DR. RUTH CARSON grew up hearing about Pandora as a kid, hearing of the alien moon that promised beauty and awe.
Coming from the lower class in the States, she fought tooth and nail to provide any opportunity to distance herself from the hard life s...
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WARNING: mentions of SA and abuse that might not be suitable for some readers.
JEALOUSY struck Ruth Carson in the strangest of ways. In the passing days that Jake's cot in the avatar hut remained empty, the second pair of brand new boots sat untouched just under the beds edge, she grew angry. One visit to the forest and Jake had somehow made contact with Omaticaya and survived, somehow gaining the chance to be instructed in their ways, to be taught as if he were one of their own. She would do anything to have his opportunity. In fact, she planned to find a way to join. If not to be trained, but to simply see those of the clan she missed so badly.
"Your anger is showing a lot today," Grace murmured from where she sat in front of a microscope, eyes full of the light it reflected.
Ruth shot her a look from where she sat in front of her own microscope. "Really? I wouldn't have noticed unless you told me." Her gaze looked off toward the link room, where Jake was currently in a session, doing who knows what outside of base.
Grace pulled away from her work and focused on the younger woman. "You can be upset with Jake for being presented an opportunity you wished for yourself," Grace stated simply. "Or you can be happy that we have a way back in with the clan again. Without his foot in the door, all those bridges that were burned would stay that way."
Ruth forced herself not to scoff. "They're teaching someone who has absolutely no knowledge of their culture, their beliefs or language," Ruth muttered while leaning back in the computer chair she'd been sitting in. She was starting to sound like Norm had when they'd first learned of Jake's opportunity.
"Perhaps it is best he knows nothing," Grace shrugged. "If he knows nothing, he has nothing to unlearn. It'll be similar to teaching a child to them."
Ruth rolled her eyes at the sensible thinking Grace was doing. She didn't want to hear reasoning. She wanted to complain about why she upset.
Here she was, a thirty-three year old woman upset that a jarhead marine with no qualifications got to experience and do things she'd trained years for. She didn't know how else to put more bluntly for Grace, but for the sake of her dignity the blonde haired woman stayed silent with her thoughts.
Grace had always been a kind hand with a good guidance. Sometimes she envisioned her as the mother she never had.
"I suppose so," Ruth conceded. She frowned after a few moments of silence. "Part of me wonders if the children will even remember me. If Neytiti will want to have anything to do with us after Sylwanin. . ." She quieted for a moment. Ruth often wished the deceased sister of Neytiri had not voiced her protests of the RDA's aggressive tactics for mining and the collection of resources. Destroying a bulldozer had led to her demise.
