#today i sacrifice mansk to eywa

[shu-box-puns]

 I would never have given you to them; not for anything.

(Tsu’tey x Reader)

Last Chapter <- Part 2 -> Next Chapter 

If you prefer to read on Ao3, you can find the fic here!

Summary: The na'vi say, every person is born twice.

Word Count: 9035

Reader uses they/them pronouns.

NOTE: The term 'Zaza' is a gender neutral way to address a parental figure.

Mo’at allowed Tsu’tey to stew in her tent until eclipse. And for that, he was grateful.

He couldn’t stomach the idea of facing the clan right now. Or Jake for that matter. Eywa, he hadn’t lost his temper that badly in years. And now he was drained. His eyes stung and his shoulders heavy. All his thrashing had upset the carefully applied mourning paint weaving down his body, which he would have to fix soon. But only when he had the strength to move.

The demon wearing a warped replica of his mate’s face still taunted his most recent memories. Anger still curdled his stomach, but it was not as hot now. More subdued. More aimed at whatever unnatural methods the Sky People had used to create it. 

Groaning to himself, the Olo’eyktan dropped his head back into his hands, fingers pushing at the pain between his eyes. Failing to relieve the ache. 

Why was this happening to him? To his People? Had they not suffered enough the first time the Sky People had invaded?

First the stars fell and the Sky People returned, forcing the Omaticaya clan to leave their new village and retreat to the floating mountains. And now long dead ghosts were appearing in the forests, attempting to steal his son. The bastards.

Mo’at cleared her throat, the rustle of the curtain signalling her return from dinner. Jerking his head out of his hands, Tsu’tey frowned at the flakes of mourning paint that had come off from the rubbing. Absently, he wiped the evidence on his thigh, eyes straying to Mo’at as she strutted over to him. His ears pinned guiltily at the leaf of food she presented like a peace offering.

<”Thank you, Tsahik.”> He whispered, taking the food from her with shaking hands. Even that was draining. 

The woman merely dipper her head in acknowledgement, choosing not to comment when he obediently lowered the food into his lap but did not dig in. Even the thought of eating at a time like this turned his stomach. He felt too raw to act like nothing had happened. 

Mo’at seemed to know, she always did, and turned her back to him, relieving him of her usually piercing gaze. With the wisdom of her station, she kept her options to herself as Tsu’tey stewed, instead choosing to kneel beside the low fire. Sparks spat and hissed as she added more kindling, watching the tongues of fire leap and grow before she added some larger twigs.  

There was that set to her shoulders, the tell she had passed down to Neytiri when she wanted to voice her opinion but did not want to force someone’s hand. When she wanted to allow them to figure it out first, or start the conversation. Mo’at was a good Tsahik because of it. 

She had been kind in the years following his mate’s death. Supportive of Tsu’tey’s grief whilst practically taking over leading the people when he found it took hard to roll out of his hammock during those earlier days. She had practically adopted Spider on sight, and had taken to babysitting him whilst Tsu’tey got himself together. He knew he would not be where he was today without her guidance.

<”What is it?”> Tsu’tey finally asked, when Mo’at remained steady in her silence.

The Tsahik peered at him over her shoulder, her expression neutral even if her eyes swam with an untold grief and uncertainty. 

<”Speak your mind Mo’at.”> Tsu’tey encouraged. She had never held her tongue before, he would hate for her to do it now.

Mo’at’s tail jumped, before she turned back to the fire, appearing busy. <”Eywa has blessed you with a beautiful gift, you know.”> She stated simply in a tone Tsu’tey could not decipher. A weight clutched Tsu’tey’s lungs in its unforgiving grasp, punching a sad snort from him. He could not disagree more.

Mo’at was not discouraged.  <”The Great Mother has returned your mate to you. She is not usually so generous.”> <”That is NOT my mate!”> Tsu’tey growled through gritted teeth, the declaration punching through him with renewed fury. <”That is a puppet. Made unnaturally by the Sky People, not by Eywa!”>

Mo’at turned to him slowly, her knees still facing the fire, but her eyes glowing with a look that mirrored how Tsu’tey felt. <”Perhaps you are right.”> The Tsahik said in a tone that indicated she did not believe he was right at all. <”Or perhaps, this situation is not so black and white. Perhaps not every is as it seems.”> 

<”It does not matter.”> Tsu’tey told her dismissively, <”the People would not welcome a Demon back into their ranks.”> He knew he was deflecting, trying to use the clan as an excuse instead of his won turmoil. Somehow, it felt safer; even if lying had always been a foreign concept to him.

<”The People thought they would never welcome a human into their ranks either.”> Mo’at narrated, eyes wistful with memories of a simpler time. <”But now we share camp with scientists. You yourself took a human mate and Jake-Sully walks freely among us. As a clan, we have changed.”>

<”What are you trying to say? Speak plainly.”>

There was a moment of stillness, only disrupted by the unpredictable sway of the flames. 

<”I would kill to be in your position right now, Tsu’tey.”> 

Any retort that might have been brewing on his tongue was immediately dashed. He could not respond. The tight vice of emotion in his throat choked the words from him. 

Mo’at seemed to deflate, her usual spark dwindling. The beads of her shawl clinked softly as she picked up a stick and stoked the fire. 

<”Eytukan, has been with the ancestors for fifteen years now.”> She said, and Tsu’tey listened as he always had. Like they always listened to one another when reminiscing on the people that had been lost or stolen from them. <”Eywa allows me time to hold and hear him, but he does not walk beside us. I miss him with everything I am.”>

Tsu’tey winced sympathetically. He shared this pain. And until a few hours ago, he had been in a similar mindset. 

Carefully, he set his leaf down to the side and shuffled closer. Resting his hand lightly on Mo’at’s shoulder. She raised her face to the tent ceiling, leaning into his touch and gathering herself. Her back jumped under Tsu’tey’s fingers at her shaky inhale.

Then she turned to him, fully. Her expression was determined. Those wizened old hands clutching his own in their strong grasp. 

<”The Great Mother has a reason for everything she does.”> Right now, it was the Tsahik addressing him, not Mo’at who had always been like a mother to him. <”She does not guide without reason. She does not create without intent. For whatever reason your mate walks again, it is of Her doing, and we must honour it.”> <”How?”> <”Return them to High Camp.”> The Tsahik instructed him. <”By whatever means, return them to us. Set aside your grief and be the hunter I know you to be.”>

Tsu’tey could feel himself nodding. It wasn’t acceptance of the situation, but it was an attempt at internal peace. A moment of reprieve, in which he could push aside his personal feelings and hide behind the mantle of Olo’eyktan again.

<”One step at a time, child. You have been angry for so long, it is time to start healing.”> 

He was far from a child. The world had taken too much for him to be considered as such. Pandora had sculpted him into one of the best hunters of his clan, had supported him through his grief and grown him into a strong Olo’eyktan.

And yet, it still hurt. The dull pain that used to be background static in his mind had been yanked forward. The battle worn scar harshly slashed open to allow fresh waves of pain to hurt him as if nothing had changed. As if time had not dulled the pain and made him more resistant to it.

It felt like a betrayal when his eyes flickered down to his wrist. To the brown beaded bracelet that had once been worn as a choker, partially hidden by his wrist guard. 

Tsu’tey’s ears rose tall as hurried footsteps rapidly approached the entrance to the Tsahik’s tent. The woman in question perked as Jake-Sully shoved his way into the tent, Neytiri piling in not a moment afterwards.

<”What is it?”> Mo’at demanded, rising to her feet before Tsu’tey could gather his barings.

<”It’s Neteyam.”> Jake-Sully blurted, his hand hovering at the communications collar as he swallowed loudly. <”The kids. All of them went with him to deliver the recom to a safe location-”> <”Spit it out!”>

<”The kids lost them. They slipped away.”> 

Mo’at shifted uneasily, all earlier tenderness swept away in her agitation. <”And? Quickly now, I know that is not all. We know the recom did not intend the children harm.”> Jake-Sully was breathing too hard to continue, so Neytiri jumped in, her panic evident. <”There are more Demons in the forest. Sweeping the undergrowth.”>

Tsu’tey was on his feet before she had finished, in a heartbeat, his bow was in hand and he stepped out from behind Mo’at. His previously dormant anger was bubbling again, making it hard to speak as he rounded the fire and strode confidently for the tent’s entrance.

The Tsahik grabbed his arm before he could leave. <”I See your pain, child.”> She reassured him, <”but do not allow it to blind you. I trust you will return with everyone in one piece.”>

He nodded, words beyond his grasp, and she let him go. 

Jake-Sully fell into step with him, Neytiri falling into a brief conversation with her mother before following them to the ikrans.

<”Is Spider with them?”> Tsu’tey croaked, to which Jake-Sully nodded glumly as he paused to check his ammunition for the gun slung off his shoulder. 

<”What is the plan Olo’eyktan?”> <”Retrieve our children. Kill any of them that try to stop us.”> Judging by the dangerous grin Neytiri shot him, she whole-heartedly agreed with his plan. 

>_<

The moment you got an opportunity, you slipped away. 

With the shock of what had just transpired turning you numb, it was easy to slip into marine-mode as your old comrades used to refer to it. 

Tuning out the bickering of the children - the children being all of Jake and Neytiri’s brood who had stealthily followed Neteyam’s ikran, much to the older boy’s annoyance and Spider - you made a swift and clean escape. Or at least, as clean as an escape can be when your wrists are bound and you’re trying to abseil down the side of a very tall tree using nothing but a vine and core strength.

<”I told you three to remain with the clan!”> Neteyam groaned in exasperation, to which Lo’ak immediately responded with something sarcastic and whitty that earned him another growl from Neteyam.

Their voices quickly grew muffled the lower you got, only their ikran paying you any attention with their weirdly intelligent eyes. Thankfully, none of the kids were still bonded to them, so the mounts noticing you didn’t automatically make the children notice you.

Within moments, your toes were touching down on soft grass, and you were another step free. Your chest twinged at the thought, as you reluctantly recalled the expressions of the People. The same People you had thought to be your salvation, only this morning. Many of their faces you recognised, despite the clear ways time had changed them, but many you did not. Regardless of all your training, your ears still rang from the volume of Tsu’tey’s tortured screams, your heart still hurt from the hatred in which he looked upon your new form. Stomach twisting, you thought of Neytiri’s harsh treatment, starkly contrasted by Mo’at’s weary questioning. 

It was clear, they were not the people you had fought and died alongside, but mere phantoms of a past that felt like only yesterday. Despite having been back on Pandora for a little under a week, the events that led up to the burning of HomeTree felt vivid and recent. You could still see the colossal structure burning as your colleagues held their breaths. Could still feel the horrible ache for what the clan had lost.

The rage that had awakened in you only burned brighter as Quaritch threw Grace, Norm and Jake in jail, before turning his sights on the Tree of Souls. It festered behind your ribs as you helped Trudy free the trio. It clawed at the back of your throat as you watched their helicopter tear across the tarmac before soaring high into the stars and disappearing from view. The rage turned cold as you had turned your back and slipped back into the building and back into Quaritch’s good graces.

There, you had been called into the Colonel’s office and told - alongside your squad - about Project Phoenix. You had been hungry for knowledge that could aid the People then, and you had gladly signed the contract and slipped into the link unit, already planning on which coordinates to send Trudy to pick you up from.

And that was where your previous memories ceased. 

The evidence of that decision manifested itself in your blue skin and sudden growth spurt. It reflected back at you from the anguished expressions of your loved ones. 

What remained of that rage had finally spluttered and died between your ribs when Tsu’tey had raised his knife to you. Whatever spite had fueled your actions and encouraged you to flee Bridgehead had evaporated. Leaving your eyes vacant and your limbs heavy. 

That was no longer your home. They were no longer your friends. Tsu’tey was not your mate. And whatever relationship you had had with Spider was not long dead and gone. 

You were not the person they grieved, but a living phantom. A sick figure of the past who should have remained there. 

<”Oi, you!”> Lo’ak’s voice echoed between the tree, startling you from your spiral. Stupidly, you turned your head skywards, to find all five children staring down at you in confusion. <”When did you get down there?”> <”Climbed.”> You very helpfully replied, whilst kicking yourself for getting caught in your head instead of running away.

Oh yeah, you were supposed to be escaping. 

In a matter of breaths, you turned on your heels and threw yourself into a run.

<”Hey! Wait!”> One of the children yelled after you, but you were done waiting. You were finished with biding your time. In plotting and scheming just to live. Just this once, you were going to be obvious. You were going to put yourself first and get as much distance from the clan as you physically could.

You could hear them following you in the trees. Cursing and yelling to one another as you wove around plants and chose random intervals to change direction in an attempt to shake them off your trail. The uneven ground was hard to navigate, but your adrenaline high didn’t seem to care. Your body on autopilot.

Every panicked stride taking your cursed existence further and further from the hearts and minds of the Omaticaya. With any luck, you would disappear from their lives entirely. 

Their reactions flashed behind your eyelids now, your stomach twisting into tight knots at their expressions. It had been foolish to expect acceptance. To think that you could salvage the wreckage of your old life as if time hadn’t marched on in your absence. These were not the people you once knew.

Jake and Neytiri had a family now. Kids you had never had the chance to watch grow.

Tsu’tey had adopted a child. A human child. He had moved on. Any interactions you had with him from here on out would only reopen old wounds. Best to get away now, before you become a permanent memory instead of a phantom of the past. 

You didn’t know where you were going. Just that you couldn’t afford to stay here. For all you knew, you were blindly stumbling into the jaws of your second demise. Perhaps Eywa had a palulukan with your name on it.

You had no knife. No survival gear. No squad. 

Even if you wanted to return to the RDA for some stupid reason, you couldn’t. You had seen too much. Walking back into that prison with the knowledge you possessed was as bad as storming into General Ardmore’s office and drawing her a detailed map with one of her fancy pens.

The Omaticaya may not be your family anymore, but you would not throw them to the wolves-

The ground abruptly disappeared from beneath your foot. Your stomach lurched as you pitched forward. Hands straining against their cuffs, you uselessly tore at thin ferns as the ground rolled out from under you and you found yourself hurtling down a cliff face. Grabbing at the undergrowth was futile. The roots were either too weak or the leafed vines slipping painfully through your fingers. It was futile, trying to grasp an overhanging vine or catch yourself on a rock, but you tried anyway, only for the ground to catch you before you could effectively slow your descent.

The impact knocked the wind from your lungs, leaving you to groan breathlessly as you stared blankly up at a cloudy sky. 

God, what a day. What a horribly emotional, nightmare of a day. What you would give to go back a week and start over. Better yet, what would you give to go back fifteen years and never sign that <i>stupid</i> contract?

At least your bones were reinforced now, or you would surely have broken several ribs or at least the arm you landed weirdly on. Head thumping back into the moss, you stilled as your eyes caught on an unnatural purple glow emitting from the centre of the bowl of cliffs. Tilting your head back, your throat tightened at the sight of the Tree of Souls standing proudly on its earthy throne, its glowing, willow like vines swaying on a soft breeze.

You had never seen the Tree in person as a human. Only ever in images taken from the skies. Or on the screens of scientists greedily trying to learn everything they could about the tree that lay at the centre of na’vi culture. A site that was sacred to the People. And very much not somewhere you would want to be found, with a pissed off Olo’eyktan intent on landing you a fatal blow.

The thought of Tsu’tey somehow finding you and becoming even <i>more</i> murderous had you clumsily rolling onto your stomach and pushing yourself to your feet. The moss was spongy beneath your sore toes, glowing a magnificent turquoise when you relieved it of your weight.

Heart in your throat, you turned your back to the tree in hopes of finding the entrance to the Well of Souls. If you recall correctly, there was a sloped trail that meandered down into the bowl. Stumbling along the walls of the cliffs, you tried to ignore the unspoken beckoning of the tree. Your kuru tingled at the base of your skull. A current of electricity travelling down the sensitive cord as if someone were trailing a finger down the skin beneath the braided hair. 

Some instinct that wasn’t your own, knew the sensation would be elevated if you connected to the Tree. 

Of course, because you had common sense and knew nothing about what that would do to your mind, you continued to scan the cliff faces for an exit.

The tingling abruptly cut off when you stumbled across an uneven patch of earth dotted in blooming flowers. Your toes thrummed with something unnatural where they touched the disturbed earth, the moss thinner here, as if it had been disturbed some time ago but hadn’t quite managed to heal. 

It was a grave, you realised with a tight bob of your throat.

No, it was a pair of graves. One fresher than the other. Too small to be the resting places of na’vi. 

They were human graves. Neatly dug rectangles that the Well of Souls had begun to reclaim and conceal.

There were no headstones. Only names carved into the cliff face at the head of each plot of disturbed earth. The older one carried an inscription that was weather worn, with lichen growing in the grooves formed by a sharp blade.

<i>‘Jake Sully’</i> 

Heart hammering, your gaze flicked to the fresher carving. Though old, it looked to have been cleaned recently, unlike Jake’s grave which was on the verge of disappearing like a bad memory. 

Your name stared back at you. 

It was odd really, to be looking down at your own grave. Knowing that beneath your feet lay the skeletal remains of your human form on a bed of soft brown earth with sun lilies waving about its head. It was weird to know that that version of you lay resting within Eywa’s embrace, finally at peace with no goal for tomorrow and no pinch of regret for yesterday. Ignorant to the fact that everything beyond laying down in the link unit fifteen years ago, every adventure and your glorious demise, was not lost to you. 

Who had brought you here? Who had tended to your wound or ailment? Who had prepared your vulnerable body to return be sent Eywa, uncertain if the Great Mother would even take you? Had they laid you to rest beside Jake’s soulless form, under the false hope that it would keep you company even whilst in the cold embrace of death. 

More importantly, what had put you here? What had killed you? It had not yet been long enough for time to have dealt you a mortal blow, nor did the diseases of Pandora threaten human forms. 

Had your death been dramatic? Cradled in the loving embrace of someone who begged you not to depart. Or had you been alone? Gasping for breath but finding no relief, wishing for the pain to stop and for Eywa to take you already.

The snap of a twig had your ears perking and your mind snapping out of its self-pitying spiral. You stepped away from the graves, tail straightening as you became painfully aware of your vulnerable situation. Booted footsteps echoed around the bowl of cliffs as a lone figure messily descended the concealed slope that led into the heart of the Well of Souls. You expected one of Pandora’s horrors or an RDA machine to explode across the open space.

Instead, a single Recom stepped out from behind a wall of cliff, moving methodically across the moss, his gun loaded and angled in front of him. Your gaze caught on the sunglasses firmly sat upon his nose, leaving you to stare dumbly at him as pure relief washed over his expression. Mansk’s face lit up, ears wiggling as he unleashed a hysterical laugh. 

You jumped as the sound echoed around the Well of Souls.

“We thought we lost you!” He exclaimed, picking up his pace as he approached. You tried your best to return his enthusiasm, forcing your tail to stiffly begin wagging as the man approached.

“I got lost.” You chuckled dryly. “Ended up losing half my gear on the way.”

He grinned, wide and toothy. “We thought the na’vi got you.” 

“Almost.” You joked, lifting your bound wrists for him to focus on.

Mansk shook his head fondly. “You always were a slippery one.” He mused, allowing his gun to swing back on his strap as he pulled a utility knife from his belt. His movements were confident as his large, five fingered hand gripped your forearm before he effortlessly cut the vines binding you.

You nodded gratefully, immediately moving to rub the sensation back into them. Mansk’s expression was unreadable when his hand fell to your shoulder, squeezing encouragingly. “Let's get you home. I’ll radio the chopper and we’ll get you back to Bridgehead in time for dinner.” Mansk promised as he pulled back, expression still bright. It made your stomach twist with unimaginable guilt. “You’re filthy. Bet you can’t wait for a warm shower.”

You forced a laugh as your stomach twisted with indescribably guilt. 

Your disloyalty towards the RDA had never been because of your colleagues, and strongly towards the company itself. Which only served to cover your tongue in something sour at Mansk’s easy acceptance of your presence. Unknowingly, he was attempting to lead a hornet straight back into the beehive, and you were half tempted to let him.

Anger was reigniting low in your belly. Similar to the rage you’d felt when HomeTree fell. The kind of fury that made you want to watch the world burn. To lead the facility to ruin from the inside before letting yourself join it in its destruction. 

In truth, you didn’t want to return to Bridgehead with its low ceilings and loud equipment. But what choice did you have?

Na’vi lived in clans to survive. You were a marine, but you doubted you’d last long out here on your own, whereas the other forest clans would no doubt shoot you on sight for your attire. 

Mansk unexpectedly went rigid in front of you, hand frozen on his ear piece. Your gaze snapped up to him, reading the tension in his face, the widening of his eyes behind his glasses.

“Na’vi.” He whispered.

“Mansk?” 

“Na’vi!” He blurted, abruptly sweeping you aside with one enormous arch of his arm, effectively shoving you behind him before he dropped his utility knife and scrambled for his gun.

Instinctively, you snatched up his fallen knife, but fell short of plunging it into his turned back, by the sight of Lo’ak standing threateningly by the sloped entrance to the Well of Souls. The kid was tense, eyes snapping from Mansk to you, whilst he held his knife by his side, concealing it with his body. 

“At ease.” You soothed, hoping to discourage the marine from firing on sight, but Mansk was already shaking his head.

“Fuck no. These things travel in packs, if there’s one, there’s bound to be a whole squad nearby.”

From the undergrowth, you heard Neteyam yell, <”LO’AK GET BACK HERE!”> 

Mansk lurched at the order but did not fire. His hands shook but he tried to school his face into something more neutral as he stared down Lo’ak.

Lo’ak who easily said, <”no,”> to his older brother and took another, slow menacing step towards the armed recom. God, all you could see was Jake’s childish defiance in his every movement. The naivety of a child believing they were invincible. “The hell is it saying?” Mansk demanded, his hands shaking on his weapon.

Lo’ak tipped his head up defiantly at his words, before saying in broken English, “you should not be here.” 

Mansk jumped at his accented words, body tensing further as he instinctively pressed down on the trigger. Lo’ak barely managed to duck back behind the wall of rock as bullets tore up the moss he’d previously been standing on.

Heart pounding in your chest, you instinctively swung your knife hand up, slamming the hilt hard into Mansk’s temple. He cried out, losing his balance from the strike and falling heavily to his knees and elbows. His gun remained close to his body by the strap over his shoulder.

“Are you out of your mind?” Mansk shrieked, voice kicking up several octaves. “They’re na’vi!” He yelled, as if that was supposed to make you falter. “They killed us.” 

“You should not instigate violence here!” You snapped, bending at the waist with all your teeth bared. “This place is sacred.” Mansk opened and closed his mouth several times. His shades had slipped down his nose, revealing large, accusatory eyes. They flickered from your wild expression to the Tree of Souls looming over your shoulder.

“You can’t be serious.” He scoffed. “We thought you’d left all this treehugger crap behind.” “You assumed wrong.” You corrected him, “now put the gun down. Pandora will not take kindly to more ruin of its sacred sites.”

Mansk spluttered at that. “Are you even hearing yourself right now?” He demanded, “they’ve killed hundreds of us. Good soldiers. Good people. I’ve lost so many friends to these fuckers.” “And the na’vi have lost families, homes, territory. The humans aren’t the victims here!”

“Why do you say it like that?” “Like what?” “Like you’re something else.” Mansk blurted, “we’re still human Private.” He argued, tone bordering on hysterical. “Turning blue didn’t change that.” It was your turn to scoff. “Stop being delusional. We signed our humanity away the moment we touched pens to that blasted contract.”

Something seemed to click for him. “You’re one of them.” It didn’t sound like an accusation.

You straightened, knife still clutched tightly in your dominant hand. No words sprang to mind to protect yourself as you glared down at the marine sprawled in the moss at your bare feet. Even decked out in full military attire, he looked more na’vi than human. And you looked even more like one of the People, but not enough. Not enough to blend in with them. To be accepted. 

“I am not.” You told him truthfully. “Well you’re sure as hell not one of us.” 

“Is that so?” “You’re a traitor.” “Perhaps.”

He barked a short laugh. High pitched and hysterical. He was already shaking his head as he scrambled backwards, putting distance between you, as if your feeble knife would do anything against the monster of a gun currently nestled in his lap. 

“How long?” He demanded. You tilted her head in confusion and he sucked in a desperate breath. “How long have you been working for them?” Against your better judgement, the corner of your mouth kicked up. “It was nothing personal.” “How long!” He cut in, still backing away, still trembling. “Have you been lying to me? To our entire squad? To the people who have laid down their lives to watch your back.” You breathed out a long breath. “Don’t think I can count back that far.” You admitted, watching the hope drain out of him at the admission. “I mean.” Another stolen moment to do the maths. “Since before Jake even set foot on Pandora.”

Mansk’s expression shuttered as his fear abruptly melted away. You were familiar with the sight of a neutral mask shutting off his emotions. You knew your own expression mirrored the marine in the dirt.

“Did you get that Colonel?” He asked the air.

You immediately tensed, expecting a bullet between the eyes or for Lo’ak to cry out in pain from where he was still cowering behind the rocks.  But instead, Mansk waited in silence, the buzz of a voice over the comms. Jake’s kid was no doubt long gone by now, his curiosity sated by the danger of the situation.

Your gaze snapped to the ear piece still blinking a steady red. Still recording. The marine nodded, expression solemn. Then he reached up and turned the earpiece off.

Movement flickered by the entrance to the Well, but you dared not glance away from the dangerously calm marine. Your slick grip clutched tightly at the hilt of your stolen utility knife as the man adjusted his grip on his weapon.

“Well done on getting this far. You had us fooled” He praised you, voice tight. “I’m sorry.” He said, and you knew he meant it.

“Nothing personal.” You repeated. “I just found something much better beyond the compound.” “I understand.” Mansk promised as he swung the gun up so the mouth glared at your unprotected torso. “But I’m still pissed at you.”

And then he opened fire. 

Pain ripped through your right side. Long fingers of liquid fire dragged their nails across your torso, tearing up your dirty tank top, splitting skin. Expression twisted in pain, you gasped as more bullets whizzed passed. You staggered in place, knife dropping uselessly from your hand as Mansk emptied a cartridge of bullets into your abdomen.

Every sound of pain that punched past your lips could not convey the fire that laced your side. It stole the breath from your lungs, causing you to crumble to your knees even as the marine paused to reload. 

You hit the dirt hard, knees buckling and slamming down into the moss. 

Distantly, you realised that this would be your finally resting place for both your human and recom bodies. Although you doubted anyone would bother to bury this one, you were internally grateful that someone had cared enough to carve your name into the stone of Pandora. A tiny fragment of yourself would remain. 

The gun went off again. Firing one, two more bullets before the sound spluttered and died. There was a curse in English. Closely followed by a gurgling sound, as if someone was choking on blood. Then a second twang of a bowstring and the wet thud of an arrow landing. 

>_<

Sunlight slid off of your face as you lay on your back, arms limp at your sides and your head lolled back. You could feel vines wrapped under your armpits, securing you to whatever you were leaning against whilst your shoeless feet dragged against damp moss. 

<”Eywa, they’re fucking heavy.”> Lo’ak complained.

<”We wouldn’t have to be dragging them if Neteyam had let me kill the bastard earlier!”> Spider snipped harshly, to which Neteyam quickly reprimanded him.

<”We had to make sure they weren’t going to hand over High Camp’s location.”> Spider muttered wordlessly under his breath, whilst Kiri jumped in. <”Stop whining Lo’ak and pull.”> <”I am pulling!”>

Neteyam spoke up, <”Spider is clearly pulling more than you are.”>

<”He is not!”> Lo’ak insisted, and whatever was dragging you along the forest floor abruptly jumped, sending your body into a world of pain. 

You groaned. Low and guttural. Everything below your arms screaming in pain.

<”Shit.”> Lo’ak cursed, swiftly followed by the sound of a smack. 

<”Idiot.”> Kiri spat, earning herself a half-hearted growl. <”I cannot effectively treat wounds that you continue to reopen.”>

<”It wasn’t on purpose.”>

“God, you kids are bloody loud.” You grumbled, vision swimming as you tried to rouse yourself further.

The sliding motion abruptly stopped as your words crawled their way out of your mouth. Gently, you were laid flat against the forest floor, and a shadow fell over your eyelids.

”You’re okay Zaza.” Spider soothed softly, and small hands pressed down on your forehead. <”They’re burning up.”> The boy reported, anxiety curdling his earlier reassurance.

<”They’ll never make it to the village like this.”> Neteyam whispered, to which Kiri jumped in.

<”We’ll get them stabilised using the Tree of Souls and I’ll clot those wounds.”> <”Can’t you call Dad? He’ll want to know if they’re dying.”> Spider asked.

<”Or help them pass faster.”> Lo’ak muttered, earning himself another smack.

Their bickering allowed you to drift for a while. Mind fluctuating between hearing the sound of your surroundings, to feeling like you had been submerged in a river. Time continued on as it had a tendency to do, even if you were not awake to appreciate it.

<”I’ve let Dad know we’re safe now.”> Neteyam said some time later, bringing you up from the tranquil bubble in which you had been floating. Distantly, you could feel little hands pushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead as pressure upset the wounds in your torso. <”But I think we should give Tsu’tey more time.”> Spider groaned. <”If he takes any longer-”> You drifted off again at Spider’s annoyed tone. The pain yanking you down beneath a sea of endless throbbing. Vaguely, you felt delicate hands fumbling with your kuru. The sensation was odd, ticklish almost as the braid was carefully attached to something that felt alive but not. You felt the tendrils wrap around something warm and pulsing as if it were your fingers knotting into a fist.

Then there was a bright tunnel of pulsing purple light behind your eyes, and you slipped away from Pandora, sinking into a comforting presence. It felt almost motherly, the way your sub conscience held you. 

>_<

Slowly, a scene faded into view. In the back of your mind, you recognised it as the compound tucked in the Hallelujah Mountains. The one you’d spent three months sharing with Trudy whilst the three avatar drivers frollicked around the forest.

The compound was the same, but different somehow. The light pouring into the room was dappled instead of blinding like it was at that time of day perched upon the mountain. Grace’s belongings were missing, alongside Jake’s wheelchair and Trudy’s bunk was stripped, her jacket carefully folded and dusty at the foot of the elevated bed. 

The scientific equipment had been rolled out to make room for kids toys and a cot. The link units had been ripped out, and in their place, a hammock as long as the room had been set up. 

Curiously, you slid a hand along the material, stomach clenching at the sight of large, blue hands instead of the small, human ones you’d been expecting. 

Behind you, there was a soft noise. 

You turned, only for your stomach to drop at the sight of Tsu’tey sitting cross-legged against the far wall, a respirator hanging around his neck. He looked relaxed, almost content as he leaned against the wall, looking much too big for the small space and the streak of white paint running from his forehead to his chin. The hunter did not notice you watching him.

Smiling softly, he instead watched someone at his side. 

You followed his gaze to a child happily messing around with the hunter’s tail. You recognised the kid immediately as Spider from his big eyes and shock of curly blond hair. He couldn’t have been any older than two, sitting beside Tsu’tey without an ounce of fear as he raked stubby little fingers through the hair adorning the tip of the tail.

Neither spoke as they sat in companionable silence. Tsu’tey watched the boy with a bittersweet expression of pure adoration, whilst Spider tested how far the tail could curl and stretch. 

You took half a step closer and the scene evaporated.

>_<

This time, human you sat before you with their back to you. You were still in the compound, but it was decorated how you remembered, with the link beds all set out and your military jacket hung on the back of your door. Jake’s wheelchair was still missing, but some of Grace’s decorations still lingered. You could almost smell that ridiculously strong cherry blossom perfume she used to cake herself in, because she forgot to shower between driving her avatar and noting down her observations.

Human you was sat at their desk, pouring over a notebook in which they scribbled furiously. Curious, you inched closer. It was odd how you had to stoop in the familiar space to keep from hitting your head, but you pushed the thought away as you peered closer.

‘I see you.’

The page said. And written next to the English was Na’vi in bold italics. 

‘Oel ngati kameie.’

Tsu’tey ducked into the room without warning, startling human you who immediately yanked another notebook over the page they were just writing on.

The hunter chuckled softly at their hurried motions, as he took his time approaching. 

You stepped aside as he got closer, eyes catching on the lack of white painted down his face. How the bullet scars adoring his chest appeared more raw; newer. Which inevitably led your eyes to the baby shawl slung across his chest and a wiggling Spider cuddled up to his chest. 

<”Your son is being difficult.”> Tsu’tey complained as he lowered himself to his knees beside human you’s chair. What little breath you had was abruptly punched from you, whilst human you simply turned in their seat to smile up at him. Tsu’tey was very clearly pouting, ears lowered playfully.

<”Defeated by a baby.”> Human you joked, leaning in to cup his cheek. <”I never thought I’d see the day.”> Tsu’tey tsked softly, large hands falling to their thighs and holding gently. <”You’re warmer than me.”> He said simply. <”And he sleeps better with you.”>

And that seemed to be that, because Tsu’tey withdrew his hands to carefully pull Spider from the baby shawl. The infant did not go easily. Clinging to everything within reach, from the shawl to Tsu’tey’s braids, which only served to make human you laugh at the pair, as Tsu’tey pouted whilst carefully untangling Spider’s little fists from him. But before long, they had Spider cradled in their arms, his little eyes drooping comically. 

<”Lets go to bed.”> Tsu’tey suggested. Human you made to complain, but the hunter was already pulling them from the chair and against his chest.

>_<

The scene shifted to a na’vi village you had never visited before. Instinctively, you knew it was the new clan home, based on the familiar faces milling around. Hidden amongst the trees, you made out various tree houses nestled in the branches, with children swinging from home to home, whilst adults carried out their daily tasks.

Your attention was drawn by a hush that fell over the clan, and several heads turned towards the shadow of the trees at the far end of the clearing. As tall as you were in your recom body, you still had to strain to see na’vi you did not recognise emerging from the undergrowth.

Judging by their attire and spears instead of bows, you recognised them as a clan from a neighbouring territory. The small entourage was led by an older na’vi male adorned in vines of fiery red and gold. Clearly the Olo’eyktan, the man walked through the Omaticaya clan who parted easily for him. He nodded to any who met his gaze, speaking soft greetings.

Tsu’tey and Mo’at stepped forward to greet him, both decked out in their ceremonial attire. They touched their hands to their foreheads in greeting as the visiting Olo’eyktan mirrored the gesture. You noted the lack of white painted down Tsu’tey’s forehead as he greeted the man with an award winning smile. He stepped forward, Mo’at at his elbow as the visiting Olo’eyktan introduced himself.

The man tripped over his tongue as he caught sight of Spider wrapped securely in a shawl across Tsu’tey’s chest. Your eyes bugged at the sight of how small the child was in the open world of Pandora. How his exo-mask looked comically big over his little face, as he absently played with Tsu’tey’s kuru, which the man had pulled over his shoulder for the toddler to entertain himself with. 

The visiting Olo’eyktan’s expression was pinched as he found his voice. <”You did not send word that you had adopted.”>

Tsu’tey took the poorly concealed accusation in his stride. <”I apologise, with rebuilding, many things have escaped my notice.”> The visiting Olo’eyktan nodded his head good naturedly, a sliver of his tension easing at Tsu’tey’s explanation. <”This is my son, Spider.”> He proudly explained, grinning when Spider glanced up at the mention of his name.

<”He is one of them.”> The visiting Olo’eyktan commented.

<”He is mine.”> Tsu’tey corrected simply, before stepping back and motioning to a fire that had been set up for the meeting. <”Come, you must be tired.”> The visiting Olo’eyktan nodded his head gratefully. <”It has been a long trip.”>

It was then that Spider began to fuss. Angrily, the toddler pushed away the kuru and began demanding to be held with grabby hands. His fussing picked up as Tsu’tey tried to keep a pleasant conversation going, whilst soothing the child with a hand rubbing up and down his back. 

Spider was not amused.

Mo’at, seeing Tsu’tey struggle, decided to chip in with asking the visiting Olo’eyktan about his Tsahik. The man easily followed her change of conversation, explaining how his mate had fallen ill and wouldn’t have comfortably completed the journey in his current state. 

Whilst the pair walked ahead to the fire and the clan and visitors disbursed to continue with their duties, your attention remained on Tsu’tey who was struggling to get Spider to settle. His tail thrashed in unease, hands checking the exo-mask to ensure it wasn’t rubbing. 

His ears pricked cutely at the approach of someone half his size. Human you was dressed in a simple shirt and camo shorts to combat the heat, they wore a beaded choker at their neck. They padded barefoot across the clearing, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of their lips as they approached Tsu’tey, who was quick to drop to his knee and twist so that Spider could clearly see his other parent. 

The effect was immediate as the toddler threw himself away from Tsu’tey, arms outstretched towards you. He only stopped fussing when human you lifted him out of the shawl and into their arms. 

Tsu’tey remained on his knee for several more moments, softly watching his mate and child with a look that could melt even the hardest of hearts. Human you noticed him looking and were quick to press a kiss to his cheek and urge him back to his feet.

Dazed, Tsu’tey went willingly, but not before offering adorable words of endearment as a final parting gift.

>_<

The scene that followed was blurry as if someone had wiped grease across a camera lens.

This time, you were not experiencing the event from an out of body perspective, but instead, you appeared to be back in your human form. Every movement the body made was not your own. They were sluggish as if you were drunk or disconnected from your motions.

Beyond the warmth of a tea clutched between your hands, you could not figure out where your human body was. Whether you were in the compound, or within the new village. There was someone with you. A na’vi.

Their voice was smooth as honey, laced with the undertone of something malicious.

Every muscle in your body screamed danger as a large, four fingered hand took the tea from your grasp and helped you to your feet.

<”Why don’t we go on a walk?”> The voice suggested, to which the body you were in nodded jerkily. There was an amused huff, another hand on your shoulder; steering you.

You wanted to wiggle free. Every instinct you possessed screamed that this person meant you harm. 

<”Very good.”> The voice cooed, <”Eywa, this will be easy.”>

>_<

The scene shifted. The world was still murky, but this time, your chest hurt. There was someone stood over you. That same honeyed tone. The glint of a blade. 

Somehow, you knew you had been stabbed. 

<”Now my brother can finally be free.”> Your murderer muttered.

Even as the world darkened before your eyes, your consciousness stalled. A name floated to the forefront of your mind. Knowledge that had seemed irrelevant at the time offered you a face to put to the statement.

>_<

For this memory, you were once again outside of a body. You stood back at your recom height, watching Tsu’tey stumble across your bloodied human form.

He wore no white paint, and was adorned in the ceremonial attire he’d welcomed the visiting Olo’eyktan in. Thankfully, Spider was nowhere in sight.

The hunter unleashed a gut wrenchingly, wounded sound as he collapsed to his knees before your dying form. His hands shook as he bundled them up in his arms, cradling them close. His hair braided with the red beads you remembered from before the war, and his Olo’eyktan necklace curled around his throat. You watched as he cradled the tiny form close to his chest, whispering in na’vi. His voice too low to hear.

Distracted, he unsteadily rose to his feet before taking off in the direction of the clan. Your phantom form easily kept pace, watching him weave through the trees. His head snapping down to human you every few paces.

<”We’re almost there Yawne.”> He promised, clutching them impossibly tighter.

They bled from a wound to their ribs. Not a bullet wound, but a long, deadly slice, deep and angry as it wept. Not the clean kill. 

<”Did you kill him?”> They asked weakly.

Tsu’tey frowned, <”who Yawne?”> 

Their brow furrowed at the question, but you could see the clarity slipping from their half lidded eyes. They were practically limp in his desperate grasp. 

<”Slippery bastard.”> They said bitterly. <”Make sure you take good care of Spider. Gonna miss him.”>

Tsu’tey looked at them tightly. <”He will be back at the compound. You will see him shortly.”> <”Do not let him see me like this.”> They whispered. <”I don’t want him to remember me like this.”> By this, they meant bloody. Broken. A weak voice and a severe lack of strength in their arms. Tsu’tey seemed to understand.

<”Fine. I will wait until I have washed you of the blood.”>

<”Tsu’tey.”> They reprimanded weakly and the man bristled.

<”I am not going to lose you!”> He abruptly declared with the wrath of an Olo’eyktan fueling his words. <”I am going to take you home and you will be healed. And Spider and I will cuddle you until you are well again.”> <”That sounds nice.”> They whispered, voice somehow fainter. <”Can you keep holding me? Please?”> <”I am.”> Tsu’tey insisted, <”I’m holding you, Yawne. I’ve got you.”>

<”Can’t feel you.”> They told him, and Tsu’tey face twisted into something painful. <”Hurts.”> <“I know. I know.”> A sharp hiss through their teeth as a particularly unexpected jerk. <”Hurts!”> <”I know. I know. I know.”> Tsu’tey chanted, working himself up again to the point where panic laced his voice and brought tears to his eyes. He was still running, still returning to the clan with his dying mate in his arms. And even so, he called to Eywa for help. For some miracle. <”Please Great Mother, HELP ME!”>

No response.

Human you had gone deathly pale in his arms. Their fingers shaking as they tried to grab onto his arm guard to bring his attention back to them. Their voice was small when they next spoke. <”Thank you. For everything.”> <”Stop talking like this. You’re going to be fine. Mo’at will patch you up, and you will be running around giving me headaches like usual.”> They hummed and fell still. 

Tsu’tey grew distraught before your eyes. Lower lip quivering as he shook them, ears falling flat when they didn’t hiss in pain. His hands shook as he crushed them to him, tail smacking against the nearby trees and he fell painfully to his knees.

The sound he let out shook the heavens. The grief that tore its way up his throat, bursting out of him as he clutched the corpse incredibly closer. Rocking them. Praying to Eywa. Begging her to give them back.

Before you could stop yourself, you moved towards him. He either didn’t notice your presence or didn’t care as the grief consumed him. It tore at your insides to watch him break. To listen to him bargain with a force beyond your understanding.

All you wanted was for the crying to stop. Your hand found his head, fingers slipping through immaculately kept braids. He fell still. Teary eyes slid up your form, catching on your face the most.

“Yawne?” He whispered, sounding distraught and broken.

“You’re okay.” You promise, and his face crumbled. Your human form has disappeared from his hands but the blood remained. And those bloodstained hands reached for you now, twisting into your torn shirt, clawing at you. He looked at you like you were a miracle. Like you were something precious. A stark contrast to the hatred and rage from before. He wound his arms around your thighs now, holding impossibly tight as he buried his tear stained face into your stomach. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered brokenly, hands clutching tighter. As if you’d disappear if he loosened his grip for even a heartbeat. Your hands remained in his braids, soothingly petting through them as he repeated it over and over again.

“Wasn’t your fault.” You assured him. He shook his head, pushing his nose hard into your stomach. Denying your forgiveness.

You urged him out of his hiding spot. Hands falling to cup his cheeks and rub away the tears that spilled down them. You stilled at the white paint that had suddenly appeared down his nose. It was a simple stroke, stretching from brow to chin.

“What does this mean?” You asked.

“It is how I show my grief.” He explained. “How I honour your spirit.”

“I thought the mourning period lasted for a season.” You wondered aloud, recalling the Tsu’tey of the current time, who wore his white line proudly. 

“It does.” He confirmed, vulnerable and raw. It made you pull him into you again. Up off of his knees so he towered over you. His eyes were still shining, blood still all over him, but you didn’t care as you pulled him down so his face could tuck itself into the slope of your neck. He went willingly, pulling you to him, holding on tightly. 

“I’m sorry.” “You do not need to be sorry.” “Couldn’t protect you.” “You did everything you could have.”

“Spider will be stuck with me. I cannot make him stop crying like you do.” The quiet admission has you pulling back in an instant. “That boy loves you with every fibre of his being. He looks up to and cherishes everything you do for him. He does not blame you for what happened to me. And nor do I.”

“But-” “Stop punishing yourself, Love.” You told him, “please. You can’t keep living like this.”

He stared at you. Blankly. Before suddenly coming back to life. His white paint was chipping before your eyes, flaking away to reveal shining little dots along his brow that trailed down the slope of his nose.

“I will find you.” He promised. And you believed that it wasn’t a threat, but a vow.

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