Chapter 3
THREE
JETT
“What’s wrong?” Jett asked Eddie again. Something had changed on Eddie’s trip to Ganymede, something that put him on edge, kept him quiet and contemplative. Jett had hoped the tension would ease after a day or two. But it hadn’t.
Eddie wouldn’t touch him, barely spoke to him. All he did when he was in their rooms was tap on his console tab.
tap tap tap
Today he sat at his blank tab screen, tapping away on the desk while Jett cleaned around him, trying to keep quiet. Trying to keep the peace while Eddie processed whatever was going through his head.
tap tap tap
The sound repeated over and over again.
tap tap tap
There was nothing to drown it out. The incessant sound, and Eddie’s complete silence, tested Jett’s patience.
tap tap tap
Jett’s temper flared white hot, a star about to explode. He walked over and grabbed Eddie’s wrist.
“Would you fucking stop that? Seriously, what’s your problem?”
Jett was pissed off. The trip to Ganymede had been Eddie’s idea.
He’d insisted on it, despite the strained relationship with his family and their probable disdain for Jett’s background.
Eddie said he didn’t care what they thought, that he loved Jett and this was just the last chance for his family to prove that they wanted to be in their lives.
He’d begged Jett to come with him, but Jett had said no. Jett disliked them on principle.
So Eddie had gone alone, and now he wouldn’t even look up from his damned tab while Jett gripped his arm.
“Take your hand off of me, Lieutenant.” Eddie’s voice was cold, stern as he rose and towered over Jett. None of his great warmth dripped from those words. There was nothing of his Eddie in the tall, broad man in their quarters; he was more a stranger now than the day they met.
Jett recoiled once the words registered. Eddie hadn’t called him by his rank in years; not since before they’d gotten together, and long before they’d moved in with each other and started to plan their lives together.
“Ed? What happened? What’s wrong?” Jett pleaded, but got no response.
Eddie stepped over to their wardrobe, pulled out Jett’s uniforms, and set them neatly over the back of his chair.
The rest of his clothing followed. Jett didn’t have much else.
His weapons and armor were down on the Security level, his tab was always on him.
The biggest part of Jett’s life was shoving Jett’s clothes into a bag.
“What are you doing, Ed?”
“You are leaving.”
“Leaving? I have nowhere else to go.” Jett felt mounting pressure in his chest. “I don’t belong anywhere except with you.”
He stepped back as Eddie threw the bag at him. It barely missed his leg and slid into the wall. “What’s going on Eddie? What happened?” Jett’s voice rose higher and higher as his panic and confusion grew. His eyes stung as they started to water.
Eddie didn’t respond.
“Whatever it is, we can talk about it.” The tears flowed down his face, now dripping off his chin and jaw.
Eddie pointed at the door. “When was the last time you wanted to talk about our issues? I believe you prefer ignoring everything until it pleases you best.”
It finally sunk in. Eddie was leaving him. “Please, Eddie… I love you. You’re my everything.” Jett would beg on his knees, make any pledge necessary to keep Eddie from pushing him out that door.
“Do you?” Eddie stepped around Jett as his legs gave out and he fell forward to the floor. Eddie stopped, but didn’t look back. “Do not be here when I return.”
Jett was four drinks deep and the pain was still too much to bear. The pain of losing Eddie, the pain of knowing that he’d fucked everything up. Again. The surprise announcement had rattled him and he’d gone into fight mode.
Instead of dulling the pain and memories of the last two months, the drinks sharpened the edges, made the words echo in his ears, louder than the music and patrons around him.
Tech Noir was one of the largest bars in the city of Neo-Tokyo, and was always crowded.
And though it wasn’t strictly a crew bar, many of the officers found solace in the darkness, the EDM, and the drinks.
“And soon I will never have to see you again.”
It was the emphasis that hurt the most.
“Jett?”
Jack’s voice shook him out of his stupor.
“You okay, kid?”
Jack was Eddie’s size with long, thick black hair, coppery skin, and age lines on his square face. He peered at Jett through squinted eyes.
“Do I fucking look okay?” Jett glared at his best and oldest remaining friend.
“Way to keep the mood up.” Cosma smirked at him from across the table, well out of his reach. Her long violet hair bounced as she tossed her head and smiled at Ell beside her.
Jett winced; he hadn’t seen or heard the small group of Security Officers approach. His usually heightened senses were dulled by pain, shame, and booze in equal measure.
“Oh baby, you know there is so much rage in that tiny man.” Ell flopped down beside Jett and elbowed him in the side.
“You’re the same fucking size as me, Ell,” Jett snarled. “I’m gonna tell Ollie to fire you all and replace you with better officers.”
Ell and Cosma rolled their eyes in unison as Jack shook his head. “The ship would fall apart after a single day.”
“Do you think District 2 or 3 would crumble first?” Cosma asked Jack over her wine.
Jett watched his friends as they bantered back and forth, as Ell and Cosma looked adoringly at each other. They had long since adapted to each other, taken on each other’s character traits and mannerisms. Jett wished he and Eddie had gotten to that point.
Tears welled up in Jett’s eyes and his ears unfocused.
He’d spent so much time trying to drown himself in booze, to forget that he’d lost everything, and all that did was make it worse.
He could cry here among his friends, but he hated doing that.
He hated putting his troubles on them. They felt like his burdens to carry, especially when he’d been the cause.
“What happened?” Ell asked, rubbing a hand across Jett’s back.
And soon I will never have to see you again.
“Maria pushed me to talk to Eddie.” Jett’s throat was scratchy from crying most of the day. “It didn’t go well.”
Jack patted his arm. “Do you wanna talk about it, kid?”
Jett swirled his cocktail and sipped. “No.” He wiped his eyes and stared into the crowd, the moving bodies, the darkly beautiful music, and wished he hadn’t. There were memories of Eddie here, too.
“Jett, seriously, are you okay?” Cosma’s concern broke through before Jett lost his composure.
Jett looked up at her, face twitching to keep back tears. “What am I going to do without him?”
And soon I will never have to see you again.
Ell shrugged. “The same thing you’re doing now: surviving. One day it will get easier.”
“I don’t want it to get easier. I want him back.” Jett downed the rest of his drink and stood, looking at all of them. “I’m gonna go now.” He didn’t want to be a burden on them.
Jack slid to the edge of the booth. “I’ll take you back to your quarters.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.” Jett coughed back his own tears, bending over the table to steady himself as a wave of dizziness hit. He hadn’t slept well since the breakup, hadn’t eaten much in days, and both were catching up to him now.
“I’m coming anyways.” Jack grabbed Jett by the shoulder and walked him toward the door.
Back in his new-ish rooms, Jett collapsed on the clothing-covered couch. Jack settled next to him.
“You may not need a babysitter anymore, but you do need looking after.” Jack’s voice was less commanding now, more like an older brother chiding a younger sibling.
From when Jett was transferred to Emergency Response at eighteen until now, they’d rarely been separated.
Jack had even followed Jett to the Neo-Tokyo and watched as Jett fell head-over-heels in love with Eddie.
Jett sighed, pushed his face into his hands. “It was bad, Jack. I yelled at him—screamed at him. I made a big fucking scene and he dressed me down like Blaine used to do.”
Jett could still see the commander of the Emergency Response division of the Charon Defense Force. A nasty old man who’d hated Jett despite the number of missions he successfully completed. Nothing made that man happier than putting someone in what he thought was their place.
Jack scoffed. “Don’t insult him like that. Eddie couldn’t be as bad as Blaine, even if he fixated on it.”
“I know,” Jett admitted. It was a bad comparison, but one of the only that came to mind. “It was worse than with Blaine, ‘cause I still love Eddie so fucking much.” A dry sob sent him coughing, and Jack pulled him upright to help the fit pass. “And…he was right.”
“What about?”
And soon I will never have to see you again.
“Everything. H-how I hid everything about my past from him. How I was complacent being here and being Head of Security when I knew he had more ambitions than that. How-” Jett sighed. “How I refused to meet his family, and couldn’t protect him from their abuse.”
That was what hurt the worst. For all his supposed bravery, for all his past experience rescuing people, he hadn’t been there for Eddie.
He even refused to be present to support Eddie when the man needed it the most. When Eddie begged Jett to come along for just a few days, Jett had shot the suggestion down without a thought.
“He must hate me.”
Jack didn’t say anything. He just patted Jett on the shoulder and sat with him while Jett cried out the last of his tears, until he choked once more and, covered in snot, used a dirty shirt to wipe his face.
When was the last time you wanted to talk about our issues?
The question had bounced around in his head since the breakup.
He’d ignored the problems that rose between them: the fights he’d picked when overstimulated, his issues with physical intimacy, his lack of trust, his emotional outbursts.
He either picked fights or ignored the problems until everything smoothed over.
“I was a horrible partner. I didn’t deserve someone as sweet as Eddie.”
“Don’t say that, kid. You did the best you could.”
Eddie wasn’t perfect, either. His extreme hyper-fixations stole hours, days, or weeks at a time; he held himself emotionally detached; he had avoided all conversations about taking the final steps in their relationship.
Despite those imperfections, Jett always felt like he’d been worse.
He was just an asshole—a scared, overly attached asshole who didn’t know how to live without the man he loved.
You never deserved him.
Jett shook his head. “No, I didn’t. I should’ve opened up to Eddie. I should’ve trusted him when he never gave me a reason not to…”
Jett looked at his hands, his nails, at the red scabs on his forearms, and the bleeding wounds in his palms. He’d scratched his arms, first subconsciously and then intentionally. Partially in penance for everything he’d done, and partially stimulation to keep the pain in his heart and head at bay.
“I should’ve been better.”
Jett had done so much damage to Eddie, and himself, in such a short period of time. He deserved this pain, these wounds, and hated himself for those thoughts.
“It’s not your fault that you struggle the way you do, kid. The CDF fucked you up, your parents fucking off fucked you up, losing Gin fucked you up. Nothing has ever been easy for you.”
“That’s not an excuse for what I did to Eddie.” Jett sighed and wiped more tears from his face. “I should’ve gotten help before things got this bad.”
“You can get that help now, Jett. Before you do anything else to yourself or the people you care about.”
“Ha!” Jett laughed, a rueful gasp of air escaping his lungs. “It’s too fucking late for all of that. What’s the point now that I’ve lost everything.”
“You haven’t lost everything yet.” Jack stood. “Promise me you won’t do anything drastic.”
Jett smiled at the floor. “I’m fine, Jack. You don’t have to worry.”
“I don’t believe you, but I know you want to be alone. Just don’t hesitate to call me, or Ell, or Ollie if you need us. We’re here for you, no matter what.”
Jett smiled, cradling the worst of his arms against his chest. “I will,” he lied. He had no intention of pushing his pain on his friends, even if that meant pushing them away.
Jack left with a grimace on his face, and Jett knew he’d worry despite the reassurances.
The self-harm had happened in the past, when his memories were sharper, more painful, when his scars burned and itched beyond reckoning. Right now, for just this one night, he wanted to really feel the consequences of his actions. He wouldn’t hurt himself further, or permanently.
Jett was too stubborn to die.
So he cried, writhed on his bed, gave into every horrible thought and forced back every wretched intention. When he finally calmed, there was a blank stillness in his chest, a fog in his brain. He felt the full loss of Eddie, of his future, of his past, and did nothing.
“And soon I will never have to see you again.”
Jett was devoid of all emotion, all desire.
He was done; done with mourning, with tears, with sorrow, with joy.
Jett was done with love.
There was no room left in him for further agonies.