Chapter Text
They say that when you’re close to your death, you can hear Eywa calling to you. You can hear her whisper to your ears, beckoning you to come closer, to face whatever awaits you through the veil gatekeeping the afterlife before you reach it.
Spider had never been taught much about this. He knew energy was only borrowed, eventually returned to the great Mother. He knew death wasn’t really an end, only another step through the cycle of things, but since he was never really part of Eywa, no one taught him what it was supposed to feel like. Spider wasn’t Na'vi enough, despite all his efforts, to be shown those kinds of things.
Spider now knew what death in Pandora entailed. He faced it often in the last few months, and every single time, Eywa would make him hear that song, at first like an echo through the forest, intensifying with each syllable until that’s all he could hear.
Her voice would ring inside his whole body, making it tremble from the tip of his fingers to the bottom of his soul. His ribcaged filled to the brim with something heavy, hot and painful. His heart would twist with sorrow and longing, yet it also filled him with this nostalgic happiness and calmness. It was like two tough waves fighting for dominance, ripping his heart apart in the process.
He could hear her sing so clearly, as if he returned to his younger self hiding in the forest, peeking through their hut, her voice full of warmth, soft and clear like an angel. Her voice broke the night away, chased out every ounce of fear and distress. She crafted her songs carefully for each of her children, gifting them something Spider had never been close to brush with the tip of his fingers.
Neytiri sang more than just the glory of her children. She poured in her words all her love for every inch of their being, celebrating their existence.
He yearned for it. He did all his life. And there was a time he believed he could make his way into a verse. He didn’t need a full song, or a full verse. He just hoped he would deserve a sentence, or a mention at most, one day.
And every time Eywa forced the song back into his feverish mind, Spider understood how much of a childish, stupid hope that was, because the day never came. He worked hard to gain his place among the Omatikaya clan, but it had never been enough for them to overlook his pink skin, his small stance and his ten fingers.
He understood then, curled up against the metal floor, his stomach twisting with pain and his throat as dry as the forest under the blasting sun, that earning his place among the Sully’s was also a feverish, naive dream.
How could he have been so stupid, so foolish?
This truth had been out there for years, but Spider held tight onto his hope, in complete denial for the longest time.
Eywa was about balance and harmony, no matter how cruel it could be sometimes. A demonic, alien being like him could not be part of this world, and Spider finally faced it then, while his body spasmed and twisted with pain on the metal floor of his RDA cell.
But even then, he could feel this tiny speck of hope, somehow still alive, nestled somewhere near his heart, making him hold his tongue tight as they came around to question him.
Maybe he wasn’t important enough to be saved from the RDA after all. Maybe he wasn’t good enough to hold a place among the Sully’s. Maybe he was too different, too small, too weak, too human, too alien, too demonic. Maybe his soul was too dirty to be part of Eywa’s precious embrace, and therefore any Na'vi clan. Maybe he wasn’t worthy enough to be part of a family.
But the Sully’s, despite the few human similarities they shared, deserved their place in this world. They were good, held inside them a generous and strong soul, one Eywa accepted and showed support multiple times. They proved themselves to be useful to their clan and to Pandora’s balance.
They even tolerated Spider’s presence, even if he was too different and ugly inside to deserve it.
If it wasn’t for that, Spider would’ve been long gone already. He owed them so much, Spider could only fight hunger, thirst and pain, keeping silent no matter what RDA tried. Protecting them from the Sky people was the least he could do.
Spider figured that he would never cross paths with the Sully’s again. He figured that much as the hours turned to days, then turned to weeks, and as his hope for rescue crumbled into ashes. The human military was skilled, they tried many things to make him spat the answers they were looking for, and Spider just wanted it to end.
Until Quaritch showed up, whispering words to his broken mind, words that Spider would’ve given anything he owned to hear from Jake. He complimented his strength, told him he got heart, told him he respected him for it, for his unwavering sense of loyalty, things the Sully’s never seemed to care about from him. It seemed like Quaritch saw him as a whole, as more than a human desperately trying to fit in, and the tiny speck near Spider’s heart bursted to life and clanged to Quaritch as if Spider was suffocating and he was finally given an Exo pack.
Looking back, Spider was ashamed of the way he clanged to him like a scared, helpless toddler, showing him the ropes of the Na'vi ways, ignoring the torn guilt that plagued him when he cheered for Quaritch riding his Ikran for the first time. Once all of this passed, he tried to ignore the way he hoped, believed and got thrown away by an adult once more.
He had only ever been a tool or an extra side you get without asking for it in the first place.
Once Quaritch got what he needed, he used him some more, threatened him, and forced him to take part in the reefs clan’s raids. Quaritch’s eyes, once shining with empathy and recognition, turned sour and indifferent. Spider was pretty sure the sight felt like a doubled-edged sword piercing his heart.
Pathetic. Foolish. Naive. Unworthy. That was all he was and ever would be.
After the Three Brothers Rocks battle, after screwing up some more, after sticking back to the Sully’s like a leech, the speck shined some more, hoping to find back what he once had when Spider was younger.
Boy, was he mistaken.
Which brought Spider to the present, as he sat near the shore, skinning a fish with a knife looking oversized between his human, demonic hands.
Spider sat away from the Metkayina fishermen. Jake might have assured the clan he wasn’t a threat, someone needed to be blind to miss the glint of distrust in their eyes. They spoke quietly to themselves, watching him from the corner of their eyes. They often forgot he was fluent in Na'vi, or perhaps they didn’t care he heard the insults they whispered about him. ‘Demon’, ‘Sky alien’, ‘Monster’. Spider chose to avoid them, and despite his active ignoring, the words still stinged. Every time.
The Sully’s were nowhere in sight, mourning Neteyam in the privacy of their hut. Spider might be housing in that hut, he still felt like a stranger disturbing their grief from the moment they woke up to the moment they cuddled together at night.
Spider kept himself out of their way. Scratch that, out of everyone’s way. He kept busy, studying the Metkayina people working, and joining them silently once he felt confident enough. Keeping his hands busy kept the tsunami of brewing emotions hidden deep down in his gut at bay. He ate supper with the Sully’s, but that was about it. Eating and drinking was an issue he kept to himself, so he tried to do it as less as possible.
The sun was now settling down behind the coast, and the fishermen gathered their equipment to join their families. Spider quietly copied them, and bid them goodbye as the Na'vi customs required. No one returned the gesture, but Spider didn’t really notice it anymore. He understood them, who would pay respect to a demon?
He made himself small on the pathway to the Sully's hut, three skinned fish stuck under his arm. The sight he discovered wasn’t new, yet it was enough to make his heart quench painfully. Neytiri’s eyes stuck to him first, she looked like she was one breath away from a hiss as she cradled a sleeping Tuk to her chest. He hesitated while this primal fear shot up his spine, his whole body tensing a little more.
Not so long ago, she was holding a blade to his throat, merciless and full of rage.
But Kiri looked up from her sleeping father’s shoulder, smiled tiredly at him and it gave Spider the courage to carry on with his daily tasks. Keeping busy would keep the storm away. Spider took a step in, painfully aware of Neytiri’s distrusting stare on him. He knelt by the fire, quietly preparing dinner for them all.
Neytiri nursed Tuk in her sleep, groaning warningly every time Spider would be too loud while he cooked. He didn’t miss the devastated, tired look over all of their bodies. Only Lo’ak was missing, probably lost at sea, riding his Ilu and racing his grief away.
Kiri hummed to her father, a tune familiar to the Sully’s, one probably restricted to the times Spider wasn’t allowed. Evenings were restricted to family bonding, and Spider had never been important enough to be included.
Spider forced the thought away when his throat closed up. He focused on his cooking instead, his own eyes lost somewhere far away than the heavy, sad and intimate atmosphere raging in the hut.
Eventually, Spider finished cooking, and Kiri gently woke her father up. Jake looked exhausted, but he still managed a smile toward his daughter, then the sight of his youngest one and his wife pulled another one out of his lips.
Spider was served a smaller version of one, more thankful for the bowl of stew he handed him than anything else. Neytiri didn’t even look him in the eyes, and Spider was grateful for it. He served himself a portion, making sure to save some for Lo’ak, and backed in his corner of the hut, while the Sully’s regrouped to eat.
They were too caught up with each other to care about him blending with the shadows. Spider still felt a little thankful for it - he couldn't help but appreciate the privacy to choke down his meal as quickly as possible before anyone could try to take it from him. But he couldn’t deny the way his heart would twist painfully just a little more at the sight of them, speaking quietly to themselves, sharing stories and supporting each other.
And there went his usual evenings, where he would wash up the dishes by the shore, leaving the Sully’s to themselves once again. Spider would then look up at the stars while the dishes dried, wondering if life would’ve been easier if he had been sent back on Earth when he was a child, even if the planet was decaying and burning on its own.
Only after Lo’ak came back to the hut later than anyone would prefer, Spider would hear that song again from afar, and his insides burned, his sorrow bursting finally in the intimate embrace of the stars. His sobs would drip down his lips uncontrollably, and all he could do was hug his legs to his chest, pressing his face into his knees, his heart twisting and burning as if it was set on fire. His pain would bubble up like lava, burning everything on its path. Tears and snot would drip down his face, forming a disgusting pool down his mask he had to empty while he sobbed.
He mourned, he mourned way more than Neteyam’s death. Of course he mourned his brother, his friend. But he mourned so much more than that.
Not that anyone cared about it.
Sometimes, he just wished he could scream his lungs out at the stars until there was nothing left inside of him, cursing them for making him human and rotten inside. Sometimes, when the darkness inside his heart would poison his whole mind, he wished he died in that cell, from torture and hunger. Even if there was nothing on the other side for him, no ancestors for him to meet, no warm welcome in Eywa’s embrace. Sometimes, nothingness looked so appealing.
Once his tears finally dried, he pushed everything left down, leaving out only numbness and exhaustion. He dragged himself back to his sleeping mat while the Sully’s slept tangled together, their spots glowing in harmony.
It looked safe, and warm, and so inaccessible Spider could only turn his back to it, too tired to feel anything.
His days were shaped like this, the loneliness adding to the monstrous hole of darkness forming under his ribcage. The village healed, more laughs were erupting around the huts every day, and Spider looked more like a zombie every passing sunrise. His body stayed bony, as if he was still being food depraved. His voice was hoarse, out of lack of use, and he turned light-headed many times a day.
He didn’t remember the last time he smiled, laughed or the last time someone laid eyes on him for more than a second.
Actually, he remembered the last time he laughed, and he preferred to forget about it.
As for the Sully’s, they slowly helped around the village again, and Spider would keep out of their way. Lo’ak would try to find him so he could meet his Metkayina friends, so did Kiri. But now that they didn’t need him to cook anymore, he disappeared before sunrise and came back way after sundown, eating whatever food they left for him quietly.
Spider was in no mood to entertain them. It was no use after all, no matter what he did, it was never enough. He had given them everything, from his body, to his soul, to his every choice, and it still wasn’t enough to be called family at Neteyam’s funeral. He stood by the beach with the rest of the Metkayina People, like a stranger, like a mere acquaintance, as the Sully’s brought his lost brother to the Spirit tree. And even then, it felt like he was out of place.
Spider wasn’t naive anymore. He wasn’t stupid. He understood. And he didn’t need anyone anyway. He proved that to himself well enough. He was an outcast, a torn in someone’s side, no matter what team he chose.
It was about time he understood he would never deserve this.
*
Jake had lost many people he held dear before. His brother’s passing had been, for the longest time, the worst pain he had to put up with, but it didn’t compare to the gaping hole in his chest at the loss of his first son, burning even more at the sight of his children and wife crying out the same pain.
Neteyam’s fanthom lack was written on everything in this hut. From the fire station, to his bow to his dusty sleeping mat. Memories would bubble up in his mind, fond for a second, then stinging and painful the next.
Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk were too young to mourn their brother. Neytiri didn’t deserve to have her first child taken away from her. And Jake couldn’t bear the feeling he could’ve done more. He could’ve protected them better, made better choices, and killed the bastards instead of running and hiding. He could barely comfort his children properly, his whole being was on the verge of collapsing.
But he had to be strong, so he held them close, forced them to eat and drink three times a day, spoke quiet sweet nothings in their ears, and slept tight with them.
He feared he had to be the vessel of their family, holding strong until they got better, then he could take care of his own grief.
But there was Spider, and Jake, maybe if he didn’t realise it at first, couldn’t deny how helpful he had been. Spider kept himself busy, cleaning the hut, preparing dinner, leaving ingredients out for a quick snack, and giving a hand around the village. Jake saw it as a way to care for his own grief - Spider did lose a dear friend too - the same way Lo’ak needed to ride on the sea from sunrise to sundown. Besides, Spider was a tough kid, and Jake trusted him to come to them if he needed anything.
Jake witnessed the way the gaping hole inside his chest stopped burning so much once Tuk laughed again while they played rough. It pained him a little less once he cracked a real smile out of his teenagers with a lame joke or once he heard Neytiri sing them to sleep with more light and fondness in her voice.
They heard the village getting better too, laughing, talking with more eagerness and hope. The hole, shaped like Neteyam, was still there, forever engraved in his soul, but it buzzed more and more with fond nostalgia than burning hot pain as the days unfolded.
There were days none of them could get a foot out of the hut, but there were more and more days he saw his teenagers ride their Ilus with their friends again. There were more days of Neytiri making spice mixes, ointments or arrows with other women or training under the glittering sun. There were more days of playing for Tuk, her childish, happy glee taking over her face more often. And there were more days he could train, plan with Tonowari, patrol and bond with his Ikran.
Light and softness blessed their days more often, and Jake could only be more grateful to Eywa.
But then, there was Spider. He was nowhere to be seen during the day, leaving at damn and coming back way after bedtime. Only at night, he could spot his figure, back turned to them, curled up over himself, and Jake would wonder when was the last time any of them spent time with him.
Over the residing grief that would never truly leave him, there was the guilt. This kid, who was torn away from the only home he ever knew just like his Lo’ak, his Kiri and his Tuk, didn’t need anyone to hold him together like his children did. Spider was a tough kid.
Or so he thought, until he caught Spider leaving the hut under the soft glow of the sunrise, his body completely stripeless.
Spider didn’t repaint his blue stripes, the ones he used to hate seeing fade away from his skin. The ones he needed desperately to have on his body, ‘so the animals would recognise him as one of them, so the People could trust him’. The ones he kept asking about whether they were still painted straight and bright on his back.
Jake didn’t like the sight of this, and even less this feeling telling him he was missing something. Something huge, something bad.
But Tuk whined in her sleep, nosing closer to his chest, and Jake promised himself he would look for him later once everyone woke up and went on with their day.
And Jake never broke a promise.
Once they gathered around for breakfast, Jake ate while he tied Spider’s portion in a palmtree leaf. Neytiri chuckled softly from her spot, her eyes tender and fond as she watched him work the strings. Jake couldn’t miss the way her stare shone just like when they met, when she called him a skxawng.
‘Ma Jake.’ Fondness dripped from her Na’vi words. ‘You are going to lose your food during patrol if you tie it like this.’
She whispered that word under her breath, the first Na’vi word Jake learned all those years ago, before she snatched it from him, tying it right and tight this time. She shot him a fierce, playful look while she worked, and if it wasn’t of the guilt that still plastered the edges of his chest, he would’ve retorqued playfully.
‘It’s not for me, it’s for Spider.’ Neytiri’s hands stilled for a second, before finishing it off while her eyes quickly lost their amusement. However, the boy’s mention did draw the rest of his children’s attention, their ears perking up almost in harmony.
‘Spider. Do you know where he is?’ Kiri asked hopefully while she sat up on her knees, her lashing tail betraying her worry.
‘I was hoping you children knew.’ Jake tucked the packed food under the waistline of his loincloth. ‘You used to spend so much time together.’
Next to him, Lo’ak frowned, his tail and ears twitching while his hands tensed around his spoon. ‘He doesn’t want anything to do with us anymore.’
Jake frowned at his son’s angry and hurt tone. ‘What?’ Jake found himself struggling to swallow Lo’ak’s words down - could Spider, inseparable from his children since he learned to stay upright, really turn his back on them?
‘I mean, he avoids us all the time. When we spot him around the village, he literally ignores us and runs away from us. Come on, Dad, he clearly doesn’t care about us anymore.’
Jake looked over to his eldest daughter, her pinned down ears and her avoiding eyes clearly supporting Lo’ak’s words. Jake didn’t like the taste of this at all. He sighed, shoved one last bite of food in his mouth and put away his dirty dishes.
‘I’ll find him.’Jake pulled himself to his feet, locking eyes with each of his children. Even Tuk seemed hurt by Lo’ak’s words. “We’ll clear this up.’
‘Good luck about that.’ Lo’ak muttered sourly to himself.
Now, Lo’ak and Kiri weren't wrong - Spider was hard to find. Jake asked Tonowari if Spider was affected to any particular task today, only to discover the boy wasn’t ever affected anywhere to begin with. He combed the village as if he was back in his military shoes, from top to bottom two times, until he spotted Spider’s small, stripeless figure on the rocky shore, a fishing net between his hands.
Jake studied his options, and he opted for the sneaky one - he couldn’t afford to let him run away from them any longer. Spider was alone on this side of the shore, and Jake winced at the sight of his human delicate skin gripping the sharp rocks for balance.
Oh, Jake couldn’t tell how many times they had to pull out large splinters from the soles of his feet.
Jake studied him from head to toe as he moved silently towards the boy. And then, under the shining sun, Jake didn’t understand how he could’ve missed this.
Aside from the fact Spider didn’t paint his skin with his dearest blue stripes anymore, Spider’s body seemed bony and thin, too skinny to be healthy, considering all the time that had passed since their last battle. His muscular stance must’ve melted away without Jake noticing. His loincloth looked one size too big now, forcing the teenager to knot the waistline multiple times so it wouldn’t slide off his hips. His Na’vi-like dreads, another part of his appearance he held dear to his heart, seemed dry, dirty and frizzy from lack of care. They should’ve been rebraided a long time ago now.
Besides his disastrous appearance, Jake also noticed the way Spider held himself differently. He seemed tense and guarded, as if he was one breath away from breaking into a run. His grip on his net was messy and clumsy, throwing the thing into the water with the worst form someone could use, overusing his back when he pulled the net back.
It was obvious no one taught Spider to fish with a net properly, the same way Spider wasn’t required to provide anything to the clan just yet. He was just a kid, and he was still grieving.
Spider, once so attuned to his environment it felt like he had Na’vi senses, didn’t spot him at all, not even when Jake stood a few meters back.
Jake opened his mouth, the boy’s name on the tip of his tongue, before a wave crashed violently against the rocks Spider was standing on. The teenager slipped harshly on his back, before sliding down the sandpaper-like rock into the water.
Jake gasped and screamed Spider’s name as he jumped on the rocks and held onto his arm, stopping him from being carried away by the wave. Jake pulled him to his chest, ignoring the way Spider pushed and twisted in his hold, before letting him go once they stood back on the sand. Spider took a few steps back, eyes wide and chest rising up and down with panic.
Jake couldn’t contain his worry to turn sour. ‘What were you thinking?’ Spider looked up at him as if Jake had hit him, and Jake was completely thrown off his tone. Once upon a time, Spider would’ve shrugged it off, a little guilt and a tiny hint of residing fear plaguing his eyes. He would’ve smiled, or laughed that whatever dangerous thing he just did was awesome, or that whatever scratch he gained would turn into a cool scar. Now, Spider was breathless and shaking, his eyes holding something terrified in them. The boy cradled his arm to his chest, the one Jake pulled seconds ago, while he angled his body to the side, ready to flee.
Puke rose up his throat at the sight of the red, handshaped mark already darkening over Spider’s skin. The realisation fell over Jake’s head like a ton of bricks. Spider was so weak and so out of proper care he now bruised like a peach.
Jake instinctively made himself less threatening, rising down to a knee the same way he would do to avoid setting off a pack of Viperwolves. ‘Are you okay?’ He spoke equally as softly, yet it still took a few seconds for Spider to pull himself back from wherever he was in his mind.
His stare was still just as dull, as if any color and brightness had been sucked away from them. The only thing Jake could spot was fear, distance and distrust. It was a far cry from the boy he knew, from the boy he had always been, and Jake felt like a fool for how long it took him to realise how out of character Spider became. ‘I’m fine.’
Jake knew he lied, partially because he knew Spider like the back of his hand, and also because the wind gushed over as he spoke, the smell of fresh blood invading Jake’s nostrils. ‘You aren’t. Show me your back.’
Spider’s body twitched out, as if he had fought an instinctive drive to run away. ‘I’m fine.’ He wasn’t. His tone hardened while his shoulders tensed some more, barely hiding a hiss of pain erupting from the whole gesture.
Jake forced himself to stay gentle, his stern tone shoved out of the way just in time. ‘You are hurt, and you are bleeding, Spider. We have to take a look. Just show me from where you are, alright? I won’t move.’
Spider considered it for a second, before angling some of his back towards Jake, but not enough to lose eye contact. Jake couldn’t contain his hiss. Long and narrow gashes bled from the boy’s hips to the top of his shoulders, while sand and tiny pieces of rocks were sticking to the wounds. Jake could also bet there were gashes under his feet too. He looked like a Thanator used him to sharpen its claws.
Jake didn’t understand how Spider wasn’t crying, because he knew even Lo’ak would’ve shed a few tears with such a fresh, large, bleeding wound. It must burn nastily, but Spider held strong, hugging himself with a blank face.
His eyes betrayed him, though. And Jake knew he couldn't leave him to himself anymore.
‘We are going back to the hut.’ Spider frowned, taking a step back as Jake slowly got back on his two feet. ‘And we are going to treat your wounds, then you’ll have breakfast.’ His tone left no space for discussion and Spider, despite the way his eyes shone with irritation and defiance, nodded once.
‘Come on.’ Jake led the way, feeling like Spider would prefer to keep his eyes on him. Jake didn’t understand how the once carefree, bubbly and trusting boy turned into this distrusting, dull and distant version. Guilt made his heart quench.
Jake knew why, but he didn’t want to admit it to himself just yet. Not when Spider needed him.
Jake could hear Spider’s breaths itch under his respirator, probably from the pain, and his guilt stinged a little more each time. Once they reach the pathways of the village, Jake straightened up, fighting with the instinct to pull Spider closer as they by-passed villagers. They mostly ignored him, but they all eyed Spider with stares that made Jake want to hiss warningly. He was almost sure he heard one of them whisper an insult, but figured it would be best for Spider if they got to the safety of their hut faster than not. It didn’t mean he kept his furious stare to himself, however.
Jake beelined inside, and stood by the entrance to make sure Spider got in. He still cradled his arm, but his face wasn’t so blank anymore. He limped slightly, each step forcing his lips into a tight scrowl. Spider hesitated for a second, but got inside anyway, avoiding Jake’s gaze.
Someone gasped behind him and Jake cursed to himself internally. The whole family was still there weaving baskets around the fire, minus Tuk, probably off playing with friends. Kiri was next to Spider in a millisecond, her face pulled into something horrified, and Jake hated to see that expression painted over his daughter’s face. Spider pulled away from her, keeping his gaze to the floor. Kiri, ever so understanding and attuned to others, let him. ‘Are you okay? What happened?’ Spider didn’t answer her, and kept his gaze on the weaved floor.
Lo’ak was frozen in place, frowning at the sight of the blood still dripping down Spider’s back, and even Neytiri, shocked, stared at the bloody footsteps left behind the boy. Jake watched as Kiri asked once more how it happened, causing Spider to back off into this corner he would always hide in.
Jake cleared his throat, hoping the guilt would clear up if he didn’t stall, and turned toward his teenagers. ‘Lo’ak, Kiri, go fetch some clean water and some rags, please.’ Kiri nodded, already out of the hut like a flash, and Lo’ak dropped down his basket to follow her, only faltering in his steps once he by-passed Spider.
Jake knew his son, he knew how hard he could hold a grudge, but he knew how his heart would always soften if someone was hurt. They would be fine.
Jake turned to Neytiri next, but he didn’t have to ask her anything. She was already moving, retrieving the healing pastes they would need from their medicinal basket. Without a word, she laid eyes on Spider, and even Jake couldn't really tell what thoughts twirled inside her mind right then. Neytiri was complicated when it came to Spider, and it was something else they had yet to talk about thoroughly. Or perhaps they never wanted to face it.
But as she moved towards Spider, still standing in his corner of the hut, his face turned into this terrified expression once he locked eyes with her, resembling more a terrorized animal than a human teenager. Jake’s chest burned at the sight. Spider backed up, pressing his bloody wounds against the wall, causing a short hiss of warning to erupt from Neytiri’s lips. ‘You are going to stain the wall.’
Her warning, although stern but not cruel, could’ve burned Spider considering how he reacted. He dropped to his knees, muttering an apology, and Jake held his love delicately by the shoulders. Neytiri calmed down with a deep breath while Jake’s fingers trailed the full length of her shoulders, leaving only the tip of her tail lashing.
‘Let’s go soft from here, alright?’ He muttered through her ears, and she nodded, before softly dropping to her knees. Jake copied her, smiling encouragingly at Spider, which was still avoiding eye contact as he hugged himself close. He spotted Neytiri studying Spider as well, but in a softer manner she had never used on him. Her lips formed a tight line, and paired with her heavy gaze, Jake wondered if she pitied the teenager or if she finally felt something else for him that wasn't negative.
Jake patted the space in front of him. ‘Come.’ Just as Spider reluctantly pulled himself closer, Lo’ak and Kiri came back with a bucket of drinkable water and a large handful of rags. Out-of-breath, they seemed freshly out of a conversation, or rather a fight if Jake knew his children well enough. They left the items next to them, before Jake had to redirect them to their baskets. Kiri complained, and Lo’ak seemed torn apart by the idea, but he pulled his sister with him despite her grumbles. Jake could bet Spider preferred space with anyone if he could, there was no need to make his friends stick their noses too close to him right now.
Spider sat in a similar fashion than earlier, when he showed his back to Jake on the beach. ‘I’m going to clean the wounds.’ The hut was dead silent as Jake wet a rag and dragged the cloth over Spider’s bloody skin. He whipped the blood away first, then whipped off most of the dirt off his shoulders. Neytiri prepared herself a rag too, and worked on his lower back instead.
Jake’s chest stinged when Spider shoved his face down his knees as soon as Neytiri began treating him. He knew she caught it too, her frown was too evident to think otherwise, and she seemed to realise, just like him, that Spider seemed terrified of her.
Jake always had the suspicion he was never comfortable around her, as if he tiptoed around her, careful not to breathe too loudly. But this, hiding and crumbling apart as she cared for his wounds, this was new. And Jake felt like a fool again, because of course Spider would be afraid of her. How could he not?
The images of Neytiri holding Spider tight by the nape, cutting his chest and raising her knife high up over his heart, flashed in Jake’s mind.
He was just a kid. Barely any older than Kiri and Lo’ak.
They never spoke about it, but he knew Neytiri too well. Quaritch had Kiri hostage, Neytiri had just lost her first child, and she would’ve stabbed Spider’s heart without hesitation if Quaritch didn’t let go of Kiri.
And if Jake knew, then it was most likely Spider did too.
God, he wanted to puke again.
Jake forced himself through a deep breath, before rinsing off his rag. Spider started trembling while they applied a thick layer of healing paste over his gashes. Jake shushed him softly, warm and comforting, the same way he comforted Tuk after a nightmare, but Spider just tightened his grip over himself.
Jake swallowed thickly as he shared a look with Neytiri. It surprised him, and it was sad that it did, but Neytiri seemed worried too. This wasn’t normal, this wasn’t right, this wasn’t the Spider they knew. From their corner of the hut, Kiri and Lo’ak had their eyes stuck to the trembling figure that once was their bubbly best friend, their basket untouched at their feet.
Neytiri wordlessly traced Jake’s bicep, sharing with him that look they would give the other anytime one needed strength. She gathered the dirtied rags in one hand, slipped out Spider’s breakfast from Jake’s loincloth and retreated to the fire station.
Jake gave a minute to Spider, untouched, as the paste dried softly over his back, already stopping his bleeding. But soon enough, he had to get him to untuck his legs from his chest to treat his feet, and that was probably going to be hell of a task.
‘Spider.’ He used the softest tone he could manage, even if it rang too loud in their silent hut. The teenager didn’t react. ‘Spider.’ He called his name again, a little more insistent, to be met with the same lack of responsiveness. The boy was stuck in this shivering position.
Behind them, he heard Lo’ak scoff silently to himself, before whispering something to his sister. Jake only needed one look over his shoulder to make his son stop whatever unhelpful things he was murmuring about.
He turned back to Spider, choosing another offensive. He planned to drag a finger over the side of his arm to gain his attention, nothing else. When Jake laid the tip of his finger over the boy’s skin, Spider jumped out of his position, and shoved harshly Jake’s chest back with two hands. Spider pulled his trembling body against his corner of the hut, and his eyes were stuck on him, panicky and terrified.
Everyone jumped, and Neytiri was probably already pulled into a defensive position, monitoring Spider’s every muscle tug, but Jake only had eyes for the teen.
‘Don’t touch me.’ English words pooled out of Spider’s mouth, at first shaky and loud. Jake held up a calming hand instinctively, but Spider’s words turned pleading as he screamed again, folding himself into a tight ball. ‘Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!’ He looked feral, like a wounded animal imploring for mercy.
He was shaking harshly, his breathing completely ragged and frantic. He pressed his hands against his ears, fully sobbing between his pleas, and his eyes were glassy and distant, just like some traumatised soldiers he used to know in his old life.
Jake had never seen Spider cry before, and he didn’t know what to do with that thought. But Spider’s panic attack was way more important.
Jake sat back on his knees slowly, raising his hands up. He shushed the boy, muttering soft ‘you’re okay’ in English as he shuffled a tiny bit closer. Spider tried to back up again, only to push himself helplessly into the wall, before babbling down half-broken ‘please’ over and over again. Someone could’ve stabbed Jake’s heart each time the boy pleaded, it would’ve felt the same. His heart was twisting and burning all over again, one stab away from shedding tears himself, but Jake forced himself through deep breaths. How could’ve they come to this?
Spider cried louder as Jake cornered him. With slow movement, Jake softly removed the knife the teenager kept next to his Exo pack, tossing it out of his reach. The boy didn’t even seem to remember he had a knife on him to begin with.
‘Spider.’ Jake laid a hand on the boy’s chest, hoping he would get back to his senses. Aside from babbling more ‘please’ as he pulled at Jake’s wrist desperately, Spider’s erratic behavior didn’t change at all. Jake couldn't help but notice again how young Spider was, his hand as big as Spider’s entire chest. He was still a teenager, not even a man yet, and here he was, begging for something to stop because his hazy mind was playing tricks on him. How could he have been so blind?
‘Spider, you’re safe.’
The boy cried out some more, digging his soft nails into Jake’s skin. ‘I’ll be good. I’ll be good, I swear.’ Jake ignored the way his whole body tensed and his blood ran cold at those words.
Jake shushed him instead, nudging the boy’s chin up until he locked eyes with him. ‘You’re safe, Spider. Remember me? It’s Jake.’ Spider tried to get his face out of Jake’s palm, but his jaw was cupped steadily. ‘Say it, say who I am.’
Between his sobs, it took a few dozens of seconds and a few tries for Spider to finally butcher his name like Jake asked. ‘Good job, Spider, good boy. Again.’
‘J-Jaake’ He sobbed on the ‘a’, yet it still proved he was still a little more aware of the real world around him.
‘Good boy, Spider. I got you, alright?’ Jake kept his eyes locked with Spider’s pleading, glassy, wet ones. ‘You’re in our hut, remember? No one’s going to hurt you. You’re safe. Say it.’
After a few sobs and a couple of tries, Spider sputtered a clear enough sentence. ‘I-I’m safe.’ His eyes turned a little less glassy, a little more focused. Jake exhaled sharply with relief, before praising him some more. ‘Good job. Again.’ They’ve redid it a couple more times, until Jake grew satisfied with Spider's grip on the real world.
Jake brushed softly his thumb along the side of Spider’s head, following the curve of his ear, and his heart melted as Spider pushed his cheek into the gesture.
‘Follow my breath, alright? I got you.’ He exaggerated his breaths, while Spider tried his best to match it through his own erratic ones. After a few minutes and many encouraging smiles, Spider’s mind focused back and mere hiccups would disturb him here and there.
While Jake sat back, the boy still at arms’ reach, Spider returned to his previous, closed-off demeanor. He hugged himself after he quickly removed his mask to wipe his tears and his snot away. Jake let him collect himself, while he sent an encouraging, comforting smile to his children, still surveying the scene with wide eyes. Neytiri was with them, holding them close, a hot bowl of stew next to her.
‘I’m sorry.’ Spider’s hoarse Na’vi words got Jake snapping his attention back at him. The boy stared at the floor again, shivering and exhausted.
Jake smiled softly, wanting nothing more than to bring the teenager into a tight hug, but the fear of triggering another attack made Jake swallow his urge. ‘Nothing to be sorry for, Spider.’
The teen hesitated, his face stuck into a scowl. ‘I… I don’t know what…’
Spider was confused, of course he was. Panic attacks and traumatic flashbacks was a pain in the ass he didn’t miss from his time with the marines. But what daunted Jake the most was that he had no idea what Spider mistook him for. He had no idea what the teen just relived. He should know, he should’ve. Guilt staggered his chest some more. ‘It’s called a panic attack, Spider.’ Jake wet a new rag. ‘And it can be really scary, but it’s not dangerous.’ Spider frowned at the floor. ‘Your mind just played tricks on you, but it’s over now.’
Jake wringed out his rag, drops of water colliding down the bucket while the rest of his family spoke quietly to themselves. ‘Come on, let’s finish this, then you can eat and rest.’ Spider didn’t show an ounce of resistance as he pulled himself out again, letting Jake clean the wounds on his feet, paste it all over again and wrap it all up with bandages. Spider didn’t put up a fight once he was given his breakfast or once he was instructed to lie down. His dull, exhausted expression could haunt Jake’s mind forever.
And if Jake’s heart bled out of guilt, anger and sadness at the thought of failing yet another child that depended on him while he watched Spider nap, out like a light and turned away from him, then no one had to know just yet.