Chapter Text
Change is not always wished for.
Sometimes it just crashes in; ebbs and flows like the ocean waves as the tides attempt to conquer their never ending battle of easing against the grain. It does not give you much of a choice, does not care about your contentment in the moment, whether or not you are ready to embrace it. Fair amounts of times there is no warning, no siren to let you know of its approach.
It simply comes. And it uproots you from the comfort of where you find yourself to be planted. Your roots being forced out of the only soil that you know, that makes you who you are, that augments you.
And it plants you elsewhere.
Life on Pandora was the only life you knew, the only life you would ever know. You were born here, on the ship before the initial war happened. Apparently guns aren’t the only thing the human military doesn’t know how to keep to themselves, because you weren’t the only baby left behind either.
Growing up with Spider by your side as your off-the-record brother was a bit unorthodox, especially in the early years. You were older–by just a month, but you’d forever hang it over his head–and you felt that weight on you from the start. Which in turn might be where the guilt that settles so cooly in the bottom of your gut spawns from.
He has always been so curious, adventurous in his own right in a way that seemed to always tie him into trouble and get dragged down by it like a rope around the ankles. And you were always the one responsible for cutting him free, cleaning up his messes and tugging him back to reality when he would venture out too far in his escapades. The tether tying you two together was knotted and it reflected in how you felt the kinks tug at you like a bind on your wrist.
You were both human, exceptions that were allowed to run free in a fleeting sense among the Omaticaya clan and embrace it as you so chose. The Sully children were more accepting, more open to the thought of the two of you being there, than the rest of their people. You understood that–and you thought Spider did, too–but it was still so easy to selfishly question why you received such shunning looks as a child as you walked around their home.
Yet, it was comforting–to know you had someone who could really relate. Being orphaned in the same place really does wonders in bonding with one another. So maybe that’s why you felt so guilty, so contrite when it all went down.
You were still so young–just seven years old–when you started getting sick. The technology carried over by the scientists on Pandora was vast, sure, but it wasn’t like there was a research hospital planted there that could explain every medical outlier that occurred. So when they tried running tests, monitoring vitals and having trials with the different medicines they had on hand and nothing seemed to work, you came to mature conclusions at the brink of your childhood.
You were going to die, is what you had deduced. A month before your eighth birthday and your prognosis was due up by before then. And it was scary, of course, (the concept of dying is not an easy one to swallow, let alone for a seven year old) but you were more worried for Spider.
Leaving him there? Alone? As the only human child in all of Pandora when you yourself knew what it was like to feel like an oddly placed outcast? It hurt you, pained you, but even when you were bound to the confines of your bed you put on a brave face.
Because, after all, that’s what older siblings are supposed to do, is it not? Make sure their siblings never have to worry about anything? Make sure they think everything is okay?
It was then you learned the very dire lesson of what it meant to fake it until you make it. Smiling at Spider’s and Lo’ak’s absurd stories about whatever bind they had gotten themselves into this time and using your hand to cover up the blood you felt on the tip of your tongue as you laughed. Shielding him, protecting him, until the very last second.
But, as stated, the technology on Pandora was quite vast. And, while it was clear there was no human antidote that could cure you of whatever ailment was plaguing your body, there was a last stitch resort.
It was Kiri, who you heard propose it to Dr. Max.
To this day you think her origins are what give her such enlightenment about things, what opens her eyes to solutions of problems that always hold the best intentions and always seem to have ties to her soul. Even at such a young age. She’s connected to something, whether it be the pure humanity that Grace once held or something else, you’ve never been quite sure, but it has never failed to captivate you.
There was one singular unattributed Avatar that had been a sort of.. test.
Being the first abandoned baby left behind on Pandora in lieu of the resolution of war meant more opportunities. While the scientists knew full well how their prior Avatars maintained, there was a bit of a question in hindsight. Why not have one grow alongside you?
It seemed like more of a moral dilemma than it really was, but all you had to attribute was a sample of your DNA, which was really harmless enough. The Avatar would not be used–not while the driver was still young, at the very least–but it would be monitored, observed. They already knew how Avatars grew when being aided with rapid growth hormones during their flights from Earth, but this one would be left to run its natural course.
Unbothered, undisturbed, isolated from every outside force besides the scientists who were cleared to be in the room with its amnio tank, it grew freely. You had never seen it, never asked about it, because it was a touchy subject to address. After all, Spider didn’t have one, and while it seemed partially trivial to you (it’s not like you were going to be able to use it anyways), you could see how jilted it made him. So no one chose to bring it up into conversation.
That is, until you were dying. And suddenly Kiri’s seemingly innocent suggestion held more vital weight than anyone could ever imagine.
It took a bit to prepare and things like this tend to take some convincing. It was hard enough the first two times, bringing in one of the sky people for a consciousness transfer is never an easy subject to propose, understandably. But you were a special case. You were different; sick, innocent, familiar.
You were a dying child.
It wasn’t primarily easy but it was also easy enough convincing Mo’at to attempt the transfer when Jake carried you to her. You were frail, weak. It was clear your time was running out and running out fast, mere grains of sand away until your hourglass’s top half went empty. So it was set into motion accordingly.
After all, even if it was unsuccessful you were going to die anyway. It’s not like there was much to lose.
The night of your transfer was the first night you’d ever seen your Avatar. Looking over as Neytiri carried it, walking next to Jake as they took you to the Tree of Souls. Staring into a Na’vi-esque mirror is the best way your young mind could think to describe it. It looked like you, but it didn’t. It looked Na’vi, but it still had its flaws.
That was the last you saw of your Avatar before you were placed at the roots of the tree next to it. The feeling was strange, alien, as tendrils began to connect to you. You figured that was about accurate– alien. Though up until this point (and after) you realized that was how the Na’vi viewed all aspects of you.
Your last memory before you felt your consciousness slipping was the touch of each member of the Sully line pressing their palm to your temple. Jake, Neytiri, Neteyam, Lo’ak, all of their presences known to you. Spider wasn’t there, he was not permitted. And as your eyes fluttered shut and your consciousness regressed, you wondered what he was thinking about it all.
That was your last thought, before white light engulfed your mind.
Fast Forward - Present Time
“We will need to run another raid as soon as possible,” Jake states, looking to where the three of you were flanking him on your ikrans. “Keep them on their toes. Back to back blows will be the most effective.”
“Yes,” Neytiri nods, “Continue to cut off supplies.”
“More patrols should take place. Son, I need smooth patrols. If you are not up for that–”
“I am,” Neteyam interjects instantly, and your gaze flickers to him as he does so. His expression is serious, promising. “There will be no more errors, sir. Smooth patrols only.”
You study him, cinch your brows as he makes this promise as if he’s the one who chooses to stray from the marks. You suppose you get it though, understand the duty he feels to attempt to bear the chastisement for his younger brother. Still, it seems a promise too faltering to keep.
As if he senses your thoughts on this, his eyes dart over his shoulder to you. A side eye as if asking you to not comment on it, not pipe up. You hadn’t planned to but now you have the urge to retort something just because. However, you don’t have the chance.
“Devil Dog? Devil Dog, this is Eagle Eye. Over.”
Lo’ak’s voice over the comm brings all of your attentions back to hand. If not for his randomness, then his tone came through wired enough to have you all focused.
“Eagle Eye, send your traffic,” Jake answers, fingers to the button at his throat.
“I got eyes on some guys. They look like Avatars, but they’re in full camo and carrying ARs. There’s six of them. Over.”
The change in the air is instant. Despite flying it feels stiff, like the four of you are suddenly suspended rather than gliding. Lo’ak’s news means there’s people on the island, which you’re all obviously well aware of. But it doesn’t just mean that. It means there are Avatars, and if he doesn’t recognize them then it’s very clear on who they belong to.
Jake doesn’t miss a beat. “What’s your pos? Over.”
“Uh..” A breath. “We’re at the old shack.”
His father stiffens on the back of his ikran and sends a tense look to his mate. “Who’s we? ”
There’s a pause now, at this question. A short one, a slight hesitation. You feel a tingle at the tips of your ears that doesn’t sit well with you. There’s a touch of static, a falter, then the silence breaks.
“Me, Spider, Kiri.. and Tuk.”
You see Neytiri’s eyes widen. You watch as Jake’s jaw clenches. You take note of how Neteyam’s grip tightens ever so slightly. And you become fully aware of the feeling of your stomach dropping as if you’ve fallen off your ikran from the peaks of the mountains.
“Son, you listen to me very carefully,” Jake instructs, no waver in his tone. “Fall back right now. Do not make a sound. Get the hell out of there. Move. Copy?”
“Yes sir,” Lo’ak hits immediately. “Moving out.”
Neteyam shakes himself free first and sends a glance back at you before moving up and getting in line with his father.
“Dad! I know a quick way,” he affirms, then instantly banks a hard right to which the three of you follow close behind.
For a moment you wonder how he knows a short cut. It was forbidden by Jake and Neytiri (especially the former) to go anywhere near the old fight zone, for anyone. So how would Neteyam know a way? If not that he had already been? Had not already broken that rule?
The thought turns trifling immediately after you have it though, because the weight of the situation finally hits you. It’s not just your friends turned family down there, it’s your brother. Your mindless, idiotic, always getting himself into these absolutely stupid situations brother.
The shortcut suddenly seems far too long to be considered as such.
As soon as your squad lands, you’re all immediately sliding off the backs of your ikrans. Jake and Neytiri are gauging up and you find yourself stepping right along with them, Neteyam as well.
“No no no. Stay with the ikran.” Jake lifts a hand to the two of you, looking at Neteyam a bit more intensely as he gives his order.
“But Dad,” Neteyam butts in, taking another step forward. “I'm a warrior like you. I’m s’pposed to fight.”
“ Neteyam. ”
Jake hardens his gaze. “I’m not gonna say it again.”
Neytiri gives her son one last look then shoots one to you before the pair turns their backs and brings up their weapons. You bite the inside of your cheek, clench the handle of the knife at your waist.
“Yes sir,” Neteyam mumbles back obediently. He turns around himself and brushes past you to walk back next to his ikran.
You stare after their retreating forms for a moment. Staying behind and doing nothing does not sit well with you. Not to mention the building up of anxiety in your chest that has your fingers twitching and your ears wanting to press back against your skull. Whirling around, you stalk back to your ikran and pull your bow off of where it's cinched to its side.
“Where are you going?” Neteyam catches you by your wrist as you go to follow the path your clan leaders have just taken.
With a shake of your hand you loose his hold and fix him with a glare. “I am not going to stand by while they are out there alone.”
It’s raining, and a drop hits you on your cheek that feels strangely cold. The pattering of rain in the forest normally calms you, puts you at ease. But it is different this night. This night, you can hear the artificial animal calls Neytiri and Jake are voicing to signal to their children. This night, you are on edge as you wait for your family to be returned to safety.
This night, you hear a blaze of gunfire.
Both you and Neteyam snap your heads in the direction of the noise. You suck in a breath, harden your hold on your bow at the sounds of yelling and machinery going off. You’re taking a step forward instantly, but just as quickly you’re being shoved back from your path.
“Let me go, Neteyam!” You hiss, bare your teeth at him as he locks his hands on your upper arms and pushes your back against the tree.
“You stay here,” he jeers right back. “Stay here in case they come back. You do not stray.”
You shove against him, get your back a few inches from the bark. “I will not– ”
“ Stay here! ” He barks in a tone you know to be his future leader voice as he forces you back again. There’s a squeeze to your arms, reassuring but also pleading. The look in his eyes is one you can only describe as desperate. “Rutxe.” [ “Please.” ]
Neteyam has this sort of air about him that tends to command respect, compliance. So maybe that is what steels you as he retracts his grip and runs into the forest. You watch him for a moment, hand still on your bow before your eyes flicker to your surroundings. Surely the ikrans would warn you if they sensed any incoming danger that you had not, but as you draw up your bow you think it right to be better safe than sorry.
It’s painstaking, the waiting. You twitch and turn at every creak and crack you hear around you. Wondering when and who is going to be coming through those trees first, who will reach the brink of safety in order.
The gunfire continues and unfamiliar voices mixed with those you know all too well seem to get closer and closer. It’s like everything begins to heighten, increase and expand like walls closing in. There’s a snap to your left and you ready your bow, pointing it in the direction your ears lead you just in case.
But it is no foreigner. You drop your weapon as Lo’ak and Tuk breach the small clearing and skirt in panting. Tuk jerks her hand free from Lo’ak’s when he stops to bend over and catch his breath, not faltering until she runs straight into you.
“Tuk,” you sigh in relief as she collides into your arms. As you’re kneeling to embrace her, checking for any injuries or damages on her young self, the second group of your clan comes through.
“You okay? Are you hurt?” Jake questions instantly as he and Neteyam make it into the clearing. Lo’ak shakes his head, and you do the same when he takes a quick glance to Tuk as she runs to him the next second, high sobs falling from her lips.
A bright light sweeps over the forestry and the Sully brothers step up to your sides as all of you look up to see an RDA aircraft come down to retrieve their men and then fly away. Just as they’re falling out, the missing segment of your family tumbles into the huddle.
Tuk makes an immediate bee line for her mother, who wraps her arms around her and exhales gratefully. You’re still on your knees as everyone begins embracing one another, holding and clinging and regaining themselves after too close of a call.
But not you, no. Slowly, you rise onto your feet and put your head on a swivel. Not everyone is here. Not everyone has been reconnected.
“Where’s Spider?” You ask, under your breath at first before his absence fully hits you. “Where’s Spider?!”
Kiri gets on her feet herself and a cry shatters out of her chest. She takes a step towards you, shaking and trembling as she reaches out.
“They took him,” she sobs. “ They took him. ”
As Kiri crashes into you, you feel all the breath evacuate your lungs as if you’ve been hit so hard your chest has concaved. You grip onto her, weeping and crying and gasping so harshly you feel as if you will never be able to breathe again.
A hand comes to your head and you feel yourself and Kiri being tugged into a firm chest. “Hey, it’s alright, babygirls. He’s a tough kid. Shh, shh. He’s gonna be okay,” Jake comforts and shushes, hooking his chin over the tops of your heads as he pulls you in tight.
“We’re all gonna be okay.”
But you do not believe that for one second. You can not all be okay because you are not all together, you are not all safe. Your brother has been captured by the very people who destroyed this land and population decades prior. Nothing is going to be okay. Not everyone is going to be alright.
And the solution decided for this problem only reinforces that for you.