Chapter Text
Spider was out. He was free. The RDA didn't have him anymore. Quaritch was gone. There was no more burning villages, no more heartwrenching screams that clawed at his bones.
He let out a chocked laugh, his hands gripping onto a wet rock that stood proudly in the sea as he hauled his wrecked body onto the solid surface.
Spider watched as the splintered, the metal breaking in half with a deafening groan as the distant cries of the RDA people got swallowed by the sea. He watched, eyes unblinking until the fire burned out and smoke billowed in the stray breeze.
His heart was lighter, the pounding of the adrenaline coursing through his veins eased out of him, turning him into an empty husk. He was exhausted but he was free. And so we're the Sully's.
So what if Neytiri used him as bait? So what if they looked at him differently, eyes wide and uncomprehending. They were alive that's what mattered. What was important.
Tuk, Lo'ak, Kiki and Neteyam were safe, even if Neteyam got shot. Thankfully it was his shoulder.
Everything was fine
Spider laid there on the cold, wet rock, grounding himself. This was real. He was alive. The rock was rough against his hands and the cold wind skimmed over his body making him shiver. His body ached, finally catching up with all the bruises and injuries that littered his skin. Each breath was careful and controlled, wet and trembling. He tried not to think about it all too hard. How his stomach clenched painfully around nothing, how his mouth was as dry as sand, his lips cracked and desperate for water. No, he was fine. Spider was a tough kid.
The waves lapped at his feet, as if coaxing him to follow, to find somewhere better where he could rest. Where he could be safe. But it was so cold and all he wanted was some warmth.
He took a deep, shuddering breath, the flaps on his neck fluttering as it took in the toxic air and filtered it to make it breathable. And...and.... he shouldn't be able to breathe this air. His mask. Oh *fuck* his mask.
His heart spiked, beating against his ribs like a caged ikran. His eyes frantically roaming over his body, looking for the exopack on his hip, the batteries the–
He paused, noticing the long, thin scar on his chest. He became more aware of the palulukan-like plates that opened and closed, functioning like gills at his throat, his trembling clawed hands. His tongue ran over his teeth...his *pointed* teeth and when he opened his mouth his jaw went to far and–
Oh.
Oh right.
His body sagged, heavier then stones falling to the ocean floor. He could rest. He wasn't in danger. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. His throat was too raw, too broken to do anything. He was exhausted and who was he to deny himself a bit of rest?
His eyes were heavy when he tried to open them. It must have taken him hours, rousing his body from sleep. Or maybe his body just didn't want to wake up. Maybe it still thought he was there with the RDA, strapped to a medical table with the artificial white lights and dead, stagnant air.
He flexed his hands, a small careful twitch of muscle, waiting to feel the rough texture of restraints or the cold metal of cuffs but there was nothing. He moved again, spreading his hands wide and moving them up, up, up and....and....there was nothing. That was new. Different.
He took a deep breath, his flaps taking in the air as he slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he noted was the woven ceiling above him, how the texture under his hands was rough, different from the wet rock he was on. Different from the smooth metal of his cell.
The light blinded him, his head was spinning and numb at the same time while his ears rang, struggling to pick out sounds. Everything was muffled and heavy, he was sure his head was going to fall off of his neck. He breathed again. Quicker this time. Desperate. Calm the fuck down. He needed to calm down.
There was a gasp or maybe a sob. Someone was saying something but it was so muted and far away. Then there was movement, a flash of dark blue and white and it caused his heart to stop.
His body tensed, muscles and joints locking before he was up in a crouched stance. Something deep rumbled in his throat, trying to take the form of a threatening hiss but it came out as something worse, something frightening.
He scrambled back and there was more noise, more blue. The texture under his skin wasn't what he was used to and it made him stumble until he found a corner. Corners were safe. Corners made him sink into the shadows. Made him small. Less threatening.
The noises grew louder, drew closer. There was a shout, a roar, that sounded like a nantang. It wasn't like anything he'd ever heard before, so fearful and desperate and loud. It took Spider a moment to register that if was him, his throat burning as the sound ripped through him.
There was a moment of hush, of frail hesitation and for a blissful second Spider thought they'd given up. He watched the shades of blue freeze.
He did it. He won.
He–
The blue moved. A lighter blue form than what he was used to and he flinched away, back raised in threat and something....something pushed it's way through his skin, breaking flesh. It wasn't sore. It felt...odd but it made that light blue form pause. But then it moved, slower this time. Someone, something, hissed behind it and he wanted to hiss back but he was trembling so bad and his throat was like sand and he wanted to collapse again.
"Mawey," the voice said. It wasn't harsh but it was firm. Gentle. "Mawey."
It wasn't English. It was Na'vi. Barely anyone in the RDA spoke Na'vi, not unless necessary and even then their pronunciation was shit. But this...this was real. Something fluid but in a different dialect.
Spider relaxed just so, his eyes finally focusing on the light blue hand that reached towards him, palm upright and open.
"Mawey," the voice spoke again, "Child, come to me. You are injured and must rest."
Na'vi. It was actual Na'vi. And that meant he was safe. Or at least he hoped he was.
He didn't dare take his eyes off the hand, watching as it beckoned him closer. His hand trembled as he lifted it, his breath laboured as all the energy drained out of him. He placed his clawed hand on the palm, watching, waiting.
"I'm sorry," he whimpered, "I-I didn't mean to. I didn't tell the RDA anything." His words caught in a choke before he took a breath. "I couldn't save the villages. I couldn't save them. I-I... they burned everything and it's my fault." Something wet trailed down his cheeks, his eyes stinging. "It hurts. It hurts so much."
"I know child but now you must rest."
In an instant something was under his nose, the smell sharp and bitter but it made him boneless. It had him succumbing to sleep and he was more than happy to comply.