Chapter Text
Seven months old
Human babies were peculiar little creatures. They seemed to learn by mirroring. By watching their caregivers with big, curious eyes and open mouths; absorbing whatever task they were completing, just to copy it with inadequate motor skills and an unnerving streak of stubbornness.
Considering Tsu’tey was one of those caregivers, he should’ve grown used to Miles’ way of learning by now. Since he’d figured out he could control his voice, he’d taken to imitating anything from the chirp of the ikran, to Tsu’tey’s hiss when he scolded Jake for being an idiot. He’d even started to notice that the infant was figuring out how to mould his face into different expressions, his favourite of which seemed to be his Yawne’s eyes roll, although the baby’s attention kept getting stuck at the apex of the roll as if he didn’t quite know how to bring them back down again.
And whilst adorable most of the time, it was incredibly inconvenient when Miles deduced that no one else was wearing a mask out in the forest, so he - of course - didn’t need one either. Unfortunately, this conclusion was wildly inaccurate.
Luckily, he’d already been watching Miles when he decided he didn’t want to wear his mask anymore. At the time, the boy had been in his sling under Jake’s care, but the ex-marine had been too engrossed in a playful back and forth with Neytiri to notice chubby, uncoordinated fingers plucking at the suctioned lip of the mask at Miles’ cheek. Tsu’tey had barked something about keeping an eye on Miles, to which Jake had waved him off, only for the harsh beeping of the exomask detecting a sudden loss of contact to send the entire hut scrambling towards the boy.
Between them, they’d managed to get the mask back on. The worst consequence being that they’d scared Miles with their panic, his eyes practically popping out of his skull as large hands firmly returned the mask to his face, before he’d crumbled into floods of tears. Jake had handed him off to Tsu’tey without further complaint, ears lowered as his hands curled into fists in his lap.
But of course, it couldn’t just be a one off incident. Miles seemed intent on testing the reflexes of whoever was charged with his care around the village or out on hunts. Instead of napping peacefully or watching the world go by, he became insistent on wanting the mask off.
Which had led him to indoor mask time. An activity he quickly learnt to despise.
Today hadn’t begun with the intent of teaching Miles to accept the mask on his face, but Tsu’tey had been left in charge of him, with his mate occupied in the link room assisting Kiolu with his students again, so here they were.
Miles was not even remotely impressed by Tsu’tey insistence on keeping the mask on. He whined and tugged at the equipment. Pouting hard, and trying to use the power of teary eyes to shift Tsu’tey’s resolve, only to try to scrape it off his face using the bunk room floor when his dad firmly refused to entertain his demands. Of course, having Miles attempting to free himself of the mask, simply returned the exercise to step one, and Tsu’tey had to set aside his carving to roll the baby over onto his back and readjust the mask into the correct position. He then gently grabbed those tiny hands between his fingers and redirected his son’s attention to his alphabet blocks spread out on the blanket between them. Using the baby’s newly developed urge to grab anything within his reach, he was successful in distracting him from the equipment for all of a minute.
Then Miles proceeded to tamper with it again, and the cycle continued, until Tsu’tey’s lungs began to protest, and he lifted his respirator to his nose for a couple of breaths. Abruptly, Miles stopped complaining, his attention drawn by the whir of the mask’s filter as Tsu’tey took deep, measured breaths. He frowned and let the respirator drop to hang from its strap once more. Miles frowned right back. A near identical expression to the one Tsu’tey wore. The baby’s eyes flicked down to the respirator, then up to Tsu’tey’s face, before he promptly returned to his very important task of freeing himself from his mask.
It happened again when Tsu’tey needed to use his respirator a few minutes later. Miles’ questing fingers falling still to watch his dad breath, only to lose interest when the equipment was left to hang on its strap.
Curiously, Tsu’tey put the respirator back on his face, watching as Miles noticed and stopped his complaining. He let it fall back to his chest on its strap. The boy lost interest and continued trying to remove his own. By the third time he repeated the exercise, Tsu’tey got the picture.
<”Ah, you think you don’t need it.”> Tsu’tey stated, more to himself than his son. <”That is alright, I See now.”>
They spent the next hour wearing their masks and occupying themselves with their respective tasks. When he continued to talk whilst the boy played, Miles seemed to relax. He kept glancing at Tsu’tey, eyes intently watching his face, before looking back at his toys. It seemed that as long as Tsu’tey left his own alone, Miles followed suit.
It would take consistent work for the lesson to stick, but it was progress nonetheless. Just like teaching one of his students to hold their bow correctly. Repetition would drive the point home.
In the time they took for breaks in between mask wearing, Tsu’tey let Miles nap on his blanket, whilst he occupied himself with his carving. Since Miles’ beads were complete and woven into his braids, Tsu’tey finally had time to work on the gift he’d promised his mate on the night of their second ikran taming.
His project was an alien concept to him regarding tradition, but was easy enough to grasp thanks to his ‘polite’ interrogation at the Mother Compound. He’d been firmly reassured that although it wasn’t made from the precious metal that their Earth traditions called for, the finished piece would still be acceptable, even if it was made from stone instead. He’d been working on it, on and off for weeks. Wittling down the edges into a rough circular shape and carving into the middle to make room for a human-sized finger.
He begrudgingly asked for Neytiri and Jake’s help on the matter. Neytiri because she had worked with shaping river stones before, and Jake to get a measurement of his mate’s hand. He’d aimed for it to be thin and simple, like Claire’s had been. And planned to carve a series of tiny atokirinia floating around the top of the ring to match their knife. It was a big project, but he was eager to complete it. His mate deserved his best work after all.
It was during one of their mask wearing portions of the early afternoon that the whir of the link unit in the other room began to slow, before grinding to a smooth stop. Tsu’tey’s ears swivelled wide, even as he kept his attention on his carving and the baby wiggling around on his blanket by the na’vi’s knee. Back and forth he refined the shape further with his blade, tracking the sound of a tired groan, then the clumsiness of dormant limbs fumbling for the link units latch. When it did click, he resheathed his knife, swept the shavings off his lap and carefully stowed the ring beneath a corner of Miles blanket. The baby paused in his mindless swaying to watch him. Then his gaze climbed up Tsu’tey’s arm to his face, the respirator still clinging to his jaw.
They were locked in a tense staring contest when feet hit the floor in the other room and another theatrical groan reverberated through the wall. Followed by the pop of stiff bones being rotated, and then footsteps heading for the hallway.
It wasn’t until his mate stepped out into the hallway that Miles seemed to realise there was someone else in the compound besides himself and Tsu’tey. Before his eyes, Tsu’tey watched as Miles planted his hands and leant up onto them to peer over his shoulder. He knew his boy was getting stronger by the day, growing eerily close to being able to move on his own, but it was still the most mobility he’d seen from him yet. Almost as soon as he’d catalogued who was in the hallway, the baby plopped himself back down on his belly and returned to grabbing for his blocks. Regardless of how short lived the feat had been, he couldn’t help but feel pride bubble low in his chest.
<”You two look awfully busy,”> his mate commented from the doorway, bracing a forearm against the wall to lean through it. Dressed in loose tracksuits and a sleeveless vest, Tsu’tey found his gaze catching on the exposed skin of their arm and collarbones, particularly his bond mark standing out against their skin. <”Planning to go somewhere?”> They continued to tease, motioning to their maskless face.
Clearing his throat, Tsu’tey replied matter-of-factly, <”we’re training.”> He swallowed back his displeasure when the respirator dug uncomfortably into his cheeks and chin as he formed the words.
<”I see.”> They replied in a tone that suggested they did not in fact see.
Instead of drawing them further into the room with an explanation, he waved them off. <”Go. Eat something. It has been many hours since you linked up.”>
<”I hear ya-”> they began, again in a pattern Tsu’tey recognised. This time, the one that preceded them immediately got distracted.
<”Go, Yawne.”> He urged.
They huffed and pushed off from the wall. <”Yeah. Yeah. Who are you trying to be? Grace?”>
<”Stop being difficult.”> He chastised them, not rising to the bait.
They slid off the wall and huffed dramatically. <”I’m going. I’m going.”> True to their word, they slipped out of sight in the direction of the kitchen. The sound of a cupboard being opened filled in the blanks before they said loudly, <”so apart from your clearly rigorous training session, how has the little guy been today?”>
<”Surprisingly tolerant.”> Tsu’tey called back, <”he has been working hard. We will make a warrior of him yet.”> Turning his attention down to the little guy in question, he lurched when he realised that Miles was trying to eat the ring. The blanket it had been stashed beneath was still fisted between tiny, uncoordinated fingers, as the baby valiantly tried to cram his fresh find into his mouth. Luckily, the acrylic of the mask proved a sturdy barrier and he only succeeded in squishing his fingers against it. His little jaw was unhinged regardless, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.
Ignoring his initial shock, Tsu’tey calmly leant forward to unhook the fingers clutching the ring, knowing that if he showed any kind of negative reaction, it would most likely startle the boy. Miles immediately began fussing at having his new toy stolen, the kind of whines Tsu’tey knew were the beginning of a full on fit, so he swiftly replaced the confiscated jewellery piece with his smallest finger. A trade Miles seemed to find acceptable as he immediately latched on and set about trying to eat that instead.
A snort from the other room covered the sound of relief he exhaled. <”So he’ll be taking after his father then, good to know.”>
The sound of a ration pack being torn open punctuated the sentence. Not with the snip of kitchen scissors of course. But with the blunt force of inefficient teeth again. No wonder Miles was trying to put inedible things in his mouth if this was one of his role models.
<”Warm it.”>
A beat of silence. Then a huff and the scrape of a plate being pulled down from the cupboard and slid into the microwave.
<“Is your avatar in one piece this time?”> He asked when the whirr of the microwave coming to life filled the otherwise still compound.
<“Oh, don’t worry, I remained behind the rascals the entire time. Poor kid could barely look me in the eye.”>
Tsu’tey chuckled, already picturing it. <“It is good practice for when you take on your own students.”>
In the other room the microwave dinged, but the door was not immediately opened. He glanced up from Miles and found them peering down the hallway at him, brows drawn together over a skeptical expression. <“I’m going to be given students?>”
<“As is tradition.”> He said evenly, fairly certain the answer was obvious.
A burst of air that might have been a disbelieving laugh before they pulled back and disappeared back round the corner. The microwave door was popped open, and the plate was slid off of the carousel and lightly put down on the counter. Tsu’tey waited, knowing the conversation wasn’t yet through.
<“Just didn’t realise you’d trust me with multiple kids out in the forest.”>
<”You get on fairly well with children from what I have seen, why would that be surprising?”> He asked, <”and your skills have been noticed by those you currently help teach. They believe you to be ready.”>
<”Yeah, but,”> they gestured to themselves, then faltered, promptly dropping their hand and glancing away, cheeks burning. <”No, I could do it.”> They said, more to themselves than him now. With that, they scooped up their bowl of warmed rations and finally returned to the bunk room.
Sitting on the edge of the nest, they fixed him with a look before tucking into their meal, <”for the record, I would’ve liked to know I was being assessed.”>
<“You were not being tested.”> Tsu’tey corrected, <“it was a simple observation. Your skills are amendable,”> he purposefully paused, shooting them a look that ran from their head down to their toes and up again, <”for an alien.”>
They huffed in offense, predictably leaning forward to flick him behind the ear. To which Tsu’tey thumped his tail and snapped his teeth at the withdrawing fingers. <”Uhuh,”> his mate humoured him, <”and you take all the credit for that, do you?”>
<“Naturally. You would not have survived a day otherwise.”>
>_<
Holding your breath, you stepped away from the crib. Hands out in front of you, fingers frozen in their respective positions as if moving so much as a joint would wake the sleeping baby you’d been bouncing on your hip for the past half an hour.
Miles remained motionless and fast asleep, sprawled on his back, one arm resting on his belly, the other slumped on the mattress above his head, which he had tucked his plump face into the crook of. He’d finally lost the natural scrunch of his knees, and had his legs half-hazardly stretched towards the bottom of his crib.
Heart pounding as if you were facing an entire platoon of enemy soldiers rather than one restless child, you took a cautious step backwards. Your sock clad foot made a barely audible thumping noise when placed carefully down a step behind you. Freezing, you kept your eyes trained on the crib. Miles did not so much as twitch. You took another step. Then another. And another.
His breathing remained even. The curious furrow between his brows loose.
The light of the hallway washed over your outstretched arms, illuminating the various scars and moles scattered across your skin. Rotating your wrist, the kuru spiral scarred into your skin stretching, and you reached for the door handle. The metal was chilled, but began to warm between your fingertips as you lightly pulled, the door swinging away from the wall. A final, stealthy step, and you were out in the hallway, the door left open just a crack. Only then did you let out a heavy exhale.
You needed a shower. And some fresh clothes. And food. And inevitably, your bed.
The effort of soothing and cuddling a baby for too long had left you sticky from exertion, and ravenously hungry. The temperature of the compound was comfortable, but Miles was like a miniature hot water bottle, pressed tightly to your front, who resolutely refused to be placed aside for even a moment.
Exhaling an exhausted breath, you ducked into the bathroom to change your shirt. The human who caught your eyes in the mirror above the sink looked worn. Heavy bags dragged your eyes down, whilst a streak of mud curled down the curve of your cheek, evidence of your trek to the village for this week’s rations. The clothes that hung off your frame were ratty and well worn, the RDA logo above the breast faded almost beyond recognition, whilst the collar had clearly been dipped in something somewhere between its last wash and being put away in your drawer, what seemed like an ink stain had taken permanent residence within the fibres. In short, you looked like a mess.
Huffing tiredly, you broke eye contact and pulled the top up and over your head. Dumping it in the wash basket, you spied a fresh shirt hung to dry over the radiator. Rubbing the fabric between your thumb and forefinger, you shrugged and yanked it on, the material was bobbled and stretched, but felt clean against your skin. It would do until after dinner. Just the thought of hopping into a hot shower on an empty stomach made you nauseous, although a partially warmed ration bar impatiently pulled from the microwave too early wasn’t that much more appealing either.
The harsh hallway light was off when you stepped back out of the bathroom. Instead, its presence had been replaced by an orange glow emanating from the kitchen. Brow furrowed, you slowly approached the source of the light.
The room was lit by a pair of tealight candles set in the centre of the kitchen table. A woven sheet of distinctly Omaticaya weaving had been pulled over the scarred table top, and hung almost to the floor. The table itself was set, with a pair of plates pulled from the cupboards, sat opposite one another, with a set of mismatched cutlery framing the one sat in front of what had become your chair. If the tealights weren’t enough to tip you off that something significant was happening tonight, then the appearance of the cutlery certainly did. Usually, you didn’t bother with it, choosing to suck food out of the vacuum packets or simply use your fingers, whilst the only other frequent occupant of the compound found the utensils too annoyingly tiny to bother with.
Speaking of which, Tsu’tey was crouched over the kitchen counter, fiddling with something you couldn’t make out in the weak light of the candles. His back freckles were a faint constellation of blue dots, whilst his blade and scabbard were missing from its usual spot above his tail. One of his ears flicked back in your direction before he calmly concealing what he’d been messing with behind the microwave.
<”Ah, he is finally asleep then.”> His voice was a few notes lower than usual, and forcefully even, as if his mind were elsewhere.
<”He fought it tooth and nail, but we got there in the end.”> You replied tiredly, only to trail off when your mate smoothly straightened from the counter, his braid beads clicked against one another as they cascaded down his lean back.
The pair of fiery red feathers woven into the top of one of his longer braids immediately caught your eye. Quietly, you noted that he’d switched out his plain loincloth for a fabric of a similar shade of red, with beadwork sewn in swirls along the hem. His cummerbund was unchanged, but at his throat, his tall, beaded necklace had been exchanged for the poorly woven excuse of a choker you’d made for him a lifetime ago.
The unexpected new outfit gave you pause. More than the candles and dressed up table had. Surely you hadn’t taken that long to get Miles off to sleep.
<”What’s all this?”> You asked carefully, motioning to the room in its entirety.
His right ear gave an aborted wiggle, whilst his eyes flickered over to the table, almost uneasily, before he said decisively, <”it is dinner.”>
Then he turned away again, large hands reaching for leaves brimming with various foods. His ear flicked when you let out an amused huff. You opened your mouth to press for a more precise answer, but he beat you to it.
<”It is what mated humans do for each other, no? Make meals for their partner?”>
Taken aback, you furrowed your brow suspiciously. <”Well, yes, but where has this come from?”>
He rolled his eyes theatrically, striding towards the table to set down the leaves between the two plates. <”You aliens and your ‘special occasions’.”>
<”That’s not an answer.”> You carefully pointed out, to which he sighed and fixed you in place with a very serious look.
<”I wanted to.”> He said, voice a touch on the sharp side before he visibly reigned himself back in. <”I asked the scientists who seemed to be in stable, on-going relationships, what is typically expected for human courtship. They were as helpful as was to be expected, so I improvised on what sounded good.”>
<”And you landed on dinner?”>
<”It seemed important.”> Tsu’tey defended, <”almost all of them mentioned it. Now, come, eat. It has been a busy day.”>
At his insistence, you took a seat.
He set down a couple more leaves brimming with food in front of you. All held forest grown foods. Nuts and neatly cut up fruit, alongside a cooled batch of steamed vegetables, their skins pruned and giving off a faint warmth. All things you knew you could stomach, and judging by the aroma, had been seasoned deliciously. There was not a single hint of vacuum packed, discoloured slop in sight, to which you sent out a silent prayer of gratitude.
<”It looks delicious.”> You complemented, already dragging a leaf closer to your plate so you could begin forking over a portion.
You mate grunted in acknowledgement, before doing the same. You noted that he was eating exactly what you were, and hadn’t taken the time to prep any meat for himself. Probably a courtesy, considering humans and Pandoran animal products notoriously did not mix well.
With a bit of prodding on your end, you managed to slip into conversation between bites. Easy topics, such as Mo’at’s newest apprentice, and Neytiri’s ravenous cravings that Jake was tearing his hair out trying to soothe, as well as the pair of hunters currently circling one another that you were positive were going to begin courting any day now.
Tsu’tey’s posture loosened as the dinner progressed. Sat on the floor at the perfect height to eat from the table, he began contributing more to the idle conversation. Offering tidbits of extra information regarding parts of the gossip you’d missed between unlinking and spending your evenings here. Gradually, his tail lost its straightness and began to softly sway back and forth behind him. The tension around his eyes, no doubt brought on from a stressful day, began to lessen.
By the time you were insisting on helping him clean up, he was firmly back to playfully snapping at you. Shoving you back down into your chair, and then outright lifting you off your feet and depositing you back into it when you dared to start carrying the plates over to the sink.
It was fun. Sweet.
Until Tsu’tey was hovering by the microwave again, his tail swishing a mile a minute. You cocked a brow, turning in your seat and looping an arm over the back to watch him.
<”Cat got your tongue?”> You asked, although the scowl he shot over his shoulder did little to ease the following grin that crept onto your face.
<”I am almost too afraid to ask what that phrase implies.”> He informed you diplomatically, before dragging down a sharp breath and finally turning back to you. His expression now was one of utmost seriousness. Concealed by his clenched fist, you spied something round shining from the gaps between his curled fingers. It looked like the texture of a large nutshell, dark rouge in colour, curved to a point, similar to the mouth of a clam shell. The kind you had to jam your blade in between the halves to split open for the edible centre.
<”I was told that the opening of the box is the most important bit.”>
You furrow your brow at the odd phrasing, <”what are you…?”> only to promptly bite the sentence off midway when he very pointedly sank down to one knee in front of your chair.
>_<
His mate fell very still. Their eyes darted everywhere from his posture, to his face, before dropping back down to the nut shell he was nervously moving from one hand to the other.
Everything up until now had gone according to plan. He had heeded the instructions of the female scientists, regarding a home-made dinner, illuminated by candles. Had pulled the supplies for a human-friendly meal from their rations. Had helped dig through the warehouse for the tiny candles, which had been a pain to light because of their stupidly tiny wicks. And most importantly of all, he had hid the box until after the meal.
The scientists had informed him about the importance of the one knee stance, and the way to correctly extend the box with proper back posture. They’d been incredibly insistent on it in fact, circling back and telling courtship tales that had ended poorly simply because of a poor performance at the last hurdle.
And here he was at long last. His heart was hammering behind his ribs, despite the fact that they were already his mate. In all ways but one, they were fully committed to each other, and he knew in his bones that they would not turn him down. Perhaps it was due to this custom being foreign to him. Having not witnessed a similar event, and having to go off of words alone, left him feeling horribly underprepared.
The female scientists had hummed and awed over his gift. Claiming his mate would be lucky to receive it. Which, after so long carving the thing, was a relief.
Mustering his courage, Tsu’tey brought up the hollow shell. Resting it flat on his open palm, his back straight and his tail swaying with feigned nonchalance.
The way his mate’s expression tipped from confusion into blind panic, made his ears flick back. <”Oh no,”> they whispered, eyes caught on the nut shell. <”I am not dressed properly for you to be proposing to me right now.”> They glanced in the direction of the hallway, as if wanting to sprint off just to change.
Relief soothed his suddenly tense muscles. It was the kind of reaction that shot a thrill down his spine. It was proof that Claire and Dena had not been pulling his tail. That this act was significant enough to his mate for them to recognise his intentions before he even opened his mouth.
The corner of his lips kicked up into a smile at their tone. <”You look perfect.”> He insisted.
They groaned loudly in response, dropping their head into their hands and rubbing at their temples. <”It was staring me in the face.”> They bemoaned, <”the dinner. The candles. You even dressed yourself up all pretty. Why didn’t I notice?”>
<”It has been a long day,”> he acknowledged, to which they sighed and sat back up, dragging in a dramatic breath through their nose. They were grinning though, so he didn’t bother to take the exasperation to heart. <”May I continue?”> He asked carefully, studying their expression.
They nodded decisively, straightened their spine, tucking their knees together and laying their hands on their thighs. <”Alright, blow me away big guy, but for the record, you’re a right bastard. Was the kuru spiral not enough of a claim?”>
<”To have you in all ways would please me greatly. It would mean a lot to me, if you would accept this, and be mine in the ways of your people in addition to my own.”>
They snorted, and offered their left hand to him regardless, fingers parted in invitation. The forwardness of the motion gave Tsu’tey pause. <”Do you not want to examine it first? I was told it needed to pass your standards before I could decorate your hand with it.”>
<”Tsu’tey, love, light of my life, you could propose to me with a button on a string and I’d wear it proudly.”>
His resulting grin to their blunt admission made his cheeks hurt. <”I am glad you think so, but hopefully this will be better than a rounded disk of wood.”>
Without further hesitation, he flicked the nutshell lid open with his thumb and tipped it in their direction so the polished stone would catch the warm glow of the candles. The trio of atokirina he had painstakingly carved around the external edge of the ring stood out starkly against the soft grey material. His mate’s pupils expanded at the sight of it. Taking that as a good sign, Tsu’tey carefully pried the fiddly little thing from its resting place and slid it smoothly onto their offered ring finger.
His mate turned their hand over, their eyes hungrily drinking in the details of the piece as a dopey grin stretched their face.
<”You know, I never thought I’d end up with one of these.”> They admitted wetly, and Tsu’tey’s tail thumped against the compound floor. <”And yet, somehow, a galaxy away from Earth, and I do.”> A short, disbelieving laugh. <”No one back there would believe me.”> Tsu’tey huffed out a short laugh, and leaned forward to kiss their forehead.
<”Do you like it?”> He murmured, voice low and careful.
<”Stop fishing for compliments, you know I do.”> They immediately bit back, only to lean up and wind their arms as far around his neck as they physically could. <”Thank you.”> They whispered against his cheek, almost too quietly for Tsu’tey to pick up on it. His ears wilted slightly at the raw vulnerability in their tone, his own arms looping over their smaller frame to draw them tighter to him.
All too quickly, they were trying to pull away again. <”Ah shit! That reminds me.”> They began wiggling in his hold, so he retreated. Swift as something their size could move, they were up out of the chair and diving across the kitchen. Perplexed, Tsu’tey frowned as he watched them drop to their knees and yank open the lowest of the kitchen drawers. An assortment of plastic bags rustled as they dug down to the bottom and let out a triumphant noise. <”I’ve been hiding it so long, I almost forgot.”>
<”Hiding what?”> He prompted, <”and why the bottom drawer?”>
<”The same reason you hide stuff on the top shelf of the cupboards. It’d be too inconvenient for you to bother to look there.”>
He would give them that, actually.
The thought was promptly discarded, when they rose back to their feet holding a black box. One similar to the box Claire had shown him back at the Mother Compound. The one Dena had given her with her ring inside.
<”I was planning to give it to you after a night spent in the forest together or a flight, but now is perfect.”> They explained, the stone ring on their finger glinting in the candlelight as they fiddled with the thing.
Tsu’tey heartbeat began to pick up for a whole new reason. It almost pounded right out of his chest, when they strode up to him and abruptly dropped to their knee, right in front of him, a mirror to the pristine posture he’d been sure to display not even moments before. There was no dramatic speech, no attempts to delay the inevitable. With fumbling fingers, they pulled up the lid and offered him the content of the box. Craning his neck, Tsu’tey spied a large silver ring nestled between two white pillows, engraved with a single atokirina. It was visibly his size, but he was almost too afraid to touch it. What if he broke it?
<“How did you…?”>
<”Norm mentioned someone who used to forge in their free time months ago, and I got him to teach me in exchange for some ikran teeth. He helped me refine the shape and showed me how to do the carving, but it’s mostly my work. I wanted to give you something better than that uneven courting necklace you insist on wearing.”>
Protectively, Tsu’tey’s hand shot up to curl around said necklace comfortably encircling his neck. <”But I like this necklace.”> He insisted childishly, to which they rolled their eyes at him.
<”Well, hopefully you’ll grow to love this just as much. I even managed to rope Neytiri into measuring your finger for me a few months back.”> Come to think of it, there was an instance of Neytiri trying to measure his fingers with string, claiming it was for a scientist’s research.
Not that he had time to dwell on the fact, because they were lifting the ring from the box and holding it out between their thumb and forefinger for his examination. <”Will you wear it?”>
He wanted to. Desperately. Like he needed the ring in his possession to breathe, but all he could think about was tarnishing the shiny surface. Of losing it somewhere in the forest or dirtying it whilst skinning and cleaning a kill.
As if reading his mind, his mate suggested, <”on your songcord, maybe? Is it good enough for that?”>
Absently, his hand tapped the string of beads in question secured to the band of his loincloth. Yes, he thought. Yes, that would do nicely. Then he could add it to his song, and commemorate this evening into eternity.
<”That will do nicely.”> He accepted the suggestion, to which his Yawne positively beamed. Carefully, he plucked the ring from their outstretched fingers, the metal cold and strangely smooth against his callouses. The carving of the atokirina on its surface was smooth and unskilled, but undeniably created in the image of Eywa’s sacred seeds. It would be a worthy addition to his life story, he decided.
>_<
Eight months old
<”Why are you smiling like that?”> The question was uttered in a suspicious but amused tone, causing the purring that had been the source of your amusement to tick down into a background noise rather than the full throttle jet engine that it had been.
Feigning innocence, you continued to focus on the laptop resting across your lap, your fingers slowing down in their rapid tapping of the keys as your mind strayed from the email you were preparing to send Norm’s way. Something about the herd migrations for next season so the Mother Compound could be adequately stocked, although all thoughts of statistics and research had promptly left your mind now that Tsu’tey had spoken up after so long in companionable silence.
<”Like what?”> You asked, catching sight of your mate’s lopsided frown in the dimly lit screen of your laptop. The amber of his eyes shone brightly against the document set to night mode. You held his gaze for a stolen handful of seconds, before breaking contact first and casting your attention to your right, where a dozen or so sheets of paper were scattered across the floor next to your hip, covered in graphs and messy red ink.
The wooden support framing the edge of the mattress shifted and dug into your lower back as your mate adjusted his weight on the nest, one of his hands sliding into view to lightly prod at your cheek. <”Do not play at innocence.”> He chastised, voice lowered so as not to wake the sleeping baby curled up on his chest.
Miles had ended up there an hour back, having been promptly scooped up from his time on the rug within minutes of Tsu’tey returning home with Neytiri and Jake in tow. The baby had been happily entertaining himself with a wooden alphabet block whilst you’d worked, until he’d heard the airlock open and close, which of course had prompted him content babbling to dissolve into snatches of lopsided English and Na’vi that you’d had no hope in deciphering.
The warm and vocal welcome had almost immediately drawn Tsu’tey into the room, his respirator tangled up in his braids from his haste to find his boy. Miles had kicked his feet at the sight of him, thrown aside his block and dedicated all of his attention to making grabby hands for Tsu’tey who had been powerless but to oblige him.
By the time Jake and Neytiri had followed him into the room, Tsu’tey had climbed into the nest and deposited Miles on his chest, his purring loud enough to rattle the windows in their frames. Miles, now eager to copy everything that he saw and heard, tried his hardest to replicate the sound with his inadequate human vocal cords.
Comfortably lying on his belly at the apex of Tsu’tey’s chest, his attempts kept breaking off into a belly laugh whenever his dad’s purring trailed off beneath his cheek to suck in a breath before it kicked right back up again. The motions kept making his voice wobble, which of course just set off his amusement all over again. Tsu’tey peered down at him with open, raw fondness, his tail lazily flicking in time with the baby’s giggles.
With the last of his giggles petering out, Miles dropped his head back down onto his dad’s chest, eyes dropping to half mast. Of course, feeling Miles relax against him had only made Tsu’tey purr harder and they’d ended up setting each other off once more. But if it was a glimpse into the years to come, you didn’t have a single want to complain.
They’d gone back and forth until Miles had eventually dropped off into a content nap. And of course, Tsu’tey had kept purring, one enormous hand running through the child’s neatly braided hair.
Tsu’tey prodded your cheek again. <”Yawne.”> He warned playfully.
Pulling your head away from his finger, you shot him an amused look. <”You’re just a very loud purrer.”> You admitted, to which your mate scoffed.
<”Of course I am. I am amongst family.”> He explained with a huff. Not quite able to hide the indignant flick of his tail by readjusting his long legs across the mattress. <”Besides, my boy finds it soothing.”>
Lying draped across a stolen pile of cushions on the floor near the foot of the nest, Jake snorted obnoxiously, but offered no further comment. He’d initially beelined straight for the nest when he arrived, groaning something dramatic about missing cotton sheets before curling his too big body up onto the mattress, only to be firmly kicked off (repeatedly) by Tsu’tey. He’d settled for stealing your set of pillows, and staring up at the ceiling with his hands interlaced over his belly whilst his tail languidly thumped against the floor, the picture of innocence. Although you suspected he was simply biding his time until he could crawl back onto the mattresses.
Dangerously, Tsu’tey’s eyes flicked from you down to the lounging avatar. You watched him weigh the risks of waking Miles by throwing something at him, or whether or not he could shimmy down the mattress and manipulate his legs well enough to simply kick the man.
<”Purring is nothing to be ashamed of, Jake.”> Neytiri diplomatically interjected, having sensed the shift in tensions without having to so much as glance up from her carving. Unlike the other two, she’d decided on the floor instead of the nest, and was sat cross-legged, leaning up against the opposite wall, her head bowed in concentration as she slid her blade back and forth over a nut shell destined to be added to Miles’ songcord.
<”I know that.”> Jake reflexively defended himself.
<”Then why do you scoff at Tsu’tey? Do you not plan to be just as enamoured with your own child?”>
<”Why are you taking his side?”> Jake deflected instead of answering.
Neytiri’s blade stilled before the next stroke. Slowly, she lifted her attention from her task to give Jake a scathing look. <”It is not a side, it is common sense. The motions soothe. It is expected of a parent to offer comfort. Learn that now, or I shall make you.”>
<”It wasn’t a slight. I’m just not used to doing it, or hearing it.”> Jake explained, seeming genuine enough that Neytiri inclined her head tidily before lowering her attention back to her work.
With his mate placated, Jake hoisted himself up onto his elbows and lifted his head over the side of the nest to find you already looking up at him. His expression was dead serious when he continued, voice lowered as if letting you in on a secret. <”It does not stop over at the Village. There’s someone purring, all the time, and it sets everyone else off. You’ve seen how far apart those huts are, but these ears are sensitive as hell and I’m a light sleeper. I thought coming down here would allow me to get away from it all.”>
<”Cease your whinning.”> Tsu’tey chastised him sharply. <”That was meant to remain behind in the human body.”>
<”Asshole.”> Jake reflexively snapped, going so far as to sacrifice one of his pillows to launch it at Tsu’tey’s head.
<”Be careful of Miles!”> Tsu’tey snarled, his purring promptly cutting out as his hand shot upwards to intercept the pillow before it could get too close.
<”Boys!”> Neytiri growled. Her sharp gaze fixed on Tsu’tey before her head once again turned to glare at her mate. <”Don’t make me come over there.”> She threatened, jabbing her knife blade in Jake’s direction, to which the ex-marine smiled sheepishly and slowly slid back out of sight. Blowing out a long, controlled breath, she muttered something about them being worse than children, before returning fully to her work.
Behind you, the mattress shifted again, and the pillow still clutched in Tsu’tey’s hand was slowly lowered. He tapped you lightly between the shoulder blades, to which you leant forward on reflex, only to grin when the pillow was unceremoniously shoved between your spine and the wooden frame.
<”Better?”> Your mate asked absently, leaning back on an elbow, whilst he cradled Miles under his chin with the other hand.
<”Much.”> You returned, watching in amusement as his ears pricked towards the warmth in your voice. To prove the point, you wiggled your back against the plump pillow, noting how it softened the edge of the frame just enough for this to become a proper working location rather than just a temporary one.
Across from you, with a sense of accomplished finality, Neytiri abruptly sat up straighter. Blowing away the last couple of loose chips from her masterpiece, she turned the object over in her palm and nodded. <”It is complete.”> She informed the room triumphantly, before sheathing her blade and offering the fresh bead to you in her outstretched palm.
Interest peaked, you pulled down the lid of your laptop and reached forward for it. Neyitri met you halfway, rolling the bead into your offered hand, her tail thumping loudly against the ground as she waited for your reaction.
To put it simply, the bead was gorgeous. It had been carved into the shape of an ikran in mid-flight. Its four wings stretched wide, with a hole for threading punched through the heart. It would be a perfect addition to the string of beads and knick knacks that commemorated the early stages of Miles’ life so far. Which you told Neytiri of course, who’s ears wiggled at the praise.
<”Show Tsu’tey.”> She insisted, already rolling up onto her knees to reach for the songcord tucked away on the windowsill. Since it was too large for Miles to safely wear, for now it spent its days guarding the picture of Miles and his birth Mother. Bracing one hand on the wall, she carefully grasped the first bead and began to pull it free.
Her eagerness was infectious. Following her insistence, you turned and presented the newest bead for Tsu’tey to inspect. He made a show of loudly humming as he raked his eyes over it, drawing Neytiri’s glare, although there was no heat behind it. She knew she’d done a splendid job after all, even if Tsu’tey liked to pretend he was the better and more experienced carver of the pair.
<”It will do.”> Tsu’tey concluded with a toothy grin, to which Neytiri playfully snapped her teeth.
<”It will be cherished.”> She corrected fiercely. <”My nephew will look upon it in years to come and marvel-”> The sound of glass shattering and the splintering of cheap wood promptly cut off her grand speech.
<”Okay over there?”> Jake startled, already hauling himself up and off the floor, whilst Neytiri grimaced down at the shattered picture frame, Miles’ songcord safely held in her hand.
<”It’s fine.”> You insisted, sliding your laptop off your lap and onto the loose sheets of paper, before hauling yourself to your feet and carefully stepping around the shard towards the other room.
Padding out into the hallway, you overheard Neytiri’s annoyed grumble, and the click of glass shard sliding against one another. <”I’m fine, Jake. But his frame-”> she deflected, sounding more annoyed with herself than anything.
<”We will replace it.”> Tsu’tey calmed her, the creaking of mattress springs suggesting he had also gotten up to assist.
<”Norm will have more squirreled away in storage.”> You called from the kitchen, having successfully located the dustpan and brush and begun making your way back to the bunkroom. <”If anything he’ll thank you for giving him an excuse to dive back into the warehouse. He comes out with new shit every time.”> Jake was grinning when you slipped back into the room, having seen first hand just how much joy Norm got out of the RDA’s bottomless storage facilities.
The other two seemed more preoccupied in clearing away the mess. Miles’ songcord had already been returned to the windowsill with the new ikran bead attached, whilst the photo frame was now missing its picture.
You went to kneel down and set to work sweeping up the glass, but Neytiri pointedly took the brush from your hand, before you could do so. <”My mess.”> She explained plainly, before setting to work herding the stray pieces into the plastic pan, whilst you held the latter steady.
A short stretch of minutes later, and it was like nothing had happened. Taking the brush back, you disappeared into the kitchen once more to bag up the glass shards before binning them. In the other room, the others were quietly talking.
<”Tsu’tey pass it here, I will put it back.”> Neytiri insisted, sounding irritated, like she was repeating herself.
Brow furrowed, you quietly stepped back into the bunk room, only to find a stand off, rather than the relaxed atmosphere from before. Jake was hovering behind Neytiri near the head of the nest, his back to the window but his eyes on the two na’vi. He looked like he’d been interrupted taking Tsu’tey’s earlier spot.
Neytiri stood near the windowsill, her hand outstretched and expectant, whilst she glared at Tsu’tey who was still holding Miles, but was standing just a touch too straight to be natural.
<”No.”> Came his reply. Said just a touch too quickly. Wetting his lips, your mate averted his eyes guiltily. <”I-uh,”> he opened and closed his mouth in rapid succession before seeming to find a response. <”Wish to look at it longer.”>
Neytiri huffed impatiently. <”You hid it under your pillow.”>
<”For safe keeping.”> Tsu’tey insisted.
<”It will be safer up here, where we can keep an eye on it.”> Neytiri insisted, stepping away from the window towards the nest, only for Tsu’tey to slowly and carefully step in front of her. His tail raised in voiceless challenge. Neytiri stilled. For a tense handful of seconds, neither of them shifted and just stared at one another.
<”Move.”> Neytiri said first. Short and commanding.
<”I will put it back later.”> Tsu’tey reassured.
She stilled, eying him skeptically. <”Why are you acting strangely?”>
<”I am not.”> Over the pair’s shoulders, you and Jake made uneasy eye contact. The ex-marine made a show of raising his eyebrows and rolling his eyes, whilst you felt unease thicken low in your stomach. You knew your mate, and you knew him well. Something was wrong for him to be reacting this way. Something to do with the picture.
Neytiri’’s eyes narrow dangerously. <”You do not make a habit of lying, Tsu’tey. Why do so now? And why over a picture?”>
Slowly, you stepped further into the room, eyes tracking the pair of Na’vi, whilst moving smoothly so as not to draw any attention to yourself. You knew they could heard your footsteps, your every breath, and no doubt your very heartbeat once you sidled up close enough, but neither broke eye contact to look at you.
The photograph was beneath Tsu’tey’s pillow. So easily in reach, if you simply put a knee on the mattress and stretch. It was something Tsu’tey didn’t want Neytiri to see. Something he knew would make her angry, or react poorly too.
The way he was holding Miles, tucked to the side of his broad chest rather than securely beneath his chin, was telling enough. The baby’s vulnerable back propped against his father’s arm, his body curled into a scrunched, unassuming ball, whilst your mate attempted to keep the rest of his body language lax. He held Neytiri’s stare unflinchingly. One ear flicked down to acknowledge your approach, but he did not otherwise attempt to stop you.
Between them, his and Neytiri’s body language was broadcasting too much for you to hope to keep up with. Neytiri’s ears were doing a complicated dance, whilst Tsu’tey kept shifting on his feet, his tail a blur of activity.
Abruptly, Neytiri’s golden eyes snapped to you. Pupils pin prick tight, whilst the lids had been pulled back as far as they could. The sight was downright eerie. The kind of thing better suited for a late night forest hunt, where the shadows concealed all manner of beast, as opposed to a sunlit bunk room.
The hair on your arms promptly rose under such searing attention. The small of your back tingling with the sudden urge to bolt. The classic survival tactic of flight reared its head. An instinct you hadn’t needed to indulge for months.
Steeling yourself with a sharp breath, you lunged for the bed. One knee on the mattress, body lunging forward. Neytiri snarled and mirrored your actions, closing more distance in a single step than you had during the entire stand off. Between you, Tsu’tey spat out a curse and sidestepped out of the way with Miles securely in his hold. The baby shrieked as the abrupt jolt, but Tsu’tey was quick to soothe him.
Your reflexes were lightning fast and fueled by adrenaline when you ripped the pillow off of the mattress, the photograph laying picture up and unassuming on the topper beneath. But Neytiri was effortlessly faster, with her hunting experience and longer arms. No sooner had you discarded the pillow and reached for the picture, had Neytiri effortlessly snatched it away.
She rose menacingly to her full height, backing away, her head bent to accommodate the low roof, as she critically scanned the image. When she found nothing amiss, she scowled and returned her attention to Tsu’tey. <”It is just a photograph,”> she said exasperatedly, <”why would it cause you to react like this?”>
Tsu’tey held her gaze, but did not offer a response. The tension had bled into every fibre of his stance. Miles’ weight had been shifted entirely to the task of one hand, whilst the other arm hung casually at his hip, within easy reach of the blade secured above his tail.
Jake finally clocked the stance, and took it upon himself to carefully return to the floor. <”Why don’t we all take a deep breath-”>
<”No. I want answers.”> Neytiri sharply interrupted. The hand gently holding the picture between her thumb and forefinger fell to her side as she jabbed an accusing finger at Tsu’tey. Your eyes followed the movement, as the image slid into the rays of sunlight flooding in through the window at her back. It seemed that Quaritch hadn’t bothered to use anything but the office printer to commemorate the birth of his only son, as writing scrawled on the back of the image bled through to the thin paper to the front. Writing that the frame had previously concealed. Writing that was clearly some form of note, with Quaritch’s full, government name clearly scrawled out in pen at the bottom.
Fuck. FUCK!
Behind Neytiri, Jake’s head shot up from where he too had clocked what was wrong. Ears fanned wide, what could only be described as blatant horror flooded his expression, before his training seemed to kick in and he forcefully smoothed his expression back out. When his attention leapt back to the rest of the room, his golden eyes found yours immediately. The poorly concealed unease was all you needed to register to know that you wouldn’t like what was on the back, and Neytiri was bound to like it even less.
As if sensing the change in her mate, Neytiri glanced back over her shoulder, just in time to yank her hand out of Jake’s reach where he’d attempted to sneak the photograph out of her grip. She snapped her teeth at him, tail thrashing in unease as she pivoted, putting her back to the wall and forcing the rest of the room into her eyeline.
<”What has gotten into you all?”> She demanded, finally looking at the photo. Her frustration only grew when she saw nothing amiss. <”It is just-”> she flipped it to the other side and trailed off. Her brow ridge furrowed as her eyes scanned the language, her lips absently shaping the words as she skimmed the note.
The floorboards creaked at your side, as an eerily quiet Tsu’tey stepped into your peripheral vision. Slowly, he sank into a crouch, his expression painfully serious as he shifted his hold on Miles and offered the fussing baby to you. <”Take him.”> He urged, eyes on Neytiri. Nervous, you realised. <”Whatever happens, take him to the Mother Compound. I will find you there.”>
Miles whined at being moved. Trying to latch onto one of Tsu’tey’s fringe beads, but the man was quick to catch the wandering hand, stealing an extra moment to nuzzle into the tiny palm. <”Remember, he is ours.”> Your mate implored, eyes painfully vulnerable when he met your gaze.
Guilt speared you through the lungs like a fish on a pike. He was putting on a calm exterior, but you could see the nerves in the minute flick of his tail. In the poorly concealed shake of his hand, as he unsheathed the blade above his tail and pressed the hilt into your hand not occupied with Miles. It was far too large for you to comfortably hold, but a reassuring weight all the same. Especially since your own knife was back in the kitchen alongside your exopack.
If Tsu’tey knew about Miles. If he had read the back of that photograph and decided to hide it regardless. If Tsu’tey had already discovered who Miles’ birth father was, this was certainly not the reaction you’d been expecting. You tried to deduce if that was the case by looking at him, really looking at him. But he looked the same as he had ten minutes ago.
<”That boy.”> Neytiri abruptly spoke up, her tone unreadable. The kind of tone that had the hair on your arms rising in anticipation.
Unexpectedly, you became very aware of how much bigger all of them were than you. Something you hadn’t needed to consider or take into account for months. Particularly Neytiri. After she’d warmed to you, you’d had little reason to fear her outside of a healthy dose of respect when you were in this body. Especially in the beginning, she was understanding. Quick to correct Tsu’tey in his actions rather than the other way round. But now, holding Miles tightly to your chest, armed with a knife ill-suited for your hand and barely half a room away from her, now, you feel like prey under the thumb of a predator.
Even Tsu’tey crouched beside your elbow, felt enormous. It made your heart begin to pound, despite knowing he wouldn’t hurt you. He was your mate, even if he became furious with you, he would not break your trust by lashing out. Regardless of whether or not you’d lied to him.
Smoothly, your mate rose from his half crouch, one colossal hand lightly wrapping over your shoulder as he studied Neytiri. His ears were pulled back as he met her gaze.
Neytiri glanced back down at the back of the photograph, running a thumb across the pen scrawled there.
<”He is the son of the demon.”>
A heavy pause followed her words. A silence not even Miles broke.
Your breath caught in your throat. Your heart began a low war drum pounding in your ears, as you snapped your gaze up to Tsu’tey. His expression hadn’t changed. He remained statue still at your side, his hand a comforting weight on your shoulder.
Across the room, Neytiri sucked in a shaky breath and turned to Jake. She shoved the photograph into his chest, eyes wild and pleading as she added, <”that is what this implies, yes? That the Quaritch demon is his birth father.”>
Jake grimaced and dutifully took the photograph from her. He read it again, ears lowering. <”Sometimes I wish Grace hadn’t done such a thorough job teaching you guys English.”>
Neytiri’s body fell eerily still. <”Then he is.”> She murmured gravely. Jake would not meet her gaze when she looked at him, sending her tail into an uneasy zigzag, whilst you tried to keep your expression somewhat neutral.
<”You knew.”> She concluded calmly. Eyes on him. Only on him. <”After everything. After all we have been through. You knew, Jake, and you did not share.”>
<”Neytiri-”> Jake tried to reason with her, but she snarled at him. Low and guttural. He fell quiet.
Snapping her head in your direction, her undivided attention once more tapped into that poorly suppressed instinct to run. <”Did you?”> She demanded, voice low and dangerous. You swallowed despite yourself. The knife in your hold felt large and clumsy, whilst Miles himself was closer to a sack of stones. <”Did you know?”> She repeated, stepping forward once. And eating up almost the entire distance between you.
Tsu’tey’s hand lightly squeezed your shoulder, as his upper lip peeled back. <”Of course they didn’t.”> He interrupted, dragging her undivided attention away from you. <”I would have known.”>
You winced. The guilt spearing your lungs twisting ruthlessly.
Tsu’tey fell still. Then turned his attention down to you. He fell unnaturally still. The kind of stillness reminiscent of a predator preparing to pounce from the undergrowth. His attention was a brand. Heavy and hot. His eyes cataloguing all of your tells. Coming to his own conclusions.
Slowly, he retracted his hand from your shoulder, and stepped away.
Steeling yourself, you met his gaze unflinchingly. The hurt curdled there was undeniable. His ears flicked back, his attention intense and scrutinising. <”You knew.”> He said, accusingly. You inhaled sharply, clamming fingers readjusting on the hilt of his knife clenched tightly in your fist. The knife he had slipped to you to defend his son and yourself with. The knife you might have to now use to fend him off with. Inhaling shakily, you nodded, and dropped the knife to your side, squeezing Miles a little tighter against your frame.
He turned away. Not to leave, but to collect himself. His tail writhing at his back as his hands found his hips and he scowled at the wall.
<”So you both knew.”> Neytiri concluded, attention jumping between you and a guilty looking Jake. <”For how long?!”> She demanded, her tone biting.
Jake’s mouth opened and closed a handful of times, as he scrambled for a diplomatic answer, but Neytiri offered no ground. <”Jake!”> She barked, causing his babbling to immediately cease. <”For how long have you known?”>
He promptly deflated, leaning into accountability now that the truth had been dragged out into the open. <”The whole time.”> He admitted unflinchingly, ears lowering but his head held high, like a convict accepting his time.
Neytiri cursed under her breath. <”We do not keep secrets from one another, Jake.”>
<”This one needed to be a secret.”> Jake insisted, <”the kid’s life was at stake.”>
<”That does not retract from the fact that you knew what he was, and still kept him.”>
<”He’s a baby!”> You interrupted, fear and guilt and unease, promptly thrown away in the face of her tone. <”What else were we supposed to do? Leave him out in the forest to die?”>
<”Return him to the scientists!”> Neytiri snarled, rounding on you. Tall and powerful and undeniably deadly as her shadow blocked out the sunlight. <”You were supposed to keep him and his kind far, far away from my home and the people I hold dear! They have destroyed enough!”>
<”Yes, they!”> You fired back, Miles beginning to fuss at your tone. <”The RDA. The fuckers sent off-planet. Not a baby.”>
<”It is in his blood!”> She snarled.
<”And that!”> You fired back, jabbing the knife blade in her general direction, <”Is the exact reaction it was kept quiet. Norm knew you would react like this. This is why we didn’t want you finding out. You’re too blinded by your own grief Neytiri, to know that it is all over and it’s time to begin healing. Everything Quaritch did to you was repaid with his death and the removal of the RDA. One boy should not matter.”>
<”Have you forgotten EVERYTHING we have lost to them? To his kind? You would risk him growing up to be like his demon of a father?!”> She stepped forward, fists clenched looking like she wanted to strike you.
You didn’t back down. You just held Miles tighter and held your ground. <”I would risk him growing up around good role models.”> You corrected. <”Like you. Around good fucking people. I would risk surrounding him with people who support and love him. Who would equip him with the tools and skills he would need to survive on this planet. You wouldn’t have been willing to offer any of that had you known where he’d come from.”>
Neytiri remained tense, but you clearly saw your point land in the way her cheek twitched. You were right on the money, and she knew it.
In your arms, Miles fussed louder, the tension in the room clearly getting to him. Absently, without removing your eyes off those in the room, you shushed him. Pressing a quick kiss to his forehead as a handful of soothing words slipped past your lips.
Neytiri’s attention snapped down to the baby as if his need for attention had been a personal slight. You retreated backwards a careful step then, when you noticed that there was no warmth in her gaze now. No looseness to her posture. She was looking at your boy the way she used to look at the RDA soldiers. Like something small and pathetic that needed to be crushed before it could prove a nuisance.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t reach for her knife. But she didn’t need to. Like this, her strength was far superior to your own. And right now, you couldn’t trust her. It was a jarring realisation to have. You had never not trusted Neytiri before, but right now, Mile’s safety came first.
She took another step towards you, and your body moved back on auto-pilot, the open door to the hallway lightly bumping against your heel. Your fingers tightened around the knife hilt, the blade laying flush up your forearm in anticipation for a fight. But you did not lift it. Not yet.
Neytiri caught the tightening of the arm regardless. She dropped her eyes back down to the baby. <”He looks like him.”> She commented quietly, and then she scoffed. <”Eywa, he looks like him. Same eyes, same jaw. It’s been staring me in the face all these months.”>
<”Enough Neyitiri.”> Tsu’tey interrupted, still standing off to the side. His arms crossed, but his tone firm. <”You have said your piece.”>
<”You!”> She snapped, rounding on him, <”you hid that note from me.”> You audibly breathed out when that cold glare finally slid off of you. <”You protected him-”>
Tsu’tey straightened. <”He is our son.”> He fiercely interrupted. <”It does not matter where he began.”>
Jake’s brow leapt up his forehead in unison with your own.
Tsu’tey paid neither of you any mind.
Neytiri scoffed. <”Just like that?”> She challenged. <”No betrayal? No horror when faced with the truth? You find out you dote on the child of our greatest enemy and feel nothing? What would those lost to the Sky People think of you?”>
<”His is your nephew-”>
<”He is nothing to me now!”> Neytiri snarled. <”He is wrong! Tainted by those that came before-”>
<”The demon is dead.”> Tsu’tey interrupted, voice cold in its forced calmness, <”He does not deserve your thoughts, or your feelings.”> Tsu’tey informed her, before breaking eye contact. <”As for those we lost, they would not have allowed a child - anyone’s child - to be neglected.”>
<”How can you be so accepting?”> She demanded, almost pleaded.
<”He didn’t know.”> You interjected sharply. <”It was a need to know basis.”>
<”And I didn’t need to know that I could’ve brought my child into a family riddled with his influence?”> Neytiri challenged. <”I somehow didn’t deserve to know exactly what danger I was unknowingly helping to nurture?!”>
Everything roaring within you suddenly stilled. The guilt bled away. The fear of being outmatched melted into nothing. Your expression smoothed out. All that was left behind was cold, unflinching anger.
<”Get out.”> You said quietly.
Neytiri blinked unsettlingly. <”Get out?”> She repeated.
<”Yes. Get. Out.”> You repeated, jabbing the knife blade in the direction of the door.
She didn’t move.
Your expression hardened. <”I know you heard me. Need it in english? Fine.”> You sucked in a breath, squared your shoulders. “LEAVE!”
Neytiri clicked her tongue and stepped forward, towards you, her hands raised, eyes downcast towards the baby.
You turned your body, putting your shoulder between her and Miles, your face twisting up into something wrong. Something furious and primal. You felt like you were in your avatar body rather than your human one, when your throat vibrated with a low snarl, teeth bared. It was the kind of sound your avatar instinctively made out in the forest when something dangerous took an interest in Miles. It was the snarl you’d heard Senior hunters making in the field when their students were in danger.
In the compound, removed from the forest, the sound was weak even to your own ears. Warped by pathetic human vocal cords, but the notes were the same. The message crystal clear. It was a universal sound. The kind that every Na’vi understood. It said, ‘deal with me instead.’
Neytiri fell unnaturally still. She studied you. You didn’t move a muscle.
She could’ve ignored you. Could’ve stepped forward and ripped your son from you without anyone in the room being close enough to stop her. And you would’ve been ill suited to do anything.
The tension in the room mounted. You clung to Miles, and silently promised yourself that you wouldn’t let go without a fight. Without drawing blood.
Neytiri must have sensed your resolve, because she huffed, her eyes flicking away as her ears lowered. Her tight posture loosened and drooped as she dropped down into a crouch, her weight on her feet and knuckles.
<”Move then.”> She growled, to which you side stepped, pushing yourself against the wall and leaving the doorway to the hall open for her. She lost no time in whisking past, not so much as brushing a hair against you as she slammed out into the kitchen and straight into the airlock.
Across the room, Tsu’tey unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. <”I will ensure she makes it to the village.”> He said plainly, eyes focused only on the door, as he followed in the wake of his friend, leaving you and Jake to stare at each other in the aftermath and exhale.