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“This family is our fortress.”
Jake cringed every time the words came back into his mind. His heavy feet plowed through the coarse sand as he followed the loose footprints leading toward the outskirts of the Metkayina village.
“Some fortress,” he huffed to himself.
One of his kids hates him, one of them is being hunted, and the other’s having seizures. Tuk’s probably the only one that’s still normal at this point.
He doesn’t want to think about Neteyam.
But how could he not? Everywhere he goes, he’s reminded of the bitter absence of his eldest son. His first son. Neteyam had been woven into every part of his life, and it’s like his death tore out Jake’s own soul to leave nothing but a gaping, empty wound behind. The Marines taught him to be stoic; fatherhood begged him to crumble. He couldn’t afford the latter at a time like this, but god, he had to break, at least once. Of course, he felt guilty it had been towards Lo’ak, and obviously he didn’t think what he said to him was true. But, a tiny part of him desperately wanted it to be. A part of him, however small it was, wanted someone to blame—and sweet, foolish Lo’ak had been the target.
Lo’ak, who was named by him; Lo’ak, whose brows and hands mirrored his own; Lo’ak, a reckless, wild boy, who couldn’t follow orders to save his life.
Just like Jake.
The sound of the crashing ocean accompanied him as he walked ever so slowly through the rocks and the sand. With each step he took, Neytiri’s voice rang in his head:
“Go to him, Jake. Or you’ll lose another son.”
Was she right? Had he been so wrapped up in his own grief that he couldn’t see he was losing Lo’ak as well? No, he’d been noticing it, he just didn’t know what to do about it. After all, Jake was never the smart one. Growing up, he learned pretty quickly that he screwed up a lot less whenever he kept his dumb mouth shut. No wonder he joined the Marines, what had Grace called him? A “trigger-happy moron”?
That about sums it up, he thought as he kicked up some sand with his foot.
Tommy had always been the genius. He was always the one that got them out of whatever situation Jake had pulled them both into. But there was no more Tommy to do that, and there hasn’t been for a long time. Jake had to learn how to figure out his problems by himself, and this one was no different from the rest.
Lost in thought, he distractedly followed the footsteps in the sand, becoming increasingly more aware of how long he’d been out. As he turned around, he saw the lights of the village at a considerable distance away and felt the hairs on his body start to rise. There were still a decent amount of footsteps ahead of him; just how far had Lo’ak gone?
His aimlessness turned into concern as he picked up the pace. After the minutes started to feel like hours, he climbed up a hill of beach before finally noticing a figure in the near distance.
“Lo’ak!” He called as he climbed up the sand. Lo’ak didn’t move. Jake slowed, perplexed. Did he not hear him? No, he must have…something must be wrong. His body was poised perfectly still, almost unnaturally so. “What…” Jake muttered with hesitancy as he hastily walked. As Lo’ak’s figure became clearer, Jake identified something in his hands. He was holding something, some object, but couldn’t quite make it out in the dark…Then, for just a second, the moonlight hit Lo’ak just right and caused the metal to flash in the night.
The metal of the gun that was resting below his chin.
Jake’s eyes widened as he screamed Lo’ak’s name.
“If you hadn’t disobeyed orders, your brother would still be–”
Lo’ak knew what his dad had wanted to say. In fact, it was the same truth that had been haunting him since the day Neteyam died. He killed Neteyam, he was the one to blame. His dad was right: he didn’t follow orders, and now someone was dead because of it. Better to get rid of the problem now before more people get hurt, he thought cynically as he trudged onwards.
He dragged the heavy rifle across the entire beach before finding a little hill of sand guarded from the ocean by deep black rocks.
This is good, he thought as his knees dropped to the ground. This is a good place to die.
He carefully laid the gun across his thighs, delicately running his hand across the weapon as if it would shatter if he pressed too hard. While on his walk, a million different outcomes raced through his mind: he pictured Kiri calling from behind him, racing to take the gun away from his hands; he imagined how Tsireya would cry after finding his limp body on the cold shore; he envisioned Tuk growing up with neither of her brothers.
He also thought of his mother, and what she’d say if she saw him holding the metal in his hands. He imagined she’d scold him for breaking one of the sacred laws, then tear the gun away and bring him home. He pictured everyone he could coming after him to stop him from pulling the trigger.
But no one did. So he kept walking.
With a breath, he brought the gun up towards his chin swiftly. He gripped the gun with both of his hands, no longer fearing its fragility. He desperately tried to steady himself as his thumb slipped onto the trigger, breathing heavily as he silently prayed to Ewya to quiet the pounding of his heart. He heard his name being shouted amidst all the thoughts racing through his head, but paid no attention to it. He had to do this. He had to do this. Trembling, he drew his final breath as he put the slightest amount of pressure on the trigger…
…and threw the gun far in front of him.
He broke down. What was he doing?
As he tried to regain his composure, he distantly regarded the sound of footsteps behind him. Another shout followed as a set of knees crashed next to Lo’ak’s, suggesting what he heard earlier hadn’t just been in his head. The person before him’s hand wildly grabbed onto his shoulder to keep him steady as they eyed the gun in alarm. He looked through his teary eyes only to recognize… his father? Jake, after spotting the gun on the ground, immediately had his other hand on Lo’ak’s face, frantically checking to make sure no damage had been done.
“What the hell were you thinking, boy?” He choked out as he looked over Lo’ak. “What the hell were you thinking?” His voice cracked as he violently pulled Lo’ak towards him, making sure he was still there, still warm, still alive.
Lo’ak started sobbing. In every possibility he thought of, each time he pictured his father spotting him with the gun, Lo’ak saw himself pulling the trigger—as if to prove a point.
But now that his dad was here, all Lo’ak wanted to do was cry.
He desperately clawed his arms around his dad's back, sobbing “I’m sorry” repeatedly as Jake cradled his son’s head.
“No, no, no, don’t say that,” Jake sniffled, closing his eyes in guilt and grief as tears rolled steadily down his face. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, son.”
The first thing he did was bury the gun.
While Jake valued having any human technology at the Na’vi’s disposal, he knew he’d be able to pick out this specific one from any distance. Neither he nor Lo’ak needed that reminder.
Afterwards, he met Lo’ak at the edge of the beach, right where the water teased the sand. Exhausted, he sat down next to him with his hands uselessly laying on his lap. Lo’ak had long stopped crying, yet Jake could tell he was on the verge of breaking with one wrong move.
Jake took a breath. My mess to fix, he thought.
“I—” He started, suddenly choking on his words. He sharply sniffled as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. “Oh god, I can’t do this,” he mumbled as he covered his face with his hands. Lo’ak timidly looked up at his father before turning back away quickly.
“S’okay, dad. We don’t have to talk about it,” he spoke quietly.
“No, no,” Jake insisted, regaining his composure as he wiped his tears with his hand. He cleared his throat and spoke again. “No, this one, we gotta.”
He let the crashing of the waves fill the silence between them as he sorted out his words.
“My job, as a father, is to protect. I’m the one that’s supposed to protect you kids through anything, yeah?”
Lo’ak looked at him with a low gaze.
“When your brother died,” he paused, taking a shaky breath. “When he died, I thought I’d failed at my job, right then and there. Because I failed to protect him.”
Jake shakily laughed, though he felt anything but joy. “What I’m starting to realize now,” his face returned to its somber expression as he wiped the corner of his eyes with his thumb. “Is that I had failed you all a long time before that,” he softly said as his voice began to break.
“Dad—” Lo’ak started.
Jake shakily held up a hand, cutting him off. He let it fall onto Lo’ak’s knee, squeezing it gently. He finally gained enough courage to look him in the eye as he spoke. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you, son,” he tearfully spoke. “That I couldn’t tell you how much I loved you, how much I cared for you, how proud I am of you,” he was fully crying now. “And I hope—” he brought his head down, resting it on Lo’ak’s leg. “—and pray that you and Ewya can find enough strength to forgive me.”
Lo’ak’s lip trembled as he held onto his father. “Dad, no, please—”
“I’m so sorry, Lo’ak, I’m so sorry,” Jake wailed, over and over again. Lo’ak held him in his arms, unwilling to ever let him go.
