Chapter Text
- Jake
Jake would like to say he's gotten used to Spider without a mask. It had only been two weeks since Spider had almost suffocated to death before being blessed by Eywa, and Jake would like to think he's gotten used to the change.
But he's also spent sixteen years seeing him with a mask on his face, a mask that is absolutely crucial for Spider to breathe on Pandora. And sixteen years is a long time for something to then change.
Besides, Jake's been so incredibly busy since then, he's barely seen Spider – barely seen any of his family. There's too much to do, especially because so many warriors of the Metkayina had died in the battle against the Mangkwan and the RDA. Including Ronal.
Jake had been spending much of his time assisting Tonowari with Clan matters, trying to give him time to look after the new baby.
And that meant he'd barely seen his own children. Too busy with recovery efforts to do more than catch a brief glimpse of them in the morning, all tangled together in a jumble of limbs, faces barely visible, before he heads out for the day.
And Jake's so proud of them, of the unwavering help they give, of the work and recovery efforts they are doing.
He still hasn't had time to check in with Spider, see how he's settling in with the Metkayina. Jake had formally introduced Spider to Tonowari, to explain why there is a human around the camp, why there's no reason to panic. Introduced Spider as his son, something he could have been doing for years. Should have been doing.
He still hasn't had time to finally talk with Spider about that time in the forest either. But as soon as things die down, he'll make time for the boy.
But currently, all Jake can think of is dropping down onto his mat, cuddling up with Neytiri and finally getting some sleep.
He creeps into their marui as quietly as he can, eyes darting over to the pile of his children, fast asleep.
Sometimes he doesn't know how they can sleep like that; some of their limbs must be numb in the morning after having the weight of an entire person on them at night.
He counts them as he walks quietly to Neytiri.
One, two, three, four, not five. Never five again, and Jake's heart hurts.
Spider's in the middle, Kiri facing him, and Lo'ak curled up behind him, and Tuk somehow on top of them all, arm grabbing onto Lo'ak's hair in her sleep.
Spider’s slumped downwards, face resting into Kiri's arm, and Jake doesn't even think about it.
Just counts again, nods to himself, and then lies down next to Neytiri. She mumbles something and swats her tail at his thigh for disturbing her sleep, but Jake just whispers an apology to her ear and cuddles her tight.
He wakes hours later, bolting up in a panic, heart racing and breathing loud in the quiet of their marui.
It's late. Or early. He's not sure. But it's still dark outside, and he needs to calm himself down, because it's just a night terror, just reliving things that have already happened, and it's over. Everyone is safe now.
But he still needs to check.
He places his hand over Neytiri's heart. Just to make sure. It beats steadily as she sleeps. He tries to match it. To breathe in and out, copying those breathing techniques Lo'ak had helped him with.
He glances over at the pile of his children. He needs to count. Just to make sure.
Walking over, he kneels next to Kiri, stroking her hair in gentle movements to reassure himself.
One, two, three, four, never five. Not anymore.
Lo'ak, Kiri, Tuk, Spider.
All there. Everyone's safe. Lo'ak's shifted since Jake went to sleep, flopping over onto his bed and dragging Spider with him, the smaller boy's head resting on Lo'ak's shoulder, and Jake's heart drops like a stone because there's
no
mask.
Spider's not wearing his mask.
Jake panics.
No. No, no, no, this can't be happening.
He lurches forward, over Kiri and Tuk, careful be damned, and grabs Spider; lifting him with ease and pulling him out of the pile.
He sticks his fingers against Spider's neck to try and find his pulse point, frantically whipping his head round to try and locate the box with the spare rebreathers in.
He briefly notices that Spider's pulse seems fine, strong even.
All he can think about is that humans can only breathe Pandoran air for four minutes before they lose consciousness. Twenty minutes before they're never waking up again.
He doesn't know how long Spider's been without a mask. It must have slipped off in his sleep, stuck somewhere underneath the others, and fuck, Jake shouldn't let them sleep like this anymore, it's too dangerous.
It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, and Spider's not waking up. He reaches back into the pile and, none too gently, starts moving his other children, trying desperately to find Spider's mask. But it's not there.
“Fuck! No, no, no, you can't do this to me, kid. Don't do this to me”.
He can't lose another son. Can't lose another child. He won't.
He hitches Spider up onto his hip as he abandons the original mask and scrambles to the box that he prays holds another spare. They'd already used one the night Spider's batteries had gone too low, and Jake prays to Eywa that there's a second backup.
Fuck, why didn't they have third, fourth and fifth back-ups? They were essential to Spider's survival.
He doesn't bother trying to make his actions quiet as he rips open the box and starts throwing items onto the floor in his frantic search. There's no time for quietness when his kid could have minutes at most.
“Dad?”
Lo’ak’s voice cuts through the chaos, rough with sleep. He’s halfway to his feet already, blinking hard as he takes in the scene – Spider limp against Jake’s chest, gear scattered across the floor.
“What’s happening?” he asks, fear sharpening his tone. “Are we being attacked?”
Jake doesn’t answer.
His hands are shaking too badly as he digs through the box, tossing aside tools, filters, empty casings. Nothing. No spare. His chest feels tight, like the air has thickened around him.
Kiri sits up, eyes widening as she takes it in. “Dad…?”
Jake presses his fingers harder against Spider’s neck. The pulse is there. Strong. It doesn’t make sense. It can’t make sense.
“He’s not waking up,” Jake says hoarsely. “He should be- he should be-”
Lo’ak is beside him in a second.
“Dad,” he says again, more firmly this time. He reaches out and gently but deliberately moves Jake’s hand, sliding it from Spider’s neck to his chest.
“Feel.”
Jake freezes.
Spider’s chest rises beneath his palm.
Falls.
Rises again.
Slow. Steady. Natural.
Jake stares at his hand like it’s lying to him.
Another breath. And another. And another.
Spider lets out a soft sound, something between a sigh and a grumble, brow creasing as the movement finally pulls him up toward consciousness.
“Stop…shakin’ me,” Spider mumbles, voice thick with sleep.
Jake sucks in a sharp breath.
“Spider?” His voice cracks on the name.
Spider blinks blearily, squinting up at him. His eyes are unfocused, pupils blown wide in the low light.
“’S goin’ on…?” he murmurs. “Why’re you-”
He yawns, deep and unguarded, head tipping forward until it bumps lightly against Jake’s chest.
Jake can’t move.
“You weren’t-” Jake swallows. “Your mask-”
Spider’s face softens in slow understanding, “Oh,” he murmurs. “That.” He takes a breath. Deliberate. Easy. “I don’t need it anymore, remember?”
Jake’s grip tightens involuntarily. “You scared the hell outta me,” he says, trying – and failing – to keep his voice steady.
Spider gives a sleepy huff of a laugh, “But I didn’t even do anything,” he whines. His eyes flutter closed again. Then, without thinking, without guarding the word, “Dad,” he mumbles, cheek pressing into Jake’s chest. “You’re squeezin’ me.”
The word hits like a physical blow.
The room goes very still. Lo’ak’s breath catches, and Kiri’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t say a word.
Maybe it’s Jake who can’t breathe.
Carefully, like Spider might break, he shifts him closer instead of away. One hand stays splayed over Spider’s back, feeling every breath, every rise and fall.
“Yeah,” Jake whispers, voice barely holding together. “Okay. I got you.”
Spider hums softly, already slipping back under, safe and warm and breathing on his own.
Jake doesn’t let go.
Not for a long time.
The next morning, light filters through the marui in thin bands of blue and gold, bioluminescence fading as Pandora wakes. The camp is already stirring – distant voices, the splash of water, the low calls of Ilu somewhere beyond the reef.
Jake is awake before he realizes it.
He lies still for a moment, one arm heavy and warm across his chest.
Spider.
The boy is sprawled half on top of him, legs tangled awkwardly with Jake’s, face turned toward his shoulder. His hair is a mess, locks flying in every direction. His mouth is slightly open, breath slow and even.
Jake watches his chest rise and fall.
Eventually, Spider shifts, mumbling something unintelligible, and Jake’s muscles tense automatically – ready to grab him, to check, to make sure-
He stops himself.
Still, when Spider rolls off him and stretches with a sleepy groan, Jake’s eyes follow the movement without permission.
Spider blinks around the marui, rubbing his face. “Why do I feel like I slept on a rock?”
Jake huffs a weak laugh. “Because you did.”
Across the room, Lo’ak is very obviously watching them.
He’s sitting cross-legged, pretending to adjust the strap on his arm guard for far longer than necessary. His eyes flick from Jake to Spider, back and forth, sharp and knowing.
Kiri, beside him, lifts one brow.
Just one.
Jake catches it and immediately looks away.
Neytiri stirs, stretching gracefully as she rises. She glances at Jake, then at Spider, then back at Jake again.
Something unreadable passes through her expression.
Spider yawns and pushes himself upright. “Uh – sorry if I kicked you or something,” he says, glancing at Jake. “I move a lot.”
“You didn’t,” Jake says quickly.
Too quickly.
Lo’ak snorts.
Spider looks between them. “What?”
“Nothing,” Lo’ak says, far too innocent.
Kiri smiles into her hand.
They eat together a little later, gathered outside with the others. Jake barely touches his food. He keeps catching himself looking at Spider – checking his color, the way he breathes, the easy way he laughs at something Lo’ak says.
Spider notices eventually.
He frowns, leaning closer. “What?” he asks quietly. “Is there something on my face?”
Jake hesitates. Then shakes his head. “No. You’re- you’re fine.”
Spider studies him for a moment, eyes softening, “Oh,” he says.
Just that. Oh. And just nudges Jake’s knee lightly with his own and goes back to eating.
Lo’ak absolutely sees it.
Later, when Spider runs off with Tuk toward the water, Lo’ak falls into step beside Jake.
“You know,” he says casually, “he’s not gonna stop breathing if you blink.”
Jake exhales slowly. “I know.”
Lo’ak tilts his head. “Do you?”
Jake watches Spider laugh as Tuk splashes him, sunlight catching in his hair.
“…I’m workin’ on it,” he admits.
Lo’ak nods, satisfied. Jake still glances at Spider throughout the day. Probably will for a while.
But this time, when Spider looks back and grins – alive, breathing, here – Jake lets himself smile too.
- Lo’ak
Spider and Lo’ak had just been messing around. They’d finished their chores for the day, weaving nets and sorting clam shells, and now they were exploring the island. Mangrove roots had given way to salt-tolerant grasses, to eventually low trees and a dense canopy. A forest, and yet nothing like their forest back home. This was much more…tropical.
“Bro, check it out,” Spider interrupts his thoughts, pointing at an area that rises upwards suddenly. They race up, pushing and shoving against each other, too focused on trying to trip the others' feet until it's too late to notice the steep drop off.
Spider lets out a startled scream as he tumbles straight off the edge, and Lo’ak’s heart is in his throat as he just manages to prevent himself from going over as well, feet clawed into the soil as he pitches to the side. He reaches out to try and grab Spider, their hands missing by millimetres.
Spider falls.
He slides down the steep slope, dry rock scratching him and breaking off as Spider makes contact with it.
It happens so fast, a blink and it’s over, not even time for Lo’ak to even shout, and then Spider’s already at the bottom.
He lands face down, completely motionless.
Lo’ak’s frozen as he waits for Spider to move. To groan as he rolls over, face red from embarrassment as he makes a quick joke about the situation.
But Spider stays completely still.
Move Spider. Please move.
Nothing happens.
Shit.
“No, no- bro c’mon, don’t do this- fuck!”
His head whips from side to side to see if there’s a safer path down, some shrubs to grip onto. Anything. But the cliff face just falls away, becoming a sheer edge just ten meters further away, and if Spider had fallen there-
(Don’t think about that.)
Na’vi are stronger than humans. More durable. There’s no obvious alternative to getting down to reach Spider. He needs to take the same route. It’s fastest, and there’s no time to wait.
The worst he’ll get is a sprained ankle.
Probably.
He scrambles to the edge, moving a meter over in case he does end up falling. Wouldn’t want to crush Spider if he trips.
The journey down is awful. It simultaneously takes forever and no time at all, Lo’ak reckless with his footholds as he tries to reach Spider as fast as possible.
He loses his footing three meters from the ground, falling backwards and landing awkwardly on his leg. He hisses in pain, but ignores it, crawling onto his knees to get to Spider.
There’s a few cuts and bruises, and Spider’s own ankle is turning a worrying purple colour. He's face down against some ferns, blonde dreadlocks strewn messily around.
“Bro, come on. This isn’t funny,” he shakes Spider’s shoulder, gently, because he’s not a skxawng, but there’s no response.
What if he’d hurt his chest?
Deciding it’s better to try and turn Spider over, see if there’s any damage, Lo’ak starts to roll his human sibling onto his side. Sometimes it scares Lo’ak how easily it is to manhandle Spider. His loud personality makes up for the fact that, compared to the rest of them, he’s so, so, tiny. So breakable.
Please don’t be broken.
He turns Spider onto his back, looks at his torso to check for injuries, but when his eyes move up to Spider’s face, his blood runs cold.
There’s no mask.
“No.”
Did it smash in the fall? If Spider landed on it, the glass would have cracked under the weight, smashed into a million little pieces with no hope of putting it back together and they are so far away from the village and Spider’s gonna die out here and it’s all Lo’ak’s fault and-
Spider lets out a small groan of pain.
“Fuck…did I get stepped on by a Pali? Why does everything hurt…”
Lo’ak’s eyes lock onto Spider’s squinting ones, and Lo’ak panics even more, because Spider is wasting air.
He slaps his hand over Spider’s nose and mouth desperately, the other boy making a confused, uncomfortable sound at the action.
“Don’t try to breathe, it’s okay- I’m gonna fix this, I’m gonna-” he breaks off, thoughts spiralling because he doesn’t know what to do, and Spider’s looking at him with glazed over eyes, and is the oxygen deprivation already hitting him? He remembers Dad telling Neteyam to look after Spider because oxygen deprivation can cause brain damage, and now Neteyam’s not here and it’s just Lo’ak and everything’s gone so horribly wrong-
Spider licks his palm.
It breaks Lo’ak out of his spiralling panic, yelping at the sudden wetness on his hand, “Bro, gross!”
“What’s h’ppening,” Spider mumbles at him, and Lo’ak’s been distracted again, and there’s no time for this.
“Spider- your mask…it broke. But it’s okay, I’m gonna fix this. If you get on my back, I’ll run us back to the village. You just need to hold on.” Except the village is at least a ten-minute run back, and Lo’ak’s managed to fuck up his own ankle in his stupidness – how is he going to carry Spider back in time?
“Mmh, it’s fine…r’member? Don’t need a mask anymore…” Spider mumbles back, rolling over and burying his face into Lo’ak’s thigh, “Why is it so bright?” he moans.
But Lo’ak can’t bring himself to respond, frozen in relief as his brain finally catches up with him. Spider hasn’t needed a mask, not since the Mangkwan. He knows this. Everyone knows this.
How could he just forget?
It takes ages for his heart to stop racing, to stumble back to the village with Spider, half draped over each other because they only have two good legs between them.
And when Jake finally looks at Spider, declares it a simple concussion, everything makes sense. Spider's confusion was from a concussion, not from oxygen deprivation.
He still treats Spider like fragile glass for a few days.
- Neytiri
Neytiri had always hated Spider. Hated how the human had wormed its way into her family, tiny fingers sinking into her children like faux claws. Pink skin constantly following them around like a shadow she can’t escape from.
She hates Spider, hates him for being a living memory of the man who had ruined everything, who had caused her so much pain. Who had killed her father, destroyed her home.
Every time she would look at him, she’d be reminded of that man, of the rage she felt through her entire body at the thought of Quaritch.
She’d never hidden her hatred either. Her disgust at having the human boy around. Kiri would look at her in anger, and Tuk would get so upset when Neytiri would make a biting comment.
Jake had long since accepted it. Never defended the boy, but never took her side either. A neutral party. She hates him a little bit for it now.
And Spider never said anything back. Never argued, never cried, just accepted her hatred. It made her even angrier – that he wouldn’t even defend himself, that he would just accept it, lying down like a weak Prolemuris.
He would never be a part of her family, never be Na’vi, no matter how much he tried, how much of the language, the traditions, the culture that he learnt, he would never be accepted. Not by her, not by Eywa.
He couldn’t even breathe the air.
When he was first taken by the RDA, by his father, Neytiri had been so angry. Not because a child had been taken, but because that child held important information, secrets about her family that would put everyone in danger.
Forcing them to leave, to go into hiding, to become Metkayina and Neytiri hates it; it’s not her home, not her forest, not her family. And it’s all his fault.
Those eight months without him are bliss, and when he’d turned up on that boat, she hadn’t even considered not using him as a hostage. She didn’t care about the ethics of it; she wanted her daughter back, and she’d do anything for that.
The weeks after had been awkward. Everyone grieving in their own ways for Neteyam, but Neytiri was falling apart.
Her baby was gone, taken too soon, too painfully, taken by humans.
She hates having him in their home, hates the sound of that stupid mask. Intruder.
She hates him.
And she doesn't hide it.
The decision to take him back to High Camp, to finally be rid of him from her family, have him back where he belongs, is a relief.
And then everything went to shit.
And suddenly Spider can breathe their air, doesn't need that stupid mask, and none of her children will tell her what happened, and she hates him.
Then Spider had saved Jake’s life. Stood in front of hundreds of guns and battle ships with no fear, no hesitation. All for her Jake.
His bravery, loyalty to her family will always leave her astonished, and the doubt begins to creep in. Maybe it’s always been there, buried underneath her burning hatred.
Because Spider isn’t his father, and he shouldn’t be blamed for his father’s actions.
But he’s still a danger, but now it’s to the whole planet instead. And when they have that discussion on the riverbank, and Jake takes him away, and she’s washing the red face paint off her face and there’s blood on her hands, blood dripping down, his blood-
She’s never run so fast in her life, gripping his tiny face in her hands in relief, and it’s the first time she really sees him.
Things are still awkward after that, of course. You cannot change years of behaviour overnight. She doesn’t even think Spider would want her to. But she accepts him. Let’s him stay in their home with the Metkayina without complaint, gives him second portions of meals, doesn't glare at him outright when he’s doing nothing wrong.
But through it all, she’s still grieving. Everywhere she looks, she sees traces of Neteyam, she’ll never not see him, and the pain is overwhelming sometimes. She gets lost in her mind, in her grief, in her anger.
And why should Spider live when Neteyam couldn’t?
It’s not his fault. But it’s not fair. This human replacement for her child, her firstborn who is gone gone gone and never coming back and her heart is going to split in two from the pain, but not before she splits him into two from her anger.
He hadn’t even done anything bad, just dropped a bowl from where he’d been splitting Yovo fruit. It lands with a bang onto the weaved flooring, and Netiri’s vision is red, anger and grief and pain bubbling over all at once.
She’s on him before he can even blink, hissing in anger and gripping his arms so tightly it will leave handprint bruises on his skin. His eyes are wide with fear as she shakes him, bringing her face closer to his so she can fault him for his humanness, for living when Neteyam didn’t, for daring to breathe when Neytayment cannot-
There’s no mask between them.
He can’t breathe.
Terrified eyes looking at her desperately, and Spider can’t breathe-
She scrambles off him, eyes frantically searching the room. Where did Jake leave the exo-masks? She can’t remember, tipping over various storage and wrecking the place in search of it because they’re on a time limit.
Spider hasn't made a sound, and Neytiri knows he’s trying to conserve his breath, and she needs to hurry up before time runs out.
She’s just lost Neteyam; she cannot lose another. Will not.
Her hand catches on the rubber tubing, and she’s grabbing it and forcing it onto his face before he can even move.
It doesn't go on properly, she doesn't know how they work, why did she never learn this?
(She knows why.)
Spider’s going to die because she can’t get his mask to seal onto his face, to filter out the toxic atmosphere. She grabs his tiny hands and forces them up to the mask, trying to get him to fix it because she can’t lose another son.
“On, put it on, you need to breathe!” She hisses, “You will breathe. Neteyam cannot, and I will not lose another-” shes growling and spitting and something in her eyes must force him into action.
He yanks the mask closed, and the sound of artificial air hissing through the filters sounds through the room, and Neytiri relaxes at the familiar sound. The comforting sound. A sound she had heard for over a decade.
She grips him harshly, tugging him close and refusing to let go, forcing his head down into her neck and gripping the back of his locks in desperation. She can’t hear anything but the sound of the mask filters, and it’s slowly grounding her.
Spider stays still in her arms, curled inwards and she’s suddenly hit with the realisation that this is the first time she’s held him. All these years, all the times when she’d held all her children close, but she’d never held him.
She pulls him closer.
They continue to lie like that, Neytiri's head so full of everything that it’s a mess, and she can’t let go. Won’t let go ever again.
Eventually, Jake and her children all return, freezing in the doorway at the sight of the pair of them. She hisses at their indecisiveness, her protective stance hardening as she can’t figure out why they won’t come in.
“Uh, mum-” Lo’ak starts, but Jake stops him. Ask’s Spider something, but Neytiri can’t hear it, head full of fluff.
Eventually, Jake is next to her, talking to her, to Spider, hand movements that she still doesn't recognise. She shoves back at Jake when he tries to separate them, and it takes a little time before she reluctantly lets go, eyes following Spider as Kiri leads him outside.
Jake is speaking to her, comforting words that wash over her as Kiri and Spider’s voices get further away. She can’t hear his mask anymore.
Later, Spider will tell Jake what had happened, how he believed the best way of comforting her at the time was to wear the mask, even though he now couldn’t breathe in it properly. The filtered oxygen was too pure, but his new Pandorian lungs were able to cope with it longer.
Later, when she realises what she’d done, how she’d acted, what he had done for her in that moment, just to stop her from losing herself in her grief for Neteyam, in her fear of losing Spider, they finally sit down, and talk.
- Quaritch
Quaritch had been lying low since that last battle. He’d pissed off the RDA with his little stunt with the Mangkwan, caused tremendous amounts of damage to Bridgehead City, and was directly responsible for immense losses in research vessels and manpower in his pursuit of Jake Sully.
He’d jumped off that floating rock when the rest of Sully’s little blue family had arrived, falling into the vortex of chaos as Sully tried to – what, vouch for him? He doesn’t even know. Just knew he needed to get out of there before his wife shot a spear through his chest. Again.
And that meant leaving Spider.
Multiple times now, Quaritch had gotten so close, literally arm's length to the success of completing his mission, of killing Jake Sully, destroying everything he stood for. And he’d given it up for Spider.
For someone he claimed he didn’t care for.
And he hadn’t. At first. Remembered waking up, brand new blue body, with memories of the old Quaritch. Knew that Quaritch had a baby in that base the day he died.
He’d told Spider, ‘he’s not that man,’ – and he’s not.
But.
Things had changed since that day in the forest, when Quaritch had realised Miles Socorro hadn’t been sent back to Earth as a baby.
‘You can’t put babies in cryo, dipshit.’
Yeah.
They’d spent eight months together. Eight months of Spider being held unwillingly by the RDA, eight months of Quartich insisting he’s not his father.
Somewhere along the line, they met in the middle; a compromise of reluctant affection and care.
He had tried to convince himself that Spider still meant nothing to him, that this was simply tactics, keeping the kid from lashing out. Manipulating Spider.
But somewhere along the line, Quaritch had managed to manipulate himself instead, and now he cares for the brat, in ways he doesn’t want to untangle, and it’s such a liability.
He had Jake Sully in his hands, one, two, three times – and each time he let him go to save Spider.
The first time, on that sinking ship, Quaritch was so close to winning. Sully had already placed down his weapons, his daughter as a hostage too much to risk and Quaritch had won.
And then his batshit wife had held a knife up to Spider’s throat, threatened to kill him and Quaritch had been so confident she was bluffing – he shouldn’t even care, the kid meant nothing to him.
But it was like his body had reacted without even thinking, frantic as Neytiri brought that knife up to swing down into unprotected flesh, into his kid’s heart-
He’d let go of the daughter without a second thought.
So maybe he was a little compromised.
The second time, Quaritch quite literally had Sully handcuffed as a prisoner, ready to be transported back to camp. Everything complete. And then seeing Spider held up in front of Varang, knife at his throat again, he can admit he was panicking.
He’d panicked even more upon seeing there was no mask on his face. Numbers flying through his mind of how long Spider could survive without it. He carried a spare just in case for Spider, but if they couldn’t get him away from the Mangkwan, it would be pointless.
So it hadn’t been a hard decision to cut off the restraints on Sully, and yes, maybe giving him the knife was a bit much, but it wouldn’t be much good if the guy died immediately trying to stage an intervention and then Quaritch was down an ally to take the Mangkwan out.
An ally. Hah.
Maybe that's why Lyle had given him such an incredulous look. But it was extenuating circumstances, okay – Spider was in danger.
(Liability-)
He still hasn’t seen Lyle since that day. Doesn’t know if he can face him yet.
And the third time…fighting Sully on those unstable rocks, grappling on the ground gracelessly, and Quartich almost had him, and then Spider was falling.
He’d abandoned that fight without a second thought, reached down to grab Spider with a single-minded thought. Accepted Sully’s help again, just to save him.
No matter how many times he told himself he didn’t care, actions spoke louder than words.
Fuck, when did this mission become so complicated?
So, yeah, he’s been hiding out in the forest ever since. He’d fallen into that vortex, disappeared from their sight immediately, but he didn’t die. A bit banged up, but Cupcake had caught him on the way down, whisked him out of the vortex and flew him away from the battle, where he was promptly out for the count for over eighteen hours.
It had been a long day, okay.
Now, he’s kind of…directionless. Moping around the forest and putting his wilderness survival skills to the test. Learning new things about the flora and fauna every day, slowly opening his eyes – just a little.
Fuck, maybe he has gone native. He needs to get himself together.
It’s only been about three weeks since that battle, and he probably needs to start making his way to Bridgehead. He’s not far from Metkayina lands, just inland enough to miss any patrols, but still in view of the water.
Which is why he startles when he hears the sound of childish laughter.
He’s never seen anyone this far beyond the reef, and with the recent battle and debris still everywhere, he knows none of the nearby clans would let any young Na’vi out of sight.
He’s ready to duck back in, mind his own business because brats doing things they shouldn’t is not his problem – when he hears an indignant yell in a voice he’d recognise anywhere.
Spider.
He’s up before he knows it, looking back over the ledge of his little hideout and glancing down to see if he’d imagined it.
Why would Spider be this far out – these waters are dangerous!
It’s a small group of them; Sully’s kids – the boy and the youngest girl (and what is she doing this far out, Sully isn’t winning father of the year award, that’s for sure) and two of the Metkayina Na’vi. They look similar heights to Sully’s boy, so probably also kids.
And there, on the back of a Skimwing alongside him, is Spider.
Spider with no mask-
He’s on Cupcake before he can blink, flying out towards Spider, where the kids are yelling for someone named Payakan, and can’t they see that Spider can’t breathe-
His Ikran swoops down with a shriek, and he watches as the kids panic as he snatches Spider up by the arm, the boy letting out a surprised yelp. He's ready to leave, get Spider to safety (where’s the nearest mask-) when a fucking Tulkun breaches out of the water and bats them out of the air.
Quaritch lands in the water with a grunt, losing his grip on Spider as the boy falls beside him. He hisses as he sinks in, reaching for Spider desperately because how's the kid going to swim when he can’t even breathe right now?
Cupcake swoops back to grab him, and he thanks the stars that she’s so loyal, swinging his leg over her, water dripping off him in rivets.
Spider’s treading water now, head above the waves, and Quaritch can barely even look away. The Sully boy yells, the three oldest Na’vi with bows and spears now pointedly aimed at him.
“What are you doing here! You died-”
“Kid, I do not have time for this-” he starts, reaching out towards Spider again, “Spider, where’s your spare-”
There's more yelling as he moves, the youngest girl crying out, the oldest boy whipping out a- is that a pistol?
Where was he even hiding that-
“Get back! Or I’ll shoot!”
This is why he hates kids.
“My kid can’t breathe, and you wanna waste time pussying around-”
“Everyone, stop! I can breathe fine! I can’t believe this keeps happening. This is so embarrassing-” Spider rambles and Quaritch pauses, because, oh.
He’d forgotten.
Forgotten that Spider didn’t need a mask anymore. That he could breathe fine. And now he’s gone and given away that he’s still alive to Sully’s kids of all people, and he’s gonna have to get out of dodge before Sully comes haring in to eliminate the threat to his family.
Or maybe not, their last interaction replaying in his mind. He shakes his head to clear those thoughts.
It’s a bit awkward after that. Quaritch still sat on his Ikran, flapping her wings to stay in the air, Spider treading water as he tries to diffuse the situation, three angry Na’vi teens and one crying kid. All in a stalemate.
He coughs awkwardly.
“Right. Well, that’s fine then,” he pauses awkwardly, turning to the Sully boy, “I guess it’s too much to ask not to tell your old man about this, right?”
He gets an angry hiss in response.
Deciding it’s best to just exit out of this situation, he bring’s Cupcake higher, out of range of the spears, and looks down at Spider a final time, “And put on some sunscreen, kid! Or you’ll be whining from sunburn all week!”
And then he makes a tactical retreat.
Not his finest moment.
- Norm
When Norm had landed on the riverbed with Neytiri and Mo'at in a surprise rescue span, he'd been nervous about what they would find.
Hopefully, all of them safe and sound. And they were, mostly. All three Sully kids had scrapes and bruises, Lo'ak a nasty-looking scratch that would definitely need disinfecting as soon as possible – but overall, just a little banged up and probably slightly traumatised.
That hadn't been what had made his heart almost fall out of his ass, though.
No, that was Spider.
Norm had just finished a quick glance over Kiri to assess any damage, when Spider's voice reaches his ears.
He startles, because it's the first time he's heard it in over eight months, and the guilt over not trying to rescue Spider from the RDA rises back up in his chest.
He tail twitches in guilt, but he plasters a smile on his face as he turns to greet the kid.
And then his heart drops.
Spider's not wearing a mask.
“Spider-”
“Hey Norm-”
But Norm cuts him off by yelling at Max to grab a space exo mask, mind running a million miles an hour because Spider's got minutes at most and-
“Oh, this? Yeah, I’m good with the whole air thing now,” Spider tells him, so nonchalantly, and Norm knows it's Spider deliberately riling him up, but he can't even be annoyed because he's so confused.
And that was Norm's first encounter. He thinks his reaction was completely realistic, despite Spider whining about the tests that him and Max sit him through for hours back at High Camp.
He still struggles to wrap his mind around those results, but the conclusion is undeniable: Spider can breathe Pandora's air.
Norm can accept that.
But accepting it doesn't mean he still doesn't panic. Norm's been looking after Spider for sixteen years. As soon as the kid was big enough for the smallest size exo pack to sit on his tiny face, he wanted to be outside as much as possible.
Hated the restrictive enclosed space of Hells Gate, constantly wanting someone to take him out, and then eventually just going out by himself.
(Far too young, sometimes Norm wonders what the hell they were doing letting an eight-year-old human child walk the journey to the Omatikaya village by himself.)
And every time, they'd have to nag him about a mask. Remind him to put it on, to check the battery, to take a replacement battery, to take a spare mask, because what if the first one breaks (he'd always manage to somehow drop it back on the shelf before he left).
So Norm is very used to making those comments every time Spider leaves the base. And that lifetime habit isn’t something he can suddenly change.
It's been two months since the second battle between the Metkayina and the RDA, but Norm had ended up radioing Jake when the Avatar had gotten word that Mo’at had fallen ill. Originally, nothing to be worried about, but her illness soon progressed and before long, Norm was worried that she wouldn’t make it through the night. Mo’at had, of course, refused treatment from the humans, which Norm will respect, but he did feel that Neytiri and the children should know. Just in case.
Jake had quickly decided the trip was worth the risk, gearing up the Ikrans and having the whole family back at High Camp before the day was done. Luckily, the RDA had been silently licking their wounds for the last few months. And Quaritch was dead, so there was no longer a mad sniffer dog permanently on their trail.
It was still risky, but at the chance of Mo’at not making it, Neytiri and the kids deserved to see her a final time.
They’d flown in mid-afternoon, Tuk asleep against Neytiri as they land, Spider tucked behind Kiri on a separate Ikran.
Norm jumps when he catches sight of Spider’s maskless face, making a panicked, aborted movement before remembering that it was okay, that Spider could breathe fine, that he didn’t need a mask anymore.
It was still difficult to get used to. He greets Jake as they all disembark, Neytiri immediately making her way towards where Mo’at was resting, the kids following, and Spider breaking off towards Norm.
Norm kind of ends up babysitting for a while, to keep Spider busy whilst the Sullys are with Mo’at. It’s like old times. He’s got Spider in the base, showing him recent research that will at least be marginally interesting to the kid (who has had very little interest in science at all), when about the data catches Norm’s eye.
He can tell Spider’s getting bored, and Norm’s already focused in on his datapad, suddenly seeing something new in the information he’d been explaining to Spider. So when Spider starts fidgeting, he tells him he can go.
“Remember to take an extra battery for your mask,” he says distractedly, but doesn’t clock what Spider says in response.
It’s only when he hears the sound of the airlock engaging that he looks up, and sees Spider in the chamber with no mask on.
Shit.
No sound travels through the thick metal and glass, even as Norm yells fruitlessly, “Spider- hey! Spider! Mask! Put on a mask-”
The second airlock door opens, and Norm panics. Doesn’t even register that Spider seems completely fine, already walking out the chamber door into Hells Gate, into air he can’t breathe.
Norm snatches up a mask and slaps it on his own face, grabs a second mask for Spider and then has to wait for the airlock doors to reengage. It’s sixty agonising seconds between the outer door closing and the second door lock disengaging, and there’s no way to get around that.
It’s the longest minute of Norm’s life.
As soon as the inner chamber door opens, he’s in, pushing it shut and slamming on the large red button to open the outer door.
It opens so slowly.
Has it always been this slow? Spider has minutes, they are wasting time, he might already be on the floor from oxygen deprivation, and Norm needs to be outside right now-
The door opens.
He practically falls through as he yells for Spider, glancing around frantically to try and spot blonde dreadlocks.
He can’t spot him, and only sees various Na’vi staring at his spiralling arms bewilderdly as he yells out Spider’s name.
“Norm?” Jake yells panicked as he races up to him, “What’s going on?”
“Spider! Have you seen Spider? He needs-” he’s cut off as a shuffle of feet round the corner.
“Norm?” A small voice says from behind him. He whips his hand to the side
Spider stands there, hands awkwardly by his side, brows drawn together in concern.
“You okay, dude?” he asks. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”
Norm just stares. Jake grips his shoulder.
Spider is pink-cheeked. Breathing. Alive.
“You…you can’t-” Norm swallows hard. “You forgot your mask.”
Spider’s face softens.
“Oh,” he says gently. “Norm. I didn’t forget. I don’t need it anymore, remember?”
Norm’s knees go weak with relief so sudden it makes him dizzy, “I-” His voice breaks. He drags a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I just- I’m still getting used to it.”
Spider smiles, small and sincere. “Yeah. Me too.”
Norm lets out a shaky laugh, clutching the spare mask to his chest like it might still be needed.
“Please,” he says weakly. “Just – maybe warn me next time you walk into poison air, okay?”
Spider snorts, “Deal,” then runs off to go and mess around with Tuk.
Norm watches him go, chest still tight, heart still racing. He meets Jake’s eyes as they give each other a silent look.