opened up in a way he never expected. 

When he resurfaces, gasping for air, the sound of Marina’s laugh is a gentle echo, filling the space between them with something light to break the tension. Her eyes are wide with wonder, watching him with that same unguarded joy. For a moment, neither of them speaks, the silence between them thick with the shared understanding that nothing needs to be said. They’re here, together, and that’s all that matters.

He swims up beside her now, the water rushing over his skin in waves, feeling as if he’s shedding old versions of himself with each stroke. His chest rises and falls with each breath, the fresh air tasting sweeter somehow. He looks at Marina, her face illuminated by the glow of the fish, and a thought flits through his mind: This is what living is supposed to feel like.

Tech had always been starkly aware of the artifice that surrounded his existence. He was a clone, modified in an impersonal lab and a product of science. Natural borns always seemed to contain a distance from him - they were born usually of a loving dynamic. They were blessed with the ability to age naturally. And although his friend had found a way to slow the effects of the aging process, it felt daunting to be granted a normal life. The weight of his past—of the mistakes, the distance he himself constructed, the doubts he held about himself—seems small now, insignificant in the face of this. The only thing that matters is the water, the stars, and the woman beside him, so effortlessly radiant in her joy. 

Tech’s heart pounds in his chest, the pulse a constant thrum that resonates deep within him. The water is cold, the stars overhead seem distant and infinite, but it's Marina's presence that’s pulling him in, urging him to move closer, to close the space between them. It's not just about the warmth of her body, or the desire to be near her. It’s the need to feel something, anything, that’s real. The weightlessness of the water, the energy crackling between them, it’s too much to ignore, too much to just let hang there, especially when inside his mind is screaming ‘thank you’ over and over again for making him feel more seen than he ever has in his life.

He reaches out, his hand brushing against her arm. His fingertips feel a spark, like the air between them is charged, and the contact sends a rush of heat through him. He’s never felt this kind of urge before—this desperation to just be closer, to press into her, to feel her, to know she’s there, anchored and alive next to him. It’s as though he’s been starved of physical connection for so long, and now, with her so near, it’s like every inch of his body is screaming for it.

“Marina,” he says, his voice tight, rough with the need that’s building inside him. “I—” He swallows, the words tangled in his throat, unsure how to articulate this raw, overwhelming feeling. But he knows one thing: the space between them just became charged with a need for something physical. His chest aches with the craving to be closer, to feel her warmth, the reality of her proximity like a release of something that’s been buried deep in him for too long.

Marina looks at him, her gaze steady, and for a moment, it’s as if she’s waiting for him to make the first move. Without thinking, he closes the distance between them, his hand finding her arm, his fingers wrapping around her like he's trying to ground himself. He feels the slight shiver of her skin under his touch, and it only makes the urgency build. He can’t pull back, can’t stop himself.

Marina’s hand lands on his chest, just above his heart, and the simple touch sends a tremor through him. The sensation reverberates through his entire body, and it's almost overwhelming, how much he needs to feel her, how much he needs something real in the midst of the quiet chaos swirling inside him. He leans in, his movements sharp, as if he can’t help himself, like the pull to her is magnetic, primal.

His hand moves to the back of her neck, fingers digging lightly into her skin, and it’s all he can do not to pull her entirely into him. He needs the contact, needs to close the gap, to feel the solidity of her presence in a way that settles the wildness inside him. The space between them has become unbearable, a tension he can’t release, and as he presses closer, her body beneath his fingers feels like the only thing that can ground him.

They don’t speak, not yet. The air is thick with the weight of what’s unacknowledged, but neither of them moves away. Instead, Tech closes his eyes for a brief moment, just to feel her—her warmth, her breath, the way her body shifts against his, anchoring him to this shared experience. And in that moment, with the rush of water surrounding them, with the glow of bioluminescence swirling around them like stars, he realizes that he’s no longer just existing. He’s alive, and this need, this undeniable pull, has nothing to do with the past or the future. It’s just the here, the now, and the quiet hum of the connection between them.

The only thing he knows is that he needs this physiciality—her—and for once, he's not afraid to reach for it.

Despite the challenge of maintaining his balance while treading water, Tech's focus sharpens as his hand slides down to her lower back, his fingers pressing into the warmth of her skin. With a surge of passion, he pulls her toward him with a strength, crashing his lips onto hers. In that instant, as though overcome by a wave of pure euphoria, she mirrors his intensity, returning the embrace with equal fervor. The world around them blurs, their connection crackling in the water like an electric charge, each kiss more desperate, more consuming than the last.

Tech can feel Marina’s fingers carding through the hair on the back of his head, her nails scratching through to his scalp. The feeling makes him groan at how electrifying the stimulus is. In return his grip on her back grows more intense, his fingers digging into the toned skin. He can feel her pressed against the entire length of his body. The chain around her waist, the piercing of her navel, and-

He pulls away quickly, mind having caught up with the experiences his body was undergoing. He laughs. Loudly and awkwardly as it feels foreign to do so. His hand shifted from her shoulder to cup one of her breasts, illuminated by the glow around them. “My, this is a fascinating discovery,” he hummed out, enjoying both the weight and size of her breast in his palm, but also the way the small metal through her peaks caught the light. His thumb trails over the stud and the sound of the purr leaving her lips renews that need once more. “Tech…” she whispers, head lulling back as she gives him more room to notice the way dark hair clings to her shoulder or dimples appear in the corner of her cheeks. The thin white scar running across her chin catches his eye as his thumb trails over the line. 

“You are positively exquisite,” he hums out, lips finding her pulse as he continues to let his hands roam. Everything is soft skin, cool lapping water and the beauty of nature around them. But then he hesitates. “Is it alright to keep going? I hadn’t fully anticipated how much emotional weight this could carry for you, especially with your past and your grief. I want to make sure I’m being respectful of that,” he says thoughtfully.

She looks at him for a moment, as if pondering the words. Tech briefly wonders if he has ruined this wonderful experience by asking but just when he goes to once again speak her hands grab him, dragging him beneath the waves as Tech holds his breath. He soon feels her lips pressing against his once more, this time under the waves. Near his feet he can feel the occasional fin of one of the mōlī fish swimming closer to them. That all fades as both his hands cradle her face, attempting to maintain the connection as long as possible with the buoyancy pushing them to the surface. 

His legs tangle with hers, her hair moving around the two of them as he feels the full extent of her soft skin. Marina’s one hand settles on his shoulder as the other lands just above his waist, her chest firmly pressed against his own. Opening his eyes ever so slightly he can only make out the brief shape under the haze of the salt water as it burns his eyes but with the glow of the fish and her body so close he does not care. 

Before long, the need for air catches up with them, pulling them both back to the surface. Tech gasps deeply, filling his lungs, and Marina does the same, her eyes fluttering open once more.

“While I appreciate your concern, I assure you I am no blushing maiden,” she says with a smile. “This may not have been my agenda tonight, but the deviation is certainly pleasant.”

Tech chuckles, a sound that feels lighter than it has in a long time, as he instinctively pulls her waist closer, their bodies still aligned as they tread water in the gentle ebb of the waves. The ocean tonight is unusually calm, soothing in its quiet rhythm, and he finds himself grateful for the stillness.

The moment lingers between them, and for the first time, Tech realizes something he hadn’t before. It hadn’t been until that moment earlier—the fleeting second when he almost leaned in to kiss her—that he understood the desire that had been quietly building inside him. He hadn’t known he wanted to kiss her until that exact moment, but now, the feeling is undeniable, like a spark igniting within him. He hadn’t expected it, hadn’t planned for it, but as he holds her close, the sensation feels natural, almost inevitable. He feels the pull of something deeper than mere camaraderie, something he hadn’t let himself recognize until now.

Crosshair was right. He did figure it out. 

Tech hesitates for a moment, the weight of the moment settling around them. He pulls her a little closer, his voice quieter now, the sincerity clear.

"I really enjoyed that," he admits, his words slipping out before he can stop them. "More than I expected, honestly." He looks down for a moment, then meets her eyes, the hesitation still lingering. "But I want to make sure—did you mind? Was it too much?"

Marina holds his gaze, her expression thoughtful. After a beat, she shakes her head, her voice steady but soft. "No, I didn’t mind. It felt natural. Unexpected, but not unwelcome."

A wave of relief washes over Tech, but then something else rises within him, something he hadn’t anticipated. He shifts slightly, his brow furrowing as he considers her words. "I have to ask," he says quietly, "Is this the first time you’ve done something like this, since Keiron?"

The question hangs between them, sensitive and careful, but it feels right to ask. He doesn't mean to pry, but his concern for her feels more important than his own discomfort.

Marina’s expression changes, a flicker of something he can’t quite place passing through her eyes. She takes a deep breath, her gaze dropping for just a moment before she looks back at him, her voice softer now.

"No," she says slowly. "I’ve maintained a few casual physical relationships since Keiron. Nothing serious, nothing like this." She pauses, her gaze steady, vulnerable in a way Tech hadn’t expected. "What we just shared is certainly more gratifying. It’s more than I thought I was ready for, but at the same time, it feels right."

Tech takes in her words, feeling a warmth spread through him, tempered with an understanding that runs deeper than he anticipated. He nods slowly, meeting her gaze, as if trying to take in everything she’s just shared.

Tech feels a wave of something new course through him, and it’s not just the gentle pull of the ocean around them. The air between them feels different now, the unspoken tension palpable in a way that’s impossible to ignore. He searches her face, looking for some indication of what’s next.

“Marina,” he begins slowly, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “I don’t think we can just pretend that didn’t happen. That moment. The way it felt.”

She meets his gaze, steady but thoughtful, clearly processing the same thing. "No, I don’t think we can," she agrees quietly, her voice clear, but there’s a certain weight to her words. "It’s strange, isn’t it? How quickly things shifted. But it didn’t feel wrong. Not for a second."

Tech lets out a breath, his chest a little tight but he appreciates her honesty. "I don’t know if this is how we expected things to go, but... it felt important. Even if it wasn’t part of some grand, traditional idea of what this is supposed to look like."

Marina nods, her lips curling slightly into a soft, knowing smile. "I’ve never been one for the 'song and dance' of romance," she says with a quiet laugh. "I think we’ve both spent enough time trying to live by everyone else’s expectations." She pauses for a moment, her eyes flicking away to the horizon before returning to him. "But this—what just happened—feels like it should be part of what we’re building. Not in spite of what’s come before, but because of it. We don’t need to complicate things with rules that don’t fit us."

Tech takes in her words, a light dawning in his chest. "So you believe we should alter this arrangement, then? Make it something more physical? Even if it’s undefined, without the typical build-up or structure?"

She shrugs, her expression open. "Why not? You and I are unlike everyone else in many ways. And sometimes the most honest connections are the ones that don’t follow a script." She pauses, then adds, "If that’s what you want,"

Tech feels a sense of relief, mixed with a deep sense of understanding. "I think I do," he says quietly, the words simple but carrying a weight of truth. "I think I’ve been fighting it, mostly because I truly didn’t understand what I was feeling, but this feels like something we should lean into. Even if it’s not how others would expect."

Marina smiles, the tension between them easing as she moves a little closer. "Then let’s stop fighting it," she says, her voice low and assured.

Tech looks at her, his expression serious now, the weight of the conversation settling in. "I agree but," he begins, his voice quiet but firm, "I want you to know... with all of this being so... undefined between us, we’ll have to be honest with each other. No matter what happens."

Marina tilts her head, her gaze never leaving his, as if trying to read the depth of his words. She doesn’t rush to respond, but her eyes soften, a subtle understanding passing between them.

"I mean it," Tech continues, his brow furrowing slightly. "If we’re doing this, whatever that may entail, I need to know we can always talk—no matter how messy or complicated things get. I don’t want to end up misinterpreting something or leaving anything unsaid."

Marina nods slowly, her expression thoughtful but open. "I agree," she says, her voice steady. "I do not intend to play games. If we’re going to do this, we need to be able to be upfront about what we want, what we need even when it’s uncomfortable." she paused for a moment before chuckling and saying, “although you’ve been fairly blunt with me, as I have with you, so I do not perceive it to be a problem,” 

Tech lets out a soft laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing at her words. There’s a small, reassuring comfort in her response, something that makes him feel more certain about the path they’re stepping onto, even without a clear map.

“You’re right,” he agrees, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Bluntness is definitely something we seem to have in common.” His gaze softens as he looks at her, his voice becoming more earnest.Tech takes a small, measured breath, his mind ticking through the conversation with a careful precision. As much as the moment feels natural, the lack of structure still pulls at him, and his desire to understand everything clearly urges him to address it head-on.

"Marina," he begins, his tone calm but purposeful. "Before we proceed any further, I need to ask. Do you have any preferences when it comes to the physical aspects of a relationship? Boundaries, expectations, or anything that’s important to you?"

Marina’s eyes narrow slightly, as if assessing the seriousness of his question, before giving a small nod. She seems unbothered by the clinical nature of his inquiry, perhaps even appreciating it. "I think it's important to be clear about things," she responds, her voice steady but thoughtful. "I’ve had casual experiences, as I mentioned, but nothing that had a real depth or consistency. Certainly nothing with this level of familiarity. So, I suppose I don’t have any rigid preferences, but I’d want to make sure things are mutual, respectful. I don’t need anything to be forced, and I don’t want it to feel transactional. You know me well enough to recognize that I would likely be honest about liking or disliking certain kinds of physical affection," She pauses, her gaze meeting his with a quiet intensity. "Does that make sense?"

Tech nods slowly, processing her words with his characteristic focus. "Yes," he says, his voice softening slightly. "That makes sense. I don’t want anything to feel rushed or uncomfortable. And I don’t want to make assumptions. If we’re going to move forward, I need to know that we’re both aligned on what we’re comfortable with." He looks at her directly, making sure she knows he’s fully listening, waiting for her response.

She tilts her head slightly, a thoughtful expression crossing her face as she considers his words. "I think the most important thing for me is communication," she replies, her voice steady. "Being open about what we want and making sure we’re both on the same page as we move forward. I’m not expecting this to be a traditional relationship, but if it’s something we want to continue, I need to know we’re being honest about what we need physically."

Tech takes a moment to process her answer, feeling a weight lift off his chest. The clarity of the conversation feels grounding, even if the connection between them is still undefined. "I agree," he responds, his voice more measured. "I don’t want to take any step without being sure we’re both comfortable and genuinely consenting to it."

There’s a brief pause, the air between them feeling calm but charged with the weight of what they’ve just discussed. Finally, Marina nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Good. I think that’s a good foundation. We’ll take it one step at a time and speak freely."

Tech meets her gaze, his mind finally easing from its earlier tension. "One step at a time," he agrees, his tone steady but sincere. "And if anything changes, we’ll talk about it."

The simplicity of the arrangement feels like a solid beginning. There are no grand promises, no rush, just the understanding that whatever happens, they’ll navigate it together—honestly, carefully, and with mutual respect.

Before either of them can say more, he finds himself pulling her gently into an embrace, his arms slipping around her waist as the waves continue their steady rhythm around them. The water around them shifts with the movement, a soft swirl of sensation as they float, bodies close but not suffocating.

For a moment, Tech feels the weight of everything—the complexities, the unspoken things—seem to vanish. It’s just them now, this quiet, shared space in the water where they don’t have to explain anything, don’t have to fit any particular mold.

Marina lets out a soft sigh, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders as she leans into him. He feels the warmth of her body through the coolness of the water, the rhythm of their breathing synchronized in a quiet pulse.

“It’s strange,” she murmurs after a beat, her voice almost lost in the hush of the night. “I never thought I’d find someone who... just understands. No expectations. No need for grand gestures. Or even explanations of aspects of who I am.”

Tech exhales slowly, his voice soft but steady. “I didn’t think I would either.” He pulls her in a bit closer, just enough to feel the reassurance of her presence. “But this feels right. This... uncomplicated but comfortable space.”

Her head rests against his, and for a moment, the only sound is the gentle lapping of the water against their bodies. It's a simple connection, but there’s something so deeply profound about it. No words are needed, just the quiet understanding that whatever this is, it’s real.

He closes his eyes for a second, letting the sensation of the moment settle within him. When he opens them again, Marina is still there, her gaze soft, her expression peaceful. It’s as though the uncertainty has melted away, leaving only the quiet certainty of their shared space in the water.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice quiet but filled with meaning. “For allowing me space to feel comfortable,”

Tech shakes his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Ironic,” he pauses with a small shake of his head and a chuckle, “I was going to say the same to you.”

She returns the smile, and for a brief moment, everything feels perfectly balanced. Whatever happens next, he knows they’ll continue to navigate it side by side.

As the ocean gently rocks them, Tech tightens his hold on her, not out of need, but because he wants to. He wants this—whatever it may turn into. Nudging his head along hers, for the first time in a long time, he feels like he can let go of the weight of expectation, allowing himself to simply be present.

Unguarded.

As a Reminder this Lovely Art is by @leenathegreengirl!

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