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Jake sometimes wondered whether he should miss Earth.
But he couldn't fathom why. Especially in moments such as this, when he was lying in his pod side by side with his mate. It was worth it, to live on Pandora, when Neytiri's face would be the first he would see when he awoke and the last he would see before he slept. His body curled protectively around hers, her head cushioned on his arm, her three fingers splayed across his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
"MaJake," Neytiri whispered, her voice drowsy with sleep. He made a noise in the back of his throat to indicate he was listening, his fingers playing with one of her beaded braids. "There's something I want to tell you. Something important."
He was slightly more attentive now. "What is it?"
Neytiri's breath was warm against his skin as she answered, "I am expecting a child."
Jake Sully, Toruk Makto, Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya, nearly fell out of the pod.
***
In retrospect, he should have expected that his mating with Neytiri under the Tree of Souls would have consequences.
The Omatikaya clan were pleased with the announcement, but Jake also caught a few of them sniggering behind their hands when they believed he wasn't looking. It was humiliating, that he had been able to tame the wild beast, Toruk, but he didn't know how to react to his own mate's pregnancy.
Neytiri's belly grew heavier with the day. Jake, who was unsure about the Na'vi customs for this occasion, proceeded to bring her the most comfortable cushions sewed from bark and stuffed with leaves. He constantly rubbed her back as she leaned against him, her back against his chest as his knuckles kneaded over her spine, and she sighed with content. A few other expecting females watched with jealousy, the fire of the hearth casting a hellish glow across their faces.
Other times, he filled wooden pots with hot water and asked Neytiri to soak her feet for as long as she wished. She would smile at him coyly, but he could see the gratitude flashing in her golden eyes.
One day, Neytiri insisted she would hunt. Jake swore his heart stopped beating for a second. She was already seven months pregnant.
"Baby," he murmured, his fingers circling her forearm gently, "are you sure this is the wisest idea?"
His mate frowned, her hands steady as she clutched her bow. "Of course, MaJake. This is my duty."
"Not right now," he said desperately. "You should rest." As Neytiri opened her mouth to protest, he added hastily, "I'll bring back the juiciest meat for you."
At last, she relented.
Another huntress, her belly barely protruding, whispered in the background to her own husband, "I wish you would treat me so." He only grunted in response.
Mo'at watched all of Jake's antics with a keen interest. "This is not how it is done," she insisted as Jake vigorously massaged Neytiri's feet a few days later.
"Mother," Neytiri protested.
"This is what I know," Jake answered smoothly. "If you wish, Tsahik, I will not do so."
Neytiri's answering glare was enough to convince her mother to pay a visit to the Tree of Souls to speak with Eytukan, her mate who had perished in the war. Perhaps the Omatikaya could learn from the Sky People, after all.
***
The day Neytiri was due to give birth, Jake stayed by her side the entire time, even as Mo'at demanded he leave her hut. Seeing his devotion to her daughter, she let him stay granted he would obey any task she gave him.
Neytiri lay on a bed of moss, groaning as her contractions began. She was shuddering as Mo'at brought a bowl containing herbal tea to her lips. She drank a little, clutching Jake's hand as he crouched beside her.
He wouldn't be surprised if all the bones in his fingers snapped from Neytiri's impossibly tight grip. But he endured it patiently as his mate's screams tore through the night air, shaking the walls of the hut.
"Baby, it will be OK," he murmured encouragingly. "It will be all right." Neytiri's eyes were wild, not quite focusing on him as her frantic gaze skipped around the hut. As she began to tremble uncontrollably, Jake placed his free hand over her heart, calming her down. Her breaths slowed and she glanced at him. "I need you to be strong right now," Jake told her. "Strong heart."
Only a few minutes later, she was cradling their baby in her arms. Her tired smile made all of her pain seem worth it. Mo'at carefully reached for her grandson and handed him to her son-in-law as she began the painstaking labour of stitching her daughter's belly.
Jake looked down at his son, so small yet infinitely precious. He rocked him cautiously, watching as the baby stilled in his arms, falling into a dreamless sleep.
"His name will be Neteyam," Neytiri murmured before her exhaustion and pain claimed her.
"Of course, baby," Jake whispered, holding his son closer. "As you wish."
Maybe he didn't know how to be a father, but he would learn.
***
Fifteen years later, Jake watched his son die.
"Dad, I want to go home." Neteyam coughed, blood bubbling to his lips. It also stained his chest, where a bullet had fatally pierced his heart.
"It's OK, son. We're going home," Jake assured him, tears welling in his golden eyes, lying to his son in his final moments.
"Dad, I-" Neteyam stilled and the light faded from his eyes. He would never draw breath again.
Neytiri's screams were of pure agony as she watched her first baby, her first son, her first child, bleed to death before her. "NETEYAM!" She cradled his head to her chest, refusing to meet his glassy gaze. Tears tracked her cheeks in pearly streams. She screamed at the heavens, but there was no response.
She refused to release Neteyam, even as Jake grabbed her shoulders so she would face him. Neytiri sobbed, but she finally lifted her gaze to his. Torment glinted in her eyes, as raw as his own, clawing at his heart. "I need you to be strong right now," Jake repeated, even as a fire raged behind them, its red and gold flames licking the sky, shadowed by an eclipse. "Strong heart." He pressed his palm against her heart. "Strong heart."
Neytiri's pounding heart slowed down, her breaths more even. She nodded, almost imperceptibly. Then she clutched her bow-the painted bow her father had gifted her as he lay dying-and climbed to her feet.
There was no mistaking the rage in her eyes, the revenge burning like the fire that was consuming the demon ship.
A mother's wrath knew no end.