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Phee Genoa was capable of many kinds of love.
Perhaps Tech hadn’t been able to identify them at first. Like he’d told Omega that day in the cave, he wasn’t built to process things the way most others could. She’d asked him why he didn’t act like they were family, why Echo leaving hadn’t affected him the same way it affected her, and Tech had to explain that he didn’t feel any less than her or anyone else.
But even so, living on Pabu—a place where life slowed down and the days stretched, making time for meaningless things such as idle chatter and quality time—was a challenge of its own. He’d never had to deal with such a tight-knit community that wasn’t entirely made up of direct (albeit defective) copies of one another, and he’d never wanted to put forth so much effort to find his place in said community.
And Phee? Well, Phee was an enigma.
Because she wasn’t just a pirate. She wasn’t carelessly brave or secretly selfish or there to play a game. It turned out that Phee was a person who had a home, an anchor, a people. She cared. She was intelligent and passionate and understanding. She was good with children, in a motherly sort of way, and she was good with adults, in a reasonable, confident way. She was good with Tech, and that was something he’d only been able to find within his small circle of brothers in Force 99, before Echo and Omega.
Truthfully, she was one of the first non-clones he’d found to treat him like he belonged from the moment they shared a room.
So not only was she fairly appealing to the eyes, a fact Tech had never been hesitant to admit, but she was brimming with love. A variety of types, in fact. And while it took some contemplation, it didn’t take too much time for Tech to figure that out. He’d even begun to categorize them somewhere in the recesses of his mind so he was able to label one when he observed it.
Phee had a mischievous sort of love. It was the kind he saw most when Tech chose the obvious and practical course in a situation, something as simple as opting where to sit when Omega and her new friends decided to perform an act for them. Tech zeroed in on a seat that would provide a sufficient view without sandwiching him in between Wrecker and Hunter, allowing for some breathing room, while also showing adequate support for his sister.
And if it was the spot directly beside Phee? He didn’t mind her company, either.
Phee would chuckle to herself, drawing Tech’s attention to her. She’d bump her arm against his. Suggesting something. Tech would stare at her until she laughed at him. Quiet enough to be between them but spirited all the same. They’d watch Omega and Lyana tell their stories and put on a show, but Phee would move close, somehow incorporating him into her enthusiastic shows of support. She pointed things out to him and she’d laugh at him, in his direction, as if he were the one to say something humorous and not the girls.
Then there were the times he’d agree with her on a matter in front of others or allow her to go through the door first (his eyes glued to his datapad, most commonly), and she’d pointedly stop to look up at him with a triumphant smirk like he’d done something to warrant it.
Once, she’d walked away after such a moment and Omega came up beside Tech. “She’s kind of. . .sassy,” Omega said, watching Phee go.
“Yes,” Tech had muttered, aware there was much more to it than that.
There were moments, even before Pabu, when Tech would nudge Phee away from something dangerous or stop in front of her before she went too far—a habit he’d picked up from being around Omega and something he’d begun to do with anyone who wasn’t one of his brothers, who he knew would take it the wrong way. He wasn’t sure exactly when it had started with Phee. She was very capable of taking care of herself. But Tech noticed the way she peeked her head above his shoulder to get a better view instead of simply side-stepping him. The look of amusement she sent his way. How she crossed her arms and raised a brow. . .they were gestures he’d grown fond of.
In addition, Phee liked to humor him. He couldn’t be sure what she got out of listening to him speak, but it was a companionship he didn’t have with many others. Tech liked to share things, he liked to know someone was receiving the knowledge he so often kept to himself.
“See these markings right here?” Phee said, drawing her fingers across indents in the stone wall.
“Hieroglyphs,” Tech proposed, studying them. “Perhaps a form of communication for the lifeforms that inhabited the island before it became what it is now. It is possible to compare this with the salvaged parchments you keep preserved to come to an accurate understanding of the symbols, if a primitive one. These hieroglyphs appear to be fairly simple and repetitive, so there’s bound to be a pattern.”
Phee hummed in thought, hand curled to her chin. “Interesting. I’ve never tried to decipher them. You should talk to Shep.”
“Of course,” Tech said automatically, but he wasn’t looking at the hieroglyphs anymore.
Phee straightened to look at him. “Y’know, brown eyes, these markings have been here for as long as I can remember and I never thought I would be able to read them. Now that I think about it, that’s a fair idea. It’s amazing what a second perspective can do.”
Tech stared at her. He realized he hadn’t touched his datapad in many hours. He hadn’t even brought it with him.
“I agree,” he said softly.
The glint in Phee’s eyes softened. Brown on brown, Tech thought, looking at her eyes. Then she turned away and he followed.
Just like that. He followed.
Perhaps it all had something to do with the way she sought after his opinion. She included him, even when he’d rather not be involved. She insisted they were friends—the closest of friends—and Tech began to believe it. After all, if Phee said as much, it must have some merit. She said they should greet each other and spend good times together. Tech didn’t even have the opportunity to deny her.
She’d shown him the island during sunset to watch his eyes alight. But after much of the lower constructions had been decimated by the wave, the people of Pabu worked from morning to evening trying to rebuild. They all pitched in, including Tech and the rest of the batch. It seemed the entirety of the island’s population decided to postpone the sightseeing in order to work.
But Phee wasn’t discouraged by the loss of that beautiful scene she’d showed off their first night on Pabu.
Tech never slept as long as his companions and was often awake on the Marauder before the rest of them. In an attempt to keep from waking Hunter—who was privy to every creak and tap—Tech opted to sit in the same place until it was time to get up, occupying his mind with whatever he pleased. The cockpit was his favorite place to be alone. It felt. . .like it was his. If home was a place, it was there.
The cockpit also offered a sufficient view outside of the ship, and it allowed him to easily catch sight of a certain treasure hunter as she crept into view. It was dark, undeniably so, but Tech could see.
He wasn’t certain how she knew he was awake, as that appeared to be the reason she was here. Phee caught his eye and waved at him. Tech cocked his head slightly.
Come down, she mouthed, gesturing for effect.
Tech glanced around the ship; down at his datapad. Then back up at her.
She flashed him a thumbs-up and made her way over to the ramp.
So Tech got up. He exited the Marauder as silently as he was able and met her on the ground. He watched the ends of her mouth tilt up. And he had to admit—he was intrigued.
“Follow me,” she said, almost whispered, and Tech wondered why. She wasn’t a particularly quiet person. No one would hear her except for maybe Hunter, but she wouldn’t think about that.
However, Pabu was still asleep. Phee mirrored her home, he noticed. She was quiet when it was resting. She was. . .softer. And when it was at the height of its brilliance, she shone perhaps even brighter.
Phee inclined her head. “Well? Let’s move, brown eyes.”
He almost tripped when she reached for him and tugged him along behind her in the way Omega had done to him many times before. She didn’t talk until several moments later when they watched the sun make its first appearance of the day over the horizon. Phee had led them down to the newly fashioned docks where she’d swung down to sit, eyes pinned to the water in the distance in anticipation. Not entirely sure what she was getting at, Tech stood. And stood.
He remained upright until Phee swiveled to look at him with pursed lips and a suggestive brow. She jerked her head. “Come on down here, will you?” She shook her head. “Geez.”
Tech lowered himself down onto the dock. Phee leaned back on her hands and sighed in contentment. “Eyes forward. It’s starting.”
So they watched the sun rise together. It crawled its way up at a pace that would have otherwise been too slow to entertain for so long, but Tech could understand why Phee decided to watch it that morning. The clouds made themselves known as the sky went ablaze with reds and oranges and a distinctive flush of fiery rose that Phee seemed to like the most. Then there was the lilac and the beginnings of blue and Tech knew the village would be rising soon, too.
Phee closed her eyes against the onslaught of vibrant colors. “What a sight, hm?”
Tech glanced down at her. “I suppose it is quite beautiful, yes.”
Her lips twitched, a detail he did, in fact, notice, and she turned to look at him. “I’m glad you think so,” she said, crossing her arms and giving him a smile he’d started to think of as playful—perhaps a bit teasing, smirk-like, but a genuine smile all the same.
He hadn’t seen her smile like that at anyone else, thus far.
Phee did it a lot, actually, mostly in reaction to something he said or did. Tech was fully aware he tended to respond to things in a way many of her friends would not, but he made no endeavor to change that, and she didn’t seem to mind. In fact. . .he’d gotten the impression that she liked it.
And he liked the way she humored him. He liked that smile and all the other ones he’d received since that day in Cid’s parlor. He liked that she’d taken an interest in him, and thought she was clever for that ridiculous nickname, brown eyes, when really it was one of the few things that he had in common with the general population and all of his clone brothers. It wasn’t goggles, or smarty, or four-eyes—all the juvenile things he’d heard in the past, a couple of which even Crosshair wasn’t above using. No, Phee chose Brown Eyes, something terribly simple and yet boldly ironic, considering Tech often found himself looking down into brown eyes of her own.
He wasn’t sure what made him begin talking that morning. But after he’d started, he discovered he didn’t care to stop. Not as long as Phee was listening the way she was, all of her attention his. Tech spoke of clone things, trivial things—but then the matter of Crosshair was brought up. And Phee knew a little (Omega could be quite the talker), but she couldn’t have known what it was like to grow up with him, to train by his side. . .to lose him.
“Sounds like you’re close,” Phee said, eyes trained on the sky as blue conquered the atmosphere.
Were close. The words he left unsaid.
But Phee seemed to have a supernatural sense to hear those unspoken thoughts; an uncanny ability to read his mind. And not because she was running through data or sifting through facts. Not because she was something of a scholar, and knew many of the things he did.
She just knew. Phee knew how to put feelings into words when Tech hadn’t even fully grasped hold of the sentiment himself.
“The funny thing about relationships, Brown Eyes,” she said, meaningfully, glancing at him without turning, “is that they aren’t all cut and dry. There’s no manual for loving another person. It’s not easy. Because if it were. . .it wouldn’t be worth all that much.”
Her eyes went back to watching the sky, and Tech looked down at her. Later, he would recall her words and use them to make a decision that would change everything. But, now, he saw Phee, and all he could see was Phee. The new sunlight captured her in a bronze glow, and she truly was beautiful—in mind and body.
He’d never thought those things about someone before. At least, not in any personal way.
“This Crosshair of yours,” she went on, this time turning to him with the beginnings of a smile, “sounds like he causes you a lot of trouble. But, maybe that’s why he’s worth it.”
This was her thoughtful side. Her love that was interested in others and tended to say the right things. It was this love that was the glue between her friends—the glue that made him stick around, partly out of curiosity, partly because he simply wanted to, and that seemed to be the most natural thing in the galaxy.
Somehow, Phee managed to be all of these things at once. Mischievous, humoring, thoughtful. . .she was brimming with it all. And she did it all unapologetically. Not because she owed anyone anything, but because she wanted to. She brushed his knuckles against hers with the barest of touches, and then she slapped him in the chest while she laughed. She had moments like the sunrise, when she showed exceptional but soft wisdom, and then there were the moments she stood as a leader before her people, firm and unwavering. A bravery that almost seemed reckless. Yet, if one looked close, she didn’t take unnecessary risks.
Phee didn’t take no for an answer, but she also seemed to be the most aware of boundaries. She pulled him away from his datapad or repairs only because he’d “been there, hunched over, for hours,” and when he expressed that he’d rather finish, she met his eyes and told him she wanted to spend time with him.
So Tech always gave in, and he never seemed to regret it.
He helped her plant trees, and they walked, and they deciphered ancient hieroglyphs during lunch breaks. And when the islanders played music at dusk, singing and dancing and drinking, Phee took his hand and showed him how to dance.
He wasn’t a dancer by any means, but he enjoyed dancing with her.
Even if she gave up teaching him the steps and opted to sway without pattern instead, in whatever way she wished. She didn’t release his hand or his torso, and Wrecker was laughing somewhere and Tech could practically feel Hunter’s eyes—but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
He was standing in the doorway, watching his brothers and their friends enjoy the night, when Phee appeared beside him, handing him a drink.
“Good evening, Phee.”
She looked up at him with a wry little smile and rocked on her feet, implying that she would be walking away soon.
“It is, isn’t it?” Phee said. He stood still, waiting for her to keep walking, to join the others. When she didn’t, he blinked down at her.
But she had drawn close—and then her hair brushed his temple as she kissed his cheek—and then she turned and kept going, all in one fluid movement.
Tech’s drink sat forgotten in one hand as his fingers brushed his face where she’d touched, watching her go. What was this feeling? Was he, perhaps, ‘dumbstruck?’
“Interesting,” he muttered, transfixed.
And thus, his newest discovery: Phee was also extremely affectionate. A trait he’d never experienced outside of his brothers (and, of course, Omega), and one he could—possibly—stand to experience more of.
But she didn’t insist on group hugs like Wrecker did or give comforting support by way of shoulder like Hunter. She didn’t jump on him with an embrace like Omega, or flick him the way Crosshair used to do. Phee did little things. Smaller even, sometimes, than should be noticeable. But Tech noticed. He always noticed.
That had been the first time she kissed him. Afterward, Tech began to wonder when she would do it again. He didn’t have to wonder for very long, of course, because Phee wasted no time. He found that the closer they drew, the more comfortable she became. Tech could almost compile a list of the ways she touched him in ways he’d never been touched before—kissing his knuckles, touching his back, tapping his nose—this one he could not understand. But he didn’t feel like he had to. For once in his life, understanding was secondary. Feeling came first.
“Are you and Phee. . .together?” Omega asked one night, when he was helping her tuck herself in.
Tech handed her Wrecker’s old tooka doll and adjusted his goggles. “Why do you ask?”
Omega yawned and shrugged. “I don’t know. Because I wanted to. And she’s waiting outside for you.”
Tech stared at his little sister for a while. He adjusted his goggles again.
“I think she really likes you, Tech.” She smiled at him, big and bright but not quite reaching her sleep-heavy eyes. “And I think you really like her.”
“Yes,” Tech said after a few moments. But he guessed Omega wasn’t really listening anymore. He turned to look at the doorway where a few feet away he knew Phee was waiting. Perhaps she wanted to dance with him again tonight. Perhaps she wanted to map constellations.
Whatever it was, he found he didn’t mind. He did like Phee. And she liked him. And whatever was supposed to come next—this he wasn’t sure of either—Tech was ready to find out.