Chapter Text
The first thing Jake Sully registered was Spider’s breathing.
Fast. Shallow. Right behind him.
Bindings cut into Jake’s wrists as he stumbled forward, naked feet scraping against metal, slick with dirt and rain. The RDA platform groaned beneath the weight of machines and men who didn’t belong here.
Somewhere overhead, rotors thudded. Somewhere close, rifles were raised.
And Spider—damn it—Spider was still with him.
“Jake,” Spider whispered, hoarse but steady, like he was the one trying to keep Jake calm. “We got this. Just—just keep moving.”
Jake turned his head just enough to see him. The kid was thinner than he remembered, grime smeared across his face, dark curls plastered to his forehead. There were bruises along his jaw, a split lip half-healed. Evidence of captivity written all over him.
Guilt flared hot and sharp in Jake’s chest.
This was his fault.
They reached the edge of the platform. Floodlights snapped on, blinding white. RDA soldiers fanned out rapidly, weapons pointed. Jake felt the familiar cold certainty settle in his gut.
Then Quaritch stepped forward.
Recombinant body, Na’vi form—but the eyes were the same. Hard. Assessing. Fixed not on Jake, but on Spider.
“Easy,” Quaritch said, voice calm, almost conversational. “Nobody’s gotta get hurt.”
Jake barked a bitter laugh. “Funny coming from you.”
Quaritch ignored him. His gaze flicked to the soldiers. “Lower your weapons.”
They hesitated.
“Now,” Quaritch snapped.
Rifles lowered—just a fraction—but enough that Jake noticed something else.
They weren’t aiming at Spider.
Never had.
Jake’s mind clicked into place with sickening clarity.
They won’t shoot him.
Spider knew it too. Jake saw it in the way his shoulders squared, in the resolve that hardened his expression.
“No,” Jake said under his breath, already knowing it was too late. “Spider—don’t.”
Spider moved anyway.
He stepped forward, planting himself directly in front of Jake, arms spread wide like he could shield a full-grown Na’vi body with his own.
“Stop!” Spider shouted. “You want him, you gotta go through me!”
The soldiers froze.
For a split second, no one moved.
Quaritch’s breath caught.
Jesus Christ.
He hadn’t planned for this.
He’d counted on Spider staying put, staying safe. He’d ordered it. Made it clear. The kid was leverage, not a casualty. Something dangerously close to panic tightened in his chest as Spider stood there—defiant, exposed, human.
“Spider,” Quaritch said, sharper now. “Get out of the way.”
Spider didn’t look at him.
“He’s not your enemy,” Spider said. “You don’t have to do this.”
Jake felt something crack open inside him. “Son—”
Spider jerked his head up, fast.
The shot came from the left.
Not a rifle.
A sidearm.
A single, deafening crack.
Jake felt Spider jerk backward before he even heard the impact. Warmth splashed across his chest. Spider made a strangled sound—more breath than scream—and collapsed.
“NO!” Jake roared, lunging forward as his restraints tore skin. He caught Spider as they went down, the kid’s body limp in his arms.
Blood. Too much blood.
Spider’s hand fumbled weakly at Jake’s chest, fingers slick. “I—I thought…” he gasped, eyes unfocused. “They weren’t gonna—”
Jake pressed his forehead to Spider’s. “Stay with me. Stay with me, kid. I got you. I got you.”
- - -
Across the platform, time slowed.
Quaritch stared at the smoking pistol in the soldier’s hand.
“What did I say?” he snarled.
The soldier stammered, pale. “He—he moved, sir. I thought—”
“You thought,” Quaritch hissed, stepping forward, towering over him. For one unhinged second, Jake thought Quaritch might kill the man himself.
Quaritch looked back at Spider.
At the blood pooling beneath him.
Something ugly twisted in his chest. Regret? Anger? Fear he refused to name?
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
- - -
Spider was breathing—but barely. Each inhale rattled, wet and wrong. Jake could feel it, the terrifying fragility of a human body in his arms. All those times Spider had bounced back from scrapes and bruises—it meant nothing now.
Jake looked up, fury burning through the panic. “You did this,” he snarled at Quaritch. “This is on you.”
Quaritch opened his mouth.
And then the sky screamed.
A banshee’s cry tore through the air, fierce and unmistakable.
“Neytiri,” Jake breathed.
Blue and crimson streaked down from the clouds as Neytiri and the Na'vi descended on their ikrans, arrows already flying. Chaos erupted—soldiers shouting, scrambling for cover.
Quaritch barely registered it.
His eyes were still on Spider.
On the kid who had stood in front of a gun for Jake Sully.
The exact thought also burned in Jakes head. For him.
Jake didn’t wait. He shifted Spider carefully, ignoring the pain screaming through his own body, and ran.
Neytiri landed hard, ikran snapping and hissing. She took in the scene in a heartbeat—Jake bloodied but standing, Spider limp in his arms.
Her breath caught.
“Ma Jake!” she cried, rushing to them. Her hands hovered, uncertain, terrified to touch. “What happened? Is he—”
“He stepped in front of me,” Jake said, voice breaking despite himself. “They shot him. He saved my life.”
Neytiri’s eyes widened, horror flashing across her face. She pressed her hand to Spider’s chest, feeling the weak flutter beneath her palm.
“So small,” she whispered. “So brave…”
Another arrow whistled past as Neytiri snapped back into motion. “We leave. Now.”
She mounted first, helping Jake secure Spider between them, her hands gentle despite the urgency. Spider groaned softly as they lifted him, and Neytiri stiffened.
“He lives,” she said fiercely, as if daring the universe to argue.
As they took off, Jake looked back once.
Quaritch stood amid the wreckage, staring up at them, face carved from stone.
But his eyes—
His eyes followed Spider.
And for the first time since Pandora burned, Quaritch felt something close to pain settling in his chest.
Fire took so much.
But sometimes, it revealed what still mattered.