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Mo'at had seen injuries like this before, most hadn't been fatal. An arrow piercing flesh could've easily been fixed, especially with her years of experience. Countless warriors had been victim to these kinds of injuries, and countless warriors had been healed. She knew exactly what to do when it came to this, she had known exactly what to tell the other healers to do. This had been her practice for years.
So she did not understand why her daughter would not wake up.
In truth, she did understand. She understood it well.
It was only that she refused to believe it.
Her daughter was strong, one of the best. A fierce warrior that would not easily back down. So why had an arrow been the thing to strike her down so quickly? An arrow, a bow, something her daughter had mastered. How could someone so great at their craft be so quickly killed by the very skill they trained so hard to refine?
Mo'at had already lost her eldest, and her mate, now the Great Mother had come to collect the only family she had left.
Neytiri would not die. She told herself stubbornly, as if she were a child and not Tsahik of an entire clan. As if she were not a leader, not a person people relied on for guidance. She is strong, she is one of the best. Right now, she was a mother.
Her daughter would live, she would continue to live until old age. She would go on to see her own children grow old and have children of their own, even as she lay completely still on the cold, sterile mattress. Even as the sky people, the few she trusted, worked tirelessly to remove the arrow from her flesh. Even as her daughter lay with a mask, a sky people invention meant to give air, because she could not breathe for herself.
Because she was not breathing when she had arrived.
Neytiri would live, even if Normspellman had told her she had lost too much blood.
When they had finished, her daughter was wrapped with white gauze around her arm and chest, and they looked at her as if they had experienced great loss. Mo'at felt fear, a deep, dark, and heavy sensation in her heart. She was not naive, she knew exactly what the look in their eyes meant.
The room she entered was cold, and when she touched her daughter's skin it was nearly just as devoid of warmth. For a moment she tried convincing herself that it was only that way because of the temperature of the room, but she knew better. She knew then, when she reached for Neytiri's wrist and felt no pulse, that her daughter was truly gone.
Eywa had taken all she had left.
But Neytiri had a family, they were still her family as well, and they were not here. They needed to be here.
“Her mate.” Were the first words that left her mouth, her voice hoarse from the tears she held back. “Her children, where is her family?”
When she looked up, she only saw Tarsem and Norm, faces a mixture of sorrow and worry they had for her family.
“Look for them.” Came the stern order despite the strong grief she felt twisting around her heart.
Mo'at would not shed a tear just yet. She was still a leader, one that needed to be strong for the People. They would not see her break down, even if she wanted to sob until she had no tears left to give. She outlived both her daughters and her mate, all three of their deaths being too early and unfair.
*•★.°+
The first thing Jake saw was the morning sky, then came the sound of warriors yipping and ikran wings flapping. He, having just woken up, immediately thought the Mangkwan found where they had been resting. The kids were quickly woken from their slumber, even Quaritch—completely unexpected—stood up to defend. When his senses finally grew accustomed to his surroundings however, he realized that it was the People that had found them.
Quaritch ran off, but that was none of his concern. He and his children were safe. His thoughts, as they had been the night before, were of Neytiri. With the speed and excitement of a young child he walked up—as calm as a man could manage—and searched for his wife. To his and the children's disappointment, she was not here.
Then his eyes finally landed on the faces of the people that had come for them, downcast and filled with sorrow. There was this guilt in their eyes, like something had happened and it was their fault, or perhaps it was something they could not stop. A sense of dread flooded his mind, Tuk worriedly clinging to an even more worried Kiri. Kiri had always been an empath.
“Where is Neytiri?” His voice came out more strained than it should've, he did not want them to see how panicked he was.
A moment of silence came next, Norm and Tarsem glancing at each other through teary eyes as if debating who would break the news first. They silently agreed that Norm would be the one to speak, so he stepped forward with such hesitance it was like he was walking towards his own execution.
“Jake,” He started, a hand coming to grip his shoulder. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. No words came out. His eyes darted back to Tarsem, then the other warriors that had accompanied them. He sighed, squeezing Jake's shoulder a little tighter, because he knew he needed something to ground him.
“Norm,” there was the slightest bit of irritation beneath the worry. “Where is Neytiri?” He repeated himself.
“She’s… She's gone.” His voice cracked.
Gone?
“Gone?”
It was impossible. There was no possible explanation for Neytiri to just be gone. Jake wasn't stupid, he would not ask what they meant by gone. He knew exactly what it meant. He had said it to many others before, when he was human and until now. From simply telling one of the children that an animal friend of theirs had been welcomed into the Great Mother’s embrace to breaking an entire family’s heart with the news of death.
He had heard of death, walked with it side-by-side, had come close to it more times than he could count. He did not expect it to take Neytiri from him so suddenly, so quickly.
But the thing about happiness, it could vanish in a heartbeat.
This family was this happiness. Neytiri was his happiness.
He should've known. He already knew. When he awoke earlier there was this strange, unfamiliar emptiness he hadn't felt since before him and Neytiri bonded. A void where his mate quite literally should be. He thought, perhaps it was only in his head, that he was imagining it. But he knew something was off as soon as he opened his eyes.
“Sempu?” Tuk came running over, clinging to him in search of comfort. Out of pure habit and instinct he scooped her up into his arms, his expression—which looked mostly emotionless—unchanging.
Norm, who was going to speak some more, knew to shut up as soon as he saw Jake's youngest. He had let go of his shoulder when Tuk ran over to her father. His eyes soon landed on Spider though, who was completely without a mask. The grief he felt for Jake's family did not melt away completely, it was not replaced by the shock and slight amazement, instead the emotions stood together. He was puzzled, making his way to the human boy.
Jake's breathing had gone heavier, faster, despite trying to stay strong for the kids. He looked to Tarsem, and he said nothing—only an apologetic look in his wet eyes. He sighed, breathing in deeply then exhaling through his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Tuk looked confused, yet her brows were also furrowed with apprehension. He held her closer, before calling the others over so they could head back.
One thing that came to his mind immediately after he saw Tuk was how he was going to tell the children their mother was gone. She wasn't completely gone, she was with Eywa, they could visit. Now that he thought of it, Neytiri would finally be with Neteyam, so in a way she should be happy now. But he knew Neytiri, he knew of the guilt and regret she must've felt for dying, something that wasn't, by any means, her fault.
He would find them, the Mangkwan. He would find wherever their camp was and shoot all of them down himself. They did not tell him the reason for her death yet, or how it happened, but he knew they had something to do with it.
“Kiri, Loak,” he called out, and with the way he sounded and the way the air felt thicker around them, they followed.
They mounted the ikran, and despite Tuk being with Tarsem and Jake riding with another warrior, he could hear her asking about where her mother was.
They landed at High Camp, where Mo'at was already waiting. She looked as if she had aged ten years, but she still smiled at the sight of her grandchildren. Jake waited for the children to run off and distract themselves by going to their friends before he approached his mother-in-law.
“Where is she?” He could not stop the way his voice shook this time. He wanted to speak more, to ask how it happened, why it happened, but all he could think about was seeing her.
Mo'at led him to one of the large metal boxes the sky people used for their labs and storage rooms. Inside, it was cold and sterile. Unnatural, as was everything else that seemed to be happening that day. His children were still out there, Tuk was still laughing and playing along with her friends. He could not ruin that. Kiri and Lo'ak seemed to be more withdrawn, talking to each other instead. They understood something was wrong. Very, very wrong. They just did not know what it was yet.
A part of him did not want to step foot any further into that place. A part of him did not want to see the sight of his wife, the woman whom he would and did do anything and everything for, the woman who he loved more than anything and anyone else, dead. Another part of him, the part he truly wanted to listen to, urged him to follow Mo'at into the room.
So that is what he did. He steeled himself for what he'd see, but nothing could prepare him for what Eywa had taken from him. Each step was heavy, his breathing uneven as he tried to control his emotions. This all had to be some strangely realistic dream, none of this was actually happening. Neytiri would not leave him.
She would not leave him.
As soon as his eyes landed on her he felt his knees almost give out. Mo'at seemed torn between leaving or staying with the two, but Jake insisted she needed to stay.
“She needs her mother.” He breathed, slumping down onto a crate placed beside her cot. There were no avatar or Na'vi-sized chairs, they mostly resolved to using crates or logs.
Jake carefully reached for her hand, his own hands trembling as he did so. His eyes brimmed with the tears he'd been holding back since he heard the news, Neytiri's hand completely limp in his. He squeezed, and for some reason, perhaps out of delusion, he thought she'd squeeze back. But she remained still, without a pulse. He tried convincing himself that perhaps it was just too weak, just as Mo'at tried telling herself her daughter still lived. But it was to no avail. Her chest did not move with her breath because she no longer needed to breathe. Her spirit, as strong as it was, had gone to Eywa, into Her warm embrace.
He sobbed quietly, head falling onto the mattress while his tears soaked the fabric. He would've screamed, but the grief did not allow him to. He wanted to storm out, mount his ikran and hunt down the Mangkwan. He wanted to make sure none would remain of the clan.
Instead he brought Neytiri's hand to his cheek, holding it tight as if that would wake her. His free hand reached over to her own cheek, thumb gently rubbing her cheekbone. She looked so peaceful, the world no longer weighing heavy on her shoulders. It looked as if she had only fallen into a deep, deep sleep. He wished his children would believe him if he told him that. That their mother had only fallen asleep and would not wake up until much later. But they were smart ones, the three of them. They would not believe him, not even Tuk.
“They do not know yet?” Mo'at asked, barely managing to even get the words out. She could no longer bear to see her daughter there, but at the same time she could not look away.
“No.” He sighed through tears. “I don't know how I'll tell them.”
They both sat there, unsure of what to say to each other. All Jake could think of doing was crying into Neytiri's arms, or trying to shake her awake. But he had to tell the children. More importantly he had to tell them today. Only he could not even get up, his legs did not allow him to stand, as if even they wanted him to stay here a little longer.
He stayed until his tears dried out. He was not one to break down like this when it came to loss, the marine in him never really allowed him to. But this was his wife, his mate, this was Neytiri. A small, very miniscule part of him wanted to go ahead and die with her, but his family—what remained of it—needed him. They needed him more than ever now. He had to be strong.
When he finally stood, his body felt weak. Everything felt wrong. It was worse than how he felt when he lost his legs, maybe even worse than when he lost his brother. Mo'at came out with him, and Norm was already waiting outside for the two of them.
Jake looked hollowed out, as if someone had reached in and taken everything he had. He looked worse than he did when returning from battle.
Neytiri did not leave him. She would never leave him, and he would never leave her. Instead she was taken from him, ruthlessly and heartlessly.
Norm offered to call the children over while Jake waited for them on the stairs to the lab. Mo'at never left, silent and broken. She had just lost her daughter. Neytiri was her baby too, her youngest one and the only one she had left. They yet again sat together in silence, Jake leaning against the railing.
His eyes landed on his kids, who were walking hesitantly towards him, and he found himself close to breaking down again.
“Sempu!” Tuk ran over, throwing herself into his arms. “Where is sa’nu?”
Kiri and Lo'ak asked the same question, but this time they had the same dread he had earlier. Their ears pressed close to their skulls, tail flicking wildly behind them. They shared so many similarities, somehow they were like twins, being born so close.
“She's…” Jake tried, he really did try, but he couldn't get the words out. How was he supposed to break the news to them? They hadn't heard Norm earlier, all they knew was that something bad was happening. He looked at Mo'at, and she nodded as if to say, ‘go on, tell them.’
“Your mother, she's…” He found himself choking on his words, still unable to force them out. Mo'at’s hand found his shoulder, she would speak instead.
“She is with the Great Mother now.” Her voice cracked, despite her efforts to stay strong for them as well.
“...What?” Lo'ak was the first to speak, but that was all he could say. Kiri and Tuk remained in silent disbelief. Jake hugged his youngest even closer, tighter, because it felt like if he didn't he'd lose them too.
He and Mo'at got up then, allowing the rest of the children to come running into their arms. Jake held Lo'ak and Tuk, while Kiri clung to her grandmother. None of them wanted to believe that any of this was true, like Neytiri would suddenly start breathing again. Like she'd come back if they asked the Eywa to return her to them.
*•★.°+
A funeral was held not long after. Neytiri was laid to rest in the soil of her own home, near the roots of their fallen hometree. She had been born in the forest, raised there, raised her children there, died there, now she would forever stay here. Forever, she would never leave home again. Her bow leans against the wood of the root that marked her grave, so she would not remain without it.
The paint felt heavier this time, like it was physically dragging him down. Of course he had grieved his son, but it was different compared to this. This felt worse, way worse. A piece of him had died with Neteyam, but with Neytiri it was more than half of him that went with her. She was his other half, in more ways than one.
The bond felt empty now, he felt so alone. Even with the people that surrounded him.
Jake could barely watch as Mo'at lowered an atokirina down to the body of the love of his life. He could barely listen to the sound of the People singing a funeral song when it served as actual proof of her death, he could not listen when all he could hear were the sounds of his children weeping.
He held them close, the three of them. If he let go, someone might take them from him as well. He did not want to lose anyone else. He could not lose anyone else.
Hours ago he had taken them to where Neytiri was, before they'd laid her to rest. Jake did not want them to see, but they insisted on it. He could not deny their wishes, especially if it was for their mother, so he allowed it. They stared, they cried, they stayed there for as long as they could. He promised them that they could still visit her in the spirit world, but they all knew that was not enough. Kiri could not even enter the spirit world.
Still, they tried. They all went to Vitraya Ramunong, they tried their best to help Kiri. Even Spider, as unexpected as it was, helped. They all knew he would try to help, but what they did not expect was the fact that he was growing a kuru. Norm knew the reason, but Jake had been too tired to learn of it.
They stayed for days, but Kiri was still unable to enter. She felt hatred, anger bubbling up inside her. Eywa took her birth mother, then took the mother that loved and raised her, and now she couldn't visit either of them. She was incredibly frustrated, even more so with the grief and the strange jealousy that hit her every time she saw Spider bring his short kuru to one of the glowing vines without any consequences.
One day, when she had calmed down enough, they all decided to try visiting Neytiri. Kiri sat and watched, her back against the rough bark of the tree, knees against her chest. Mo'at saw this, and her heart clenched. She looked so much like her, even if they were not related by blood. Her daughter lived through her grandchildren, she would always be with them in a way.
Kiri sighed, dejected and grieving. Mo'at decided not to visit yet, despite being in mourning herself, and decided to comfort her granddaughter first. She pulled her in, hugging her tightly without words. They did not need words, Kiri did not want words, only the warmth of her mother's hands. But she wasn't even allowed to have that now.
When Jake connected to the Spirit Tree, because Mo’at insisted he should, he saw familiar faces. Faces he had seen many times before already. Neteyam was there, Tsu'tey with Sylwanin, and Eytukan as well. But no Neytiri.
Where was Neytiri?
He walked past the people, even Grace, in search of his wife. But she was not there. She was nowhere to be found. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath in, and began thinking of the places they'd usually go together. Hallelujah Mountains, with their ikran, but she was not there either. In a clearing, where she had trained him, she was not there. At a pond where they had once played with the children, she was not there.
She was not there.
How could someone die and not go to the spirit world?