Chapter Text
Jake sat in the gathering darkness, eyes drifting shut only to snap open again. He couldn’t sleep now. He was on watch. Against the searching Mangkwan warriors. Against the other enemy, so much closer. If he thought he could have snuck off with the kids without Quaritch waking, he would have done so. But despite the other avatar’s closed eyes and deep breathing, there was little chance of that happening. Quaritch would wake at the slightest noise of a threat. Just like Jake would. Reflexes and instincts borne of their shared Marine training, honed on battlefields. Even if this Avatar version of Quaritch hadn’t lived through it, he held the memories of the one who had. It made sense that he would be just as watchful. Jake was certain that Quaritch’s sleep was feigned. He was only waiting for Jake himself to succumb, then he would make his move. Against Jake, against the kids. Spider might be the only one he would spare. Biologically, the pair shared nothing. The avatar was infused with Quaritch’s DNA, sure, but Jake himself could attest that it was a small proportion. He hadn’t felt human in a long time. If anything, the bond between Quaritch and Spider was one of brothers, maybe even cousins. Spider certainly wasn’t looking to claim Quaritch as a father, and though Jake had seen flashes of caring in Quaritch for the boy, he wasn’t father material. None of that solved the current issue of how to shake him now. Jake shook himself awake again and sighed through his nose, ears twitching. The eclipse was going to be a long one.
Movement. Jake stirred, then leapt upwards, furious with himself for having slept. A quick survey of the area showed little change. Quaritch remained a little further from the rest of the group, Jake still safely imposed between him and the kids, who were the ones shifting.
Spider sat up, glancing from Jake to Quaritch. His jaw clenched, and he looked away. Jake still marvelled at the sight of his unmasked face. He itched to get Spider back to Norm and Max, to see what had happened to the boy. He’d half-expected the effect to wear off overnight, but hadn’t dared voice the possibility. There had been no point in upsetting the others. But no, there Spider was, still alive, still breathing the air which should have been poisonous. No matter the years since it had last occurred, Jake still remembered well the feeling of the atmosphere burning through his lungs, gasping in breaths but still suffocating. That nightmare was one he’d never been able to escape.
Dismissing the memories, Jake turned again, noting Quaritch’s eyes were open and fixed upon him. The yellow of them was unnerving, so like Jake’s own. They flickered, focusing on something beyond Jake, and narrowed. Quaritch pushed to his feet as Jake heard a gasp from behind him. He turned, knife raised and at the ready. The returning sun gilded the surface of the lake in gold and orange, a wide rippling mirror. And above the mirror, Ikran flew. Low and fast, banking sharply around the trees, hugging the shoreline. Searching.
“Move!” Jake barked, chivvying the children to their feet, lifting Tuk bodily over the tree trunk behind them. “Into the trees!” They obeyed slower than he would have liked, with many a glance backwards. Tuk was weeping again, and Jake’s heart broke at the fear he had brought to his children. It was not fair. But life never was.
Quaritch and Jake ducked into the trees together, to the latter’s surprise. He would have expected Quaritch to have fled at once, ensuring his own safety. Then Jake caught a glimpse of Spider’s pink skin through the trees and understood. Another hint of caring. Rare and reserved only for his own.
Under cover, the six paused, waiting for the scout to pass by. Jake caught a glimpse of red-painted skin as the Mangkwan warrior flashed by, and caught the scent of smoke trailing behind them. He met Quaritch’s eyes briefly and knew the other marine had also recognised the threat. There was a moment of silence. The adage rose to Jake’s mind; the enemy of my enemy is my friend. His eyes flickered to Spider. Quaritch wanted to keep the kid safe. And the fire nation tribe would kill him just as surely as they would kill Jake and his family. For now, it was in all their best interests to remain undiscovered. Looking back at Quaritch, seeing his jaw clench, Jake knew the other man also recognised the situation as it was. The blood between them demanded an answer. But it was a reckoning which could wait.
“I’m on point. You take six,” he ordered. “Lo’ak, cover the girls. Head on a swivel.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy responded. Quaritch was slower, but nodded, grip tightening on his knife.
Jake hesitated, loath to expose his back and, worse, his children, to the other man. But for now, they had a common goal. So Jake braced himself, turned away, and set off through the forest, hideously aware of the threat behind him, as well as any possible ones ahead.
Jake kept to a brisk pace; slower than he would have liked, but faster than was truly fair to Tuk. Better tired than dead. Lo’ak and Kiri took turns at helping her along. Spider was at a disadvantage but did not show it, keeping up without complaint. He hung back, keeping to a spot behind the other kids but ahead of Quaritch. Jake hadn’t dared ask him to do so, but was infinitely grateful for it.
Several hours in, after having ducked low under three more searching Mangkwan Ikran riders, a bubbling stream of clear water offered an excuse for a rest. Jake spent several minutes clearing the area before allowing the children to emerge, all of them immediately going to the water’s edge. Quaritch hung back for a few seconds, watching to see what Jake would do. When Jake busied himself tugging up the thick grass growing at the edge, he sloped down to the stream and gulped up a few handfuls of water himself.
When everyone had sat back, Jake handed out handfuls of the grass to his children. After a second of hesitation, he thrust a pile into Quaritch’s hands as well. The longer the truce could last, the better the chance of evading the fire nation tribe. Quaritch eyed the reeds suspiciously, running their blue lengths between his fingers. On seeing the other children biting into it, however reluctantly, he followed suit, holding out a frond to Spider.
Jake, who had been half-turned away, swung back, slapping the reed away. “No!” he hissed. “That’s ficklewort stems. It’ll stop his heart.”
Quaritch flushed, withdrawing his hand. “So what, the kid’s just supposed to go hungry?”
Jake drew himself up. “Spider. Goya berry bush, over there.”
The kid followed Jake’s pointing finger, scampering across to the bush and beginning to strip it of the tasteless, but safe, berries.
Jake stepped in closer to Quaritch. “You’re the stranger here, Colonel. This is my home. I know how to take care of my family.”
“Hah! Family?” Quaritch sneered. “Are you sure about that? Your kid calling you sir, jumping to your orders? Is he your son or your foot soldier? Seems more like a squad than a family.”
Jake shoved him backwards. “What would you know about family? Huh? I’m more of a father to your kid than you are!”
Quaritch snarled, knife up and at the ready. Jake’s answering hiss was equally ferocious as he dropped into a crouch. So much for the truce lasting.
“That’s enough!” The angry hiss came from the side, and both men hesitated at Spider’s angry words. “Both of you! Unless you want those fire freaks to hear you bickering?”
The pair remained motionless, tails lashing, until Spider stormed back between them, shaking his head.
Jake straightened first, looking away. “We should keep moving,” he said, stalking across to the stream and crossing it in a bound. The others followed in silence. When Jake glanced back before re-entering the trees, it was to see Quaritch bending down to snatch one of the dropped reeds from the ground.
That night, the eclipse full, Quaritch stepped over to where Jake held watch, crouching down beside him.
“So, what now, Corporal?” he asked in English. “What’s your play?”
Jake looked away, continuing to scan the forest. It was easier, with Quaritch close beside him – he only had to look for threats further afield. Keep your friend close, and your enemies closer. Never before had he empathised so strongly with the adage.
“I’m going to get my kids home,” he replied in the same language, voice pitched low so as not to carry. And find out what happened to my wife. Every time one of the Mangkwan had flown overhead, Jake’s heart had momentarily leapt, hoping it would be Neytiri on Sa’ata, searching for them. None of those from High Camp even knew that Jake and his family were returning – there would be no search party from there. Neytiri was their best hope. Her continued absence was not encouraging. If something has happened to her… Jake cut off the thought, refusing to believe it. They had come through so much together.
“Good idea. They need to get somewhere defensible,” Quaritch nodded.
Jake’s hand tightened on his knife. He couldn’t lead Quaritch back to the camp. Not only because it was impossible to access without an Ikran to ride, and there were none available to their group. But Jake would rather have kept himself and the children out in the wilderness for an extra week, rather than risk the safety of the base and all who lived there. He glanced sideways at Quaritch. There was a slight smirk on the other man’s face. He knew exactly why Jake was hesitating.
“Of course, you could try and give me the slip before heading off. But given how slow we’ve gone today, I don’t think I would have a problem finding you again.”
Jake looked away again.
“Or, you could turn yourself in to me. I’d let the kids leave. Your boy seems competent; he could get them home.”
“Not going to happen,” Jake growled through gritted teeth.
“Well then, I guess we’re at a stalemate.” Quaritch settled back, leaning on a tree trunk, his eyes fixed on Jake, who refused to return the gaze.
The silence between them persisted, broken only by the occasional chirrup or bark from the creatures of the forest around them. Some, Jake was familiar with. Others he doesn’t recognise, making him tense. A woodsprite floated past, billowing as they all did. Jake’s eyes followed it, drawn, as usual, to their movement.
Quaritch raised a hand to waft it away.
“No,” Jake said swiftly, and Quaritch froze. “It’s not dangerous. Just a tree seed.” He was forcibly reminded of himself, so many years ago, when he had first seen the spirits.
Quaritch’s eyes remained locked on the woodsprite, which drifted past him, alighting briefly on a large leaf, then soaring higher, off into the canopy. The leaf where it had landed curled downwards, creating a hollow tube shape, with the point where the woodsprite had touched on the uppermost surface. When it relaxed back flat again, flares of white light streaked across it, connected like veins in the leaf.
Jake did not watch the leaf. He watched Quaritch, whose gaze moved slowly from the now-still leaf to the vines tangled around the tree trunks above, each one in a perfect plait of six individual strands. From there, his eyes found the next in the crux of branches above, a set of glowing eyes watching them. Quaritch’s hand made the short journey to his own knife.
“It’s fine,” Jake said. Quaritch jumped slightly, turning suspicious eyes on Jake, not realising he had been watched. “It’s a mel’ang. Like a lemur.”
“Well, look at you,” Quaritch sneered. “Gone proper native, didn’t you? You could be a fricking tour guide here, you know that? How did you get so soft?”
Jake turned away, scanning the forest again. When he had first arrived on Pandora, it had been as an unprepared grunt, unaware of anything he was stepping into. It was unsurprising that everything he’d seen had been a source of fascination. Quaritch, though… he should have been better adjusted than this. He’d been on Pandora for years, had earned the scars that came with that. He would have a basic knowledge of the flora and fauna of Pandora, though nowhere near the extent of familiarity which came from living among it. As a soldier and commander, he would have been focused on threats, any dangers which could threaten him and his men. Now though… what even was he now? Still a soldier, undoubtedly, but with a more focused mission. Was this the first time he had ever stopped and just existed in this world, taken the chance to see the life all around? He reacted as Jake had, but Jake had learned to see beyond the alien, to see the beauty instead. Could Quaritch ever do the same, or would he remain blinded by hate until he died for the second time? With the gloomy thought that it was probably the latter, Jake stood up and pushed past Quaritch back towards the kids to find another spot from which to keep watch.
Eclipse ended too soon. Once again, Jake had fought against sleep for as long as possible. Quaritch had not returned from the spot where he and Jake had spoken the previous evening, but Jake could see his outline through the trees. Lo’ak, also noting the looming figure, sidled up to his father.
“Sir. What are we going to do? About him?” They both shot another look through the trees towards the enemy marine.
Jake looked away first, scanning the group of children, all of whom were now sitting up. “I’m working on it,” he lied.
“We have to shake him.”
Jake’s eyes lingered on Spider. As long as they had the common goal of protecting the boy, he was more worried about the Mangkwan and getting them all out of the forest than he was about Quaritch. But truthfully, he had no idea how they were going to break from the other man. What Quaritch had said last night was true – there was almost no chance of them being able to slip off, whilst needing the four children to keep up. The best hope would be for them to get a head start whilst Jake did his best to incapacitate the other man. But until their safety was more assured, Jake was reluctant to lose an ally, however dubiously the word was applied.
“Dad…”
“I said I’m working on it. Leave off, boy. See to your sisters,” Jake snapped, standing abruptly.
Lo’ak ducked his head. “Yes, sir,” he muttered, scuttling away.
Jake watched him go, jaw tight, then sighed. How was he supposed to address the boy’s concerns when they mirrored his own, and when he had no answers to give?