Chapter Text
Lo'ak saw it. With his two amber eyes wide open, fixed, unable to blink.
He saw his sa’nok raise the knife over Spider’s chest. The same Spider who had grown up with them, damn it. The human who shared his childhood, his food, his childhood games. The one who knew his family better than anyone.
And now his mother, Neytiri, was threatening to pierce his heart.
Lo'ak wanted to understand. He truly wanted to defend her, to justify her. But he couldn’t connect that woman to the beast standing in front of him. His mother. The same one who sang to him when he was a baby, who healed his wounds with gentle hands, who rocked him to sleep at night. Now she hissed, lips drawn back and eyes flooded with a rage that wasn’t from Eywa. It was bloodlust.
She wants blood
Something ignited in Lo'ak’s chest. His partner. His ma’Spider. Fear screamed louder than any order, louder than reason. He lunged forward, only to feel his father’s arm like a rock across his chest.
—Babe, come on. Drop the knife. I know you don’t want to do this— Jake pleaded. His voice was calm, but Lo'ak heard the tremor underneath. He was choosing each word like he was trying to calm a toruk.
On the other side, Quaritch. The Genocide of Pandora. And yet, even he looked shaken. Jaw clenched, yellow eyes locked on Neytiri. He wasn’t looking at the hostage under the edge of his own knife. He was looking at Spider. At _his_ son.
Kiri sobbed against the blue arm holding her back, not caring that the blade marked her neck.
—Mom, please. Sa’nu, let him go. Don’t kill him— her voice broke, she was afraid of her own mother.
Neytiri’s eyes didn’t hear her, didn’t hear any of her children. There was only death in them. To her, Spider was no longer the boy who was like a brother to her kids. He was a demon. An insect to crush.
And then it happened.
Maybe it was the helplessness in Jake’s voice. Maybe it was the pure terror at the thought that his ma’Spider would die. His partner. The one carrying _his_ child in his womb.
A cold wave ran down his spine when he finally looked at him. At Spider. Really saw him.
He’d changed in these months of absence. His dreadlocks, longer, fell messy over his sweaty forehead. His hands, the hands that knew every inch of Lo'ak’s body, were now pink from pressure, clutching his belly desperately. Protecting. And in those brown eyes, Lo'ak didn’t see the boy who painted blue stripes and stole food. He saw fear. Animal fear. Fear of dying.
And Lo'ak reacted.
He ignored his father’s grip. Ignored Jake’s voice shouting his name. This time he let himself forget the fear with the smell of blood in his nose and just acted.
The impact was brutal. Neytiri was thrown back with a gasp, her back hitting the cold metal floor with a crash that made her ears flatten back. The knife flew from her hand, and Spider, freed, scrabbled backward like a frightened ilu, never taking his eyes off Neytiri.
Stunned, Neytiri blinked up at the ceiling, dizziness clouding her vision. She felt a familiar weight on top of her.
She opened her eyes.
Her son. Lo'ak was on top of her, straddling her, pinning her down. He wasn’t her boy anymore. He hissed like a cornered palulukan, lips drawn back showing his fangs. His knife, not hers, now pressed against the soft skin of her throat. And in her son’s amber eyes, Neytiri saw no love.
くコ:彡
Spider was terrified. A cold, visceral fear that closed his throat and made his hands tremble against his own belly. And he’d lived through too much: the cold nights in the RDA, the pain of the machine invading his mind, passing out from lack of food. He’d been the “Demon” his whole life. The son of Pandora’s most dangerous criminal. The weird pet Neytiri looked at like an insect that sooner or later had to be crushed.
But this was different.
Before, the pain was only his. Kiri told him “you’re family,” Jake pretended his presence didn’t bother him, Lo'ak swore that sooner or later they’d be okay. But deep down, Spider went to bed knowing that if he didn’t come back, no one would notice his absence. No one would stay awake waiting for him. No one would take care of him when he had a fever. The closest he’d had to that was Quaritch, and that was more terrifying than comforting.
Now he wasn’t alone.
Now there was a heartbeat under his palms. Small, urgent, dependent on him. A son who didn’t know his father had been through hell. And for the first time in 17 years, Spider understood he couldn’t let himself die. He couldn’t give up. Because if he fell, the child fell with him, his baby.
His instinct screamed one name: Lo'ak.
He lifted his brown eyes, mask fogged, and found him.
On top of Neytiri.
Lo'ak hissed like a furious palulukan, chest heaving with rage. The knife in his hand trembled against the throat of the woman who gave him life, leaving a thin red line staining the blue skin.
—How dare you?!— Lo'ak’s voice cracked between a snarl and a sob—. He grew up with us, Mom! He ate at our table! Why do you hate him so much? Why are you capable of killing him?
Tears ran down his cheeks, cutting through the war stripes on his face. Pain. Pure pain of a son torn between two worlds. Spider saw it and something in him broke too. He wanted to run, grab his arm, tell him it was stupid. But before he could take a step, arms yanked him off the ground.
Quaritch.
The colonel had dropped Kiri in a second, moving with a speed that belied his size. He gripped Spider by the arm, tail rigid, yellow eyes locked on Neytiri as if expecting her to get up and kill him too.
—We’re leaving. Now, kid— he muttered, voice low, rough. It wasn’t an order. It was fear. Real fear.
For Spider it wasn’t new. He’d seen Miles Quaritch face entire na’vi clans without blinking. But Neytiri... he was terrified of her. Before it would have made him laugh. Now he just clung to his blue arm, hiding behind him like a child. The fabric of his uniform smelled of blood and sea. It was pathetic, he knew. But the baby weighed too much to care about pride.
The movement didn’t go unnoticed.
—Spi?— Kiri’s voice was a broken whisper. Jake had an arm around her, both of them wearing the same confusion and horror in their eyes—. What are you doing? Why are you over there with him?
Jake stepped forward, jaw tight.
—He has nothing to do with this. Let him go, Quaritch. Don’t hurt him. Don’t sink that low, Miles.
Quaritch smiled. That twisted, venomous smile that always brought out the worst in Jake.
—Me not hurt him?— he scoffed, tightening his grip on Spider as if protecting and threatening him at the same time—. You have the nerve to say that to me, Corporal? To me, with my own son trembling in my arms? The one who should be worried is you. Your wife was about to kill the boy who grew up with your kids.
A low blow
—You don’t know anything about him!— Jake roared, teeth clenched, the vein in his neck standing out like a rope about to snap—. You’ve been manipulating him since day one! You’re not his father, Quaritch! You’re a weapon with the colonel’s face and memories, nothing more!
It hit the mark.
You could feel it in how the air around Miles grew dense, heavy. A low hiss slipped through his teeth, more beast than man. He hated it. Hated being reduced to that.
He’d stayed awake nights on end with his hand on Spider’s forehead, whispering that it was okay when RDA nightmares made him scream. He’d diverted orders, hidden reports, risked his own skin so “Miles Jr.” wouldn’t end up on a dissection table. He knew the way Spider scrunched his nose when he lied, the way he clung to someone’s arm when he was scared, his two biggest secrets.
And now this blue corporal had the nerve to tell him he didn’t know him.
They didn’t get any further.
A hiss cut through the air like a whip. Neytiri surged up in one motion, shoving Lo'ak back with a force someone who’d just taken a blow to the head shouldn’t have. Her chest rose and fell, yellow eyes blazing with a hatred so ancient it burned.
—This is all that demon’s fault!— she spat, pointing a trembling finger at Spider—. He’s poisoning my children with his human lies! This is all your fault! I should have opened your chest when I had you under my knife, like your kind did to my son!
Her voice wasn’t human. It was the voice of a mother who had her world ripped away and now wanted everyone to burn.
—Mom, please!— Kiri’s voice broke. She had Tuk pressed to her chest, the little one burying her face in her shoulder while tears cut silent rivers down her face—. You have to see past the hate! You can’t live like this! We still don’t know if Neteyam is alive! For Eywa, breathe!
She tried to take a step toward her, but Jake was faster. He stepped between them, big hands raised in peace, voice low but urgent, like someone talking to a wounded animal.
—Come on, nena. I know today everything went to hell. But Spider isn’t to blame for this. Breathe with me, okay? Tsireya took Neteyam to the village. There’s still hope. There’s still time.
Lo'ak wasn’t listening.
His chest was tight, his throat burning. All his life he’d watched how they treated Spider like he was worth less. Like he was a mistake. And he… he had settled for empty promises. “Soon we’ll be okay, ma’Spider.” “Don’t let it get to you.”
Words. Just words. While his partner shrank a little more every day.
Now he understood.
He understood when he saw his mother with the knife at Spider’s throat.
He understood when he saw the fear in his partner’s brown eyes.
He could spend a thousand years talking to Neytiri. He could kneel, beg, bleed for her.
It wouldn’t change anything.
His mother’s hatred was older than him. Deeper than Eywa.
And if they stayed there, Spider would die. And the baby with him.
The decision fell on him, cold and clear.
They had to leave.
He, his ma’Spider, and their child. Far from the sky demons. Far from his broken family.
To a place where no one could touch them. Where Spider’s honor would never be trampled again.
But what could he do?
He was sixteen. Sixteen. His hands trembled so badly he could barely close them into fists. What was he supposed to do when everything was falling apart? When his mother wanted to kill the boy he loved, when his father hadn’t had the courage to step in on time.
He needed help. He needed someone who loved Spider enough to go to hell for him.
He didn’t want to look. He really didn’t. But his eyes betrayed his pride and went on their own to that blue demon he hated with every fiber.
And there was Quaritch.
Body between Spider and Jake, tail rigid, stance protective. Like he’d done it a thousand times before. Like protecting Spider was natural, instinctive.
Could he trust him?
Should he?
His father’s voice echoed in his head: _“Never trust the RDA people, Lo'ak. Their promises are poison. They don’t want anything good for Pandora.”_
But the resentment burned hotter in his chest than the fear. Because it had been Jake who hesitated. Jake who let Neytiri raise the knife. Jake who always chose to calm his wife over saving Spider.
They always said Neteyam was Neytiri’s son. The one with her gaze, her fire.
Lie.
It was Lo'ak.
Lo'ak had her temper. He ignited easily, loved with everything, and held grudges like they were sacred. A grudge that didn’t fade with apologies, that stayed there, festering until it turned into a decision.
Two identical love stories. Two men willing to burn the world for their partner.
Below, Jake already had Neytiri’s wrists held carefully, his voice low, whispering things only she could hear. She loosened a little when she saw Kiri holding Tuk against her hip, both of them trembling but safe. The mother’s fury faded for a second, replaced by the panic of losing another child. There would be time later to talk to Lo'ak. To punish him. To make sure that pink-skin never came near her family again.
One look passed between Jake and Neytiri, and it said everything.
No words. Just understanding.
Neytiri took a deep breath, pulling her daughters toward the ikran waiting nervously. Her goal was clear: get her daughters out of here.
Quaritch saw it. And he knew Spider was safe for now… but not forever.
He couldn’t fight Jake and Neytiri at the same time. And right now, facing Mrs. Sully was suicide. The problem was something else: what the hell was he supposed to do with Spider?
His yellow eyes locked onto Lo'ak. The only one who hadn’t mounted the ikran yet.
They understood each other without speaking.
Same goal: get Spider out of here. Away from Neytiri. Away from danger.
Quaritch wasn’t gentle. He shoved Spider to the side roughly, just as Lo'ak lunged for him and grabbed his arm, pulling hard.
A sharp whistle left the hybrid’s lips. Above, his ikran dove down, wings beating the air urgently.
—Lo'ak! Get over here right now!— Neytiri’s voice cut through the air like a whip—. You need to go with your sisters! Now!
Lo'ak didn’t stop. With a quick motion he got Spider onto the ikran’s back, shielding him with his own body.
—I’ll take him— he said, forcing his voice to sound calm. If his plan was going to work, he couldn’t sound defiant. He had to seem reasonable. He had to keep his mother calm for two more seconds.
Spider clung to the harness, brown eyes darting between Quaritch and Jake like he expected them to kill each other any second.
—Hey bro, you really don’t have to do this— he whispered, voice trembling—. I can go alone. Go with your sisters.
Lo'ak didn’t look at him. He couldn’t. If he did, he’d fall apart.
—You’re not going alone— he muttered.
—I’ll catch up with you there. I can swim.
—Don’t make me say why you can’t swim right now.
Spider froze. One hand dropped to his belly on its own, protective.
—You’re insufferable. I already told you I’m going back alone.
—Damn it, can’t you just accept help for once?
—If I go with you, your mother will claw my eyes out for corrupting her son.
Lo'ak finally turned. His voice came out low, broken, exhausted.
—And if you don’t come with me, I’ll be the one clawing out the eyes of anyone who touches you.
It slipped out. He said it too loud.
Spider took half a step back, hand tightening on his belly, eyes wide. Scared.
Shit. He’d scared him.
Lo'ak cursed inwardly. He knew Spider was afraid of Quaritch. But staying here meant dying. And he couldn’t let that happen.
—Listen— he took a deep breath, lowering his voice—. He’ll be fine, okay? He’s a colonel. A damn recom, but he’s tough. He can handle himself.
Spider’s brows furrowed. He hated that word. “Tough.” Like it made it hurt less to be used as a shield.
Lo'ak saw it and swallowed his pride.
—Fine. We’ll stay close to the ship, okay? I’m not leaving you alone. But please… get on. Please.
His voice broke on the last word.
It wasn’t an order. It was a plea.