Work Text:
It was cold, everything was cold. The table beneath him. The hands grabbing him. The air against his sweat soaked skin. They were back, and they had him pinned down, ready for more, ready to hurt him again. Spider couldn’t take it, not this time. They were going to kill him.
Hands everywhere. Hands on his arms, his shoulders, his thighs, his feet. He thrashed to fight them off, but there were too many.
“Hold still,” a faceless voice demanded, but Spider screamed against them. He wouldn’t let them hurt him, he couldn’t…
“You know this is the only way.” That was Ardmore. Fuck her, but Spider couldn’t rally behind his anger. His fear was too overpowering. It consumed every cell in his body. He could hardly breathe against it, he was gasping for air and crying and fighting and then-
“Why are you fighting, son?”
Something new broke through the fear. A small channel of emotion that cleared away a sliver of the panic. He didn’t know what it was, but he focused on it desperately. “Help me!” He cried out, begging the voice to stop this, to do something.
“Why would I help you?” A sneer laced its tone, and that channel of something-better-than-panic dissolved. Spider felt vomit at the back of his throat as his whole body trembled against the hands.
“You’re nothing.”
The recom’s blue face came into view, parting the blurred outlines of the RDA labcoats. Spider latched onto the oh so familiar features, as a hard gag was forced into his mouth and he was silenced. Please, he begged with his eyes for this man to save him, to not give up on him-
He couldn’t breathe…
He couldn’t…
“Spider!”
Fresh air filled his lungs as his chest expanded rapidly. He couldn’t get enough in, he was dizzy and couldn’t see properly. Black spots filled his vision but he knew his eyes were open.
“Just breathe, you’re alright!”
Dimly he realised it wasn’t a cold table under him. It was woven and warm and swaying. And there weren’t hands all over him - at least only a couple - and they were large and soft. He shuddered in more breaths as he tried to control the shivers that racked his body. He had his mask on. The soft sound of his inhales brought him back down to reality.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. Eywa, his throat hurt.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Jake said, one hand gently rubbing his back. “Your pack ran out.”
Shit. Guilt washed over him as he realised he’d woken the whole family. He looked at them all, staring at him with matching expressions of alarm - all apart from Neytiri, who stood stock still by the exit. “Sorry.”
Kiri reached out, but Neytiri turned her back to him. He really had to go and piss her off.
“Okay,” Jake nodded, “let’s all go back to sleep. I’ll charge your other one, Spider.” Sure enough the dead exopack was hanging from his wrist. Spider wasn't sure if it had been the beeping of the battery or his own screams that had woken them, but he prayed it was the former.
He nodded, keen to let them know he was fine and they could stop worrying. Kiri squeezed his hand, and Lo’ak gave him a grim smile before they dispersed back to their hammocks. Spider lay back down, his heart still hammering. It was fine, he was with the Sullys in Awa’atlu, he was far away from that place. And Quaritch would never touch him again.
He kept repeating it to himself long into the night, tremors still occasionally jolting him. Sleep didn’t find him for hours.