Chapter Text
He sees crimson every time he closes his eyes. Lo’ak carries the blood on his hands with every breath he takes and every step he walks. Every movement is taken without his brother, and it feels selfish.
Lo’ak can’t even bring himself to the Spirit Tree.
Everyone else can.
His mother and father went first – together, without the children. His other siblings have eventually gone, but Lo’ak has always snuck away. There is some excuse he would bring up. Sometimes there isn’t an excuse at all. He simply runs away, heading Payakan. There are times where he’d try to discuss his feelings in full with his spirit brother, but that’s what was so special about their bond. He doesn’t need to say anything at all.
Lo’ak almost punishes himself entirely. The first time he thinks of retreating to Payakan since the loss of Neteyam, guilt floods his heart. I told Neteyam he wasn’t my brother, that Payakan was. And he was doing it again – instead of going to the Spirit Tree to visit his blood brother, he was drawn to his spirit brother. He has left him behind again to clean up his mess and face the consequences.
When would his selfishness stop?
But facing his brother through the Spirit Tree is a fear he can not face, and so he retreats to Payakan for his calming presence, away from the clan and the grief of his family.
It’s the first time he’s seen his spirit brother since the fight.
Apart from his feelings of guilt, Lo’ak has wanted to observe Payakan’s injuries. His pod had once faced humans before and lost – Lo’ak worries for him.
The water takes over him in peaceful silence as Payakan’s large figure comes into view. Lo’ak swims toward him, wrapping the giant in his arms. His hands smooth over the creature’s skin that is now riddled with gunfire. Anger flashes through Lo’ak, and Payakan can sense it. But with that feeling is profound gratitude. Without his spirit brother, Lo’ak is certain the death toll would have increased.
“I see you,” he tells Payakan, because a simple thanks could never be enough. Rarely does he say these words, so it carries the weight. “Come on, where can I help? Where’d they hurt you?” Lo’ak begins to swim around and inspect his brother. He looks to pull out any stray weapons that may have stuck in his thick skin. Luckily, his surprise solo attack caught the scattered sea crew off guard. No harpoons or spears protrude from him. Still, Payakan thanks him for offering.
He returns to Payakan’s fins, grabbing ahold to stay sturdy.
“I’m sorry I didn’t look for you after it all. There was just too much …” Lo’ak trails off, unsure how to communicate just how deeply the loss pains him. “They killed Neteyam.”
The boy’s voice cracks in both sorrow and raw anger. He sees red, that disgusting crimson that stains his hands no matter where he goes.
“I’m sorry ,” says Payakan, and Lo’ak somehow feels like they understand each other deeper, if that’s even possible.
“I get it now, Payakan. The Tulkun Way.” Lo’ak didn’t understand it at first. He thought it to be cruel. Why should Payakan be blamed for the death of his fellow tulkun and their riders? All he did was fight and hope to beat the Sky People. He did something, he took action. And when Lo’ak had connected to him, he felt that deep despair and pain. He didn’t deserve to be outcast when regret cut so deep.
Until the same thing happened to him.
All Lo’ak wanted to do was fight, to save Spider and refuse to let the Sky People come after his family any longer. That simple choice to continue on led to the end of Neteyam.
“I deserve it. To be outcast.” His voice cracks more and he hates it. As he cradles Payakan’s fin, shed tears mixing with the cerulean ocean water, his spirit brother sings a song of sorrow that they both know all too well.
Two outcasts, the shame of a family’s death, together.
Every time his family visits the Spirit Tree, he returns far later in the night, not wanting to chance any interaction with them. But he does always make it back for dinner. His mother, not his father, would have his head if he didn’t join for food. It is the one time they can all join together and discuss the day’s activities – even though Lo’ak was pointedly absent from them.
“And how is Payakan doing?” Neytiri asks after they have all sat down together. Tuk is already happily munching away but he can feel the heat of his family’s stare at him. They do not push, though. They have yet to fully join as a unit and ask just why he refuses to join them. Yes, it has been brought up in side conversations. Kiri brings it up the most, and his mother’s small whispers of, “We would like you there ” but nothing harsh or berating. The calm nature almost makes him more angry.
“Is he healing?” she asks.
Lo’ak simply nods, and that’s it. Kiri gently changes the subject, bringing up Tuk’s ride with her ilu.
“She’s getting so fast,” the girl says, making the littlest of the Sully's beam. “She could even beat you in a race, Lo’ak.”
“Not a chance,” he shoots back playfully, bringing a quiet smile to both his parents’ faces as Tuk sticks her tongue out.
“Yes, I can! Tomorrow morning I’ll show you!” she shouts, nearly slamming her bowl of food down.
“You’re on.”
Time is healing them slowly, despite Lo’ak still feeling stuck in this limbo of loss.
The girls (and Spider) have all gone to wash off after dinner. His father has asked him to stay behind to clean up. They’ll join together later.
There’s still tension between the two of them, Lo’ak feeling it more so. He wonders if it will ever go away.
They go through the motions of putting away the dishes and eating mat to prepare their mauri for its nighttime setup. His parents will rest tucked together, though Tuk will sometimes beg to still join them. Kiri and Spider will whisper stories or discuss Sky People.
And then it was usually Lo’ak and Neteyam. The two brothers would talk about their new home, the best ways to adapt. Sometimes it was as simple as breathing techniques or even playfully teasing Ao’nung.
Now his nights are silent, and guilt hangs in the air.
He hands the last of the dishes to his father, standing beside him as he watches them go away for the night.
“I think it would make your mother happy if you join us at the Spirit Tree soon,” says Jake as he stacks the bowls. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his son stiffen.
It surprises Lo’ak in the moment, but he knew this would be coming soon. It paralyzes him. He is ready for a fight with his father, an argument of the ages. He feels like he can hear what his father is thinking. You’re the one who’s responsible for this. You’re the one who should be going to the Spirit Tree every day to mourn. Coward.
Before Lo’ak can speak, can utter a yes, sir, his father turns to him and looks him in the eye.
“It would make me happy,” he follows up, softer.
Lo’ak blinks, and somehow this stings him even more. It’s yet another example of how he can’t please the great toruk makto. If Neteyam was here, if their roles had been reversed and Lo’ak had joined the ancestors, he is sure his elder brother would follow along his father’s side with ease. Why is it so hard?
But Jake pushes on.
“You know, I had a brother, too.”
Lo’ak’s eyebrows immediately scrunch together in confusion.
“What?” He can’t help but ask. The children have all heard of their late aunt, of Neytiri’s sister who perished at Kiri’s mom’s school. There is a colorful bead on his mother’s songcord that represents Sylwanin. But he knows his father’s songcord and has seen nothing of a brother. In fact, there is nothing from before Pandora. Simply after. His first bead represents his arrival on the planet.
“Yeah, surprising, right?” Jake replies, and there’s a sad simple on his face. “He was my twin brother.”
For the Na’vi, twins are special. Though they are distinctly different individuals, they have a special bond that every Na’vi knows. If one should die, it is a great loss for the other. It is like losing their other half. He didn’t even think the Sky People would have something similar, but then again, his father doesn’t talk about that part of his life often.
“His name was Tommy, and he’d think all of this is so cool,” Jake gushes, and Lo’ak sees that sad smile on his face. He wonders if he’ll ever smile when he thinks of Neteyam again. Jake meets his son’s eyes, so similar to his and yet father and son have yet to realize just how alike they are.
“He was … a big dork. Not like me at all. I got a thick head, but he was beyond smart. Back with the Sky People I was a warrior. But not my brother. He was greater than that.”
Lo’ak is confused again. Here, his father is toruk makto. It is the greatest title known to them. What is greater than the best warrior? But his father continues, telling him a story the boy has yet to hear.
“He was friends with Kiri’s mom, Dr. Grace. He stayed on my planet with Dr. Grace and learned all about the Na’vi and the clans. He spent years wanting to join the Omatikaya, to learn our ways. Tom was so smart, Lo’ak.” Jake reaches for Lo’ak’s shoulder. “And then someone killed him.”
The father and son look each other deep in the eye, and he sees that same loss he feels for Neteyam reflected in the gaze. They have a silent moment where words pass through their minds, for the boy is too afraid to let them pass his lips: I see you.
“That’s why I came with the Sky People. I wasn’t supposed to come. But I did, because my brother died. I took his place.”
Does that same crimson stain his father’s hands? Does he also feel like he shouldn’t be standing here, breathing the air of Eywa, enjoying the water and forest? Does every aching moment feel selfish?
“It felt awful, taking what Tom wanted all those years. But I look at your mother, and I look at you…” Jake’s hand travels from his son’s shoulder to his heart. Strong heart of the Sully clan. “Tom would be happy, knowing I’m here. He’d be happy to meet you.”
Lo’ak blinks, his father’s vulnerability touching him deeply. It was something he remembers as a kid, though it quickly disappeared once the Sky People arrived. Dad was replaced with sir. A hug was replaced with, Fall back! On me!
“I see you, son.” The hand over the heart falls to rest on the back of Lo’ak’s neck, pulling father and son close. Tears threaten to spill from Lo’ak’s eyes, and he pulls away a bit.
“I can’t go,” he chokes out, because that crimson image is seared in his mind. Why would Eywa bless him with the happy memories of his brother? Why would she connect them when he lays with the ancestors on his own accord?
“Yes, you can,” Jake pushes forward, his second hand resting on Lo’ak’s heart once more. “Strong heart. ”
Lo’ak closes his eyes, heart pounding against his father’s touch, a tear trailing down blue skin. Jake finally pulls him in for a full embrace.
Yes, he can.
Lo’ak doesn’t visit the Spirit Tree with his family.
He can’t do that yet.
It’s a deeply intimate thing to connect together, and that closeness is a boundary he can’t seem to break right now with his family.
Instead, he asks Tsireya to accompany him. They go late at night like he requests, at a time when he won’t be disturbed.
A sense of doom fills him inside as the Spirit Tree grows closer, its purple bioluminescence shining through the waves. But Tsireya’s closeness keeps him going. When they arrive, he draws closer to a leaf, hovering and waiting. Before he can connect, he turns to Tsireya will fear in his eyes.
“What if Eywa brings me back there?” he asks, because she just knows what he’s talking about. That rock, water stained red, coating his hands. Why else would Eywa show him anything different?
She tilts her head sadly, shaking it a bit. “She won’t,” Tsireya answers, urging him on. It is enough to give enough strength to Lo’ak to unsheath his queue, slowly attaching it to the leaf.
And then he is with Neteyam.
He isn’t in the water.
He isn’t surrounded in blood or haunted by red.
Instead, he is in the Floating Mountains, the air whipping and fresh with the trees of the forest. Lo’ak takes in a deep breath, missing the smell of the leaves and the rocks when they weren’t overcome with ocean water.
Just the reminder of home is enough to move him emotionally. But then he turns, and he’s reminded where he is. Neteyam sits on a rock, feet dangling in the sky. His brother also turns to meet Lo’ak’s gaze.
“Look at them, bro!” He says with a toothy grin, pointing in the sky at the flying creatures, and Lo’ak is frozen in place.
He knows where he is and what this memory is.
It had taken Lo’ak two tries to mount his ikran. Unlike Neteyam, who had done it perfectly, Lo’ak had to return on a second day and try again. But once he did, Neteyam took him to once of the highest points in the Floating Mountains to sit and watch their ikran fly together. It’s the place where they’d usually climb up and dismount together, enjoying the whipping wind in their hair.
“Come! Sit!” Neteyam gestures again, and Lo’ak follows to plop down next to him. It hits him now that he’s older than Neteyam was here. It doesn’t seem right, that Neteyam will be stuck this young and Lo’ak will continue to grow. Neteyam’s the oldest for a reason.
“Why so quiet? You just got your ikran! Come on!” And suddenly Neteyam’s hand is grabbing his, raising it high in the air and screeching a battle cry of victory. He continues until Lo’ak joins, loud as he can, shouting out the rage that he’s feeling now. He cries out the guilt, hearing it echo against the Floating Mountain rocks.
“See! I knew you could do it.” That raised hand drops down to push Lo’ak playfully. “We’ll fly soon. You’re not scared, right?”
Lo’ak shakes his head, looking at Neteyam. He refuses to let tears fall. Instead, a smile comes on his face, a real one. Though the crimson will stain his hands forever, he will do what he can to prove his brother’s death wasn’t in vain. He will live for him.
“No. Never afraid.”