Chapter Text
Many things were different on Pandora. At least that’s what Spider has always been told. In his mind, Earth is a bleak, concrete jungle where even the right air would make him cough. It’s hard to imagine anything but his home of Pandora.
He knows, though, that he is not from his home. Even if it’s his place, it isn’t his. This has never been made more clear than the moment he presents as nun’eveng, something that shouldn’t be possible.
Nun’eveng, “long child,” Na’vi who mature and still remain a child at times. Spider has seen it his entire life, and while he knows it never occurred like this on Earth, it’s hard to imagine a world without it. Norm explained that similar things existed on Earth, but it wasn’t a biological imperative and it wasn’t something talked about.
All Spider knows is that he himself should not be like this. Another mistake. He presents earlier than most, before his iknimaya—though he supposes he never will have one—and he doesn’t quite know what to do with it. It’s meant to be shared with others, a happy moment of caretaking and love, but Spider spends his holed away in a hollowed out tree.
The tree becomes his hiding place, in those moments. At first he only hid, but like his namesake, his younger self began to climb, and Spider barricaded the entrance with a heavy rock he could only move when in his right mind. Kiri always asked why his nails would be chipped and he’d lie and say it was from too much climbing.
When he’s taken by the RDA, he thinks of the tree. Of how he wishes he could tell Kiri, of how she could hold him and love him and tell him it would be alright. The humans laugh at him and he knows it’s strange to them and it isn’t natural be he feels it. The need to be small itches under his skin, gnawing at his already tired brain for more.
He makes a tree in his mind. Barricades the entrance. He finds himself going there when he’s small, when he’s in the machine, when he’s scared of the recoms, when he’s ashamed of himself. The tree, this time, follows him wherever he goes.
In Awa’atlu, where the trees are too thin to be hollowed out, his tree is still with him. When the fires end and the humans are gone and he needs somewhere to go, his tree is still there. It doesn’t matter if the sand is cold and hurts his skin, he doesn’t feel it. This tree is nicer, that way.
The Sullys make him move in with them. He doesn’t understand why—why is it different here, why not before—but he doesn’t argue. It’s nice, sometimes. He sees Kiri and Lo’ak more. He gets to play whatever games Tuk wants. Neteyam even seems to like him, more. Neytiri doesnt, but Spider doesn’t expect her to. He isn’t sure he wants her to, he wouldn’t know what to do if she did. All he knows is that he sleeps in their home and has their meals and if he does not keep himself together, he will lose everything (again).
As the days go on he becomes irritable. His head aches worse than it ever has before. He sleeps too much and eats too little. It’s never been this bad but there’s nowhere to go. He’s spent too much time searching for somewhere to hide and there’s not a single place to keep him there. He feels like an animal. Like those poor animals the RDA had from Earth, locked in cages.
He doesn’t know what to do and he knows it.
He’s spent the entire day in the forest, digging into a hillside just big enough for himself. If he can’t find a place he’ll just have to make one, even if it makes his hands so sore they ache. The cool ocean water helps wash away the dirt and some of the pain, at least, but his head still aches.
It’s eclipse, at least, and the low light soothes his headache some. He hopes sleep will make it go away, but he knows it won’t. It won’t go away until his finishes a place to hide and traps that stupid small part of him away.
Spider wants to sleep forever. Maybe if he does, he’ll be fixed—
The second he steps into the marui, he knows something isn’t right. Everyone is asleep, piled together, except for Jake and Neytiri, who sit near the door in the dark.
“Um, hello?”
Jake frowns. “Where were you?”
“…Out?” Spider answers. He goes to make for his pallet, but stops when Jake raises his hand. “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t go far enough to see the other tribes, I swear—“
Neytiri shakes her head. “Did you not think of how we worry? That we would wait?”
Spider blinks. “Uh, this feels like a trick. I was going to come back, I always do, I don’t understand.”
“You could’ve—“ Jake stops himself and drops his voice low enough to not wake the others. “Something could have happened to you, Spider, and we’d never know. You know to be back by dinner.”
He feels his brain slowly come around.
“That’s why you’re mad at me?” he says, almost laughing. “I have to be back by dinner now?”
Jake stands, a bit too fast for Spider’s liking, and before he can close the distance Spider is stepping back toward the marui’s opening. There’s a tense, uncomfortable moment as they stare at each other. Spider, awfully enough, feels his eyes burn.
“Kid,” Jake says, slow and soft, “you know I’d never hurt you, right?”
Logically, Spider knows that, but he also knows Jake doesn’t care that much for him. If he had to, he would.
“We were just—we were worried when you didn’t come home.” Home. “We thought something happened to you. Why were you out so late?”
Spider scratches at his neck and pushes down the instinct to flee. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t know. ‘Was never expected to be back.”
Jake’s face does something weird. “Oh, Spider. I’m sorry we didn’t—we should have—“
Spider flinches at the soft, almost parental tone of his voice. It’s never something anyone has directed at him. It feels unnatural. It eats him alive and hugs him all in one.
“I should go,” he rushes out. “This, uh, this isn’t . . . I’ll be back, I swear, I just—“
He feels himself start to slip. Words are becoming hard and he’s upset and he’s so, so tired. He can’t do this. As he steps back to flee anywhere but the marui, Jake’s hand closes around his arm. It’s like a grenade.
“No!” he yells, tugging with his entire weight. He falls back, into the wall, taking them both by surprise. “Don’t—don’t touch me! No! No!”
He feels sick. His face is hot with tears and his head hurts and he’s tired. He wants to stop this but he has to get away and hide but he can’t because they’re blocking him. He has to hide, he has to.
“I need to go,” he rasps out, crawling toward the opening. “‘S not safe, have to go—“
There’s a commotion toward the back of the marui and Spider tries to use this to escape, but Jake steps in his way again. He almost throws up. He can see people being shuffled out—where are the others going, why would they leave—and Spider presses himself into the wall, knees to chest.
He’s being punished, that’s why they sent the kids away. Poor, stupid Spider has to be taught a lesson. Na’vi don’t do that but Jake isn’t entirely Na’vi. Even if he was, no one deserves punishment like Spider. It’s his fault for being this way.
“‘M sorry,” he says, bracing himself. “Didn’t mean to. Sorry.”
Someone is fastening the marui flap shut—Neytiri?—and Jake is crouching down across from him. Spider doesn’t understand why they haven’t started hitting him but he wishes it would be over.
“Please. ‘M sorry, I’ll go, you won’t have to see me.” Jake’s face does something again. “No! No I-I’ll stay, I’ll stay. I won’t do anything just—‘m not strong like you, it hurts—“
The recoms hurt so bad. Na’vi are strong and Spider isn’t. He knows this is going to hurt and he’s so, so scared.
“Kid, I’m not going to hurt you.”
He doesn’t like when Jake lies. He isn’t like Jake’s kids, he knows it’s all fake just to make him feel better and it never works. Why can’t they just get it over with?
“Spider, did something happen? Did someone say something to you?”
“What?”
“Just tell me what’s going on, we can help.”
He can’t make himself look at the looming figure of Neytiri. “No, I can fix this just let me go. Let me fix it and we can . . . we can go back. Just let me fix it.”
“Fix what, Spider?” Neytiri asks.
Spider, for all his effort, bursts into a sob. He tries to clutch as his face, but his mask stops him and he settles for hitting his hands against his head, hard.
Someone grabs at him and he screams, scrambling to the side and toward his pallet. He wraps himself in his woven blanket and shoves himself behind a basket.
He grips his hair and tries to find the place he went to before. If he can’t hide he’ll just have to find a way, and if Jake or Neytiri punish him he’ll be okay, it will be like before and he won’t even feel it. It will all be okay, he’s okay, he’ll be okay.
When Spider finally comes back to himself, his limbs tingle and his face itches from dried tears. He’s still in the same place, curled in on himself, tucked away. For a moment, he thinks he’s lucky and that they’re sleeping, but he notices the quicker breaths from Neytiri.
From their position a few feet away in the floor, she nudges her sleeping husband. “Ma Jake,” she says, “he is awake.”
It takes a few moments, but once Jake sees Spider’s wide eyes, he seems to wake up. There’s a tense, quiet moment before someone speaks. Strangely, it’s Neytiri.
“You are nun’eveng. I do not know how, but it is okay. We will learn.”
It snaps Spider out of the fog. He starts to cry again as he shakes his head. “No! No, I’ll fix it! I will! I can do it, I just need a new place. If I hide it goes away, it’s okay, don’t worry!”
Neytiri frowns. “You knew of it?”
“I tried, but it didn’t stop, I swear!” He coughs on an inhale. “Just gimme time and I can find somewhere to go, you won’t see. Promise!”
“Somewhere . . . to go?” she says, trying to piece it together. “Did you hide away from us?”
“I tried but there’s nowhere to go,” he reasons, frantic. “I’m making one but it—I had a tree, I put a rock so I couldn’t get out but there’s not any big ones here so I-I’m trying to make a way and—“
He can’t breathe. His words are stuck and he’s choking, he’s going to die even with his mask on. Someone grabs his hands and he squeezes, hard, as they say something. Finally, after minutes of gasping, he manages to breathe. Once the tears stop falling, Neytiri speaks.
Her hands are soft where she holds his hands. Her fingers rub his palm, like she does to soothe Tuk, and it’s not fair but he doesn’t want it to ever stop.
“Spider, we have much to discuss, but not now. Now, you need to be cared for. Like one does when they first present.”
His face scrunches miserably. “No, Neytiri I don’t need it, promise. ‘S okay. I’ll fix.”
Neytiri shook her head fiercely. “No. If the Great Mother has allowed you to be nun’eveng, there is nothing to fix. It is a joy meant to be shared.”
“Not me,” he says, not meeting her eyes. “I understand. It will go away, always does.”
“And if I do not want it to? If I want to care for you, Spider?”
He meets her eyes, finally. Big, yellow, full of something he can’t quite place. She’s trying. For some reason, she’s trying for Spider.
“I see you, Spider. I do not understand many things, but I do not need to. If you allow me it, I will care for you like a nun’eveng should have.”
He knows it might be a trick. It’s more likely than her telling the truth. But she looks so trusting and he wants.
He’ll try. This one time, he’ll try, and after that he’ll fix it. Just this one time.