Chapter Text
Jake Sully longed for a purpose. He had always felt there was something greater driving him behind every action he took. When his twin brother had been praised as a top academic prodigy, Jake took it upon himself to sign up for the Marines, just like his father, and his father before him; to “prove himself as a man” and rise above his station. Up until now, he had been succeeding in his endeavor; he’d gotten his diploma at 17 and joined the Marines at the same age. He kept climbing in the ranks: Private, Private First Class, Lance Corporal, and Corporal—he was on the verge of being promoted to Sergeant, too. Until it happened.
A tour to Venezuela, a mere bush fight that got out of hand. “In and out,” they were told. Jake was shot in the back, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down—two of his closest friends, on the other hand, weren't so lucky.
But that was war. He’d signed up for that. Of course, he knew it was a possibility; he’d just been sharper about it in the past—or maybe back then he’d just been lucky, he thought. None of the thinking made it hurt less. He longed for the brotherhood he found in his time there, more than he ever seemed to find with his own blood brother these days. He wanted to keep the taste of order and unison dripping on his tongue for as long as he could, but a tiny bullet shell and 2 weeks in the hospital thoroughly washed it all away.
As he lay in the hospital, he had dreams of flying; they were recurring, almost every night. He once thought it to be a coping mechanism, because he couldn’t walk, somehow he would “find a way to fly.” He thought himself to be an idiot at times, but when he landed on Pandora, it all seemed to just make sense.
February 4th, 2148 - Earth
Back then, it felt like a blur, well, actually, it still kinda does.
A pounding on the other side of the door to a barebones hall apartment, the knocks rapid as gunshots—it seemed to shock him awake, a cold sweat curdling down his pale forehead as he wrestled and tugged against the bedsheets. He struggled to pull himself out of bed, into his trousers, and then into his wheelchair.
“In a minute!” Jake’s frustrated shout echoed throughout the entire apartment complex.
‘What asshole knocks on a door at 0700 on Saturday?’
He wheeled himself to the door; it was only a meter from the bed, if that. He rubbed his forehead slightly before reaching for the handle, his hangover gripping and pressing his temples in his usual morning fog.
The squeak of the door revealed a pair of towering pale men, donning matching chrome black suits, well-kept hair, and a stone-cold demeanor.
“Yes?” Jake asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
“Jake Sully?” The taller of the pair inquired.
“Who’s asking?”
The other suit adjusted his tie before giving Sully a stern look, signaling to let them in. Jake hesitantly complied, not seeing how he could even stop them anyway. Not only that, but 3 was too many for Jake’s apartment; it was at max capacity. The door closing behind them cued the response to his question.
“We’re with the RDA…” They flashed their badges in unison in a way Jake found amusing. “And we have an important career opportunity to discuss with you. But it must be some place more private than this, and more… accommodating.”
Jake’s face lingered for a second before he sighed. He didn’t have a damn clue what these suits wanted from him. His best guess was to be some sort of lab rat for the scientists, something to do with paraplegic testing or brain activity shit. He wouldn’t mind that; as long as it gave him some money, he always needed some of that.
“Alright.” Jake exhaled, defeated. He’d been in the Marines long enough to know the difference between questions and commands poorly disguised as questions. From the looks of it, these suits would’ve sedated him and wheeled him out of there themselves if they had to. Which made Jake only more skeptical about what the hell they wanted with him.
The next part flew by. Jake was transported in a black luxury SUV to central Charlotte, where the RDA headquarters for this city were located.
He was led in and out through multitudes of doors. Jake wasn’t sure if the air conditioner was turned low or if every person he passed was just that ice cold. No one even seemed to bat an eye at him, which is usually commonplace for someone passing him on the street. Jake figured that these guys were the Marines out of the common office workers. He’d known the RDA to be a cold, focused, and serious organization, but they almost seemed animated.
Eventually, he was seated in a room devoid of all color and decoration. A chair on his side, a table, and 2 chairs opposing him. Sitting in those two chairs were two different people from before—one was still in a suit, a stone in the ocean of the RDA; he even wore glasses to complete the look. But the other, she was still cold and unassuming, but in a different way. Dressed in a well-fitted olive green military suit, donning an impressive array of badges, medals, and symbols. Her demeanor commanded respect, which Jake was willing to give before she even opened her mouth.
While the suit next to her kept his composure, she reached out to shake his hand.
“It’s good to meet you, Corporal. I’m General Frances Ardmore, head of RDA security here on Earth. To be straight with you, we have a job opportunity for you on Pandora to join our Security Operations as one of our soldiers.”
Jake attempts to straighten his face, still riddled with shadows of confusion. A paced silence hangs in the air before he responds.
“Thank you for the offer, General. But I, uh, I don’t really understand… Does that mean you’re going to fix up my legs? And why me anyways?”
The suit and the general shared a look before the suit opened a folder he’d just placed on the table. He slid it over to Jake as the latter started reading intently.
“Non-Disclosure Agreement…?” Jake voiced an inch of concern. The suit eyed him up and decided it was his turn to speak.
“What we’re about to tell you is sensitive information. So read it, sign it, and when you’re done, we’ll show you what it is.”
Jake tilted his head slightly and bit the inside of his cheek.
“Alright.”
Jake read over it at a quick pace, understanding the concept and not caring too much about the mumbo jumbo of it all. He was soon led out of the ‘void room’ into a circular one riddled with technology and gadgets, it was reminiscent of a lab. He followed behind the general and the suit with as much pace as his wheelchair offered him.
General Ardmore tapped on a holographic projector, soon presenting a screen with a photo profile of Tommy, a bunch of words, and a profile of a Pandora native. Jake raised an eyebrow, lightly scratching the corner of his mouth with his thumb.
Jake turns to Ardmore. “What’s Tommy got to do with this? Is this about his space thing?”
Jake hadn’t been in contact with his brother in a while; all he knew was that he had been studying some time for a space expedition. They weren’t close these days.
General Ardmore chose her words carefully, in a way that an average marine could understand without the science-y terms.
“Your twin brother is going to Pandora, Corporal.” She flicks up a screen of the foreign planet. “Over there, he can occupy the body of a 10-foot-tall native, giving him the strength, speed, and familiarity with the indigenous population.”
Jake offered a knowing nod - ironically, he wasn't completely sure what she meant by ‘occupy’, he knew Ardmore picked up on his confusion, a general can pick up on even the slightest twitch of the nose, not that Ardmore wanted to overexplain herself, though.
“Because your DNA is identical to Dr. Sully’s, we have a use for you. We are able to clone your brother’s ‘Avatar’ for an inexpensive price. While your brother is tasked to work for the science division, you will be tasked to work for guys like me.”
She slips into a seat at a nearby table; Jake follows suit, wheeling into a free spot. Her attention lingers on her junior marine as he tries to process all the information he’s been barraged with. She lightly slaps her hand onto the table as Jake’s focus draws up at her.
“Look, kid. You’ll learn what all this stuff means in training and more. Right now, what you need to know is that it’s a 6-year contract and a damn good amount of money. When you rotate back, you’ll be able to get your legs back and go on a shopping spree like a little princess—all you need to do right now… is just say yes.”
Jake breaks eye contact, letting the words sit on his tongue for a moment. He thinks about the state of his life since it happened. It had been 27 days, and every one of them had lasted an eternity. The answer was clear.
“Yes. Yes, General.”
February 10th, 2148 - Earth
It was difficult to make a marine nervous. Jake recalls back to the days of swimming at night in shark-infested waters, with the only instructions being to stab them in the eyes if they came too close. Anxiety was ripped out of him and replaced with hardened confidence. It was the way, and it was good.
But on a day like this, Jake Sully was found with his head drawn to the ground, gradually wheeling himself around the halls of a hospital, dripping with anxiety. His arms, ever so strong to make up for his legs, suddenly felt fragile and weak; if he tried to curl his hand into a fist right now, he was sure he would fail. He wanted nothing more than to wheel out of the hospital and go straight to the local bars.
But that just wasn’t an option.
He made his way down the hall, arriving at room 210. His hand gripped the handle, unable to pull it down, shaking ever so slightly. A sigh pelted out of his mouth as he looked up at the door. It was just a door, but it looked 50 feet tall. He tightens his grip on the handle.
“Jake.”
A familiar voice drew Jake out of his trance; the marine jerked his head left.
“Tommy.”
There he was, his prodigal brother. Identical twins, but they couldn’t be further apart. Tommy kept himself tidy: short slicked hair with a well-kept beard, nicely dressed, and slim he was, but he still stood confident. Jake, on the other hand, had hair growing out messily, an unkempt stubble, and threw on whatever clothes worked. No matter what, part of Jake believed he could never stand confident again, let alone stand at all.
His brother approached him in a relaxed manner, lightly patting his hand on his elder twin’s back.
“Hey Jakey.”
A small smile wriggled onto the corner of Jake’s face.
“Hey Tommy. Didn’t think you’d make it.”
Tommy raised his eyebrows, more than a hint of sass drawn on his face.
“Because of my project? Need me to remind you about the first face you saw in the hospital last month?”
Jake grinned at him.
“Yeah, well, if you hadn’t been, I would’ve brought you down to my level.”
Tommy playfully pushes the back of Jake’s head forward with his palm before grabbing the door handle that Jake hadn’t realized he’d let go of.
It was true, though. They hadn’t been close in adulthood. Tommy, being the genius that he was, graduated high school at 14 and ran off to Duke University. Jake was 15 when he joined military school. But at the end of the day, they were still twin brothers; that’s a bond that can neither be formed nor broken.
Alas, they hadn’t seen each other much after their teens; as time went on, Tommy was all around the country doing this and that, and Jake was around but never at home.
Maybe that’s why.
Maybe that’s why what lay beyond this door scared both of them.
Tommy’s hand, like Jake’s had, hesitated at the door handle, as if there was something tangible icing his hand and freezing his movements.
“C’mon, Tommy. We just have to face it.” Jake exhaled, his hands clasped together and his head looking anywhere but his brother’s face.
Even without Jake’s attention on him, Tommy offers a small nod and opens the door.
One step into the room, the air immediately feels thinner, the smell of sickness wriggles into his lungs, and a consistent beep knocks at his ears.
What bore his eyes was a sickly man laying in a hospital gown, as if he was already a corpse. Skin like worn rubber, bones like skewers, eyes sunken like gutters. A breath that shook and a body that creaked. He slowly tilted his head forward, a delayed reaction to the door opening.
“Son…” The hollow man squeaked.
“Hey Dad.”
Tommy slowly sauntered towards his father, grabbing a chair for himself. Jake could see as clear as day that he walked with a false confidence. Guess he had to keep up appearances.
Jake rolled in on the same side of the bed as Tommy, finally sitting beside each other at an equal level. As brothers, as sons.
An unnerving silence densened the air; Tommy resists the bouncing of his leg while allowing his father to seemingly study his pair of sons. Jake looks back at his father’s solemn grey eyes, partially covered by loose strands of his long, tattered grey hair.
Jake decided to speak first,
“How’re you holding up, Dad?”
The tree-root wrinkles of his father’s mouth upturned just slightly. In an attempt to speak, he tried to fight off a few coughs; his breath was slow and layered in gravel.
“Better than you, boy…” His hand reaches out to lightly grip Jake's knee; it was just as thin as his old man’s arms. “Looks like…they got you good.”
Jake scratches at the back of his own neck, slightly tilting his head, amused at his father.
“Yeah, yeah, they gave me an empty pocket and a place more shabby than this as a reward.”
His father coughs. “They…they do that,” he says with a small glint of sadness in his eye.
Tommy’s throat weighed heavy, chains tugging at his tongue. He’d started tapping the underside of his chair, and his eyes started darting around the room, trying to think of something—well, anything—he could say. His father seemed to notice his anxious demeanor.
“I hear… You’re going to space soon… boy.” His father shifted his eyes to Tommy, struggling to get his words out in a coherent manner.
His son offered a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, they’re flying me out this year. Almost 20 years away from Earth.”
“Hmmm…picked a good time then.” His father replied.
It struck Jake at that moment; the RDA hadn’t even told Tommy that they were cloning his Avatar for Jake to use. He wasn’t sure if Tommy was considered within the general public of the NDA; I mean, he would find out anyways? Whatever. It wasn’t important right now. In fact, it was the least important thing of all.
Jake kicked away his thoughts and looked at his father with a false earnestness brimming from his eyes, “You’re going to get through this, Dad,” putting a fist onto the edge of the bed as he said so.
His father closed and opened his eyes in a slow, calm manner.
“Why’s your head so hard, Jakey? ... that fightin’ part is done…” His father points one finger to his temple. “It’s… up here now.”
Jake and Tommy both silently winced. They both knew it was true. But sometimes knowing something and hearing it—seeing it—are completely different things.
From there, they exchanged a few more hesitant and short conversations before their father started to tire. Tommy stayed by his father’s bedside, sitting in an isolated atmosphere with him. While Jake wheeled out of the room, scouting out a doctor to talk to about his status.
“Is he really just not going to make it, Doc?” Jake’s eyes drifted in loosely held eye contact with the older nurse. He already knew the answer to his question.
She shot him a sympathetic look before responding in a calm manner.
“Your father is 74 years old with stage IV cancer… I’m sorry, Mr. Sully, but once they get to that point, there isn’t much more treatment we can do to help.”
Jake presses his lips together, his eyes downturning.
“So not long then?”
The nurse reciprocates Jake’s emotions back to him.
“No. Not long, unfortunately. I’m sorry.”
Jake thanked her and wheeled back to the entrance of the door. He leaned up against the outside wall, his head resting, looking up at the ceiling lights and closing his eyes, breathing slowly.
When you’re in the marines, you’re either following orders or giving them. There is an order, structure, and process to just about everything you can imagine. There is always a path, and it is always logical and sound. There is routine and benefit. It is the marine way.
After being discharged over a month ago, Jake had lost his way. When you get let go, all you do is improvise. You’re practically blindfolded and kicked into the ocean. It was times like these Jake yearned for some kind of order, even just a little hint or push. Fate had spun him around so many times, he couldn’t tell the dirt from the sky anymore.
An opening door cues a sigh.
“He’s having a nap now.” Tommy uttered half-quietly.
“That’s good.” Jake responds in a distant manner.
They both lie against the wall for a few seconds, embracing the quiet, the mild static of the light panels on the ceiling.
“I wish I’d made more time for home and for him.” Tommy said, his words forming with an edge of heartache.
“Same here.”
Really, Jake didn’t even need to respond; he knew that Tommy knew what they had both been thinking.
…
The funeral for Major Jack Tau Sully was held on Saturday, February 17th, 2148. He lies buried next to his partner, Marie Greene, in Oaklawn Cemetery, Charlotte. His life was celebrated by his family, friends, and fellow soldiers.
February 19th, 2148 - Earth
“Excuse me! Excuse me—”
“Huh?”
Jake hurriedly wheeled up to a girl walking with a purposeful pace. Her face painted in a somewhat vexed expression, as she slips off her headphones to her neck, slowing down for someone so confused and out of breath.
“Look, hey, I’m sorry to bother you. I just—this place is doing my head in. Do you know where the room ‘T-1’ is?”
She softened her face as she realized who she was talking to.
“You’re Jake Sully?”
Jake furrowed his brow slightly,
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“Well, for one, it says it on your chair, and two—you’re the dude who missed the tour and the move-in date.”
She analyzed a slight shift in his expression when she mentioned the move-in date; she could already tell the reason brought him sorrow. Jake didn’t know it yet, but this girl could and would read anyone like a damn book.
“Yeah, I know. Can you just show me where it is?”
“Wheel with me, Hotrod.”
Jake somewhat squinted an eye at the comment, not that she was looking at him, though.
He kept up the pace with the girl, gazing at her for a moment. She was a young woman no older than himself, sporting dark hair and tan skin, a few freckles scattered around, complemented with amber eyes and a nice face. Of course, Jake wasn’t going to say it, but she did look good through her no-nonsense attitude.
“You training to be an avatar too?” Jake enquired.
She shot him a smirk. “Now, what gave you that idea, Sully?” she said sarcastically, scratching her nose to show off her blue wristband that read ‘AVATAR PROGRAM.’
Jake clicks his tongue, “Oh, my, uh, genius brain. My mom and brother—both PhDs, you know.”
“Seems like the apple did fall far from the tree. You might even say it…rolled.”
She cheesily grinned at him, not seeming to care whether her words came off as offensive. Jake, defeated, grinned as well, giving his eyes a half-roll.
“What’s your name?”
“Jessica Ryder, people call me ‘Able’ though.”
Jake raised an eyebrow. “Able? Able to do what?”
“ABLE TO DO THIS!”
She flicked the brake switch on his wheelchair and ran down the hall laughing.
Jake sat there for a moment, trying to process what just happened. He then unflicked the brake and wheeled as fast as he could to catch up to her. He noticed she slowed down gradually so he could pace up. After what felt like a 100-meter dash, he came face-to-face with her again. They had both come to a stop. His arms were sore, and he was unsure what emotion to even show. Catching his breath, he said,
“Look, Ryder, I don’t mind messin’ around, but I need some respect here.”
She stood for a second against the wall, arms crossed loosely. Ryder bit the inside of her cheek and nodded marginally.
“You’re right, Jakey, my hazing got a bit out of hand.” She smacked her lips. “Sorry, Corporal.”
She extended out a hand for him to shake, and he reciprocated the action. He couldn’t figure out how earnest she was being, but it didn’t matter. In the Marines, a handshake meant something.
“Is ‘Able’... actually what they call you?” Jake asked after a short-lived silence of walking.
“Yeah dude, I’m a signals specialist. Best of the best. It’s why I’m here. Give me my gadgets, and I’ll let you know what kind of porn the Russian president watches and decode his secret messages simultaneously. That’s why they call me Able.”
“Yeah, Able-ist.” Jake grinned as if it was the best thing he thought of all year, which Able was heavily amused by.
They made their way to the entrance of Room T-1; outside the door was a young, sturdy, dark-skinned man sipping from a sports drink.
“Yo, Zane.” Able gives a quick 2-fingered salute to him.
“Hello, Able.”
He spoke in a noticeable West African accent; Jake wasn’t well-versed enough to decipher which one, though.
He noticed Jake below her and extended a hand.
“Hello, I’m Zane Madaki. A… Corporal.” Even Jake picked up on the tone in which he stated his military title; it felt strange.
“Nice to meet ya’ Madaki.” Jake returned the handshake, prompting Zane to nod back and smile.
“Make sure not to ask him any big, complex questions, Zane.” Able interjected.
At first Jake thought Zane might’ve been one to yabber on about big concepts and ideas, but then he realized—
“Please do not mind her, Jake; she is mean. She does not change for people.” Zane stated in a dispirited manner.
Able responded by sarcastically poking her tongue out at them and slipping into the room.
Jake smirked, “You got that right.”
Zane opened the door for Jake to enter, “After you.”
Out of his periphery, Jake noticed something strange about his hand, which caused him to take a quick glance; he had hoped Zane wouldn’t notice.
3 fingers and a thumb. Not shaped like he was born with 4 digits, but shaped like there was a stub where his pinky finger used to be. Jake would keep to himself about that for now.
Zane carefully placed his drink in the rubbish as they entered the room, closing the door behind them. Jake analyzed his surroundings. The room was laid out like a compact classroom, but more void of color; everything seemed either white, grey, or black. There were 5 large, modern-looking desks, two in the front and 3 in the back. The desks were all facing a holographic projector, which was accompanied by a familiar face—General Ardmore.
In the front left desk sat a tall, fair-skinned man; he shifted his attention to the opening of the door, appropriately rising from his seat and taking a stride towards Jake. His face looked young, but his eyes told many stories. His arms were burly and tattooed with various tough-looking imagery. He had a square face shape with a maintained faded buzz cut to pair. Definitely a hardened marine, Jake thought to himself.
“Corporal Jake Sully.” The man said, shaking Jake’s hand with a firm grip. “I’m Major Conrad Olson Jr. - Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’ll be our squad leader throughout this course and for our 6 years, Pandora. I hope I’m tolerable enough.” He added a small chuckle to his last sentence.
Olson stood tall and proud. He spoke earnestly and confidently. He looked young, and yet he was already a major. Jake could already tell, he was the kind of man he appreciated and respected the most.
“It’s good to meet you, Major.” Jake voiced warmly.
The 4 of them all sat down in their seats. Jake figured out pretty easily which one was allocated to him, as it lacked a seat in full. He sat on the front right, next to the general. He liked the idea of that. He didn’t like the idea of Able being sat behind him on his right, giving her full rein to pester him.
General Ardmore stood quietly as they waited for the 5th member of the squad to arrive. It was already 0800, and every marine knew if you’re on time, you’re already late.
As the minutes passed, a shared anxiety festered in the hearts of these marines, for the shout that would be inflicted upon this mystery person. Tick tock, tick tock…
Finally, at 0805, a lanky figure creaked open the door; so giant he looked as if he was crawling into the room, he had to be almost 7 feet tall, Jake thought.
“Private Lorenz! How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence. Would you like us to get on our knees and wash your feet as well?”
The gentle giant’s cheeks flared up red in embarrassment as he awkwardly shuffled to find his seat and fit himself in his chair.
“I’m sorry! I just, uh, had some trouble remembering where the room was; that’s all…”
Ardmore crossed her arms and added a level of scrunch to her already war-hardened face. An aura of command radiated from the fiber of her being.
“That is a poor excuse, Private.” She declared, in a cold stone voice.
Jake could feel Able burning a hole through the back of his head with her eyes.
“Sorry!” Lorenz yelped back.
Ardmore shook her head, not wanting to discuss the matter anymore. After all, there were more important things at hand.
“Listen up! And listen well.” She announced. “You have 6 months until your departure to Pandora, where you will act as ‘Avatar Ambassadors’ for the Security Operation sector of the RDA—you will be taken in by Colonel Miles Quaritch.”
She used a remote to change the projector to fit the subject of which she’s talking about, she finds that marines tend to be visual learners. She continues,
“But until then, you will be taking this course to prepare you for all things Pandora. You will be taught by people who have survived their holiday to the planet; you’ll learn about the threats, environment, how to survive - and most importantly, how to adapt to and use your Avatar bodies. Using these bodies is a privilege few will ever have. So learn well. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” They shouted in unison.
“Good.” Ardmore stared with a face as cold as ever.
The atmosphere was laser focused. Give a pep talk to guys like these, and they’ll feel like they can take out battalions with their own hands.
“All right. My job is done; for the rest of these 6 months, I’ll leave you in other hands. Until your teacher walks in, you have half an hour to learn each other's middle names and whether you like long walks on the beach. Bond well. People are better when they work together; I’m sure you all know that.”
The squad nodded as she exited the room.
Jake took a quick glance around the room. He was quite okay with these people being his squad members. Major Conrad Olson Jr.—he was confident; he seemed suited to lead. Lance Corporal Jessica “Able” Ryder—she was self-assured and a quick thinker, even at Jake’s expense. Corporal Zane Madaki—he seemed calm; Jake was sure he would prove himself. Private…what was his name again? He wasn’t sure about him; he seemed like a classic private screw-up. Oh well.
These would be the people he spends his 6 years on Pandora being in arms with. They were his comrades.
The past 2 months Jake had spent lonely and broken. To even just get a taste of what he used to have, it invigorated the strongest feeling of hope into his soul.
He knew whatever challenge that came his way, he would take it head-on and then some. Nothing was going to stop him from getting his legs—his life—back. His father had always told him life was too short to waste time, and Jake was intent on following it to the letter.
That night, Jake slept fine, the first time he’d slept fine since it happened.
That night, once again, he had dreams of flying.