Chapter Text
Colonel Quaritch saddled up and mounted his banshee just as the sun’s rays peeked out from the distance on Pandora. His fellow Marines, clones of the clones of his fallen comrades, learned long ago to steer clear and avoid asking their leader where he was heading off to. They were more concerned with admiring the advantages their new bodies provided them, forgetting that to their colonel’s eyes, they were the mere results of the RDA’s sick version of copy and paste. Quaritch patted the thick neck of his banshee, receiving a happy snort in return from the beast. Soldiers and other RDA staff members on the ship's runway hurried out of the colonel’s way as he lifted his braid-covered queue from his back and linked up with his mount.
The link was instant and by now a familiar bond to beast and recom. Quaritch felt the creature’s excitement at the journey they were about to undertake. This devil here was a real adrenaline junkie, all good to go in whatever direction his rider wanted them to seek out, so long as they were high in the sky and nowhere close to land. Quaritch grinned, satisfied that the very beastie he punched in the face several years back turned out to be one of his best comrades on this hellhole planet. The black runway was clear. After one too many incidents involving an impatient Quaritch and his excited banshee, Ardmore had to step in and make new orders that all staff were to “back the hell away” whenever they saw the recom about to take off on his next mission.
“Sir! Before you go.”
Quaritch stiffened, and his mount growled low in warning as Lyle Wainfleet jogged over to them. The only original surviving recom besides the colonel, Wainfleet slowed his steps and raised his five-fingered hands in mock surrender. In one of his hands was a tablet letting off random beeps that grated on Quaritch’s pointed ears. Wainfleet’s tail swayed back and forth in excitement.
“What is it, Wainfleet? I don’t got time for whatever betting pool you got yourself stuck in,” Quaritch said. Through the mental link he commanded his banshee to spread their wings. He felt a pull in his braid, a psionic tug that scratched at the edges of his consciousness. Confused, he checked his queue connected to the banshee’s and noticed nothing abnormal. Strange.
“No, sir, it’s not that this time. You mentioned before that you’ve been looking all over the Metkayina territory? Well, I’ve got intel.”
“Hand it over.”
At Quaritch’s command Wainfleet tossed the tablet into the air. Quaritch snatched it in one hand and looked over the information. His eyes scanned the various bits of intel coming together to one conclusion. A wave of frustration followed by satisfaction hit the colonel right in the chest. Frustration because the last several months his searching had turned up nothing. None of the Metkayina people cooperated with him. Some of the people coldly turned away from him and refused to offer hospitality. Others simply picked up their weapons and chased him out of their homes, their memories still fresh with his squad’s last mission and the crimes they committed to force the natives into submission several years back. The satisfaction came with the realization that his months-long hunt might soon come to an end. The wind picked up, and Quaritch’s banshee - he really needed to give the damn bird a name - squawked and impatiently pawed at the tarmac.
Quaritch tossed the tablet back to his colleague. “Good work, Wainfleet. I’ll switch directions then.”
“You mind some backup, sir?”
“Where I’m going,” Quaritch chuckled wryly, “I am gonna need all the backup I can get. Get your bird ready. I’ll fly mine in circles around the ship for ten minutes, then I’m leaving you.”
“Nah, no worries, sir. My banshee can catch up to you. You go on ahead.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Hey, slow down, dammit! C’mon, Biscuit, you can reach them, girl!”
Quaritch tried and failed to stop his eyes from rolling. First of all, Biscuit? That’s the name Wainfleet gave his banshee? The poor beastie. He returned his focus to the GPS he had installed on his mount’s gear. It was positioned right behind the creature’s head, a round tablet with a bright blue screen pinging once a certain level of miles had been reached. A small yellow dot beeped in the middle of the GPS. That was where the colonel was heading, with or without Wainfleet.
After several more minutes of purposely ignoring his colleague, Wainfleet finally caught up to Quaritch. They remained in silence for the duration of the ride, Quaritch focused on the little beeping dot and Wainfleet smart enough to let him be. The wind cut through them in heavy and sharp blasts. At the height the recoms were flying, everything beneath them was as small as bugs. Water turned to sand and sand turned into jungle. Quaritch’s banshee picked up on their rider’s eagerness and pushed itself to fly faster.
Quaritch looked down at his banshee’s right side. The creature took a long swerve in the air, allowing the colonel ample space to look at the never ending jungles of Pandora. Endless miles of green in various shades and hues reached Quaritch’s sight. Creatures large and small created a cacophony of noise wherever his and Wainfleet’s banshees flew past. It looked like a blanket of greens covering the secrets of Pandora, keeping Quaritch at arms bay.
Somewhere in these damn jungles were the locals, the Omaticaya. Somewhere amongst the Omaticaya, there was a family of refugees who came back home after a long exile. Somewhere in the family’s home, the target of Quaritch’s goal was living under the same roof, eating with them, sleeping with them, pretending to be normal like them.
“Didn’t Ardmore say that our orders are still the same? We’re supposed to track and kill Sully.”
“What?” Quaritch snapped his eyes away from the jungles and glared at Wainfleet. Undeterred, Wainfleet pressed his fingers to the comms around his neck and continued.
“Look, Boss, I know you have a grudge against Sully. You’ll get your chance to get even with him. We just have to remember Ardmore -”
“Who the hell said I was looking for Jake Sully?” Quaritch said. “If Ardmore wants him so bad, she can go get him herself.”
“Wh - Wait. So . . . what are we doing exactly?”
“We’re bringing someone back. Just not Jake Sully.”
“Oh,” said Wainfleet. Then his gold eyes widened and he said, “Oh. Him? But you said he wanted nothing to do with you.”
“And when have I ever given a hell what anyone thinks of me? You can either help me or stay out of it.”
“Colonel, I’m with you the whole way. It’s just - How are you going to convince the kid to come back to base with us? He thinks he is one of them. He still calls himself Spider.”
“Who said anything about convincing?” Wainfleet nodded, his face failing to hide his concerned frown. No matter, Quaritch thought. He was going to see this particular task to the end, one way or another. His friend did not need to know the whole truth, at least for now.
Kiri grew tired of these nightmares.
Her parents and siblings rested in the warm cocoon of their home, the familiar lullaby of the jungle lulling everyone into a deep sleep. This was the second time Kiri woke up that night. Her eyes felt dry and itchy despite the number of times she rubbed them with her hands. Even with the discomfort, Kiri knew that she would soon fall asleep, as had been her unfortunate habit these past several nights since the Sullys returned to their original home. Quiet as a shadow, the Na’vi rose from her place on the home floor and stepped out. The cool air was like a soft shawl draped past her bare shoulders. The song of Eywa continued throughout the jungle, whispering at Kiri to succumb once more to sleep.
For once, Kiri did her best to ignore Eywa’s call and began her trek to a quieter location, if there really was such a place that did not contain the Great Mother’s presence in all of Pandora. She slipped past other sleeping Omaticaya, careful not to rustle any suspicion from her neighbors as she clambered down from the great trees and swung down thick vines until she reached the ground. Lights lit various spaces around the home trees and would still be lit when Kiri returned. For now, she walked away from the familiar lights, away from the comfortable bed she once delighted resting in and now found to be the source of her restless sleep.
Six years. It had been six years since the Sullys left their home and moved in with the Metkayina. Six years of living as exiles in order to avoid the badgering onslaught of Colonel Quaritch and his corrupt leaders. She forced her mind to focus on other things, the memory of the tall recombinant Marine a horrid shadow on the porch of her constantly furrowed brow. Tail swaying back and forth, Kiri walked further into the jungle, absentmindedly walking through paths she had treaded through since childhood. Her feet pressed into patches of solid dirt and wet mud. Small creatures in flight hovered around her expectantly, but she ignored them.
She just needed to find a spot that was more quiet than the rest. There she would settle down and think of things other than what Eywa wanted her to - anything other than what Eywa wanted her to really know. The Great Mother’s voice called to her patiently in the swaying of the plants and the croaking and squeaking of the animals. Listen, She seemed to say. Listen, my child. You need to know.
Kiri walked faster.
You need to know. You need to accept it.
Kiri broke into a full run. She sprinted past the paths she knew like the back of her hand and ran between columns of trees, bodies of bubbling water, a patch of bioluminescent fauna, to avoid the soft and gentle voice calling out to her, both in her dreaming and waking world. Why was it so easy to listen to Her and yet so hard not to?
A dark memory slipped through a crack in her mental fortress, and Kiri suddenly remembered a moment several months back. It was the last memory she wished to recall. She would have rather remembered all of the embarrassing moments in her life - she would happily repeat in her head the time she fell off her Banshee before it even took off from the ground in front of everyone - than reminisce about this event.
Hands reaching out to grab her, five fingered and covered in blood and dirt. White fangs bared as orders were barked at her to stop fighting and give away important intel. Gold eyes glaring into hers as she struggled to pull free. An explosion, loud and far too close. Bodies crashing against each other . . . the tendrils of the queues falling loose and free . . . so much noise, not enough understanding . . . the tendrils connecting -
“So that’s how you see things, huh?”
Once again Kiri forced herself to run from the memory by running even faster on foot. It did not matter to the Na’vi that she was cutting up her skin with each branch and bush she forced herself through. Kiri did not bother to think how much time had passed. She knew that her lungs were ready to burst and her skin ached with little cuts and bruises. Only when she stepped on something sharp that caused her to yelp and stumble did she make herself stop.
Wincing, Kiri hobbled away to a nearby rock. A small stream trickled past the physical marker, and Kiri rested her back against the cool rock before lifting up her right foot. Kiri groaned and propped her head against the rock. Going home was going to be a serious hassle. A small gash on the sole of her right foot bled and painfully throbbed. Kiri knew every step she took to reach home would sting.
Well, it wasn’t like she was going to hurry back any time soon. She slowly slid down the rock until she sat on the grass. Gingerly, she placed her injured foot into the little stream and sighed as the stinging pain lessened little by little. The stream distracted Kiri. She closed her eyes and hummed a Na’vi song to herself, one her grandmother liked to sing while she was foraging for herbs. The cool water numbed the pain in Kiri’s foot, and she tilted her head back to the stars with eyes still shut.
The memory several months back lingered at the edges of her mind, but the song kept it at bay. She hummed it over and over again, enjoying the soft background of the stream and the rock offering a place to rest her tired head. Finally, some peace and quiet. Eywa’s voice still sang, but it was a fading whisper instead of the choir of noise it had been before.
Kiri hugged herself and started playing with her long braid. Her queue snugly wrapped in a carefully braided length of black hair, she twirled the ends with her fingers absentmindedly. Since leaving the Metkayina, Kiri had made a habit to pull her braid up and wrap it around her head like a circlet instead of letting it hang loose between her shoulders. She let her braid down only when it was time to sleep. Her parents poked and prodded her with questions on the sudden change in style. Was it a new trend? She was the only one doing it. Was she trying to make a statement? She behaved as usual, though a bit more cautious since the event that led the Sullys to move back to the jungle. Was this her way of rebelling? Kiri did not respond well when her parents gave her the news that, for the sake of her health, she should no longer connect with any person or creature through tsaheylu.
“Until we find out what is going on,” Neytiri said.
“You’re basically telling me to hold my breath and stay that way for, what? Days? Weeks?” When neither Jake nor Neytiri immediately spoke up, Kiri exploded in anger and shouted, “Months? How am I supposed to do anything? You can’t be serious!”
Only after one of these many interrogations when Kiri stormed out of their home - “Baby Girl, we just want to know what’s on your mind. We’re not torturing you,” Jake said - and refused to come back until late at night did her parents cease. Still, she noticed the way they shared their looks with each other. They were mates after all, what her father liked to call “soul mates”. Moments of concern and worry passed between the two whenever Kiri walked past them or performed her daily chores or announced she was heading out for another long walk. Kiri admitted to herself that she was jealous her parents had such a close bond with each other. Despite having reached the age of twenty, Kiri herself was unmated, though that was not such a bad thing for a female her age. What was strange was how almost no male approached her for courting.
Maybe it was the fact that her parents were Na’vi who literally changed the course of Pandora for all. Maybe it was the fact that her father Jake Sully was Toruk Makto, a veteran Marine, and an overprotective dad who would shoot bullets into any male curious enough to look Kiri’s direction. Maybe it was the fact that her mother struck more fear into the hearts of any would-be courters as she actually would shoot arrows into the hearts of anyone she deemed unworthy of her children. Or maybe it was the fact that Kiri Sully was just a freak. It was likely all of the above, but especially the last one.
Whatever. Romance was not her priority. Figuring out what was wrong with her was far more important. If Kiri’s grandmother could not discover what was causing her episodes each time she tried performing tsaheylu, then the chances of her having a normal life, let alone a mate, would be stripped away for good. Kiri settled back into humming her grandmother’s song and afterwards pulled her injured foot out of the stream. It was still a nasty injury, but Kiri knew how to clean and heal the wound when she got back home. The humming continued, even as Kiri stopped. The humming went on, now picked up by the creatures of the jungle, as Kiri slowly relaxed. The humming grew in power, and soon Kiri had fallen back into Eywa’s embrace, the little stream her only companion in the dark shadows of Pandora.
Kiri knew she had been brought back to her dreams when she saw her brother Spider in front of her, propped up on several pillows with a blanket draped over him and a splint wrapped around his left ankle. Sunlight hit the interior of their little hut, warm and blissful, the opposite of Spider’s attitude.
“It’s not that bad.”
“Yes, it is. How many times do I have to tell you, Monkey Boy? You are on strict bed rest until this ankle is healed up.”
“The whale didn’t even hit me that hard. It was just a baby!”
“That baby is at least the size of a Samson 16. It only flicked its fin - flicked, mind you - and it almost shattered your ankle. You are lucky that you just need to rest. You could have been walking with a limp for life if the baby hit you harder.”
“She was just playing,” Spider said in defense.
Kiri rolled her eyes. The two siblings continued their bickering until Spider nodded off and fell asleep. Grinning, Kiri pulled up Spider’s blanket to cover him up to his neck. Spider was Na’vi in every way but body, and he sometimes forgot that he was still human. A playful Tulkun pup was a risky playmate even for grown Na’vi. How Spider got injured and was still able to swim to shore for help afterwards, Kiri had to believe that Eywa had guided him to safety.
Kiri remained in the family hut, minding the food and tending to her brother as he rested. The other Sullys were out, Jake teaching his son Lo’ak how to mount a skimwing. Neytiri and Tuk had also gone to watch the shenanigans. It was past due for Lo’ak to learn. His insistence that he could easily ride with his spirit brother Payakan had finally lost its luster and their father declared loudly over dinner the night before that Lo’ak was soon to become a master of riding both Payakan and skimwings. It was news to everyone, including Lo’ak.
Kiri would have liked to watch, but she stayed behind. She did not want to leave Spider alone. He already felt left out when it came to their family, and it would only wound him more to have him stay indoors recovering while the others went without him. Although he did not express his thanks out loud, Kiri knew that Spider was grateful for her company. Kiri walked to the pot of food stewing in the middle of the floor and sat down. With a smooth spoon the length of her forearm, she swirled the food in the pot and brought some of the meal to her mouth. She had to make sure it was cooked just right, as this was Lo’ak’s favorite. Kiri wanted it to be perfect for him when he and the others arrived back to celebrate his new rite of passage. The family liked to poke fun at Lo’ak by saying he was more Metkayina than Omatikaya - despite his many protests, the array of tattoos trailing up and down his arms said otherwise.
The taste of meat, fresh and strong, hit Kiri’s tongue. She smiled, pleased that dinner was almost done. Her mouth puckered suddenly. Confused, Kiri lifted the spoon to her mouth and took another bite. Ah, there it was. The delicious taste of - Oh. What was up with the salty aftertaste?
“Don’t tell me I have to start over,” Kiri said. She was certain that she put no salt into the pot. The recipe did not require it. Once more - because if it was salty the first and second time, maybe it would be unsalty the third time by a stroke of luck? - Kiri tasted dinner, and almost immediately spat it out. She swatted at her tongue, repulsed by the acrid taste of seawater in her mouth. The pot in front of Kiri trembled.
“Spider, did you see that?” Kiri turned to look back at her brother. “Spider?”
He was gone. The blanket that had covered him was empty. Before Kiri could panic and shout for Spider, the pot shook again and gurgled. Dinner was quickly replaced by an overflow of water pouring out of the pot and splashing against the floor. The pot, as if all along it was a bottomless black hole, gushed forth water with such speed and force that it soon reached Kiri’s calves. The water was cold and dark, a feeling of menace somehow emanating from it. Kiri tried to run and leave through the front opening, but it was as if the water was also a thick jelly, trapping the Na'vi's legs and forcing her to move at a snail’s pace. The water rose to her thighs.
Kiri cried out as the waters rose and she struggled to reach for the entrance. The water continued to rapidly rise, and soon it touched her waist and continued to lap up against Kiri’s body. She stretched her hand out and tried pushing herself towards the exit, but the water greedily held her back. She let out one more shout for help before the water reached her chest and her feet could no longer touch the floor. As the water grew in height it drew Kiri higher and closer to the ceiling. She slammed her hands against the ceiling and felt the stirrings of panic in her chest.
Stay calm, Kiri thought. Deep breaths. Breathe from your gut, not your chest. Stay calm. Stay calm!
Despite the growing fear and the water now touching her chin, Kiri forced herself to take in deep breaths. She smelled and tasted the salt of the water. How was she going to get out? She needed to swim out from the hut and break through to the surface. The dark water took hold of what remaining space was left, and Kiri had no choice but to swallow a large breath before the water overtook her.
Kiri opened her eyes and saw pitch black. There were no creatures to guide her, no light to direct her to safety. Pawing through the inky darkness, she attempted to swim, hoping that she would be able to touch the walls and then the opening to her escape. She kicked her legs and swam in the darkness. The water seemed to grab at her and pull her back each time she made progress, and Kiri almost lost what remaining breath she had from sheer frustration.
This was not how it happened. She and Spider spent the day together. She was almost done making dinner for her family. She congratulated Lo’ak for mastering the skimwing and teased Tuk that she would be next. She remembered stepping out and saying that she was going to grab some fresh air for a few minutes, when really she planned to go to the Cove of the Ancestors and -
Bubbles escaped from Kiri’s mouth. She kept kicking her legs.
She remembered a hand reaching for her just outside the hut. Her cry for help was cut short when another hand wrapped itself over her mouth. It was enough for Jake and Neytiri to step outside and demand where she was. And then -
More bubbles. Kiri’s legs grew weak.
Shouting. Guns. Orders. She remembered being taken. A hostage again. She remembered biting down on a hand and escaping, her mother yelling at her to run to a safe place, and Kiri instead swimming down to the Spirit Tree against her parents’ orders. How did she reach the tree so fast? If she bonded with the tree, she could stop the invaders. If she could just stay conscious long enough to summon help from Eywa, her family would be safe.
A small bubble burst from Kiri’s voice. She began to sink, her hands reaching for escape.
The attempt at tsaheylu worked perfectly. Everything was fine at first. Kiri remembered the wave of power that washed over her as she called for help from the Great Mother, the strong and steady heartbeat of Eywa answering, I am coming! All was well, when suddenly it wasn’t.
Flashing images or memories of people, places and things overwhelmed Kiri. Fear instead of Eywa’s power overcame her. It was all too much. Kiri could not recall the seizure she experienced and only heard of it from her parents later after she had awoken. All she could remember with certainty was her silent cry for help.
Spider! Mom! Dad! Somebody, help!
Like a mantra she repeated these words, even calling on Lo’ak and Tuk for help. Her senses continued going haywire and Kiri thought at that moment was, Is Eywa actually going to kill me? Water filled her lungs. Something snaked around her waist and pulled her up, up, up to the surface. The scene changed, as if a bomb exploded in her head, and then Kiri found herself awake and alert on a large rock coming out from the sea.
“So that’s how you see things, huh?” Kiri’s head snapped up. She had been lying on her side when she heard the familiar voice. This wasn’t right. Before she heard him, he had pulled her out of the water. In her struggle to escape, there was an explosion so loud that it made Kiri grab him, their bodies so close that they were nearly embracing. How did she fast forward to this point? A sensation tugged at the base of her head.
“Oh,” said Kiri, “crap.”
His voice wobbled from his next words: “‘Oh, crap’ is an understatement.”
Kiri awoke from the dream screaming.
She sat up and water from the stream splashed everywhere. The sound of the jungle enveloped her like a warm and familiar blanket. Gasping, she reached for her braid and checked the ends of her queue. The pale tendrils curled and unfurled, the strands stretching themselves as if looking for a connection.
Kiri got up and limped away. It was clear that she would be getting no sleep, neither at home nor in the jungle. There was no point in lingering. She did not know how long she had been away, and the jungle was filled with dangerous creatures eager to prey on a lone Na’vi. She should go home where it was safer, tend to her injury, and suffer sleeplessness until morning. If her family asked why she seemed tired, she would figure out another lie to offer them in order to ease their worries.
Her foot stinging and her heart still pounding, Kiri limped into a random direction in the hopes that a familiar landmark would appear and she could begin her trek back to her people. Eywa hummed around her, her voice in every nook and crevice of the wildlife around Kiri, softly pleading with her, Listen. Listen, please, you must know. You must accept what you already know . . .
Quaritch woke up to the sound of crackling fire. Wainfleet was awake, quietly chatting with Biscuit at the mouth of the cave they settled into for the night. The colonel’s banshee was away, likely hunting small critters. A small fire warmed Quaritch as he rested against the cave. He had fallen asleep standing again. Wainfleet poked fun at him for it, saying that a Marine should be able to pass out anywhere. Quaritch liked to point out that he was doing just that, but on his feet instead of his back.
Night had fallen hours ago, but unlike Wainfleet who could sleep like the dead when he was not on shift, Quaritch fought not to fall back into his dreams. He didn’t want to experience the strange sensations he underwent when his eyes closed. Every time he did, he found himself in the same damn place, surrounded by cold water, struggling to breathe, calling out for help from Lyle, even his squad, as his final breath wrestled from his mouth and disappeared, and he knew it was the end when - Hell, he didn’t know how to describe the feeling that he experienced. It was intense yet gentle, far too intimate and far too strange for his taste. It felt like an emptiness inside him that could never be filled with alcohol, war, or sex - despite many years of using just those things to try and do so - had all of a sudden been filled in with something else entirely. It was like the missing piece finally arrived and plugged up the gaping hole inside him, leaving him with nothing but . . . calm. Peace. Quiet.
It fucking terrified him. He was almost glad when the actual nightmares - visions of fire, blood, and screams - invaded his dreams. Almost.
Quaritch would then wake up, always with a faint sensation at the base of his skull where his queue was connected. He knew how the dream actually ended. It had been a few months ago since the incident, but he remembered it like it was yesterday. Everything else faded within the dream in time, but not that moment between him and her.
He was still familiar with the feeling of how tight his right arm was wrapped around her waist while his left arm kept them from falling further back. How they were so close that their foreheads could bump against each other. How he was so close to her, not just physically but more, like he somehow knew her, really knew her, like he saw her in a way no one else did -
And then Quaritch would make himself stop. He reminded himself that he had a goal. Nothing else mattered. The only reason Ardmore put up with his behavior these last few months was because he dutifully followed through on all his assigned missions. So long as he followed orders, he could do whatever he wanted. Lately though, tensions were rising between Quaritch and his superior. RDA staff felt the animosity growing between the two. Sooner or later someone was going to snap. Quaritch hoped that his latest excursion would give him and Ardmore the time they both needed to cool off and not end up killing each other.
Tomorrow he and Wainfleet would head out, leaving their banshees free to fly as they pleased until they needed to be called down again. A body of water was a few miles away, a familiar landmark they could use to try and locate enemy territory. They would head there and begin recon. Well, Quaritch would. Wainfleet was contacted by their superior a few hours back with orders to return to base in the morning. Instead of arguing and insisting that he stay by the colonel’s side, Wainfleet agreed. Lyle must have gotten tired of his colleague’s brooding and decided to follow his new orders without hassle.
Solo work suited Quaritch just fine. He stared into the fire, letting himself be distracted by the crackling flames. The unsettling feeling of quiet and calm he experienced had lessened, but the aftertaste of it lingered like a pesky cold. After this mission, he hoped he would never have to deal with this unnatural curse that seemed to plague him since that fateful day at sea. Quaritch continued staring into the fire, barely noticing the long look Wainfleet gave him before the recom returned his focus back on Biscuit.