Work Text:
War is over. Quaritch is dead. Jake has somehow survived it all, still standing strong in his avatar body. Na’vi are celebrating their victory all around, but for Jake, his world is crumbling. His life is caving in, the debris surrounding him, suffocating him.
Tsu’tey is dying.
He knew that Tsu’tey was injured. He knew that he was out of the fight. What he didn’t know was that his mate was dying slowly and painfully with only the comfort of Pandora’s rainforest around him.
When Ka’ani had found him and Neytiri, and told them what had happened, Jake’s heart had dropped. He hadn’t even waited to listen—to find out where Tsu’tey was—he just ran. He ran faster than he thought he could, chest heaving with the fear that was quickly consuming him.
By the will of Eywa he had found Tsu’tey regardless. He and Neytiri quickly come up on the crowd of fellow warriors surrounding the motionless body, Ka’ani close behind. His eyes are already stinging, but he wills them away for the sake of everyone around him. He’s Toruk Makto—the bringer of hope, after all.
Jake is trembling as he kneels down beside Tsu’tey. Neytiri carefully moves around and to his other side, tears in her eyes. Tsu’tey weakly lifts his hand up to Jake, which Jake entwines his fingers with and holds onto with everything he has.
“Oel ngati kameie, ma Jake.” Tsu’tey’s voice is shaking and raspy. Jake can tell he’s in an incredible amount of pain just by the look in his eyes. It shakes him to his core that the humans—his former people—had done this to his beloved mate who had once stood tall and proud. He didn’t deserve this fate. The two of them were supposed to live peacefully together within the clan for the rest of their lives, and now they won’t get to have that luxury.
He swallows back the sob he knows is there in the back of his throat, waiting to escape. “I see you, ma ‘Tey.”
Tsu’tey must be able to register Jake’s fear even through his pain, because he squeezes Jake’s hand and tries to smile for him. “Are the people safe?”
Jake nods, speaking softly. “They’re safe.”
Tsu’tey groans and tries to move. His breathing is fast and short, evident that he’s trying so hard to hang on for those around him—for Jake. He lifts his other hand from his chest, where Jake can see a multitude of bullet holes peppered across. The hand is covered in a thick sheen of the blood he’s already lost, and Tsu’tey’s eyes widen, barely noticeable. He attempts to pull Jake down closer to him, sudden panic clear in his voice. “I cannot lead the people. You must lead them Jake.”
Jake can’t stay at terms with the fact this is actually happening right in front of him. He shakes his head, smiling even though it isn’t convincing in the slightest. “I’m not officer material—”
“It is decided!” He weakly proclaims this, lifting his blood covered hand to Jake’s free one. He guides it to Jake’s knife that sits in its sheath. Jake pulls it out, trying desperately to steady his hand. “You…you are Olo’eyktan.”
Jake’s voice breaks with his words. “I’m not gonna kill you.”
Tsu’tey hisses at him, though it isn’t much more than a sharp breath out. “It is the way, and it is good. I will be remembered.”
Jake shakes his head violently, tears beginning to fall. “No. Tsu’tey, please. Stay here with me.”
Tsu’tey smiles at him, full of love even in the face of death. “I fought with Toruk Makto.” He pauses, squeezing Jake’s hand with all the remaining strength he has. “We were mates. And he was my last shadow.”
Jake shuts his eyes. His entire body is trembling, though it just feels numb. He looks at Neytiri—battle worn Neytiri who was sobbing—and she looks up at him. She nods hesitantly. He’s about to lose the only person he’s ever loved, and she’s about to lose one who had become a brother to her. He leans down and presses his forehead to Tsu’tey’s, lifting the knife up towards his chest.
“Nga yawne lu oer, ma ‘Tey.”
He whispers the words so softly that they are only shared between him and his mate. He thrusts the knife into Tsu’tey’s heart, and he sobs at the sound Tsu’tey makes. Tsu’tey’s body becomes limp, his hand falling away from where it had been clutching Jake’s. Jake presses a kiss to Tsu’tey’s head, and prays.
“Oel ngati kameie, ma yawne, ulte ngaru seiyi irayo. Ngari hu Eywa salew tirea, tokx ‘i’awn slu Na’viyä hapxì.”
———
Jake is transferred into his avatar body and officially named Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya people within the next twenty-four hours.
The Olo’eyktan must die for the next to gain the title. He remembers Neytiri telling him as much in the back of his mind, back when he was training. He had asked her how long Eytukan had been leading for, and she told him he became Olo’eyktan at her age. Her father had been leading for the majority of his life, had dedicated his very being to the people, and Jake fully intended to do the same.
When Mo’at places the shoulder piece on him, he feels the weight of everything crashing down on him. He smiles for the people—his people—to reassure them, but he only feels regret. He feels like the pain of the last few days is slowly drowning him, and like he’s about to throw up everything that’s in his stomach.
He knows that someone had to pull the garment off of Eytukan’s dead body, just as he had removed the collar from Tsu’tey’s body so he could wear it in honor of him. The Olo’eyktan must die, the people say. Two have died in the span of a week. Both of them his fault. Yet somehow, he is the one who stands before the people he brought complete devastation to.
He tries to keep morale high, and keep the spirits of his people up. “Fìtsenge awngeyä!” is what he tells them. It’s what he told them as Toruk Makto, what Tsu’tey told them as Olo’eyktan. He tells them it now as their leader, their protector, with the hope that his people stay proud and strong just as they always have been.
He says it with the hope that the people stay strong despite the fact that he cannot.
Jake sits alone on that one large branch that overlooks the Tree of Souls. He told himself he’d come up here so that he could more efficiently watch over the clan through the night, but it was more of an escape from Neytiri’s sad eyes and Mo’at’s subtle judgemental looks. Bob is asleep in the nests with the rest of the clan’s Ikrans, and for once Jake is glad the thing isn’t right beside him like he always has been. He knows that it would distress the hell out of that poor creature if he sensed what a fucking wreck Jake was.
He watches the infinite sky of stars. He maps out the patterns of Tsu’tey’s tanhì—the lines of freckles that follow his cheekbones, the V shaped they formed as they crawl down his nose, the three small ones on the left side of his chin, the lines that trickle down and around his eyes where they seemed to glow the brightest. He remembers the nights they would fly off to their little cliff at night like rebellious teenagers, when Jake would kiss every single one of his glowing freckles while they made love so gently, so deeply.
He runs his fingers along the strand of beads in his hand. The beads in which Tsu’tey had chosen himself and helped Jake braid into his short hair. Jake had removed two of the strands the night they laid Tsu’tey’s body to rest near Eytukan, and placed one in his hands entwined with his songcord.
Jake still isn’t fluent in Na’vi, and he still has much to learn about the Omatikaya’s culture. He knew the concept of the songcord thanks to Grace, but he had no idea what any of the beads meant or how to read it when he had the chance to see the one that Tsu’tey had built for himself over the course of his life. He pointed out a specific bead near the end of it, a blue and orange bead carved with curved patterns and sharp edges.
Neytiri glanced at it from where she sat beside him with a tired but fond smile. “That is your bead. He carved it. His love for you. It is how he sees you.” She has whispered the words to him ever so softly.
He realizes now, as he holds the beaded extensions, that Tsu’tey had chosen strands with blue and orange beads on them. He had woven blue and yellow feathers into his braids, helped him with his black and orange war paint. He bites his lip, tears in his eyes. He’s going to have Neytiri assist him in starting his own songcord so he can create a bead for Tsu’tey.
He looks back to the stars, and silently he wonders where his mate is. Is he at peace, within Eywa?
At least he’ll actually rest for once.
Jake thinks it to himself with a trembling laugh, and lets his tears fall.