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gardenladysworld · 4 months ago

Text

Starbound hearts

Status: I'm working on it

Pairings: Neteyam x human!f!reader

Aged up characters!

Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining

Summary: In the breathtaking, untamed beauty of Pandora, two souls from different worlds find themselves drawn together against all odds. Neteyam, the dutiful future olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya clan, is bound by the expectations of his people and the traditions of his ancestors. She, a human scientist with a love for Pandora’s wonders, sees herself as an outsider, unworthy of the connection she craves.

Tags: @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog, @ratchetprime211, @poppyseed1031, @redflashoftheleaf, @nikipuppeteer@eliankm, @quintessences0posts,

Part 17: To worship (NSFW)

First of all, I want to apologize for making this part so long. I don't know why I'm doing this. :') So this part is set in the past, from Neteyam's perspective and how he experienced the past three years. The present, from which we count back, would be the first part of this fanfic, 'To belong'. This story has 2 volume because it is so long. :')

Part 18: vol 1.: To remember

(2 years and 9 months ago)

Neteyam had prayed for guidance. Months ago.

Under the glowing tendrils of the Tree of Voices, with the whispers of Eywa surrounding him, with the tsaheylu he had knelt and asked for wisdom. For strength. For a path that would make him the leader his father wanted him to be. He had thought of his people, of the weight of responsibility that would one day rest on his shoulders.

And then, you arrived. A human. Small and fragile. Out of place.

Neteyam exhaled sharply, watching from a distance as you stepped into the village again, trailing behind the other scientists. You were speaking with Kiri, your voice animated, your eyes bright with curiosity. Always asking, always looking at everything as if it was the first time. It made something inside him twist—something he didn’t want to name.

You have been here before. Several times now. At first, it was just the introductions, the formalities of trust. But you kept coming back with the scientists. With your wide, searching eyes and your endless questions.

It should not have bothered him. But it did. Because you weren’t supposed to belong here. And yet, somehow, you were starting to.

Neteyam turned away, his jaw tightening as he adjusted the bow slung over his back. He had more important things to do than stand around watching you try to pronounce Lo’ak’s name properly.

“You are angry again,” Kiri’s voice cut through his thoughts. He turned his head slightly, realizing too late that she had noticed him watching.

“I am not angry.”

“You are,” she said, unconvinced. “Your tail is moving like you are about to fight something.”

Neteyam exhaled through his nose and forced his tail to still. “She shouldn’t be here.”

Kiri crossed her arms, her ears twitching. “She is trying.”

“She wouldn’t understand,” he shot back, lowering his voice so no one else would hear. “She never will. She is—” He cut himself off before he could say the words lingering on his tongue.

Human. Fragile. Useless.

But the truth was, he had seen your hands stained with dirt from examining plants, had watched you write furiously in your notes, had overheard you arguing with Norm about something scientific that he barely understood. You were not useless, at least not in the way he wanted to believe. Kiri hummed, a knowing glint in her eyes. “You act like you do not care, but I see the way you look at her.”

Neteyam’s ears flattened, a flicker of something sharp curling in his chest. “I do not look at her.”

Kiri only smiled. He hated that smile. It meant she knew something he didn’t want her to know. Before he could respond, a familiar voice reached him.

“Neteyam.”

His shoulders tensed. He knew that voice. Too well.

When he turned, you were standing there, your exo-mask reflecting the light. You were looking up at him, those bright eyes full of something he could not name. For a moment, he only stared at you. You had a way of looking at people—not just at them, but through them. As if you could see past the layers of expectation and duty, past the role he played, straight into the parts of himself he kept hidden.

And that unsettled him more than anything else.

“I—” You hesitated, shifting on your feet. “I had a question about the ikrans. If you have time.”

A question. Of course. You always had questions.

His fingers curled into a fist at his side. He did not know why it frustrated him so much. Maybe it was the fact that you would never understand, no matter how many times you asked. Or maybe it was that you would leave one day, and none of this would matter.

“Ask someone else,” he said, his voice coming out sharper than he intended. You blinked, startled by his coldness.

Kiri sighed beside him, muttering something under her breath before shaking her head and walking off. Neteyam turned away, ready to do the same.

“Wait.”

Your voice was quiet, but something in it made him pause. When he looked at you again, there was no frustration in your gaze. No irritation. Only that same quiet patience. That same quiet understanding. As if you saw the anger and the confusion swirling inside him—and chose not to fear it.

He hated that. He hated that you looked at him like that. Because it made him feel like you saw him. Not as his father’s son. Not as the perfect warrior. Just him.

(2 years and 7 months ago)

You were following him again.

Neteyam could feel your presence at his back, light steps crunching softly against the dirt path as you trailed behind him. He didn’t need to turn around to know you were staring, your wide, inquisitive eyes scanning everything—the village, the people, him. It has become a habit.

He didn’t remember when he stopped avoiding you. Maybe it was that moment in the family kelku, when your small, strange hand had pressed against his, your fingers tracing the curve of his stripes like they were something worth studying. Like he was something worth studying.

He had been frozen then, caught between the instinct to pull away and the strange warmth your touch left behind. That moment had shifted something. Now, when you were in the village, you drifted toward him more than the others. And he let you. He had told himself, at first, that it was because you were persistent. That you asked too many questions, that you would only find someone else to bother if he pushed you away. But the truth was, he had stopped minding. And that was dangerous.

Because he had once resented your presence. Had once thought you a disruption to the path Eywa had set before him. But now? Now, he found himself answering your questions. Even the ones that had no answers.

“What does it feel like?” you asked, voice quiet beside him.

They were near the edge of the village, past the woven homes and hanging bridges, where the land sloped downward toward the trees. He had been tending to his weapons when you had found him, lingering nearby, waiting. He knew better than to think you would stay silent for long. He glanced at you, raising a brow. “What does what feel like?”

Your gaze flickered to the distant trees where the ikrans nested. “Riding.”

Neteyam huffed, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to his bow. “There are no words for it.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He smirked despite himself, pulling the bowstring back to test the tension. “Maybe not. But it is true.”

You sighed, dropping down onto a rock beside him. “You always say that when I ask something you don’t want to answer.”

That wasn’t true. Was it? His hands stilled for a moment. Perhaps it was. Because sometimes you asked things that had no explanation.

Like how he knew where to step in the trees without looking.

Like how he could feel the presence of another without seeing them.

Like how he could sense the forest breathing, living, shifting all around him.

You wanted to understand, even the things that had no words. Because humans did not see the world the way he did. But you were trying. And it was getting harder to pretend he didn’t notice. Neteyam exhaled slowly, his eyes drifting toward the trees in the distance. “It is like... becoming part of something greater than yourself,” he said, voice quieter than before. “Like hearing a song for the first time and somehow knowing the words.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. But when he glanced at you, you weren’t laughing. You were just watching him, your expression unreadable. For a moment, you looked like you wanted to say something. But instead, you only nodded, your fingers curling around the fabric of your pants.

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. And that was the most dangerous part of all. Because he had never thought he would find comfort in a human’s presence. But when you were there—just there—he did.

(2 years and 5 months ago)

Neteyam exhaled slowly, closing his eyes as he listened to the forest breathe around him.

Patrolling gave him space to think. Away from the village, away from responsibilities, away from the weight of what he was supposed to become. Out here, he was just himself—feet light against the damp earth, bow in hand, senses attuned to the quiet rhythm of the wild. Which was why the sound of human voices in this part of the forest made him freeze.

His ears twitched, catching the faint hum of conversation ahead. Carefully, he moved through the foliage, his body instinctively blending into the shadows of the trees. He didn’t expect to find humans here—not this deep, not where the paths faded into untamed land. But there they were. The xenobotany team. His eyes scanned the group, noting their gear, their careful movements. And then—his shoulders tensed.

You were here. You were crouched near a cluster of plants, your exo-mask reflecting dappled light as you scribbled something into a notebook. Your hair had come loose from its usual tie, strands falling across your face as you concentrated. Neteyam frowned. You weren’t supposed to be this far into the forest. “What are you doing here?”

You startled at the sound of his voice, head snapping up. But the moment you saw him, your expression shifted from surprise to something brighter. “Neteyam!”

Your happiness at seeing him was immediate, unguarded. His ears flicked at the sound of his name on your lips, and he ignored the strange warmth that stirred in his chest. He crossed his arms. “It is not safe here.”

You blinked at him before glancing around. “We’re fine,” you said, pointing toward the soldiers stationed a few feet away, their guns slung over their shoulders. “We have protection.”

Neteyam’s jaw tightened. Sky People and their weapons. They relied too much on them, thinking they could control what they didn’t understand. A gun would not stop the forest from turning against them if it wanted to.

You must have noticed his disapproval because you quickly added, “I’m just helping the others record data. I’m not doing anything dangerous.”

He huffed, his tail flicking. “Being here is dangerous enough.”

You only smiled at that, completely unfazed. Then, as if the entire conversation had already shifted in your mind, you said, “Oh! I want to show you something.”

Before he could respond, you were reaching into the bag slung across your body, pulling out a small, weathered notebook. Neteyam watched, curiosity outweighing his irritation, as you flipped through the pages. The sight of your notes was familiar now—sketches of plants, markings of their Na’vi names, careful observations in a language he was starting to recognize as yours.

Then you stopped on a page and turned it toward him. His breath caught.

An atokirina. It was drawn in careful, deliberate strokes, its delicate tendrils captured with a reverence that surprised him.

“I saw one earlier,” you said softly. “Just for a moment. It landed near me before it floated away.” Neteyam stared at the drawing, at the way you had tried to capture something so sacred with only ink and paper. Deep down, he knew what it meant. A woodsprite did not appear without reason.

Eywa’s presence. A sign. A message. But what was Eywa trying to tell you?

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and you were watching him, waiting. Expecting... something. He didn’t know what to say. So he only nodded. “You saw something rare,” he murmured. Your smile widened, pleased, and you carefully tucked the notebook away.

Neteyam exhaled, glancing toward the trees. The weight in his chest had not disappeared. If anything, it had grown heavier. Because the longer you stayed in his world, the harder it became to believe you weren’t meant to be here.

(2 years and 3 months ago)

Neteyam had lost count of how many times you had followed him now. It had started months ago—you're trailing behind him, asking endless questions, always looking up at him with those wide, curious eyes. At first, he had tolerated it. Then, somehow, without realizing when it happened, he had come to expect it. And now? Now, he didn’t know how to go without it.

He had noticed the moment you left Kiri’s side earlier. He hadn’t turned to look, hadn’t acknowledged your approach, but he had known. He always knew. You were behind him now, weaving through the village paths with light, eager steps. You had no hesitation anymore, no uncertainty in the way you moved through this world. Not like before.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

Neteyam exhaled through his nose, adjusting the strap of his bow across his chest. “I am going to check the training area.”

You hummed. “Then I guess I am, too.”

He shook his head, but the corner of his lips twitched. He had given up on telling you to go somewhere else. You never listened. A moment of quiet passed between you, only the sounds of the village filling the space. He expected your usual questions—about the Na’vi, the village, Pandora itself. But instead, your voice came softer. More thoughtful.

“What is your favorite time of day?”

Neteyam slowed his steps just slightly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “What?”

You tilted your head, repeating, “Your favorite time of day. Morning, afternoon, night?”

No one had ever asked him that before. He hesitated, considering. “Dawn,” he said finally. “Before the village wakes. When the sky is still dark, but the world is awake.”

You smiled, as if pleased by his answer. “That makes sense.”

He frowned. “Why?”

You shrugged. “You’re always the first to wake up, right? And you like quiet. You get to have a moment just for yourself.”

Neteyam blinked. You weren’t wrong. You tilted your head, watching him. “Okay, next one.”

His ears twitched, and he huffed. “How many of these questions do you have?”

“As many as you let me ask.” His tail flicked, but he didn’t stop you. “You never go where the others go.” Your voice was light, thoughtful. Neteyam glanced over his shoulder. You were a step behind him, your head tilted in curiosity.

“I do not need to be where they are,” he said simply.

You hummed as if considering that. “You like being alone?”

He thought about it for a moment. “I like the quiet.”

Your lips quirked up slightly. “Then why do you let me follow you?”

Neteyam exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Because you do not listen when I tell you to leave.”

You grinned, not at all deterred. “That’s not an answer.”

He glanced at you again. Your eyes were bright, expectant. He sighed. “You are… not loud.”

It was a weak answer, but you seemed pleased with it anyway. You walked in silence for a while, the forest stretching endlessly around you. It was peaceful. Easy. Then, after a few moments— “What is your favorite fruit?”

Neteyam blinked. “What?”

You repeated the question, tilting your head. “You know, your favorite. The one you always go for first.”

He frowned slightly. “…Tumpasuk,” he admitted after a pause. “When it is ripe.”

You nodded, filing the information away in that strange mind of yours. “And your ikran? What’s her name?”

He hesitated, but only for a moment. “Tawkami.”

You smiled, rolling the name over your tongue like you were testing it. “That suits her.”

Another pause.

“What’s something you’re bad at?”

Neteyam let out a short laugh. “Nothing.”

You snorted. “That’s a lie.”

His smirk deepened. “I am not bad at anything important.”

“Oh? So you’re bad at unimportant things?”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “That is not what I said.”

You grinned. “Still. I want to know.”

He rolled his eyes, but for some reason, he thought about it. Then, reluctantly, he muttered, “I am bad at carving.”

Your brows lifted. “Really?”

“My father is good at it,” he admitted, glancing ahead. “So is Lo’ak. But when I try, the lines are never right. The wood does not listen to me.” You let out a soft hum, like you were committing that to memory. He knew you were. It should have been irritating.

It wasn’t. You asked him more.

What’s your favorite food?

Who was your first ikran ride with?

When was the last time you did something just for yourself?

And then—

“When are you happiest?” Neteyam’s steps faltered. He didn’t answer right away. You didn’t press him. You just walked beside him, looking at him the same way you always did—like you saw him, not the warrior, not the perfect son.

Just him. He inhaled, glancing toward the sky, toward the place where the clouds drifted endlessly. And he thought—

Now.

He did not say it. He found himself smiling. Just a little.

But you tripped over a root a second later, barely catching yourself before you fell. Neteyam huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he reached out to steady you. “Pay attention, tawtute.”

You looked up at him, laughing at yourself, and that strange warmth returned to his chest. This. This was why he let you stay. Being with you was beginning to feel like riding his ikran. Like freedom.

When he flew, when he was in the sky, nothing else mattered. Not his duty, not his expectations, not the weight of being his father’s son. Up there, he could breathe. And somehow, you made him feel the same. Even just for a moment.

(2 years and 1 months ago)

Neteyam glanced back over his shoulder, ears twitching as he listened to your exaggerated huff. “This path is ridiculous,” you grumbled, pushing aside a thick vine. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

He smirked but didn’t slow his pace. “You ask that every time.”

“And yet, every time, the answer is never reassuring.”

Despite your complaints, you followed him without hesitation, your smaller frame weaving through the dense foliage, careful but determined. You had seen this plant on your datapad days ago, its image glowing on the screen as you turned it toward him, eyes bright with interest. He had recognized it immediately and, without thinking, had told you he could show you the real thing.

Now, here you were, deep in the forest where even most of the other scientists rarely ventured. He should have questioned why he had offered in the first place, but he didn’t want to think about that. Finally, the trees thinned, revealing the pond ahead.

You gasped.

Neteyam watched as you stepped past him, your boots sinking slightly into the damp earth as you took in the sight before you. The water was a perfect mirror, reflecting the vibrant greens and soft purples of the forest canopy. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, catching on the surface and making the ripples shimmer like liquid gold.

But he knew you weren’t looking at the water. You were looking at the flower.

The Toktorayl floated atop the pond, its petals wide and soft, pulsing gently with a bioluminescent glow even in the daylight. Its roots swayed just beneath the water’s surface, moving with the current as though it were breathing. Your eyes were wide, filled with unguarded awe. “It’s even more beautiful than I imagined.”

Neteyam felt a strange tug in his chest. He turned away before he could dwell on it, stepping toward a huge fallen tree trunk near the water’s edge. He sat down, letting his legs stretch out until his feet touched the cool surface of the pond. But his gaze drifted back to you.

You knelt at the edge of the pond, your fingers hovering just above the water as if you wished you could touch the flower but knew better than to disturb it. The filtered sunlight cast a warm glow over you, illuminating the curve of your cheek, the slope of your nose. Your skin look softer in this light. Almost golden.

His eyes traced the way strands of your hair had slipped loose from your usual tie, catching the sunlight like fine threads. The gentle rise and fall of your breath. The way your mask reflected the water’s glow, but not enough to hide the brightness of your eyes. You were always looking at the world as if it was something to be discovered.

And for the first time, Neteyam found himself looking at you the same way. The thought made his stomach twist. He forced his gaze away, back to the water, to the ripples spreading from his submerged feet. It was strange. How much he noticed. How much he wanted to notice.

You sighed as you climbed onto the fallen tree trunk too, gripping the rough bark for balance. It was wide enough to sit comfortably, but not so much that there was room to stretch out. Neteyam glanced at you from the corner of his eye as you settled beside him. Your legs, far too short to reach the water, dangled over the edge. After a moment, you kicked them lightly, the motion almost absentminded.

A slow smirk pulled at his lips. “You are like Tuk,” he said, voice laced with amusement.

You shot him a look. “What?”

“When she sits like this, she does the same thing.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Well, sorry for having short legs.”

His smirk widened, tail flicking. “Not your fault you are so small.”

“Not my fault you’re unnaturally tall,” you shot back, bumping his arm lightly with your elbow. He chuckled, shaking his head. Silence stretched between you, but it was not uncomfortable. It never was.

He had learned this over the past months—how easy it was to exist beside you. You didn’t fill the quiet with unnecessary words, didn’t demand things from him the way others did. Instead, you just were. And somehow, he had come to crave that. Still, the ease of it sometimes unsettled him. He didn’t understand why you were here, why you followed him when you could be anywhere else. With someone else.

Why did he let you?

Sometimes, that invisible pull between you—the one neither of you ever spoke about—frustrated him. With a slow inhale, he leaned back on his arms, letting his face tilt toward the dappled sunlight above. His legs remained submerged in the cool water, a contrast to the warmth spreading over his skin.

For a moment, he allowed himself to just be.

The sounds of the forest surrounded you—the distant calls of ikran overhead, the rustling of leaves as small creatures moved through the undergrowth, the soft lapping of water against the trunk. His ears flicked instinctively toward every sound. His tail swayed in a slow, lazy rhythm behind him.

And then— He felt it. Your gaze. Steady. Intent.

It wasn’t the kind of look he got from others—people who measured him as the future olo’eyktan, as Jake Sully’s eldest son. It was different. Like you were seeing something else entirely. He kept his eyes closed, trying to ignore the warmth curling in his chest. But the longer you looked, the harder it became to pretend he didn’t feel it.

Neteyam kept his eyes closed, letting the warmth of the sun soak into his skin. He should have ignored it—the weight of your gaze, the way it lingered. But he didn’t.

Instead, he cracked one eye open, just enough to catch the way you were watching him. Your head was tilted slightly, eyes following the slow sway of his tail, the flick of his ears. You weren’t just looking at him—you were studying him. He let the silence stretch for another breath before speaking, his voice low and amused. “Why are you staring at me?”

You startled, your whole body tensing as if you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Your gaze snapped away, cheeks flushing slightly as you turned toward the water. “How did you know?” you mumbled, barely audible.

His ears flicked lazily. “I always know.”

You huffed, curling in on yourself slightly, clearly flustered. For a while, you said nothing. You just watched the pond, your fingers idly tracing patterns on the bark of the trunk. The water reflected the sunlight in rippling waves, golden flecks dancing across the surface. Every so often, some kind of Pandoran fish leapt into the air, sending small ripples outward before disappearing again.

Neteyam stayed quiet, listening to the rhythm of your breath, the steady beat of the forest around you. Then, finally—

“I was just thinking.” Your voice was soft, contemplative.

Neteyam turned his head slightly, studying your profile. He didn’t ask what you were thinking about. Something in your tone told him that, if you wanted to say more, you would. So, he just nodded, exhaling slowly, and let the quiet settle between you again. For a while, you didn’t speak.

You just watched the forest, eyes tracing the way the sunlight filtered through the canopy, the way the leaves swayed in the gentle breeze. The world around you moved in quiet harmony—creatures shifting in the undergrowth, birds flitting from branch to branch, the water lapping softly against the shore. Neteyam let his eyes drift closed again, letting himself sink into the moment.

“Did you ever think that your life could be different?”

Your voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if you weren’t sure you should ask.

Neteyam’s eyes opened slowly. His first instinct was to brush it off. Of course not. His path had always been clear. He was Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan—firstborn son of Toruk Makto, future olo’eyktan of the Omaticaya. His life was not something to be questioned. It simply was. But the words wouldn’t come. Because maybe—just maybe—he had thought about it.

In the quiet moments. In the rare spaces where he wasn’t just a warrior, a leader in training. In the stolen pockets of time where he was simply himself. Like now. Like when you were beside him.

He turned his head slightly, studying your expression. You weren’t looking at him—your gaze was still on the forest, your hands resting lightly on the bark beneath you. But there was something in your posture, in the way you asked, that made him wonder if you had been thinking about it, too.

His tail flicked, slow and thoughtful, as he considered his words. And for the first time, he wasn’t sure what to say. Neteyam exhaled slowly, watching the ripples in the pond as he considered his answer. Did he ever think about his life being different?

The truth sat heavy in his chest, unspoken for so long that it almost felt strange to acknowledge it now. But you were waiting, patient as always, asking him questions no one else ever did. Finally, he spoke. “I do not know,” he admitted, voice quiet. “Sometimes, maybe.”

You hummed in reply, a soft, thoughtful sound. You didn’t press, didn’t demand more. You just let his words settle between you, accepting them as they were. Your feet kicked lightly in the air, a slow, absentminded movement. You still weren’t looking at him, your gaze lost somewhere in the shifting greens and golds of the forest.

“What was your childhood like?”

Neteyam blinked. His ears twitched at the unexpected question, and for a moment, he was caught off guard. Most people asked about his training. About the responsibilities placed upon him. But you weren’t asking about that Neteyam. You were asking about him.

The boy before the warrior. Before the expectations. His throat tightened slightly. You wanted to know him. Neteyam stared at the water. His childhood.

He had never thought much about it—not in the way you were asking. His memories were not separate pieces but a path leading to where he was now. Training. Responsibility. Becoming the warrior his father needed him to be. But there were other memories, too.

Ones that weren’t about duty. Ones he hadn’t spoken aloud in a long time. “I was… happy,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “At least, I think I was.”

You turned slightly but still didn’t look at him, letting him speak at his own pace. “I grew up with my siblings always at my side. Lo’ak was always causing trouble. I had to pull him out of it, even when we were little.” A soft chuckle escaped him. “Kiri was different—quieter but bold. She saw the world in a way no one else did. Tuk… Tuk was just Tuk. She made everything brighter. She is like sunlight.”

He paused, his tail flicking lightly against the log.

“I remember climbing the trees before I was supposed to. My father would scold me, but my mother always said I was just like him. I remember the first time I caught a fish with my hands—I thought I was ready to be a great hunter. But when I tried to show my father, it slipped away. He trained me from the moment I could hold a bow. And she made sure I knew what it meant to be Omaticaya. To be a son of this clan.”

You laughed softly, and he found himself smiling at the memory. For a moment, he forgot to guard his words. “I used to think I had all the time in the world. That I could just… be.” His smile faded slightly. “But things changed. They always do.”

You finally turned to look at him then. And when you did, you were smiling. Not out of amusement or politeness, but something softer. Something real. Like you saw the honesty in his words and valued it. And somehow, that was enough to make the weight in his chest feel just a little lighter. He cleared his throat and looked away.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, the distant call of a bird overhead. Then, you spoke. “I had a good childhood too,” you said, your voice quieter now, thoughtful. “Even though Earth was—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Even though it was dying.”

Neteyam’s brows furrowed slightly, and he turned his head to look at you again. You were still staring at the pond, at the way the sunlight flickered across its surface. “It was different,” you continued. “Everything was different. The sky was dull, the air was heavy.” You gestured vaguely toward the water before you. “Nothing was untouched. The world was… dead.”

Neteyam listened, unmoving. He had heard about Earth before. From his father, from Norm, from the others who had come from there. But hearing you say it, hearing the distant nostalgia in your voice—it was different. You took a slow breath.

“But I was happy.”

His ears twitched. You looked at him now, your lips curling into a small, wistful smile.

“It was home.”

Neteyam’s fingers flexed slightly against the bark. And for the first time, he realized something. He knew who you were on Pandora. He knew your voice when you laughed, the way your eyes lit up when you discovered something new. He knew how stubborn you were, how you followed him even when he pretended not to want you to. He knew you were kind, curious, fearless in ways most humans weren’t. But he didn’t know your past. Didn’t know what you had left behind. Didn’t know what had shaped you before you ever stepped foot on this moon. And for some reason suddenly, he wanted to know.

Neteyam studied you for a long moment. You had told him you were happy on Earth. But how could that be? From everything he had heard, your home was nothing like this—no forests, no sky untouched by human hands, no true connection to the world around you. How could anyone be happy in a place like that? Before he could stop himself, the question was already leaving his lips. “What was your life like?”

You turned your head sharply, eyes widening in surprise. He could see the hesitation flicker across your face, like you hadn’t expected him to ask. Like maybe no one ever had. But then, after a pause, you smiled. “My life?” you echoed, glancing back toward the water. “It was… different.”

Neteyam leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees as he waited for you to continue. You exhaled, as if sifting through old memories.

“My parents were good people. Busy, but good. They worked a lot, so I had a lot of freedom growing up. Maybe too much.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “I was reckless. Always getting into trouble. Climbing things I shouldn’t, sneaking into places I wasn’t supposed to be.”

Neteyam huffed softly at that. “Sounds familiar.”

You grinned but didn’t deny it. Then, your expression softened. “But my favorite memories were with my brother.”

His ears twitched slightly at the shift in your voice.

“We used to sneak onto rooftops at night,” you continued, tilting your head as if you could still see those distant nights in your mind. “The sky was always this dull, greyish color—too much pollution. You couldn’t see the stars. But we used to lie there and imagine what it would look like if the sky was clear. If we could see the stars the way they were meant to be seen.”

Neteyam felt something strange twist in his chest. You had grown up beneath a sky without stars. Without the forest. Without the breath of a world that lived the way Pandora did. And yet, you had dreamed of it. “I used to wish,” you said, voice quiet now, “just once, that I could see a real forest. Not the artificial ones in the zoos or on screens. A real one. Something untouched.”

You laughed then, shaking your head. “I never thought I’d have to leave everything behind just to see it.” Neteyam didn’t know what to say.

You had left your home, your family, everything you knew. And yet, when you looked around, when you marveled at this world, you never seemed bitter about it. You had found what you were searching for.

And for the first time, Neteyam wondered if maybe—just maybe—Eywa had brought you here for a reason.

“Is it difficult to meet your father’s expectations?” Neteyam’s breath caught, just for a moment. His gaze shifted to you, searching your face. Your voice had been soft, careful, like you knew you were treading into something heavy. Something personal.

He turned away, staring down at the water instead. You had asked so many things today, but this… this was different. For a long time, he didn’t answer. He watched as the ripples in the pond smoothed out, as the faint reflection of the trees above shifted with the wind.

He thought about all the answers he could give—No, it is my duty. No, I was raised for this. No, I do not think about it.

But none of them felt true. Before he could find the right words, you spoke again.

“Because from what I see—” your voice was lighter now, teasing, but not unkind—“how hard it is for us—humans—to comply, it can’t be easy for you.” You chuckled, an honest, knowing sound.

And for some reason, that made something in his chest loosen. Neteyam exhaled slowly. You understood more than you let on. More than most did. Neteyam didn’t answer you. He didn’t have to. Because when he met your gaze, when he saw the quiet understanding there, he knew—You already knew his answer.

Even when he couldn’t say it. He swallowed, looking back toward the water, watching the way the sunlight flickered across its surface. Then, before he could think too much about it, he asked—

“When did you know you wanted to come here?”

You blinked at him, surprised by the shift. For a moment, you didn’t answer. He could almost see your thoughts shifting, pulling you back to a time long before you ever set foot on this moon. Then, you took a slow breath. “Humans discovered Pandora over a hundred years ago,” you began, your voice quieter now. “By the time I was born, people had already been coming here for decades—to learn, to take, to destroy.”

Your hands curled slightly against the bark of the tree trunk, and you glanced down.

“I know what the humans before me did. What they took from your people, from this world. I understand why we’re hated. And… I don’t blame you for it.” Neteyam remained silent, watching you closely.

You exhaled, then continued.

“When my little brother and I were kids, we saw these old holovids about Pandora.” A small, wistful smile tugged at your lips. “We couldn’t believe it. That somewhere out in the universe, there was a moon with floating mountains and glowing forests.”

You huffed softly. “And more than that, we couldn’t believe that there were ten-foot-tall blue aliens living there.” The moment the words left your mouth, you winced. Your head snapped toward him, your expression instantly apologetic. “I mean—” you cringed, rubbing the back of your neck. “Not aliens. That’s not—I didn’t mean—”

Neteyam raised an amused brow, biting back a smirk. You sighed, visibly flustered. After a pause, you cleared your throat and continued.

“The first time we saw how small humans looked next to the Na’vi, I decided.” You glanced at him, your voice steady. “I told myself that one day, I was going to get here. I was going to see this moon with my own eyes.” Your fingers traced idly at the bark beneath you. “And now… here I am.”

Neteyam watched you for a long moment, taking in the weight of your words. You had come all this way—not to take, not to destroy, but because you had dreamed of it. He wasn’t sure if he was the one teaching you about his world— Or if you were teaching him something about his own.

Neteyam hummed at your words, a low, thoughtful sound deep in his chest. His tail swayed idly behind him, the slow rhythm betraying the fact that he was still thinking about what you had said. About how you had dreamed of this place before you had ever set foot on it. About how you had come here not because you had to—but because you wanted to.

His golden eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, watching the way the light caught in your hair, the way your fingers absently traced the bark. Then, before the thoughts could take root too deeply, he turned his head away. Silence stretched between you again, but this time, you were the one to break it.

“Do you fear something?” Your voice was quiet, careful. It wasn’t the question itself that caught him off guard—it was the way you asked it.

You weren’t talking about predators. About battles. About physical dangers. You meant something else. Something deeper.

Neteyam exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting to the water again. He had never really spoken about this before. Not to Kiri, not to Lo’ak, not to anyone. But you were waiting. And you had given him your truths. He could give you this.

“I fear…” He hesitated, then tried again. “I fear not being enough.” The words felt heavy, but also strangely freeing. His fingers curled slightly against the rough bark. “I was born to lead, to be strong, to always do what is best for the people.”

He swallowed.

“I know my duty. I have never questioned it.”

He paused, watching as a leaf floated down from the canopy above, landing softly on the pond’s surface. “But sometimes, I wonder…” His voice lowered. “What if I fail?” The words felt strange on his tongue, like he wasn’t supposed to say them out loud. Like speaking them made them real. His ears twitched slightly. “I have trained my whole life to be the leader my father needs me to be. To be the son my mother expects. But what if—”

He exhaled, shaking his head.

“What if that is not enough?” His tail flicked once, a restless movement. Then, after a moment, he chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “It is foolish, I know.”

But when he finally turned back to look at you, there was no mockery in your expression. No judgment. Only understanding. And somehow, that made his chest ache more than anything else.

Warmth.

It was a subtle thing, a gentle pressure against his thigh. Soft, small fingers resting against his skin. Neteyam barely had time to process it before your voice came, quiet but firm. “It is not foolish.” His ears flicked, his gaze snapping to you. You were smiling—not teasing, not dismissive, but something real. Something certain. “Maybe I’ve only known you for a year,” you continued, your eyes steady on his, “but I’m sure as hell you’ll be a great olo’eyktan for your people.”

The words settled deep inside him, deeper than he wanted to admit. But before he could say anything, you seemed to realize what you had done. Your fingers twitched, and you quickly pulled your hand away, placing it in your lap as if you had touched fire. Then, after a small pause, you added, almost offhandedly—too offhandedly— “Even if a human’s words don’t count as much.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Neteyam’s chest tightened.

You looked down, your gaze falling to the water below, as if watching your own reflection ripple beneath the surface. “I used to fear too,” you admitted softly. “Fear that my parents were going to be disappointed in me.”

Your voice was quieter now, your fingers curling slightly against your lap.

“They wanted me to become a doctor,” you sighed. “It was understandable. On Earth, there are lots of sick people. It could have been an easy source of money. A stable life.” You inhaled slowly, then exhaled, your shoulders sinking slightly. “But I knew I wanted to come here.”

Neteyam watched you closely, the way you seemed lost in your own memories. You had made a choice—one that had taken you far from everything you knew. And for the first time, he thought about what that must have meant for you. For the girl who had once laid on rooftops, staring up at a sky with no stars— Who had left behind an entire life just to see the world he had always taken for granted. Neteyam hesitated before speaking.

“You said you wanted to come here.” You didn’t react at first, your gaze still fixed on the water below. “To see this place.”

He studied you carefully, searching for something—anything—in your expression. But there was nothing. No flicker of emotion, no shift in your posture. Just stillness. His tail flicked slightly. “But you never talked about your family,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “Why is that?”

This time, you reacted.

Not with words, not with a look, but with the way you swallowed, the way your fingers clenched against your lap before releasing again. You turned your head slightly, looking away. Then, you sighed. Neteyam instantly regretted asking. The air between you felt different now—heavier. He knew that feeling. Knew what it meant when someone carried something too painful to touch.

He almost wished he could take the words back.

Just one minute.

One breath.

But after a long, endless moment—

“They died.”

Your voice was steady, but something about it made his chest tighten. You took a slow breath, as if choosing your words carefully. “Right before I got my approval from the RDA.” Neteyam didn’t move. You weren’t looking at him, your gaze fixed somewhere distant, somewhere unreachable. “It was a car crash,” you continued, voice flat, emotionless. “Just a moment. And they were gone.”

A pause.

“In a matter of seconds, I lost everything.” The forest seemed quieter somehow. Like even the wind had softened to listen. You sighed again, your eyes drifting toward the trees, watching the leaves shift in the breeze. “I always thought I should’ve been with them that day,” you murmured. “If I had followed the path they wanted me to, I would’ve been with them.”

Neteyam barely breathed.

“I was at the RDA headquarters,” you added, voice hollow now. “Studying my ass off. Doing everything I could to manage to get here.” Then, you let out a small, bitter laugh. Neteyam had never heard you laugh like that before.

He watched you. The slow, steady rise and fall of your breath. The way your fingers tapped lightly against your thigh, like there was something unsaid beneath your skin, waiting to spill out. You were thinking. About what, he wasn’t sure. But he could sense it—just like he could sense when a storm was brewing on the horizon, when the wind shifted before the rain. He didn’t push.

You would tell him if you wanted to.

“Do you ever get tired of being responsible for everyone?” The question was like a stone dropped into still water. Neteyam’s body tensed slightly, but he didn’t move.

Did he ever get tired? The weight of expectations had been on his shoulders since the moment he could walk. He had never questioned it. Never allowed himself to. It was not a burden—it was simply who he was meant to be.

And yet—

There were moments.

Moments when he saw Lo’ak running through the trees without a care, Kiri lost in her own world of discovery, Tuk laughing freely at the simplest joys.

Moments when he wanted to step outside of his duty, just for a breath, just for a moment— And be. But that was not the life he had been given. So he swallowed it down. Like he always did. Minutes passed, and he still hadn’t answered. Beside him, you shifted slightly, then sighed.

“You don’t have to answer,” you said, your voice gentle.

When he turned to you, you were already smiling, soft and knowing. Like you understood why he couldn’t say it out loud. Like you already knew his answer. Neteyam inhaled slowly. And for once, instead of burying it, instead of swallowing it down— He let the truth slip free.

“Yes.”

His voice was quiet, but firm.

“Sometimes I do.”

You nodded at his answer, a knowing smile playing on your lips. Like you had known all along. Like you had only wanted him to know it, too. Neteyam exhaled, his gaze drifting back to the water. He wasn’t sure if admitting it made the weight any lighter, but it was strange—to have someone look at him, really look at him, and see it. See him.

Then, after a few moments, you spoke again.

“You know, I used to get overwhelmed too.” Your legs swung absently in the air, your shoelaces bouncing with every kick. You watched them, as if fascinated by the way they moved—like a shadow following your own rhythm. You shrugged. “If I don’t work hard enough, they’ll send me back to Earth.”

Neteyam’s ears twitched slightly, his head turning toward you. You glanced at him, just for a moment, before looking away again. “If I’m not useful to the RDA, they’d terminate my contract.” You huffed in annoyance, crossing your arms. “Fuckers.”

The sharpness of the word made Neteyam’s lips twitch, but he didn’t interrupt. You let out a breath, shaking your head. “I studied my whole life to get chosen by them,” you said, voice quieter now. “And now, I have to prove myself every single day.”

Then you laughed—soft and breathy. But there was no humor in it. Neteyam’s tail flicked, something unsettled stirring in his chest. You had worked so hard to get here. You have fought to earn a place among your own people. And yet, you were still fighting.

Still proving yourself. He knew what that felt like.

And for the first time, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—you were not so different after all. You shook your head, as if shaking off the weight of your own words, and when you looked at him again, your expression was different.

That same smile. The one you had worn the first time you stepped into his village, wide-eyed and full of wonder. The one that had irritated him once, back when he thought you were just another human passing through. Now, it made something in his chest loosen.

“But enough of this puny human’s sad story,” you declared, your lips curling into a smirk. Neteyam raised a brow at your sudden shift. “I’m not that interesting,” you added, tilting your head slightly. “Especially if I’m next to you or someone else from your village.”

Neteyam huffed, shaking his head. He could feel the change in your energy, the way your spirit had already lifted, like the serious conversation from minutes ago had never existed. You were like that.

Moving between emotions with an ease that almost fascinated him. Then, you leaned forward slightly, your voice dipping with curiosity. “Is it true that the warriors dip their arrowheads into venom to make their kill faster?”

Neteyam blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt shift in topic. For a moment, he simply stared at you, trying to determine if he had heard correctly. You looked at him expectantly, completely unbothered by the fact that you had gone from sharing something deeply personal to asking about poisoned weapons in a matter of seconds.

His ears flicked, amusement flickering across his features. “Of all the things you could ask,” he murmured, shaking his head.

You just grinned.

Neteyam exhaled through his nose before answering. “Some do,” he admitted, his tail flicking lazily. “It depends on the hunter and the prey. Certain poisons make a kill faster, cleaner. Others… not so much.”

Your brows furrowed slightly. “Not so much?”

He smirked. “Some poisons are meant to incapacitate—not kill.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “You mean… like paralyze them?”

Neteyam nodded.

You let out a low whistle, shaking your head. “Remind me to never get on a Na’vi’s bad side.”

Neteyam chuckled, his smirk deepening. “I think it is too late for that, tawtute.”

You gasped in mock offense, shoving his arm lightly. “Hey!”

He only laughed, his tail flicking against the tree trunk. The heavy conversation from earlier still lingered somewhere beneath the surface, but for now, it was replaced by something easier. Something lighter. And Neteyam found that he didn’t mind it one bit. He glanced toward you, his gaze lingering longer than he meant it to.

You didn’t notice. You were too mesmerized by the few Yerik across the pond, their slender forms dipping low as they drank from the water. Your eyes followed their movements, quiet, awed. Like you were seeing something sacred. And maybe, to you, it was. He had seen this look on you before—this quiet reverence, this complete presence in the world around you. It was one of the things that had started to unsettle him the most.

Because you saw things. Not just with your eyes, but with something deeper.

And at some point—without him even realizing—you had started looking at him the same way. Neteyam exhaled slowly, his fingers curling idly against the rough bark beneath him. A year ago, he would have sworn he’d never speak to you more than necessary.

He would have kept his distance, fulfilled his duty, and let you remain an outsider in his world. And yet, now— Now, you are here.

Far from the village, far from the human outpost. Talking about things he had never spoken about before. Letting you ask questions he had never dared to ask himself.

When had that changed?

When had you changed?

Or maybe—

Had he? He still didn’t know why Eywa had placed you in his life. He had spent too much time trying to understand, to make sense of it. But maybe it wasn’t something to understand. Maybe it was something to feel. Maybe it was about seeing.

About having a life beyond his never-ending duty. Neteyam’s gaze softened, a small, unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips. He still didn’t know what this feeling was, didn’t know where to place it—this strange warmth in his chest, this quiet pull toward you. You were far too small compared to anything he knew.

And yet, the way you had woven yourself into his mind, into his life, into the quiet spaces he had once kept to himself— It was terrifying.

(2 years ago)

Neteyam stepped into his family’s kelku, shaking off the lingering tension from the day’s training.

But…

He saw you. You were sitting cross-legged on the woven floor, a mess of tangled grass in your hands, your brows furrowed in frustration. Kiri knelt beside you, effortlessly weaving the long strands with practiced ease, her fingers moving in quick, fluid motions.

You, however, were struggling. Neteyam leaned against the entrance, watching silently as you huffed, attempting once more to bend the stubborn grass into shape. But the material resisted your efforts, slipping from your fingers at the last moment.

You let out a quiet groan, your shoulders slumping. Neteyam felt the corners of his lips twitch. You were always like this—so determined, so desperate to understand things that had no logic, no precise method you could study or analyze. Some things had to be felt.

Learned through patience, through instinct. But you had never been good at patience, at least outside of your job. And for some reason, that amused him far more than it should.

Since your talk at the pond, something has changed between you. He couldn’t quite name it, but it was there, lingering beneath every glance, every quiet moment shared between you. And despite himself, he couldn’t suppress the pull he felt toward you.

He stepped forward. “Is that supposed to be a basket?”

Your head snapped up at the sound of his voice. Neteyam smirked as he approached, glancing down at the poorly shaped attempt in your hands. It was lopsided, the strands uneven, some already fraying at the ends.

“I am not sure it can hold anything,” he mused. “Perhaps a single fruit, if you do not move too much.”

Your eyes narrowed. Then, before he could react, you threw the half-finished basket at him. Neteyam caught it with ease, raising a brow as you scoffed.

“You know, there are people who can’t be talented in everything,” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “Unlike some.”

Your squint was exaggerated, your annoyance barely masking the amusement lurking beneath it. Neteyam let out a low chuckle, turning the misshapen basket over in his hands. It was terrible.

But, somehow, he liked it.

(1 year and 11 months ago)

The rainstorm had come fast. One moment, the sky was its usual deep blue, and the next, dark clouds had swallowed it whole. The rain had started slowly—fat, lazy drops plopping onto the village roofs, tapping against the leaves. But then the wind picked up, and suddenly, the heavens had split open. Sheets of rain hammered against the trees, sending waterfalls cascading off the woven platforms, soaking everything in sight.

The humans had been caught off guard. Neteyam had watched them scramble when it became clear they wouldn’t be able to return to their outpost in the near future. The storm was too strong, the paths too slick. Which was why you were here. Sitting cross-legged across from him, huddled beneath the family kelku’s woven canopy, warm and dry.

Unlike him. Neteyam exhaled sharply, reaching for a length of twine to restring his bow. His hair was still damp from earlier, loose strands sticking to his skin, dripping onto his shoulders. He ignored it, fingers moving expertly as he tied a careful knot. He could feel you watching.

You had been fidgeting for the past few minutes, shifting slightly, tucking your legs beneath you. Every so often, you’d open your mouth as if to say something, then hesitate. He raised a brow.

“What?”

You blinked, then shook your head.

“Nothing.”

Neteyam hummed, unconvinced. A beat of silence. Then—

“You know,” you said slowly, tilting your head, “your hair is kind of a mess.”

Neteyam frowned, ears twitching. He lifted a hand to his braids, feeling where the strands had loosened from the rain, the damp weight of them resting against his shoulders. It wasn’t that bad. You must have seen his unimpressed look because you grinned.

“No, seriously. It’s bad. Like—battle damage bad.”

Neteyam rolled his eyes. “The storm was worse than expected.”

“I can tell.” You leaned in slightly, studying his head like you were analyzing something critically wrong. “Your little warrior braids are all over the place.”

Neteyam scoffed, shaking his head. “They are fine.”

“They are not fine,” you countered. “You look like you lost a fight with a banshee.”

He huffed, turning back to his bow. “I will fix them later.”

“Or…” you said, stretching out the word, mischief flickering in your eyes. “I could fix them for you.”

Neteyam froze. Just for a second. You must have taken his silence as permission, because suddenly you were shifting onto your feet, standing up, moving closer, reaching toward him with small, delicate fingers. Neteyam leaned back immediately, narrowing his eyes. “No.”

You laughed. “Oh, come on.”

“I do not need your help.”

“You obviously do.”

Neteyam’s tail flicked in warning. “I can do it myself.”

Your grin widened. “Yeah, but I can do it better.”

Neteyam scoffed. “You do not even know how.”

You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. “Excuse you. I do know how.”

Neteyam gave you a look.

“Okay, well,” you amended, “Kiri tried to teach me once.”

Neteyam smirked. “I have seen your attempts at weaving.”

“That was different.”

“You tangled the fibers so badly that Kiri had to cut them apart.”

You groaned, dropping your head back. “That was one time!”

Neteyam chuckled, shaking his head. But before he could protest further, you scooted closer. He stilled. You were right there. Too close. Your knees bumped against his side as you reached up, fingers hovering near his temple, waiting. “Just let me fix one,” you said, lips quirking. “If I ruin it, you can make fun of me forever.”

Neteyam exhaled slowly, weighing his options. He could refuse. He should refuse. But the way you were looking at him—expectant, teasing—made it impossible. He muttered something under his breath, then reluctantly lowered his hands, giving the smallest nod. Your smile was blinding. “Stay still,” you murmured, your voice quieter now.

Then, gently—so gently—you reached for his braid. Neteyam clenched his jaw.

Eywa.

Your hands were warm. Small fingers brushed against his scalp as you carefully unraveled the ruined braid, working through the damp strands with surprising care. His ears twitched at the feeling, something foreign curling in his chest. No one touched him like this. His mother did, when she tended to his hair as a child. Kiri sometimes, if she was feeling particularly annoying. But this—

This was different.

You were close enough that he could see the way your brows furrowed in concentration, the way you bit your lip slightly as you focused. Close enough that he caught the scent of rain on your skin, the faint traces of whatever strange human soap you used. The firelight flickered against your features, casting soft shadows along the curve of your cheek, through the glass panel of your mask.

Neteyam swallowed. He should not be thinking about your cheekbones. You huffed, frustrated, trying to smooth out a particularly tangled strand. Your fingers brushed against the base of his ear, and Neteyam almost flinched. His tail twitched violently behind him.

You noticed.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, as if you had just made the greatest discovery of your life. “Does that tickle?”

Neteyam scowled. “No.”

You smirked. “It does.”

“It does not.”

You narrowed your eyes, grinning like you had just won something. “Interesting…”

“Do not.”

You wiggled your fingers threateningly. “What would happen if I—”

Neteyam grabbed your wrist before you could even try. His large hand circled around your thin wrist so easily. You gasped, eyes wide in exaggerated offense. “Neteyam!”

He exhaled through his nose, tightening his grip slightly. “You are impossible.”

You just grinned. For a moment, you stayed like that—your wrist in his grasp, your eyes flickering between his face and his hand, something unreadable in your expression. Then— “…You’re really warm,” you murmured.

Neteyam stilled. The words were so soft he almost thought he imagined them. But you were looking at him now, really looking at him, your usual teasing energy replaced by something else. His heartbeat picked up. The air felt… heavy. He should let go. He should let go.

Instead, his grip lingered—just for a second longer than necessary. Then, abruptly, he released your wrist, looking away. “Are you finished?”

You blinked, snapping back into focus. “Oh! Right. Yeah, yeah.”

You made quick work of the rest of the braid, fingers moving more carefully this time. When you were done, you pulled away, sitting back with a pleased look on your face.

“See? Perfect.”

Neteyam reached up, fingers grazing the newly woven braid. It was… decent. He hummed. “It will do.”

You scoffed. “Wow. You’re welcome, your highness.”

Neteyam smirked. “I did not say thank you.”

Your jaw dropped. “You are insufferable.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. But later that night, as the rain continued to fall, Neteyam found himself touching that braid— Again and again. And even though he knew it was just hair, he couldn’t help but think—It felt different now.

(1 year and 10 months ago)

Neteyam didn’t know why he was here. His patrols never took him this close to the human outpost. There was no reason for him to be here. No threat, no duty. And yet, here he was. His steps were silent as he moved through the dense foliage, keeping to the shadows, his golden eyes scanning the small group of scientists in the clearing ahead.

There you were.

Sitting on the ground, cross-legged, your datapad in one hand and a small instrument in the other, completely immersed in whatever you were studying. Strands of hair had fallen loose from your usual tie, and you absently tucked them behind your ear as you worked. Neteyam exhaled slowly. He didn’t understand this.

Didn’t understand why he had ended up here today, why his feet had carried him in your direction instead of somewhere else. You were just a human. Just a human. He had more important things to do. He remained hidden, watching you from a distance. He thought he was sneaky enough. Years of hunting had taught him patience, how to blend into the world around him, how to move unseen.

But then—

You turned. And smiled.

It was wide and bright—brighter than the twin suns overhead.

And Neteyam’s heart stuttered.

“I knew you were there,” you said, grinning as you looked directly at him.

Neteyam blinked, stepping into the clearing with a frown. “How did you know?” he asked, his ears flicking in irritation at being caught so easily.

You only shrugged, tossing your hair over your shoulder with an easy movement. “I just did.” Then, your expression changed. You tilted your head slightly, looking at him like you were about to tell him something secret, something only meant for the two of you.

Neteyam’s body tensed slightly as you leaned towards him just a little despite your size difference. And before he even realized what he was doing, he found himself leaning down, just enough to hear your whispered answer. “I don’t know,” you murmured, your lips twitching. “Maybe I’m a Na’vi hunter in disguise.”

Neteyam rolled his eyes, straightening immediately. You burst into laughter, clearly delighted by his reaction. And despite himself, despite everything— He smiled at you. It was so easy to do. Why?

You crouched back down, returning to whatever work you had been doing, your laughter still lingering in the air. Then, casually, you asked, “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in the village and be a perfect leader?”

Neteyam’s lips parted slightly, but no answer came. Because he didn’t know. Why was he here? Why had he chosen this path, today of all days? Why had he let himself be pulled toward you when there was no reason to be?

Somehow, you must have sensed his hesitation. Because before he could even attempt an answer, you glanced over your shoulder, your voice softer now. “Either way, I’m happy to see you.”

Neteyam’s breath caught. You said it so simply, so easily. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like his presence meant something to you.

And for the first time, he wondered if maybe—just maybe— He had come here because, deep down… He had wanted to see you, too.

(1 year and 9 months ago)

You didn’t hear him. Neteyam had been watching you from the thick branch above, waiting, studying. You were alone, cross-legged against the trunk of a massive tree, your head tilted slightly as you gazed at the forest around you.

Just watching. He didn’t understand you sometimes. Most humans were never still. They talked, they moved, they always did something. But you—you could just be. And yet, that doesn't mean you should be here.

Alone.

He exhaled through his nose and leaped down. The moment his feet hit the ground, you screamed. A sharp, startled sound. You scrambled slightly, your hands pressing against the dirt as you looked up at him with wide eyes. Neteyam straightened to his full height, towering over you. Your chest rose and fell quickly, your exhale shaky. “What are you doing here?” he asked, sharper than he intended.

You blinked at him. Then, instead of scolding him for scaring you—or worse, looking afraid—you smiled. A soft, small thing. “I just wanted to be alone,” you said, shrugging.

Neteyam frowned, his ears twitching. That wasn’t a good enough answer. “Where are the other humans?”

You turned your head slightly, your gaze flicking toward the right as you thought about it. Why did you have to think about it? Then, finally— “Back in the outpost,” you answered.

His frown deepened. That was not the answer he wanted. “You should not be alone,” he said, his tail flicking in irritation. “You are small.”

You scoffed. Then, to his utter disbelief, you laughed. “Neteyam,” you said, amusement lacing your voice. “I am fine.” Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you tilted your head up at him. “Or what?” you teased. “The mighty warrior would be sad if a viperwolf dragged me into its den?”

Neteyam exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. You were infuriating. And yet, his lips twitched. You looked up at him, waiting. Neteyam held your gaze, his tail still flicking sharply behind him. Then, gently, you smiled. “Don’t worry, I was fine.”

His ears twitched.

Fine?

You were alone in the middle of the forest, completely unprotected, with no one around except the creatures lurking in the shadows. Yet you smiled at him, as if his concern was unnecessary. His tail flicked again, betraying his frustration. You noticed.

Your lips twitched slightly before you continued, “I was here a few times. And it was always peaceful. Even safe.”

Neteyam’s frown deepened. Safe? You thought this place was safe? You had no instincts, no natural awareness of the dangers hidden beneath the beauty of the forest. He had spent his whole life learning how to listen to it, how to sense the smallest shifts in the air, the softest disturbances in the leaves. You had none of that.

He muttered something under his breath in Na’vi, shaking his head.

You didn’t react—didn’t understand the words—but when he muttered tawtute, your eyes brightened slightly. Then, instead of looking offended, you smiled again. His tail lashed once behind him. Before he could say anything else, you tilted your head and asked, as if you hadn’t just been arguing—

“How was your day?”

Neteyam blinked. The sudden change in topic threw him off balance. For a moment, he could only stare at you, caught between lingering frustration and something he couldn’t quite name. You just waited, patient, watching him with those same curious eyes. And he found himself answering.

“My day?” Neteyam repeated, arching a brow at you. You nodded, completely unbothered by the shift in conversation, as if you hadn’t just been laughing at his concern. He exhaled, shaking his head. “It was… fine. Nothing special.”

Your smile widened slightly. “Nothing special?”

Neteyam huffed. “Training, patrols, the usual.”

“So, running around the forest, scaring away potential threats, and looking perfect while doing it?” you teased, tilting your head.

He smirked. “That does sound about right.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed.

Neteyam watched you for a moment before asking, “And you? Why did you want to be alone?”

You hummed, thinking. Then, with a bright smile, you said, “I don’t know, I just wanted to listen to the forest. I love how alive it is.” Your eyes lit up as you spoke, your hands gesturing slightly, as if trying to grasp something intangible. Neteyam didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t that.

He blinked, watching you with a mix of curiosity and something else—something he didn’t want to name. Sometimes, he doesn't understand you.

You weren’t Na’vi. You had no connection to Eywa, no way to truly feel the world around you as he did. And yet… Somehow, you did. Somehow, you felt it anyway. If you had been Na’vi, you would have been deeply connected to Eywa. He knew it. You would have been strong among his people. A hunter, maybe. A healer. A tsahik.

His tsahik.

The thought struck him so suddenly that he nearly stood up on instinct. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself still. It was a dangerous thought. Yet… It wasn’t bad.

Neteyam exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the ridiculous notion. You were just a human. That was all.

And somehow, only being a human seemed… enough. Still, he crouched down next to you, studying you as if he could understand you just by looking. You noticed, of course. You always did. “What?” you asked, tilting your head.

Neteyam smirked. “I am just trying to see what kind of creature chooses to sit alone in the forest, thinking it is safe.”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “A creature? That’s a little rude, don’t you think?”

Neteyam hummed, pretending to consider. “Maybe.”

You scoffed, bumping his knee lightly with yours. “For your information, mighty warrior, some of us like peace and quiet.”

“You? Quiet?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I do not believe it.”

You gaped at him. “Excuse you, I can be quiet.”

Neteyam gave you a look.

Your lips twitched. “…Okay, maybe not all the time.”

He smirked. “Not ever.”

You gasped again, shoving his arm playfully. “Take that back.” He only laughed, shaking his head.

“I cannot. It is the truth.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re terrible.”

“And you are still too small to be alone in the forest,” he countered smoothly.

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Let it go, Neteyam.”

Neteyam just smirked, his tail flicking lazily behind him. For all your stubbornness, you didn’t realize that you had already won something far more important. Half a year ago, he wouldn’t have sat here like this. Wouldn’t have let you pull him into these easy conversations. Wouldn’t have wanted to. But now? Now, he wasn’t sure how to go back.

(1 year and 8 months ago)

Something wasn’t right. Neteyam could feel it. He sat outside his family’s kelku, absently sharpening the tip of an arrow, his movements precise, controlled. But his mind was elsewhere. You weren’t here.

Again.

The humans had come to the village today, just as they always did, hauling their equipment, speaking in their strange clipped words, taking notes on things they would never truly understand. But you weren’t with them. Just like last time. And the time before that. It had been almost a week since he had last seen you, and for some reason, the thought unsettled him more than it should.

You always came. Twice a week, sometimes three. Without fail.

Even before—before he had let himself see you, before he had stopped pretending that you were just another human passing through— You had always returned. No matter how distant he had been. No matter how he had tried to push you away.

So why weren’t you here now? For a moment, the thought crept in— Had he done something? No. That was impossible. If there was one thing he knew about you, it was that you were stubborn. Even when he had tried to keep you at a distance, even when he had been sharp with you, cold, dismissive— You had always come back.

You had never let him scare you away.

And now, suddenly, you were gone? His grip tightened slightly around the arrow.

“She is sick, you know.”

Neteyam’s head snapped up. Kiri stood nearby, arms crossed, watching him with an infuriating knowing look. His brows furrowed. “What?”

Kiri shrugged. “I heard the humans talking. She is sick.”

Something in his chest twisted. Sick? You were sick? He sat up straighter, jaw tightening. “What kind of sick?”

Kiri smirked, stepping closer. “I don’t know. Maybe her weak human body finally gave up on her.”

Neteyam glared. Kiri only laughed, shaking her head. “Relax. It’s nothing serious.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “Then why is she not here?”

Kiri tilted her head.“They ordered her to rest.”

Neteyam’s tail flicked in frustration. He didn’t like this. You were always here. Always bright, always talking, always—present. And now, suddenly, you were confined to the outpost, sick, and he had only just now found out? Kiri grinned, clearly amused by his reaction. “You look worried, ma’tsmukan.”

Neteyam scowled, shaking his head. “I am not worried.”

Kiri only hummed, a knowing glint in her eye. He ignored her. But still—his fingers tightened around the arrow.

Neteyam didn’t remember deciding to come here. Yet, here he was. The forest was dark, the bioluminescent glow of the plants casting faint, ghostly light over the clearing. The air was thick with the sounds of night—distant calls of nocturnal creatures, the rustling of leaves in the wind. And beyond it, standing cold and unnatural against the wild, living world, was the human outpost.

Neteyam crouched at the edge of the clearing, hidden in the dense foliage, his golden eyes fixed on the metal structure. It was strange. Too strange. The walls were smooth, lifeless.

Nothing like the woven kelku of his people, nothing like the towering trees that breathed around him. It didn’t belong here. And yet… You did. This was your place. A place where you would be safe.

His grip tightened around the leaves in his hand. He glanced down at them, finally aware of their presence. Dark purple, thick-veined. The kind his grandmother used to crush into a bitter paste when he was a child. It soothed fevers, eased aches.

He had picked them without thinking. Neteyam exhaled sharply, shaking his head. What was he doing? Why had he come here? He had no reason to be this close. No reason to care that you were sick. No reason to feel so restless when you weren’t in the village where you should be.

Should be?

His tail flicked behind him, his ears twitching toward every sound. The outpost was silent. The humans had long since retreated inside, away from the dangers of the night. Still, Neteyam remained where he was, hidden among the leaves, watching. He told himself he was only making sure you were safe. And if that was a lie, then it was one he wasn’t ready to confront.

Neteyam’s sharp gaze flickered over the clearing, scanning the area outside the human outpost. There were plants everywhere. Some were small, contained in odd-looking transparent cases, while others stretched taller, their vines creeping over the edges of the metal structure. He recognized many of them—forest plants, things that belonged deep in the wild, not trapped here under artificial lights.

It was strange. The humans had taken them from their home, pulled them from the soil just to study them. They did the same with everything, didn’t they? Suddenly, a low hissing sound cut through the quiet. Neteyam tensed.

The airgate to the outpost slid open, releasing a controlled burst of sterilized air. A human stepped out, her exo-mask reflecting the dim glow of the outdoor lamps. She was young—close in age to you. He recognized her. She had been in the village once, months before you had first arrived.

He hadn’t paid her much attention then, but now, for some reason, seeing her here made him think. She moved toward a section of small orange plants, datapad in hand, completely unaware of the golden eyes watching her from the shadows. Neteyam’s grip tightened around the dark purple leaves in his palm. Why had he brought them?

The thought nagged at him, frustration curling in his chest. He knew the humans were smart—at least, smart enough to heal their own kind. They had their own medicines, their own ways of treating illness. And yet… A whole week had passed. A whole week of you not being in the village, of your absence stretching longer than it ever had before.

And Neteyam found himself doubting them. Doubting that whatever strange things they used to heal each other were enough. These leaves—he knew them. He had trusted them since he was a child. It worked. It had always worked. And now, here he was.

Standing outside the human outpost, clutching these same leaves in his hand— Not knowing why. Not wanting to know why. Neteyam’s muscles tensed. Then, without thinking, he stepped forward. The leaves rustled as he moved out of the foliage, his tall frame emerging from the shadows.

The woman froze.

Her breath hitched as she turned, her blue eyes wide behind her exo-mask. She gasped.

Neteyam saw the fear flicker across her face, the way she instinctively shrank back, pressing herself against one of the plant containers. He kept walking. His steps were slow, deliberate. Purposeful. Deep down, he knew how this must look to her—a lone Na’vi warrior appearing from the forest in the dead of night, silent and unreadable.

But he didn’t stop. The woman’s hands gripped the edge of the plant container as she stammered,

“I—I mean no harm, please don’t hurt me.”

Then, barely above a whisper, she muttered something else under her breath—something about whShe expected him to do something. Say ether or not he even understood English. Neteyam exhaled sharply through his nose.

She was scared of him. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him. Neteyam stopped.

Just a step away from her now, close enough that he could see the way her chest rose and fell too quickly, the way her fingers trembled slightly against the edge of the plant container. Her fear clung to the air between them, sharp and uncertain.

something. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hand. She flinched slightly but didn’t move as he extended his palm toward her, revealing the dark purple leaves resting in his grasp.

“For (Y/N),” he said simply. His voice was low but steady.

The woman’s breath hitched. He met her eyes, unblinking, before adding,

“Crush it for her. She will be better.”

For a long moment, she didn’t move. Her frantic, wide-eyed panic stilled—morphing into something else entirely. Her gaze flickered between his face and the leaves in his hand, as if she couldn’t quite process what was happening. As if she had expected anything but this.

Neteyam watched, silent, as her fear began to unravel, piece by piece. Slowly—hesitantly—she reached out. Her small fingers hovered over his palm for a second, unsure, before she finally took the plant from him, the contrast between her pale skin and the deep purple leaves stark against the dim light.

Neteyam held her gaze for a fraction longer. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared back into the forest.

(few days later)

Neteyam heard you before he saw you. Laughter. Bright, unrestrained, cutting through the usual village chatter like a melody. His ears twitched instinctively, tail flicking as his steps slowed.

Then, a flash of movement— And suddenly, you were there. Within minutes, you had somehow slipped into his orbit, like you always did, standing before him with that unmistakable look on your face. A glowing, shit-eating grin. Neteyam crossed his arms, raising a brow. “You look better.”

Your grin widened. “Yes, of course.” You lifted your chin slightly, eyes twinkling. “I have a blue guardian angel.”

Neteyam exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Is that what we are calling it?”

You hummed, nodding with mock seriousness. “Absolutely. He appeared from the shadows, gifted me a mysterious plant, and then vanished into the night. Very mythical of him.”

Neteyam huffed, but he couldn’t stop the smirk from tugging at the corner of his lips. You were back.

Healthy.

Standing in front of him, talking too much, smiling too wide—just as you always did. And for the first time in days, something inside him settled. Like he could breathe again.

You launched into some story about how Norm had forced you to rest, how Kate had teased you about having a secret admirer after finding the plant, but Neteyam barely processed the words. He was too busy watching you. Taking in the way you moved, the way the golden afternoon light caught in your hair, the way you spoke like the world around you was yours to shape.

He hadn’t realized how much he hated not seeing you. Not until now. Then, abruptly, you sighed dramatically. “But seriously, Neteyam.” His ears flicked at the shift in your tone. You leaned in slightly, whispering like you were about to tell him some great secret. “I have never eaten anything more bitter in my entire life.”

Neteyam blinked. Then, he smirked. “It worked, didn’t it?”

You groaned. “That’s not the point! It tasted like death.”

He chuckled, arms still crossed. “You sound ungrateful.”

“Oh, I am grateful.” You patted his arm dramatically. “I just think my guardian angel needs to work on his choice of gifts.”

Neteyam let out a real laugh then, deep and unguarded, shaking his head as you grinned up at him. He had missed this.

Missed you.

(1 year and 6 months ago)

He should have been somewhere else—training, patrolling, doing something productive— But instead, he was sitting on the mossy ground, watching you work. The xenobotany team had stopped questioning it months ago. By now, they barely even acknowledged his presence.

They were used to him appearing at your side only to disappear into the forest again after a few minutes, like a shadow that came and went with the shifting light. He never spoke to them, never lingered too long—just long enough to see you, to make sure you were safe, to convince himself that he was only here because you were a human in a dangerous place.

That was what he told himself, anyway. But the truth was… He couldn’t stay away from you. And he didn’t know why. You were crouched beside a low-growing plant, fingers delicately brushing the leaves as you observed them.

The glow from your datapad cast a faint, artificial light across your face, reflecting in your eyes as you studied the readings on the screen. Neteyam should have been watching the forest. Instead, he was watching you. Then—

Your eyes flickered toward him.

Just for a second. Then back to your datapad. Neteyam’s ears twitched, but he said nothing.

A moment passed.

Then—again.

Your gaze darted toward him, then away.

Back to your datapad.

And then—

Again.

At first, he wasn’t sure what you were watching. But after a while, he noticed the pattern. Your gaze wasn’t lingering on his face. It wasn’t on his hands or his posture or his weapons. No— Your eyes followed the slow, lazy sway of his tail as it shifted side to side against the moss. Neteyam blinked. His tail stilled for a moment, but the instant it moved again, your eyes followed.

A realization struck him so suddenly that his ears flicked back against his skull. You were fascinated by it.

By him.

The thought sent something sharp through his chest, something he didn’t have a name for, something he wasn’t sure he wanted to name. You didn’t even realize what you were doing. Didn’t realize that you were staring. Didn’t realize that your innocent curiosity was affecting him.

Neteyam forced himself to exhale, looking away before you could catch him watching you just as intently. But the damage was already done. Because now, he knew. You saw him.

And that knowledge settled deep in his bones, thrumming like the distant beat of war drums, impossible to ignore. For a moment, Neteyam wondered if he had misheard you. Because there was no way you had just said— “Can I touch your tail?”

He blinked.

You glanced at him again, your expression expectant—curious—like you had just asked something as simple as can you pass me that leaf? His ears flicked up in surprise. He didn’t know who was more stunned—him or you. Because the moment the words left your mouth, your entire face drained of color.

Your eyes widened, lips parting slightly in horror, like you had just realized what you had said. “Oh, fuck,” you breathed.

Neteyam’s tail flicked behind him— Not because of your question, but because it was taking everything in him not to laugh. “I—I didn’t mean—” you stammered, hands coming up as if to physically take the words back. “I mean, I did mean it, but not like—I—you—fuck—”

Your voice had dropped into a frantic whisper as you looked up at him, terrified, like you had just insulted him, like he was about to exile you from the forest forever. Your hands clenched into fists against your lap as you sucked in a breath. “I meant scientifically,” you blurted. “For science. Obviously.”

Neteyam hummed, tilting his head. “For science?”

You nodded—way too fast.

“Yes. Obviously.”

His tail swayed again, and your eyes immediately flicked toward it before snapping back to his face like you had just been caught. Neteyam smirked. “You want to touch my tail… for science?” he asked, amused.

You swallowed thickly. “Yes?”

Neteyam didn’t answer. Didn’t move. Just watched you. Watch the way you fidgeted, the way your lips pressed into a thin line, the way your entire soul looked like it was about to ascend from sheer embarrassment.

Finally, he lifted a brow, fighting back a grin. “I don’t think that’s how your science works,” he mused.

Neteyam watched as you very slowly turned away from him, your shoulders stiff with mortification, your entire body screaming retreat, retreat, retreat. His smirk widened. “What are you doing?” he asked, amused.

Without looking at him, you let out a deep, suffering sigh and muttered, “I’m going to dig a hole and become one with Eywa.”

Neteyam’s chest rumbled with laughter. A real, full-bodied laugh that he couldn’t hold back this time. Your head snapped toward him, eyes narrowed in betrayal. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I can’t help it,” he grinned, leaning forward slightly. “You are very entertaining.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I can’t believe I said that. Out loud.”

“You did,” he confirmed, his tail flicking playfully. “Quite clearly, actually.”

“I know!” you whined, tilting your head back toward the sky, looking like you genuinely wanted to cease existing.

Neteyam just shook his head, thoroughly enjoying every second of this. He leaned in slightly, voice dropping into a low hum. “So,” he teased, golden eyes glinting mischievously. “Do you still want to touch it?”

Your hands flew up, waving frantically in front of your face. “No!”

Neteyam chuckled, his tail flicking once more. Liar. You were dying.

At least, that’s what it looked like. Still sitting next to him, you had buried your face into your hands, groaning softly like you were trying to will yourself into the ground, fully committed to your plan of becoming one with Eywa.

Neteyam smirked, tail flicking lazily behind him. Oh, this was too good. You had made it far too easy. Without a word, he shifted slightly, lifting his tail— Then, with deliberate slowness, let it settle right onto your lap.

He felt your body stiffen immediately. Neteyam almost laughed. Instead, he tilted his head, watching you with quiet amusement, waiting—curious—to see what you would do. A long pause. Then, slowly, your fingers parted, revealing wide, startled eyes peeking through. You blinked.

Then blinked again. Neteyam’s smirk grew. “You wanted to touch it,” he murmured, voice like silk. “So go on.”

You inhaled sharply, hands hovering awkwardly, unsure. And for a moment, he was certain you were going to refuse.

But— You moved.

A small, tentative hand reached out, fingertips brushing over the sleek, sensitive skin of his tail with the lightest, gentlest touch.

Neteyam’s entire body locked up. His breath hitched, something hot and unfamiliar searing through his spine.

Eywa.

He had never— No one had ever— This felt different.

His tail twitched under your touch, betraying him for a split second before he forced it to still. His jaw clenched. He could not react. He could not let you see what this was doing to him. Because this was nothing.

It was just a human—just you—touching his tail. It shouldn’t feel like this. But it did.

When they were children, he and his siblings had been rough, yanking and swatting at each other’s tails without a second thought. He had touched his own tail before, out of habit or necessity. But it had never felt like this. Like warmth sinking into his skin. Like something delicate. Like something dangerous. He swallowed hard, keeping his expression neutral, keeping his breath steady—doing everything in his power not to let you know.

Not to let you see what you had just done to him. You were marveling at it. That was the only way to describe it. Your expression was nothing short of captivated, eyes wide, lips slightly parted in quiet wonder as you lifted his tail ever so slightly, bringing it closer to your face as if inspecting something rare—something precious.

Neteyam swallowed hard, his ears unconsciously pinning back. Because— Eywa— You were too much. You shouldn’t be looking at him like that. Like he was something special. Like he was something worth cherishing. Your fingers wrapped around his tail carefully, gently, like you were afraid to grip too hard, afraid to hurt him.

Neteyam felt his heart stutter. Your hands were so small. So soft. With each passing second, your face lit up more and more, like you were experiencing something magical, like this was the most fascinating thing you had ever touched.

And fuck— The way you touched him— Your fingers moved slowly, tracing along the length of his tail with delicate precision. Then— Your touch drifted lower, toward the dark fur at the end of it, fingers hesitating, lingering. Neteyam felt it—knew exactly what you were thinking.

You wanted to touch that too. But before you could— His tail betrayed him. The tip curled away from your reach, an involuntary movement, a silent challenge. Like it refused to be taken so easily.

You blinked in surprise, tilting your head slightly, watching as it twitched playfully in your lap—like it had a mind of its own. Neteyam clenched his jaw. Because fuck, this was—this was— Your other hand moved. Fingers closing firmly yet still so gentle around the twitching end, holding it still.

And just like that—

Neteyam stopped breathing. Neteyam’s brain is completely short-circuited. Because you—you were— “Wow,” you breathed, looking up at him with a beaming smile, as if you had just made the greatest discovery of your life. “It’s soft.”

Neteyam blinked. You were still holding his tail, fingers gently curled around it, cradling it in your hands like it was something precious. And you— You looked like a Na’vi child discovering their parent’s body for the first time, wide-eyed, fascinated, utterly enchanted by something so simple, so ordinary to him.

Except this wasn’t ordinary. Not at all.

His tail twitched, but you held it firm, running your fingers lightly along its length, watching how the fur caught the dim light. You were studying it, waiting— Waiting for him to tease you, for him to say something sharp, something smug. But the words never came. Because he couldn’t think. Instead, he just stared at you. Like he had just bitten into the sourest fruit in the entire forest.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably, and his chest felt tight, too tight, as if he couldn’t quite breathe right. Because you had no idea. No idea what you were doing to him. No idea how wrong it was that your small hands felt this good on his tail. No idea that if you kept touching it like that—slow and curious— He was going to lose his fucking mind.

Neteyam snapped. One second, he was frozen in place, your soft hands wrapped around his tail, your fascinated eyes locked onto him, completely oblivious to the havoc you were wreaking inside his chest. The next— He was moving.

Standing up so quickly that the shift was almost abrupt, pulling his tail from your hands with more force than he intended. You startled slightly, blinking up at him in confusion. “I need to go,” he muttered, voice lower than usual, strained in a way he hated.

He didn’t wait for your reply. Didn’t dare look at your face. He turned on his heel and strode into the forest, tail flicking sharply behind him, his jaw clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might crack. His heart was pounding.

Fuck.

He could still feel the ghost of your touch against his skin, the way your fingers had held him, gentle but certain, like he was something to be cherished. His stomach churned at the thought. He didn’t know why this affected him so much. Didn’t know what it was about you that made him lose control of himself, made him want things he shouldn’t, things that were impossible.

A voice broke through his thoughts.

“What was that?”

Neteyam’s ears flicked, catching the words just before he fully disappeared into the foliage. Another voice—yours.

“I don’t know, Kate.”

Neither did he.

And that was the problem.

This part has a 2. volume!

Part 18 Vol 2.: To remember

#avatar 2022 #avatar the way of water #neteyam #avatar twow #james cameron avatar #neteyam sully #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you

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umhwarmglitterstory · 2 months ago

Text

Ladybird, Ladybird

||Jake Sully & Daughter reader || Miles Quaritch x f!reader ||

Chapter 3

(<- Chapter 2) (Ladybird, Ladybird masterlist)

•••

Tommy hadn't written his will, because why would he? But he had signed stuff at work, stuff that made Jake, obviously, the grantee of most of his possessions.

Two boxes arrived at the apartment. Tommy's. Jake had left them in the living room, but pushed them deep, almost invisible, behind the couch.

He wouldn't mind.

But you still tip toed around it, inspecting the treasures while Jake was out, and Mrs. Veenani was at the kitchen.

A fancy button up that you didn't remember ever seeing, a team's sport shirt, a baseball cap, an old datapad. Several crystal plates, ‘Exo-Biologist’ engraved in cursive on one of them.

Behind the crystals, your eyes moved to the colorful picture under. First, a book with a peacock illustration, green 'eye’ feathers weaving through the book’s title “The world through her poetry”, second a textured dark blue one, with a yellow cat eye on a corner, “The Na'vi” what's all it said, G.A at the bottom.

And finally, another book. Brand new, the cover shiny and perfect, some strange dandelion seeds and a blurry forest scenery behind it. “Pandora’s brain: Introduction to the life and ecosystems of the moon” again G.A at the bottom. You picked it up, it was pretty and new and you could give it some use at school.

Late at night Jake came back, used to the scene of you and Mrs Veenani watching her series on the living room screen, even if way past your bedtime. Mrs Veenani gave Jake a sobering stare, and no greetings exchanged. She was mad at him ever since Tommy's funeral. You heard them arguing, you thought, after he came home from a long meeting with Tommy's coworkers, some men in black suits.

“You can't” you heard her say. “You can't, Jake, no”

After Mrs Veenani left, Jake sat close to you, her chair besides the couch, you high enough to see him face to face.

“What you got there, kid?” He asked, looking at the book on your lap. It had turned out to be rather useless. Too complicated and weird, and not a single thing you could use for your classes.

He picked it up, browsing the pages, a frown forming as he read further “Where, where did you get this?”

“Tommy” You said, looking at the boxes behind you. Jake stared at them too, for a long quiet minute.

“Got yourself a thing” He commented with a warm smile. You nodded “He always gave me books” You said, thinking of your favorite one, with a fluffy grey goose on a red background.

From start to end it had been like that: from a children's alphabet book -back when mom first introduced him-, to this year, the very last one, on your ninth birthday, a smart pager ai with earth's animals, all of them. You had been feeling guilty, these days, that you had liked Jake's gift so much more, half a day at the amusement park.

“They're yours” He said, patting your head. Then you noticed it, that thing with his mouth, pursing and biting his lip, faintly opening and closing his lips, as if lost at words.

You giggled “What?” You asked

“What?” He repeated

You pushed his head back by the chin, still giggling, “You have something to say”

Jake gave a smile, the sad one, the only one he had since he lost his ability to walk.

He stared at his hands on his lap “That I do, kid”

“What? What is it?” You asked

Jake kept looking at his lap, his face changing and raising his eyebrows, but he didn't look up at you

“There's this thing, uh… Something came up. I uh, I…”

He stopped there, quiet and looking down, and you were too scared to ask, you took your thumb up to chew, just for a second, dropping your hand back down right away, hoping Jake hadn't noticed, quickly using your other hand to clean the visible saliva in your finger.

Eventually he cleared his throat, and looked up at you. “I need to make this trip. This, uh, journey. Far away”

Oh no, please, please not.

“Where?!” You asked.

Jake smiled again, and this time it really irritated you. He pointed a finger at your book. What? The library? The forest? Tommy? You shook your head.

“There” He said, tapping his finger over the dandelion thing you now knew was called ‘atokirina’. You scowled and shook your head again. Jake grunted

“Pandora, you know? The planet?”

“With the aliens?!”

You eagerly asked, not even bothering to correct him. A moon, it was.

All your worry dissolved “That's so cool! When?”

“Uh… tomorrow” why did he not look excited?

“Can I go with you?!”

He full on grimaced, like that time you yelled ‘fucking cunt’ at the school reunion.

He barely shook his head, in silence, again. “I'm sorry” He said eventually, and then you heard it, a sniffle “You cant- you cant come with me”

“Oh, Okay. Its okay!” You quickly assured it sucked, sure, but it wasn't that bad.

Your eyes watered a little, nonetheless, by mirroring him. “So, how long will you be there?” You asked, wanting to move on with the conversation, leave behind the sniffles. It was going to be an adventure, no?

But he continued staring down at his lap

“Jake?” That moment it started, the bad feeling in your gut.

“It's-” his voice broke, he cleared his throat twice. “It's four years light from here” he said. No way

“Four years?” You asked, scandalized, what was he even saying.

“Four years?! You can't! You can't leave me for four years!... Jake?!”

********

You were woken up by some turbulence, you guessed, seeing all the other soldiers start stretching around you. No actualization came through the coms, so you picked up your updated tags. They felt totally wrong, had you somehow picked the wrong ones? You raised them to your face. Oh, right, ‘Smith’, and now with‘ ‘Ladybird’ ’ added under it. You passed your thumb over it. Better to just get used to the shit show.

To the drain had gone your hopes for a sterile callsign, or your agenda for ‘Glasgow’. Becca's old gift had become the door for a hurtful word that reminded you of him. It had been painful and embarrassing, and you had hated it with your whole heart, as ‘most callsigns tend to be’ in your lieutenant's words. Maybe most soldiers felt that way, but you couldn't help and feel particularly fucked.

Maybe it would be for the best, to carry forever a reminder. For the little girl forced to say goodbye, maybe? Maybe it'd keep you on your toes, maybe it'd become the last straw, one day…

Ladybird, ladybird, and him telling you army stories and how he survived.

You dropped your tags, and settled rather awkwardly into staring upfront, to a random spot inside the heli walls. Your usual thing on the ‘ways towards’ a drop, was to either talk to Becca, or look into someone's eyes, again, usually Becca's.

But you weren't on speaking terms now, leave it alone intimate and vulnerable eye-contact.

Of course she had noticed your late crisis, who wouldn't? But you had asked her not to dig, for personal and literal higher ups orders, you couldn't explain it to her.

Still, she had guessed enough.

She had started giving you that worried look. “You've been oddly mute. Seriously, it’s fucking creepy.” And more quips along those lines, over and over. More invasive each time. So you had snapped at her.

Even without RDA orders, you were terrified of telling her, too humiliated. “Hey, remember my dad? The one I talked about every day? The one I've done everything for? The one that holds my entire life in his hands, and that I swore time and time again was so much better than my own mother? Well, guess what he did.”

Guess what I am not enough for, or worthy of.

Yet, she still kept trying. “I can take you to this, uh, doctor. They helped me back then, when my old man died. Before you know it, they-” “Because you turned out fucking great! Didn't you, Becky!?”

What a ducking low blow, unfair and untrue. You did admire her and- Whatever. She can whine all she wants. You wouldn't look at her, and you knew she wouldn't look at you either. Your fights were rare, but boy did they last.

Still, looking into your companions eyes on the rides to the operations had become a grounding tactic for you, the grounding tactic. Since the very first time, scared shitless, looking into Becca's eyes until you both snorted, then into an unfamiliar soldier, your polite glances changing from “relax, we are together in this” to “Just don't fuck it” thorough the years.

That one time, into Bianca's eyes on the way back, her last time. It had been good, a resounding success.

Carnage.

And she just looked so… defeated. Carnage-

Rebecca started moving by your side, but you wouldn't be staring at her anytime soon. The only option were Thomas, a complete uptight bitch, or Tabitha, almost straight in front of you. If only she stopped fiddling, for five seconds!

It was almost picturesque watching her, usually so open and cool, looking around, at her watch, at her boots, at her watch again, anything but your eyes. It was turning unsettling, actually. But maybe you deserved it, you had snapped at her too.

First, two days ago “Your father, Jake, right?” The nonchalant bitch had said, as if you were the one to be yelling about your personal life. You clenched your jaw until it hurt, until it felt like you wouldn't be able to open it again. That was stuff you only had shared with Becca, maybe Bianca, back in your newbie days.

You couldn't care less, you thought, and yet… After that interaction, you ran to the bathroom to have one of the worst panic attacks of your life. It was strange, his name spoken out loud.

It's real, it's very real. He was here, and then he left you. It happened. It happened-

And then again, last night, Tabi had doubled down with a casual“ ‘Smith’? Hm, what?” She laughed, kinda forced. You ignored her, your eyes unmoving from the flask you were eating from, already in a mood from your fight with Becca. “You didn't like ‘Sully’?” She asked again, and it wasn't worry, yet there was genuine interest in her voice, “So… do you wanna talk about this Ja-” You slammed the flask on the table, felt it deform a little “One would think you'd know to shut up about fucking dead names” You snapped, staring her down for a second before standing up to leave.

Once again, what an absolute low blow.

You should always be apologizing to your snipers, hopefully before landing on active field.

You lift your head, a quick movement to catch her attention. She awkwardly greeted you back, but right away directed her gaze outside the window. Fair enough. Maybe she should just fucking blow your head. And just…-

So, you had to resign yourself to your second grounding tactic, carving with your thumbnail into your rifle, always with the prospect that, throughout the years, shapes would appear embossed. That was the point, to not apply too much force, so it would take very, very long. They were small, and rough, that way you could pass them for use-issued scratches if ever questioned. Around the nuzzle, close to the trigger or by the grip.

You started to go over the new heart shape you were adding by the trigger, barely starting to be noticeable, when you had to hit the brakes again, because you zeroed in the oldest mark, the deepest one, the most important and personal one, the ‘S’ letter on the top side of the nuzzle.

Well, what were you going to stare at now, when ordered to shoot at civilians?

******

As warned, it was a specially active zone, rigged with enemy drones, despite months of your branch cleaning them. Yet not the worst you've ever been to.

Tabitha had separated way too early, suspiciously early.

To avoid detection, you had to switch off all devices, but send a ‘blink’ at least every 20 minutes, with position and status. Tabitha had been dark for almost two hours.

Either death or insubordination, it would be a pain. Holly, your leader, had decided to give it a last try to reach her, and you had offered yourself. Because you kinda had promised Bianca, because you didn't want to stand alone with Becca, and because you were feeling particularly bold and brave as of lately.

You had been given an hour. You knew that if not found, one way or another, Tabitha was dead, and that kind of kept you going. You had sent four ‘blinks’ by the time you finally spotted her inside an old and collapsed watch block station, a feat rather impossible, if not for you using the 4t laser goggles Holly had entrusted you with. Almost two billion dollars in your hands.

It was too much of a deserted zone to be worth the drones or few hostiles you had spotted as well, so why the fuck was this girl here?

At least it was easy to avoid detection using the goggles, when it is just one person and not a squad. It took you twelve minutes to sneak across the field, enough walls and old machinery to hide you.

You kinda suspected what you were going to encounter. And it was… strange. But not even remotely close to what they had warned you since training days.

“You'll have full permission to execute your fellow former brothers and sisters, allies no more.” Yeah, it didn't feel like that.

You entered what most likely used to be a kitchen, bare and basic even in its best days. Tabitha had been confident enough, to lay her heavy snipper by the wall, crouching on the floor, back to the entrance.

“Tabi” You called, rifle ready. She barely jumped, but that was a lot for a sharpshooter. She turned around, still curated and smooth, not dropping the thing she had been holding. She gave her sniper one quick look that made you reposition your hold in your rifle, raising it from her chest to her head.

You didn't say anything for a minute, her face changed a little when she calmed enough to stare into yours. Recognition that almost looked like relief, and that made you hold your rifle tighter.

Very slowly Tabi started to get up and to fully face you, the ‘box’ still secured in her hands. Your rifle followed her head until she stood straight, and then you took a second to look at the box. On one side, you did recognize it as a rebel box, a knot of yellow wires designed to explode if tampered, yet securely opened. Inside, military issued drives, like the ones your superiors had been doing some revolt for a while, barging and registering down to every crevice of the corps.

You dared close your eyes for a second “Are you for fucking real?” You asked, with a soft voice.

Tabi didn't flinch or answer, just kept staring at you with this cheap solemnity you've seen quite a lot on the other side of your gun.

“They'll hang you” You continued. Not really, but she'll get a bullet on her head.

“Yes” is all she said. Now that did finally irritated you

“Then why the fuck, Tabitha?!”

She faintly shrugged “It's the right thing to do”

Now you had to roll your eyes. You held a bit uncomfortable your gun with a hand, so to scrub down your face with the other.

Tabi saw your mannerisms with a frown, close to amused “Oh, it isn't? Then what is it?”

“You follow the damn orders, and you get fucking paid!”

“Really?” She asked with a strange calmness. “Is that why you do it, Sully?”

You felt like someone had ripped off your clothes. You just couldn't help but look down for a second at the carved “s” on the rifle. Purposely there, for you to see it when holding aim”

“Smith, Tabitha” You corrected. Finally she broke her bravado facade. She exhaled your name, calling you.

“You are not, this” She gestured with a hand at your shape.

You scoffed furious “Oh my! The traitor is about to tell me what I am, everyone quiet!”

Tabi grimaced for a second, but continued. “You haven't shot me yet, or call boss.”

True. And every second you added to this stalling, you became bigger of a coward.

“But even more,” She continued, “I remember what you said back then, at board school”

Bianca and Milton, always together, always sad, the boy always after the girl. What had you told them? You were fourteen, it was lunch time, you had fought your mom via video call, and there were soldiers recruiting the oldest kids.

It was annoying. You held back your rifle with both hands, the finger right by the trigger. “I don't fucking remember, Kitty”

Tabi gave you a long look, turning sad, remaining scared, and yet she continued.

“You hated science, so the safest way was to play soldier. To…” And she looked particularly reluctant then, suspecting you were, indeed, about to shoot her;”…To meet your father again”

“Yeah, he is kinda of a scientist too? But I'd rather die than do more electron diagrams. So, yeah. I'll become a marine, just like him”

You closed your eyes for a second, opened them, and stared at the carved “S”, the promise, the goal, the one and only thing that had kept you pushing, that had stopped you from disobeying any order, no matter how stupid or terrible, because you couldn't afford a bad score.

You couldn't afford missing your chance to meet him halfway.

So what was the point now? What were you doing? Why were you doing it?

For what?

For whom?

You started lowering your gun.

Slowly, letting go of much, much more than just the girl ahead.

“Listen, fucking listen Tabitha, I don't know what you were thinking, but as far as they know, you just went dark. You can say-”

“No. I'm not doing this anymore, I'll die before continuing to be a fucking state murde-”

“You and your fucking “I’ll die”s! Think, Tabi! You are not getting out of here, not alive, not carrying that”

“I'll try” She said, with a scary resignation. “And I know you get it, I know you do. I- I'm not trying to play you, I mean it. We've both lost someone, no? Right in the middle, looking for them.”

Again you stared at each other for a minute. You got a vibration on your chest, a reminder to send an update back to your squad.

“Are you doing this for Bianca?-”

“Were you doing this for Jake?” She rebutted immediately.

You winced and short of snarled, you raised your gun again, but at least not aiming it at her.

“Don't!- Fucker! Just fucking answer me!” You yelled.

Tabi shook her head, with a sad smile

“What do you think? Of fucking course this is for Bianca. But… I'm doing this for me, too… What about you?”

What about you? What were you doing? Why were you doing it?

For what?

For whom?

You fully dropped your rifle, now hanging from the belt on your shoulder. You looked up at the broken ceiling, at the dull light coming from the cracks. At the star, exactly where you knew it shone invisibly. Because you always knew where it was, day or night, peace of war. And you always would.

You couldn't believe Bianca, you couldn't believe Tabi, you couldn't believe yourself. But then again, for whom have you been doing this and for whom are you going to do it from now on?

You shook your head, exhaled, and filled yourself with resignation. It was too bitter and heavy. Whatever.

You raised your hand to signal Tabi not to freak, and pushed on the switch in your watch, to turn on your devices and position.

“Ladybird here” You said to your mic. “6k f drop. Still no Kitty. One more lap before dock” You announced, and turned off the switch again.

“I'm not a fucking martyr or mockingjay…” You acused, hitting her chest with your finger, hard enough to make her take a step back. “...Nor am I a rat” You finished. Tabi fully dropped her shoulders with relief at your words.

“Let's go” you said, already turning around

“What?”

“You need to get out of the perimeter, no?”

“Yes?”

You stopped and raised the 4t goggles “I can easily take you there.” Her face glowed, at the goggles or at your words, and her eyes got a little misty.

“Thank y-”

“And then” You curtly interrupted “I'll never see you again. I'll say I reached the border and never found you, understood?” You did not expect to see her big smile. “Yes ma'am”

********

You stopped when you felt the small vibration in your chest, already another twenty minutes, but luckily already reaching the figurative border. Barren hills started to rise up front, full of craters and caves. It was probably ridged with mines. You put your goggles down, and turned to see a sweaty Tabi stopping by your side.

“You'll be okay?”

“Yeah, someone is going to pick me”

You just nodded “Very well” you said, already turning to go back where you came from

“Wait! I… I don't know how to thank you”

“Just disappear” You called, without turning back “Please”

You heard her chuckle, and then her boots hitting the ground in the opposite direction. You'd have to run for around five minutes before calling and giving your position, or it would be uncalled for to be this close to the border. You hadn’t run for more than twenty seconds, when you were tackled down to the ground.

It felt different, like one of those punchings in sparring that you wouldn't feel until the next day, and would get you limping for a week. Electrifying, it struck, dug deeper, and grew. You tried to stand up, but you couldn't, barely managing to crawl behind the skeleton of a very old car, naked rust metal filled with holes, you sat heavily against it.

Your waist, you hoped, your stomach even. But how could you not know? You checked with your hand, your fingers lodging in a hole in the thick vest, right under your right breast. Another zip, now on your nape, traveling down your back. The sweat on your neck felt freezing, but your chest burning. Where had you felt this before? Oh yeah, when you entered your old dorm, your face meeting eye level with Bianca's knees, barely swinging. Behind you someone broke in a wailed scream, you kept staring at the faint swing of her body.

She must have remained conscious for at least a minute, no? Was this your minute?

All your right torso was red, and you saw, vividly, the red spot growing through the opaque fabric. Too fast.

You remember. You remember, they taught you on maniquies and with laser projectors over your own bodies. Where to heal, but most important, where to aim, where to hit, where to stab and twist the knife.

Whatever. It doesn't matter if I die. It doesn't matter if I die. It doesn't matter if i die it doesn't matter if i die it doesn't matter if i die-

“N- no-”

You were grabbing at the gravel on the floor. When did you slide down?

Metallic and dusty.

He was showing you his ‘bar trick’, balancing on the back wheels. That time his beard and hair were a bit too long. “It's harder than it looks” He defended. You believed him. You had tried his chair a couple times. You believed him, you believed him.

You were laying on your side, almost on your stomach. Perhaps there wasn't an exit hole. You had to turn, lay on your back, but you just couldn't. Breathing started to hurt, too much. You just couldn't

“Ah…argh!…No!”

You were fifteen, still wearing the board school skirt. Mrs Veenani grabbed you by your arms, painfully. “Do not ever joke about that!” But you weren't joking. Why had she to ruin it? It was supposed to be your day. She shook you, her grasp tightening. “The army, those soldiers. It's death and death alone!” She said “They kill! They hurt, and steal and rape. My- my girl! Didn't you see? Didn't you learn? You saw what they did to Jake, how they- abandoned him.” Oh, mom. You looked down at her white loafers, the ones she wore most- “Promise me! Promise me you wont do something so, so stupid, so stupid! Promise me you wont!”

You were looking at the sky, thick orange clouds covering the sun. Suddenly you saw Tabitha’s face. Something pressing down on your side

“Ah! Fuck!” You screeched. it was like you woke up for a second

“Kitty, b team on. A S down! Shot in - on the torax-...- down…-blood. Won't stop… Appleline, she's down, Ladybird!”

Ah, your apple. Please, let me see Becca one last time

“So…rry”

Tabitha pressed harder. You yelled again.

“Yes! Three, uh, two clicks west. Is it on?... Okay-”

Your mother, the last time you saw her. She looked fancier, elegant, a pastel pink charol carry-on luggage “Oh my! You've gotten tall?!” She looked up and down your school uniform. Critic. Or worse, unimpressed.

The first time ever you saw Tommy, mother pulling you by the arm inside the apartment. He was wearing a long beige trench coat, hair slicked to the side. A bright red gift bag on his hand, extended to you. Big, gigantic, immense. “Finally, what a true pleasure to meet you, lady” his words made you laugh, because what? You liked him immediately.

“You are the bestest best!” You yelled. Feeling at the top of the world, and literally higher than most people around. “Best, just best” Jake corrected from under. You laughed. Yeah, yeah, no bigger than ‘est’ teacher had say. No better than best. “You… you have the, uh, biggestest heart!” you repeated, louder, arms extended, struggling to keep your balance. He caught your shins tighter, he also caught onto your words, on your message. Finally. “Biggestest, huh? Alright, it fits” He said amused. You clapped both your hands over his forehead, having to duck as you passed a low branch, full of purple and fuchsia flowers. Some stuck in your hair, some fell on Jake's shoulders. “You are- with, big, biger- biggestes heart!” You yelled, even louder. He laughed louder too.

A sharp smack to your check “Don't fall asleep!” Tabitha ordered. Underwater, far away.

Your scalp hurt, your froggy hair clips gone, but you knew her ginger head had to be worse. Whatever, you'd throw mud at her face again and again. She had called you ugly, and said your parents were weirdos. How dared her? And Jake, he- he should be proud, no?... And yet, as you walked with your hands tightly gripping your backpack straps, he stood there besides your teacher, his arms crossed, frowning. Looking you down. He wasn't pretending, he was genuinely angry at you. Disappointed. And you thought, you liked him more than Tommy. And you thought, you secretly liked him better than mother herself. And you prayed: please, please don't throw me away. I'll do good, I'll be good, please don't throw me away.

It wasn't Tabitha putting pressure on your wound, it was Jake. But he didn't look scared, nor were his eyes misty. He just looked down at you, his lips pressed on a tight line. It hurt, it just hurt, but he pressed harder and harder. You tried to scream, scratch at his arms, but he just pressed harder and harder, until your chest caved.

“Agh-Ah!... Why?! Dad!…. Ah!” You yelled. Without air, without lungs, with your heart discarded somewhere.

Tears fell down on his lap, his eyes, his face, disfigured with pain. “It's-” his voice broke, he cleared his throat twice. “It's four years light from here” he said.

No, not there, please!

His face plain, emotionless. Not even cruel, just…there.

No. Please, please God, please, no

He looked down at you. Tired. Bored. Disappointed. Disgusted.

You choked on a sob, the pain excruciating, losing the breath you already didn't have

“Plea-se… please!... Ju-...ju…” Just take me with you! I'll be small, I'll make myself so little! Just take me with you!

“Ja…Dad…”

Your body wasn't yours, hollow and spent.

He stood up, blood up to his elbows, to his shoulders, did he even notice? Because his gaze was set on the bright horizon.

He wouldn't even look down at you? Just this one time? This one last time?!

He smiled. Blue, taller, perfect, whole.

Happy.

He walked over your body, stepping on your corpse, crushing the remains, the joy and excitement almost glowing out of his form. And he didn't look down at you.

You screamed, yelled his name, cried and growled, tearing apart the remains of your body. You turned around on the black soil, on the void, and started crawling after him.

*******

He is gone

It was dark for a while. Then blinding white, painfully luminous. Your body made of lead, dead, yet tender and thirsty. An unstoppable beep in your ears, and whirring everywhere.

You'll never see him again

Uninterested people, smelling of alcohol, sterile. Over and over, day after day. Sometimes, something hurt beyond words, but you couldn't scream. It was peaceful, and you wanted to keep sleeping.

He will never think of you again

Eventually Becca joined you. She finally got some license, you supposed.

You'll disappear

You still hadn't apologized. Not a single word uttered. But from the very first day she visited you and following, she was there. Talking your ear off while you stared at the landscape displayed on the window. Brushing your hair as you sat up. Ready with your salmon towel after you were directed to bathing. Where had she found it?

“Tabitha got dishonorably discharged. So, yippee… Your word could have, you know, helped her… Or dig her deeper, that too.”

Oh yeah, some officers had been to your room. A lot of questions, and the nurses’ backs on you, arguing…

“Carl got a rise. Yes, another! It's like, consecutive, I know. We were a little scared at first, that it was a mistake. But! Now my baby is basically a head consultant!”

Carl? Oh yeah, the boyfriend.

The cleaning of the wound hurt like a bitch. You felt it. But you just couldn't complain. Not even a hiss. As long as you could keep sleeping.

Officers came again. And again another day. Eventually they didn't bother talking to you, just Becca and the nurses. You could sleep better, you thought.

You opened your eyes one afternoon, something about lowering the sedatives. Your back was to Becca, you heard her sniffling. It went on for an eternity.

********

“Could… may I bring Carl here, to.. say hi?” You didn't answer. “Okay… he's always, always, asking about you. Ha, well, he'd love to bore you to death about his job!”

Your period came a third time. Again, you stared at the growing red spot on the disposable fabric, until Becca or a nurse noticed, giving you a pad, sending you to the bathroom. It felt like only there you remembered.

Right there, on the ground, watching the red stain consuming your kevlar, turning the dirt to cinnamon mud. His arms covered in your blood. The lack of love in his eyes. You yelled, you cried, nurses came. You slept again.

Again, you were back on the ground, and him looking down at you. Turning away, his face instantly becoming joyful, staring at the bright horizon, the one you couldn't even see. But this time he did look down at you. Cold, freezing. Heartless. Without words, but as if to say “I am choosing this. I want to do this” As he walked away, leaving you laying down.

You woke up with a jolt, tears already on your face. Becca wasn't around, and maybe that was for the best. You cried as loud as you could without alerting the nurses, screaming against the white sheets and the pillow. Twisting them as hard as you could, tearing them.

Yeah… yeah… you could crawl after him. You really, really, could.

But things started to change. Your nightmares started to take different paths. You didn't feel like crawling. You didn't feel like holding onto his feet and begging. You didn't feel like crying.

And when you weren't busy twisting in agony, you started to pay attention to his face, to his genuine happiness, to the bliss, to the glow in his eyes as he walked towards the bright horizon, his wide smile. So full of devotion, and hope. A dream leader, a ferocious revolutionary, a loving father.

And you watched, over and over, everything you closed your eyes.

Sometimes the old teenager, sometimes in his wheelchair, sometimes blue. But alway, always, leaving you and your mangled, dirty, and worthless body behind.

Something beautiful and perfect started to fill every crack in yourself. Every single missing piece of your soul, was replaced with pure, vibrating anger.

A brand new peace took over you. You finally, finally found a solution. You finally knew what to do.

You were there again, in some limbo. Not a dream, but not real either. It was just you alone, in the infinite, quiet darkness.

That's the thing with nightmares, you rationalized, that first and foremost, they are supposed to be yours.

And so you yelled. You promised.

“I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you! I'll kill you! And I'll kill your wife, and your kids! You will fucking beg me Jake, you will fucking beg me!”

********

In the next morning Becca came back.

Your voice too weird, new, unknown.

“I… I'm sorry… for what I said.” You rasped. Her eyes filled with tears right away. She dropped the bags to cover her face with her hands, standing there by the door, nodding. You extended your arm, and she almost tackled you to the bed.

You yelped, for the very first time in almost six months. Your side was healed, it was just your body, that felt finally yours again.

You two talked for a while, and got a brief visit from a nurse. You decided then it was better to just get over with it. You knew you'd break her heart.

You stared at her, at the only thing in the entire world that could stop you.

You just kept in mind to be better than him, so you forced yourself to look her in the eye. “I am going to check in… I need to go to Pandora”

And she hated it, she had told you so since forever, the colonization, the invasion, the objectively insurmountable distance.

But she knew too, that it was the only thing tethering you up. That it was this, or back to the bed, mute and sleeping.

Her face fell, sad and angry, furious even. But she didn't fight, nor even tried to question you. She just fell, resigned.

No one said anything. She looked away and you followed, staring at nothing in silence, thinking, for several minutes. Eventually, without looking at you, she grabbed your hand, and squished. Because you both knew, very well, that it was either this, or you'd die.

(Chapter 4 ->)

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🐞🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

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