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Lo’ak couldn’t keep doing this. Waking up on the same day, every day, and watching his world crumble before his eyes.
He couldn’t keep watching his family get torn apart.
Couldn’t keep hearing about Ronal’s spirit sister lying dead in the waves with her newborn calf’s corpse floating alongside her. He couldn’t stomach the guilt of being the reason Neteyam died, of pressing down on that horrible bullet wound and watching his face go slack. He couldn’t keep watching his older brother agree to save Spider, again and again, despite his clear misgivings about boarding the demon ship.
Lo’ak was very quickly losing the will to keep going.
He was exhausted. Eyes heavy as he went through the motions of another adrenaline packed day. Roa dying by poaching. The Metkayina declaring war. Payakan getting targeted by the demons. His brother dying. His Mother’s grief. His Dad finally losing all faith in him and almost giving up as the demon ship dragged him down into a watery grave.
Again.
And again.
Over and over again.
Never ending.
Never changing.
Infinite.
Regardless of how hard he tried to change everything.
Lo’ak had tried everything to change it. To save those who were lost.
The first few times, he raced against the demon ship to the Tulkun pod to warn them of the poachers. His timing was always off. Either too late and stumbling upon the corpses, or moments too soon, where he had a front row seat of the hunt.
There was one time when Quaritch had snatched him up off the back of his ilu and used him as bait. Neteyam hadn’t been the only Sully to fall on that cycle.
He’d tried evading the net during the underwater chase, only for Tuk and Tsireya to still get caught. Neteyam had still died trying to rescue them.
He’d split off early from the group, dragging the death charger through the water and tossing it into the depths of the reef, only to regroup with Aonung and the others with no Tsireya in sight and Tonowari facing off against the demon ship.
There was that time he allowed Neteyam to cut him, Tuk and Tsireya loose from the railing before shoving his older brother off the demonship deck to go after Spider on his own, only to end up killing Spider in the process and returning to the rock too late to save Neteyam after he got shot coming after them.
He had notified Dad before going to rescue Payakan.
He’d shoved down his pride and left Spider in the hands of Quaritch.
He’d stolen back his radio from the recoms and called for Mum. Sobbing hysterically down the receiver for her to come save them whilst Wainfleet tore apart the room he’d been hiding in to get to him.
Every cycle ended in some awful alternate way. With a grieving family. A sunken ship. And bodies being lowered into Eywa’s welcoming embrace.
In the last cycle, he sacrificed himself in Neteyam’s place. Shoving the golden child into the moonpool in front of him and getting a bullet to the ribs. He never imagined it would hurt so much. Dying on the rock he’d watched his older brother bleed out on countless times. His family crowded around him. The location of his sisters unknown.
Would Dad even be able to make it out of the ship without him? Would Neteyam go to his rescue instead? Would Payakan still step in to save them?
The sun disappears behind the moon. And Lo’ak savoured the look of fear and loss swirling in his father’s eyes, a world away from the usual annoyance and anger. Felt Neteyam pushing down on the bullet wound, expression devoid of all emotion; always the soldier. His hands were burning hot against Lo’ak’s cold skin. Tsireya had a hand on his knee, clutching tightly as if she could keep him grounded.
He died with a smile. Body going lax, and his mother’s scream chasing him to Eywa’s realm.
For a short time, Eywa held him. Her embrace was motherly; mighty. And gave him much needed rest before he opened his eyes in his hammock in the family pod. The sun peeking through the clouds as if to make sure he was still alive, whilst his family began rousing from sleep.
There was a heartbeat when he checked. Fast, uneven breaths. He was alive. Miraculously. Still in the loop. Still stuck. Ready to relive yet another version of his personal hell.
He could smell breakfast being warmed and hear the sound of the waves beyond the sea wall in the distance. Both of which had once been enough to encourage Lo’ak to toss himself out of his hammock and start the day and try again. But not today. Today it just made him even more tired. A chasm had opened up behind his ribs. Pain made his throat tight as he looked down on the family he’d disappointed, to the faces he’d seen frozen in death countless times.
He was losing steam, and wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep doing this. Or whether there was even a way out.
With heavy limbs, and at Tuk’s insistence, Lo’ak finally managed to clamber out of his hammock for breakfast. Everyone else was already up. With Dad readjusting Tuk’s braids, whilst Kiri grumbled quietly to herself and Neteyam tried his best to cheer her up. They looked so relaxed. A world away from the horrified and grief stricken expressions they would no doubt be wearing before the day was up.
Lo’ak’s feet were heavy as he dragged them across the room and sat down heavily in his usual spot. There was little strength left in him, so he drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them until Mum started handing out breakfast.
<”Lo’ak.”> She said warningly, holding his bowl out of reach until he looked at her. <”Sit up properly.”> Grimacing, Lo’ak obeyed and dutifully lifted his hands to take the bowl from her, only to see his Mother’s face contort into an expression he’d only ever seen her wear on the rock.
<”What happened?”> She demanded suddenly, startling Lo’ak hard enough to shake him out of his head.
Eyebrows scrunched, he glanced from her and the rest of his familys’ horrified expressions, to what they were looking at. His chest. And the noticeably, new and ugly scar slapped slam dunk in the middle of it where the bullet went through on the last cycle. Lo’ak frowned, none of the days had ever left a mark that carried over into the next before. Curiously. He reached up and rubbed it, feeling raised and swollen skin under his palm where there should be unnoticeable smoothness. Unsurprisingly, the scar didn’t rub away under his palm like paint. It was there to stay.
<”Shit Lo’ak!”> Dad interjected, panic poisoning his tone and setting Lo’ak’s siblings on edge. <”How the hell did you hide this from us?”>
<”It wasn’t there yesterday.”> Kiri breathed quietly, her hand clamped hard over her mouth as her ears lay flat against her skull.
Lo’ak wasn’t sure if he was breathing anymore. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out the sound of the waves until it almost felt like they had ceased cresting altogether.
Bewildered, he remained staring down at his new scar. At the evidence of the wound that had killed him. The scar that had carried over from yesterday.
Nothing like this had ever happened before.
Then again, he had never died before.
As the sound of the waves swept back in, panic swelled and crashed against Lo’ak’s ribcage, before swirling up into his oesophagus and choking him. He was still staring unblinkingly at the scar as tears stung his eyes.
He had never seen it healed before. Had only seen the initial injury on Neteyam before he died and his body had a chance at healing it. It was ugly healed as it had been as a fresh wound.
Unexpectedly, a hand cupped his cheek, drawing his attention from his mangled chest to his mother. His mother whose eyes are bright and open. His mother who has set aside his and her breakfast and has crouched in front of him, with her ears pricked forward in preparation to listen. There was no judgement on her face as she studied him. No furious curl of her lip, or a menacing flash of teeth. It was just his mum checking up on him as she always had.
He couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at him like that. Certainly not since the days began repeating themselves, and he had no idea how many times he’d relived today. So it was safe to say, a long time.
It was under that careful gaze that he finally broke. Plain and simple. As in one moment he was blankly staring back at her, and the next it was as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to his bones and he had no choice other than to collapse against her. She caught him easily, wrapping him up tight against her like she used to when he was little and Dad didn’t hate him.
As his throat finally came loose and he began to inaudibly babble, he felt the tension in the room grow taught. Beyond the safety of his mother, his siblings were shifting uncomfortably in the face of his breakdown.
His first instinct was to pull back and cram everything back inside himself. To shove it all back into whatever crevice it had been marinating for Eywa knows how long.
After all, to them, it’s just another day adapting to the reef. It wasn’t a nightmare. They had no idea what was coming. Neteyam was still alive and raising his eyebrows at him. Dad wasn’t sinking to a watery grave. Payakan was fine. And the Tulkun were still basking in one another’s company. Nothing had changed.
That made it worse.
<”What is wrong my son?”> Mum asked gently, drawing his attention back to her. Instinctively, he ducked into her chest, cheeks ablaze as he hid from the concerned gazes of his family.
<”Lo’ak?”> Dad asked softly, his large hands coming to rest on Lo’ak’s back. Big and comforting. And so fucking grounding. Like it is everytime Dad tells him he Sees him.
With a deep, pathetic breath, he spilled everything. Everything!
All the horrible things he’s seen. The traumatic ways in which he’s seen them die. How they aren’t even his family, not really. How his father hated him now. How his brother was dead and it was his fault. And that his mum couldn’t look at him anymore without wishing it was Neteyam who had survived and not him. How Tuk never smiled anymore. How Kiri had grown distant and resentful towards him. And worst of all, how they never went home.
And finally, how he wasn’t even their Lo’ak. He was some fucked up and exhausted version of their son that had seen more death than any kid his age should ever have to see. How he was shot yesterday instead of Neteyam like he should’ve to begin with, and the scar was proof as it was the only thing that had stuck since the days began repeating.
Lo’ak wasn’t sure when he began sobbing again, but this time it was dad who hauled him into his lap.
<”You’re okay.”> Dad promised, tucking Lo’ak in tight against him as if he could squeeze all his sadness out of him and take it for himself. <”Gods kid, you’re okay, I promise. We’re here. We’re all fine.”>
<”You won’t be.”> Lo’ak warned wetly, <”not when the RDA turn up later.”>
Dad shushed him gently. <”It’s okay, we’ll handle it. You’re not alone this time.”>
And Eywa did Lo’ak want to believe that. Shakily, he wound his hands into his father’s knife belt and clung in tightly, desperate to absorb every fibre of this love and comfort that his own dad had grown too grief-stricken to offer him. He wanted to stay here, he realised quietly. Where his family were still alive and his dad loved him and his mother hadn’t lost yet another precious piece of herself.
With a thick swallow, Lo’ak found his voice again. <”Okay.”> He said, and Dad squeezed him a little tighter.