Chapter Text
Lo’ak woke for the third night in a row to the feeling of his father’s chest rumbling behind him. His dad had settled down to sleep behind him, and gently laid a large arm over Lo’aks side. He shifted closer and dipped his face to press into his son’s back, briefly nuzzling back and forth and inhaling deeply as his thumb soothingly rubbed across Lo’aks forearm, his large hand easily covering the thin limb.
Lo’ak sighed and endured the snuggling, as undeserving as it was. He must have been twitching in his sleep again from nightmares. He didn’t remember the dream, which was a small mercy, but he knew it must have been bad based on the tension he felt throughout his body, now slowly receding as his limbs relaxed - encompassed in the warmth, presence, and scent of his father.
Before, he had rarely slept with his parents, but now none of his family slept alone. Lo’ak had refused to sleep the first night after the funeral, unable to close his eyes without seeing the bloody rocks, his bloodstained hands, the light leaving his brothers eyes.
His beloved brother- kind, heroic, good in every way. Willing to take the blame for any situation, and generous enough to give his very life. Well, not give, Neteyam’s life had been taken. Wrongly stolen from him by his younger brother’s stupidity and pride, and Lo’ak had to live with that. It was his own personal hell and he deserved it.
So Lo’ak had refused to close eyes that first night, refused to join his sisters at his parents sleeping mat, and they had allowed it, giving him space. But he felt his mother and fathers’ eyes on him throughout the night, periodically checking that he had not moved from his perch at the edge of the mauri, knees drawn up to his chest and staring into the water below him. On the second night his body betrayed him, physical and emotional exhaustion from the battle and aftermath proving too much. When he finally collapsed into sleep, he woke screaming from the worst dreams he had even encountered.
He’d been back on that rock, but this time Neteyam was pleading with him, not his dad.
“Please Lo’ak, help me” His brother had begged in the nightmare. When Lo’ak’s hands had failed to staunch the blood, he’d been forced to relive his brother's death all over again. He looked up to see his family standing around him in horror. Teeth bared, his mother hissed at him, and his father’s voice cried out, “You got your brother killed!” An echo of a past warning, a prophecy that had been fulfilled (his father knew all along what he was capable of) and the waves crashed around him, catching around his legs and pulling him out to the sea.
He had woken to soft hands and reassuring voices. His father grasped his wrists when his arms swung wildly and his mother gently stroked along his face and shoulders. Immediately he had moved to sit up and escape, his eyes locked on target - the exit, but he had been held back. His restrained body still trembling from exertion had collapsed into tears, and he allowed his parents to lay beside him that night, too weak to push them away.
Jake and Neytiri had become insanely clingy in the days after Neteyam’s death. They didn’t let their children leave their sight unless they were accompanied by one of the Metkayina, either a trustworthy adult, or Tsireya when she offered to take them bait fishing, promising to stay with them the whole time and bring them straight home afterward.
This development brought a particularly sharp pain, like a punch to his gut, when he realized that his parents trusted Tsireya, who was practically a stranger to them, more than they trusted him.
Of course they would- he sharply reminded himself a moment later. How could he have been stupid enough to think he would ever be trusted with the safety of his sisters again. This realization brought a deeper, echoing pain throughout his body, causing his eyes to smart and his stomach to twist.
He was useless, and he felt foolish to have expected anything different. He was already responsible for the death of his brother - he should be grateful his parents could even look at him, much less expect them to ever trust him again.
But look at him they did, and more than look. Kiri, Tuk, Lo’ak, and even Spider to an extent endured their parents’ watchful eyes almost every moment of the day. More than that, they wanted their kids to talk, asking them questions about their days despite having accompanied them for most of it.
His mother encouraged them all to visit the Spirit Tree with her and dad soon, something that caused Lo’ak to spiral into a panic, lungs sucking in air. He wasn’t ready to face his brother, his victim. Thankfully he was not alone in his apprehension - his father was still hesitant to let Kiri connect after her seizure, and even little Tuk was overcome with tears, her young mind struggling to cope with the realization that it was only way she could ever see her oldest brother again. So the family visit Spirit Tree was put off, but the touching was still unbearable.
His father rubbing his shoulder as he sat down to eat, his mother caressing the side of his face as she helped him shave the sides of his head, and both his parents somehow easily cuddling beside him at night to comfort him from nightmares.
Lo’ak knew the truth behind his misplaced affection, and his throat spasmed as he choked up thinking about it. Feeling the rise and fall of his dad’s chest behind him, he knew what his parents really wanted was their oldest son back, and he was all they had left, a poor replacement that would have to make do.
It should be have been you. That inner voice hissed in his ear, reminding him of how wrong his continued existence was. At night when Lo’ak closed his eyes he wished more than anything he would not wake up. It would be a mercy to his family anyway. While they might feel a little sad at first, he knew eventually, perhaps secretly, they would all breathe a sigh of relief. He would be one less thing to worry about, one less threat to his family’s safety.
Lo’ak’s throat was beginning to close up as the truth of his thoughts pummeled him, and he took a shaky breath and sniffed. His eyes betrayed him and started watering and his dad mistook his anxiety for grief as he softly soothed him, squeezing tighter and whispering affirmations.
“Its ok baby boy, I’m here,” he hushed as he gently arranged Lo’aks limbs to bring his arms in close, and wrapped himself tightly around his son, hugging him close and murmuring reassurances Lo’ak didn’t deserve to hear.
“It’s ok son, it’ll all be ok.” Jake whispered, clearly on the verge of sleep.
Lo’ak knew it wasn’t ok, his parents were deluding themselves. He knew which son his father really wanted to be holding, but he selfishly allowed himself to be encompassed in his father’s warmth another night, hot tears streaming down his cheeks in shame.
The following morning he slipped from his fathers grasp before the sun rose, going to sit at the edge of the landing, as far as possible from his family’s hut that was still within sight. As much as he wanted to be completely alone he couldn’t bear to bring his parents more grief than he already had.
Lo’ak kicked his feet across the sand, snarling at himself in annoyance. Of course he couldn’t even mourn his brother properly, too preoccupied with how his parents misplaced love was tearing him apart. It wasn’t fair to Neteyam, for Lo’ak to be thinking about his own pain, but it was almost as inescapable.
He wished he would be declared an outcast like Payakan. At least he understood the Tulkun way now. It was startlingly easy to comprehend when he was the one responsible for the death of another. In his case the punishment would fit the crime were it ever inflicted. He deserved to be outcasted more than his spirit brother. At least Payakan had been fighting against the RDA, Lo’ak had just been irresponsible with his siblings lives.
Looking back on the events leading up to the battle he knew now he should have moved quicker. He should never have let Neteyam see where he went, never should have allowed them all to follow him. While the idea of abandoning Payakan to the RDA was unthinkable, perhaps if he had been the only one captured his father wouldn’t have come after him. It would have been better for him to die at Quaritch’s hand.
Yes, Lo’ak confirmed to himself. That would have been an infinitely better outcome. If Neteyam had lived rather than him, his family would still be intact, their future secure. With his absence they were in limbo, all hope for the future lost with the death of their firstborn, their pride and joy.