Chapter Text
He wakes as he has done for the past three days. Slowly, easily, slipping out of the hold of sleep and into the arms of comforting awareness. He opens his eyes to the woven ceiling above him, the sparks of refracting light from the water outside playing against the green colour of the woven reeds.
Calming, like he’s been asleep under the leaves of the forest.
He sniffs, and the bitter after scent of balms and pastes itches his nose. It’s the familiar smell of the healing pod, and of the medicines that had been rubbed into his skin before he fell into sleep, to relax his abused muscles. But underneath it, he can also smell the sea brine outside. Something he’s had to get used to associating with safety, and not the expanse of open water.
His fingers twitch around empty air. Spider slowly tilts his head.
The pallets beside him are empty. But the blankets that were used are still rumpled, as if their owners had only just gotten up and not bothered to tidy them away. When he reaches for them, they’re still warm against his fingers.
The smell of the balms wafts to his nose when he moves his arms again, creating a sort of musty taste at the back of his tongue that he needs to smack his lips to get rid of. His nose wrinkles at the remnants of the root vegetable and stew that had been forced on him the night before, more to keep his stomach full than to satisfy an appetite. Which hasn’t really been there for the past three days.
Overwhelming everything else is the niggling sixth sense at the back of his head that demands to know where the others are. It has him pushing himself upright.
For the past three days, Spider has been placed under what Jake would call ‘house arrest’. Although none of them know what a house is, and when he tried to explain what arrest means, Spider had remained confused.
Spider would consider this extreme babysitting.
He’s not allowed to leave the pod by himself. If he does it’s only for increments of an hour or so, and with someone right next to his elbow at all times. If he tries to even go outside the pod, someone has to go with him.
He’s surprised he’s allowed to go to the bathroom on his own.
His food intake is monitored to the nth degree, his vitals are taken nearly hourly, and his every ache, pain and phantom hurt is documented in the small datapad Norm had found just to store Spider’s (extensive) medical file.
(It would be so easy to crack it in half over his knee–)
Turns out that not all of his hurts had disappeared when he’d removed the connections. Which is just his luck.
His leg and his knee still smarts if he walks for too long (which is the reason for the distance cap). The nerves along his shoulder tingles if he doesn’t stretch it properly after waking up (from where he’d been hung over the edge of the ship), and his lungs (surprisingly) still had a little bit of water trapped in them from when he’d drowned in the holding cell.
He’d forgotten that had even happened.
The pain in his knee and leg is easy to remedy with the cold packs, and rest. The shoulder has been stretched till Spider thinks it’ll snap off, and Ronal (kindly, weirdly) took care of the remaining water in his lungs. Although yacking that up hadn’t been a pleasant experience.
Because of that, everyone seems to be taking great pleasure in hovering around him for every hour of the day. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t mind. But with their proximity, and the limited space he’s been given in the healing pod (because of the other patients occupying the pallets), it makes for a very claustrophobic atmosphere.
Kiri and Neteyam have practically not left his sides. He’s had one glued to one hand, and the other to his shoulder since he’d been pulled back into their embrace.
Neteyam is the one who usually takes Spider outside the healing pod for his daily intake of sunlight and sea air. Spider thinks it’s because he’s the only responsible one. Neteyam says it's because he’s the only one who could catch him gently if he tried to make a run for it.
Kiri…has made it her mission to apologise whenever she can. Spider understands because he’d felt the same kind of guilt that takes root in your stomach and festers there. He tries to placate and forgive her every time she says she’s sorry.
It’s the only thing he can think of doing when faced with her crestfallen expression.
She also hugs the living daylights out of him every chance she gets, which means they’ll be okay. It’ll just take time, and he knows that intimately.
Lo’ak has been the embodiment of an attentive younger brother, going so far as to ask the head healer - who is apparently called Zeyko and has the meanest stare and most intricate tattoos across his knuckles - what will help Spider most during his recovery. Spider had watched from the pallet in astonishment as his brother attentively took note of every paste, balm, bandage and plant shown to him. Somehow able to understand the small noises that denoted each one.
It had been enough to send Spider into floods of tears.
And of course, being the annoying little brother he is, Lo’ak proceeded to lord over every little piece of advice Spider was given. Probably as some sort of method of teasing him.
For example: no, Spider isn’t allowed to eat anything heavier than a soup or broth because it’ll mess up his stomach. He can have the delicious stew Lo’ak’s eating once he’s gotten stronger.
Spider’s surprised he hasn’t perished from his taste buds shrivelling up in disgust. Because the broths and soups Lo’ak insists on feeding him every mid day meal have no taste. Although, Spider can’t help but make appreciative sounds whenever he does eat it. Maybe because Lo’ak’s eager look is too difficult to resist and he doesn’t have the heart to disappoint him.
Tuk, the little angel she is, brings Spider little shells, rocks, and bits of seaweed from her travels to the beach with the Olo’eyktan’s daughter. She tells him stories about every single one, and where he can put them, how he can use them. Once, she brought a shell that was the same colour as the delicate skin at his ear, and she’d bashfully said he could add it to his song cord if he wanted.
He’s still got it tucked safely into a corner of his blanket, because he wants to add it properly. Without damaging it, but he doesn’t really know how.
Tuk has also taken it upon herself to make a list of everything Spider is going to do when he gets out. From swimming with the Tulkuns (which won’t be possible for another few months at least) to cliff-face climbing (which, again, won’t be possible for a few months) to net weaving, she’s nearly got a list as tall as she is.
Spider knows, because she’d managed to raid Norm’s supply crates for stacks of paper from High Camp. And has been adding to it nearly every day.
Neytiri has taken it upon herself to be a quiet shadow next to Spider’s right side, nearly anticipating what Spider needs before he knows it. The attentiveness would be downright weird, if it weren’t for the fact that she’d been…in his head.
She keeps her voice to low tones when she speaks, because she knows anything louder would aggravate his near constant headache. She gives him ground sea salt when Lo’ak’s soups turn out way too bland to even eat, but doesn’t tell Spider where she hides her stash.
(Maybe because she wants to be the one to have Spider’s grateful look fall on her every time she hands it over.)
She’s also taken to teaching Spider how to craft his own hunting knife out of sea glass and wood from their pod. He’s…not sure how to feel about it yet, because everytime he tries to decide, the emotions shoot up his throat too quickly to distinguish one from the other. He ends up feeling like he could cry at the drop of a hat, but he can deal with it.
At least, he thinks he can.
Jake has been doggedly chasing after Max and Norm to find out everything about what happened to Spider.
Spider suspects it’s because he had been aware of the loops for at least one cycle. But then he’s also surprised when Max tells him (after another thorough and long checkup) that it was also because Jake wanted to know if there were any long lasting effects.
Spider can’t help but feel a bit distanced from him. Jake fidgets and finds a reason to get up again when they sit in the healing pod. He constantly moves around, and when he does sit and try to talk to Spider it’s stilted and more than a little bit awkward.
Maybe it’s because Jake has something he wants to say, but Spider’s brain is too exhausted to try and figure out what. He waits patiently for Jake to either form the words, or gather the courage anyway. Even if it is a bit cringey to watch a man as distinguished and usually well composed nearly crack Dad jokes just to get the attention off of his skittish movements.
Here, now, sitting up on the pallet and turning to see the rest of the healers and their patients taking up the rest of the space, Spider can’t help but feel like he’s missing a limb. Or a toe. Something intrinsic that will send him crashing to the floor if he gets up.
Being without all of them hovering around him sets him on edge. An instinctive part of him jumps to the conclusion that they’ve left him. He shakes it off easily and quickly. His mind clutching onto the fact that the blankets next to him are still quite warm.
It’s distracted by the loud rumbling of his stomach. Spider glances down in surprise, because he hasn’t had much of an appetite in days. He pats it, like it’s an annoyed animal and decides that now is the time to get up.
He pushes against the blanket still draped across his legs, freeing them up to his knees. There’s still no mark on his thigh, even though it twinges whenever the muscles tense, but his knee is secured tight with a compression bandage. It catches against the rough material of the blanket, and Spider hisses quietly, pausing to adjust the material.
During his stay in the healing pod, Spider has come to theorise that Zeyko has more sensitive ears than others. Ones that easily hear when his patients are in pain better than any of the other healers.
Spider has also suspected that he has the power of teleportation, or extreme speed. Because not even a moment after Spider’s noise dies away, does he suddenly appear at the foot of his pallet.
Giving Spider a hard stare whilst his arms cross over his chest.
“I was just going to go find food,” Spider says, his words trailing off in the face of such an intense pair of eyes. “I swear, I wasn’t going to go further than the first walkway.”
Zeyko’s brow creases, and Spider shrinks a little. The silence is more intimidating than any sort of reprimand. He supposes it’s why he was assigned to his care.
“Do you know where the others have gone?” he asks, and Zeyko’s fingers twitch with short, sharp signs, whilst his chin tilts towards the entrance to the pod. Spider doesn’t know the signals of the Metkayina, yet, but he gets the idea.
“Oh,” Spider replies, not allowing his disappointment or confusion show on his face.
They went out. He doesn’t know where.
“Do you know when they’ll be back?”
A shake of the head, and a softening of his gaze makes Spider huff a small sigh. But he pastes on a grateful smile anyway, before freeing his feet from the warmth of the blanket and turning on the pallet. Another tilt of the head and Spider sighs but crosses his feet underneath him, leaving the space in front free.
Zeyko comes to crouch before him, his fingers hesitating for the go ahead to begin.
The checkups are regular and familiar now. Spider doesn’t flinch as badly as he had before, when he was still intimidated and a little bit scared of Zeyko’s tall figure and his silence and only just beginning to recover.
For the first two days he’d had out of the shared vision he’d been skittish around anything that moved. Jumping at every sudden noise, startling when someone approached from his periphery. He’d been fine after the person had identified themselves, but he’d felt pathetic.
Now, he sits calmly and quietly as Zeyko runs his hands along Spider’s legs, pressing down gently against his joints, stretching out his foot to test the flexibility.
“It’s gone down,” Spider comments when the compression bandage is pulled away, and Zeyko hums in agreement. Long fingers run over the bright pink skin, checking the alignment of Spider’s kneecap.
“Less like a banana fruit,” Spider murmurs, drawing his knees together to compare when Zeyko pulls back.
A pot of salve is shoved under his nose, and although Spider whines and complains, he takes it anyway when Zeyko grunts and shakes it. Nearly slopping some of it over the side.
When it’s opened, the waft of the stuff inside is nearly strong enough to make him cough. He soldiers through it, and slathers a dollop onto his own skin, wincing when his fingers press a little too hard into his still tender knee.
Meanwhile, Zeyko feels along Spider’s hairline, skirting around the rubber of his mask and tilting his neck to gauge the flexibility. Nothing twinges, and he moves on. Aiming instead for the exo-pack as he double checks the oxygen content. Spider helps in checking the tubes, tightening them, wiggling them around to check for cracks.
But then Zeyko makes a soft worried sound, and Spider glances down to see the soft orange light.
“Neteyam knows to ask Norm for a spare one,” Spider reassures him, bending at the waist a little to peer out the entrance. He hums quietly, before working quickly, and with Zeyko’s help, to change out the pack. “If they’d ever come back from stuffing their faces.”
Zeyko grunts again, and when Spider glances up he shakes his head slightly. Spider frowns.
“If they’ve not gone to eat, then where have they gone?” Spider asks. Zeyko only shrugs his shoulders - something Lo’ak showed him.
A few minutes later, the checkup is finished with a clap of Zeyko’s hand against Spider’s shoulder, which always makes him sway in place. It’s his way of giving him a clean bill of health.
“If they’re not here,” Spider says when Zeyko begins to move away from the pallet, “can I go sit outside?”
Part of his recovery has been reliant on what Jake calls fresh sea air treatment. It’s nice though, because it gives Spider an excuse to just sit at the edge of a platform and watch the sea. And depending on who’s sitting with him, it could last for a good hour or two.
(Or a few minutes if Tuk and Lo’ak are sitting with him.)
Although, having the mask on kind of counteracts what it’s meant to help.
“I won’t go further than there,” Spider says, pointing to the edge of the platform just outside the healing pod. To Zeyko’s doubting look he adds, “I can even stay in sight of the entrance. Please?”
Zeyko’s doubting look gets a bit worse, but then one of the other patients calls over to just, “Let the kid get outside. He’ll talk us all into Eywa’s embrace early.”
Spider’s ears burn, but Zeyko sighs in defeat and gestures for Spider to take his hands. His knees wobble, his knuckles turning white around Zeyko’s fingers but he manages to stay upright as they take shuffling steps towards the entrance.
Three days ago, he had to be carried on Neteyam’s back to get outside. The colour his cheeks had turned was enough to send Tuk into peels of laughter. Now, he settles down at the edge of the platform by himself, and giggles when the glowfish swarm his feet immediately.
He grins at Zeyko in thanks, who only gives him a fond look before turning back to the healing pod. Leaving Spider to his own thoughts.
Leaning forward, he peers between the pods to see if he can spot the others at the cookfire. If he should be ready with his angry expression and (fake) cold shoulder. But from his position, he can only see the small cloud of smoke drifting lazily towards the sky.
His stomach growls again at the smell of cooking.
“Probably stuffing their faces,” he says jokingly, tilting his head up to gauge the time by Alpha Centauri’s height in the sky. “It is morning meal, so hopefully they won’t be gone long.”
A quiet squeak draws his eyes back down to the sea, and his lips spread into a wide, easy grin.
“Hello,” he says cheerfully, waving to the ilu poking its head out of the water. It disappears as soon as he spots it. The smile drops from Spider’s face in surprise, and he leans over to stare into the gentle waves. A few moments of silence has him sitting upright again, more than a little disappointed.
He kicks his legs lazily for a few moments, wary of the small twinges in the muscles of his knee. Most of the ilus have avoided him ever since he arrived. Maybe it’s because of the vibe he gives off? Or that their friends got word around that he watched one of their own get brutally murdered–
Spider roughly shakes himself free of that thought before it can develop. Pinching his leg when it doesn’t go away.
Another squeak works as a distraction, and he locks eyes with the ilu . Who’s now popped up on his other side, just out of arm's reach. It blinks at him, chirps, and tilts its head to the side.
Spider smiles again, and keeps his voice level as he says, “are you meant to be over here?”
Obviously the ilu doesn’t answer, but it shies away from Spider’s fingers when he tries to pat it. Turning to swim to his other side. It blinks and chirps again when it gets there, and Spider’s now the one tilting his head.
“What’re you doing?” he asks with another laugh. The ilu squeaks and goes onto its side. So that a fin is nearly waving at Spider from above the water. And for the first time in a while, his stomach bubbles with the familiar bloom of mischievousness.
Reaching down slowly, he slips his fingertips into the water up to his first knuckle, waits for a moment, and then flings it upwards. Sending a spray of water towards the ilu.
Not expecting the human to actually take the bait, the creature squawks indignantly. It rights itself with a flap of its fin, and Spider yelps at the cold water that washes over him. He retaliates with a kick from his good leg, although it doesn’t do much.
The ilu makes a short sound, like it’s laughing, as it floats to and fro just out of his reach.
For a moment, Spider considers jumping down from the platform and giving chase. But the sudden clearing of someone’s throat draws his attention back to the healing pod. Where Zeyko is giving him a stern look from the entrance.
Holding up a hand in surrender, Spider plants himself back onto the walkway, and leans forward with an amusing huff.
“Looks like you won this time,” he tells it. It chirps again, and swishes its fins a few more times. As if deciding whether to splash him again. Spider frowns, and holds out his hand to it, shoving down the large excited grin that wants to break over his cheeks when it draws a little bit closer.
“Who’s your rider?” he asks.
“ Ilus are one of the many animals on our planet who do not bond with one Na’vi for life,” a sudden voice says. Spider tenses where he sits, and doesn’t take his eyes away from the water. Not until Tonowari sits next to him. “They often come to those who call them, even if they have never swam with them before.”
“Oh?” Spider asks a bit shakily, turning to glance at him.
The ilu, taking disinterest now that their playmate has a new friend, squawks and dives back into the ocean, the ripples lapping the water up to Spider’s ankles.
“It is why many of them are seen swimming wild in the open ocean,” Tonowari continues. “And it is usually very rare for a warrior to ride the same ilu three times in a row. Although, it is different for children who are only just learning, as they are more likely to imprint on one ilu only.”
“What happens when they get older?”
“They move on,” Tonowari says, sitting much like Spider, with his feet trailing in the water. “The young warriors become used to different creatures and their habits, and learn how to adapt to each one. They are flighty animals, and guaranteed to abandon their rider when it takes their interest.”
“Weird,” Spider murmurs, the word drifting away on the light sea breeze.
“I see you’ve accepted things as they are,” Tonowari broaches after a few moments.
Spider blushes both in surprise and embarrassment, and hurriedly says, “Um, yes. I think I have.”
The kind smile is still strange on a face he’d initially seen pulled into an angry snarl, but Spider works through those memories to blurt out, “Thank you. For helping me. I don’t think I would’ve stopped being so stubborn if you hadn’t talked to me.”
“You’re welcome,” Tonowari replies with a bow of his head and a graze of his fingertips against his forehead.
Spider’s blush burns just a little bit hotter.
“And how has it been?”
The question is jarring in its sudden nature, causing Spider to flounder for a few moments for an answer. Casting his thoughts over the three days which feel like they’ve stretched into three months. It makes his expression turn soft, and the smile that twitches his lips upwards doesn’t feel exhausting.
“Good,” he says, genuinely. “But, there’s still some…issues.”
Tonowari hums quietly as Spider leans his forearms against his knees. Watching as a glowfish swirls around his ankle before darting off into the coral.
“A tsurak,” Tonowari suddenly says, “is different to the ilu as they bond to their rider for life. Much like the ikrans of the mountains.”
Spider’s seen them shoot past him whilst sitting out with Lo’ak once. His brother got so excited about them he’d slapped Spider’s shoulder and proclaimed, loudly, that he’d learn to ride one soon.
Spider had just an inkling that they could easily swallow him whole and decided to not come within arm’s reach of the creatures.
“They’re proud, and not easy to please,” Tonowari continues. “It can take many attempts to match the rider with the mount. And often, results in a few injuries.”
“Have you had anyone lose an arm?” Spider asks eagerly, slumping when a stern, yet kind of fond look is sent his way.
“What it also takes is time, and patience,” Tonowari says. “Many sessions are spent getting used to each other’s movements, thought processes and bodies so that the bond can be fully formed. It is not like the ikran in that it does not take one singular flight for it to become anchored.”
“Huh,” Spider says.
“It takes work from both parties,” Tonowari adds, “but it is a method that has been used for generations. And never fails to achieve what it is set out to do.”
As if by coincidence, three hunters shoot past on their mounts, heading out to the open ocean. Spider watches them go with more understanding of how their bodies move in tune with each other, and Tonowari lets the quiet drape over them like a shawl. They move with such grace and ease, you wouldn’t think it had taken much time to become that atune.
There’s suddenly things that need to be said, the words bubbling up Spider’s throat. They sit heavy on his tongue, but he takes a moment to formulate them into sentences. It’s important that it comes out understandable.
“I wanted to thank you,” he says finally, turning so that he finally locks eyes with Tonowari. Refusing to flinch or glance away. “You gave my family sanctuary and kept them safe. Without the protection of Awa’atlu I’m not sure what would have happened.”
It’s not something he has actually considered, at least, not until he was finally able to think of something else other than survival. But there were so many opportunities before the fight on the SeaDragon for his family to be found, caught, and killed. And he might not have even known it.
“You didn’t need to hide them, but you did anyway, so,” he bends his head as much as he can in gratitude, even though his back twinges and says, “ thank you.”
The lapping of the sea against the supports of the walkway is the only sound that Spider can concentrate on, because Tonowari’s breathing is so quietly controlled it is inaudible. He clenches his hands where they lay on his thighs, refusing to let them shake as he waits in what could be abstract terror.
And then, a gentle hand lays against his shoulder, and Spider nearly feels himself go boneless.
“You do not need to thank,” Tonowari replies. “When Uturu is asked it must be answered. However, even if we did not offer our help, I’m sure Jakesully would have kept them safe.”
Spider lets his head rise again, not willing to say anything in case his voice wobbles dangerously.
“Yeah,” he mumbles once he’s gathered some confidence, keeping his gaze out to the trail of seafoam that follows the hunters, focusing on it hissing instead of the thumping of his own heart in his chest.
“I don’t suppose…” he asks once the quiet has lasted for a comfortable amount of time, “that you’ve seen the others this morning? I woke up and they weren’t in their pallets.”
“Your younger siblings were going in the direction of the cookfire when I saw them last,” Tonowari says with a small cough. “But I’m afraid I haven’t seen the others, however the perimeter checks do not necessarily allow me to check in on every member of the clan.”
“Oh,” Spider replies, “that makes sense. I should’ve realised.”
Tonowari hums quietly, the sea breeze curling around them. Spider’s nose wrinkles at the heavy scent of salt, and Tonowari’s ears flicker.
“They will return quite soon, that is certain,” he suddenly says to the ocean. Spider frowns at his tone, and the small quirk to his lips but Tonowari gives nothing away as he pushes himself up to his feet.
A warm hand presses gently against the top of Spider’s head, fingers catching against the edge of his exopack.
He doesn’t flinch.
“I am glad to see that you are doing well, Spider,” Tonowari tells him with another kind smile. “And I am sure, with time, things will become easier. Patience is the key lesson we give to our young warriors when they attempt to ride their tsurak for the first time.”
Spider stares at his retreating back as he goes, wondering how someone so fierce could be so patient and understanding.
He’s about to turn back, to keep watching the ocean coming in and see if he can spot his ilu friend again, when Tonowari says, “Jake,” as he rounds the healing pod.
Spider has to hold back his laughter at the spluttering noises, putting his back to the healing pod so that his smile isn’t obvious. His shoulders shake anyway, and his lips tremble when he tries to force them into a straight line. His eyes resolutely stay glued to the horizon, not even daring to glance at Jake as he takes a seat.
“So,” he says after a few moments, “how do you know Tonowari?”
Spider breathes to gain control, so that when he speaks there’s no hint of amusement. He can feel the embarrassment rolling off Jake in waves, and doesn’t want to make it any worse.
“He came to visit back before the…thing with Neytiri,” he explains hesitantly.
Even with three days in between himself and the trauma dumping (Lo’ak’s name for it, not his) it’s tricky trying to approach it with someone who wasn’t there. Well, at least, not in the mental sense.
Jake hums, and then sits with such an anticipatory air around him it nearly physically draws up his shoulders.
Spider waits, to see if it dissipates. When it doesn’t, after a few seconds, he sighs.
“He also might’ve impaled me on his spear,” he says quietly, wincing at the harsh sound Jake’s breath makes when it escapes his lungs. “And he threw me over the side of the ship. To protect the others, and his kids.”
“The way you talk about it so easily,” Jake murmurs, and Spider hums. “Kids your age should not have to…”
His voice trails off, but Spider understands. The pain has become so normal he’s numb to it. It’s the only way his body can handle it, and as they sit there he suddenly feels a little bit more understood.
If he speaks to Neteyam and Kiri about it, even mentions one loop where he was injured or almost killed, they go pale and silent. And their eyes go shiny with tears. Lo’ak finds it difficult to even listen, and because Spider’s so blunt about it he’s only able to get his hands over his ears when the sentence is half finished.
His blabbering covers the rest though.
Spider hasn’t said a word in Tuk’s direction. He wouldn’t dare, she’s been through too much as it is.
But Jake and Neytiri? It’s as easy as breathing with them, and every new loop that gets exposed to open air and ears is another little bit of weight off his shoulders. Although Jake is more emotional in his reception, they’re both able to take the trauma because they’ve dealt with their own in the same way.
That doesn’t mean it still isn’t difficult.
“I’m sorry,” Jake suddenly says, the words spilling from his lips in a way that Spider knows it’s what he’s been holding back all this time. “I’m so, so sorry that you had to go through that on your own. If I’d only realised what was going on, I could have helped–”
“That’s a dumb thing to say,” Spider tells him bluntly, and Jake’s words turn into splutters again. Spider only pins him with a genuine look and continues, “How could you have known what was going on? You were hopped up on adrenaline, and had only gone back once. You would have written it off as some sort of intense hallucination.”
“And what if I hadn’t? I could have prevented at least some of your injuries, or tried to save my kids,” Jake insists, but Spider sighs and shakes his head.
“Jake,” he says, grabbing hold of his hand where it’s flailing between them. “You couldn’t have done anything. And you don’t need to say sorry for any of it. I already get enough apologies from Kiri.”
“But…” Jake tries to protest. Spider tightens his grip, just a little.
“It was my job to prove to myself that I was worthy to be in this family,” Spider says simply. “It was my duty to save the others. If I’d tried to link up with you, it probably wouldn’t have worked and might’ve made things worse.”
Jake turns his head away, and Spider has to fight back another bout of laughter because it really looks like he’s pouting.
“I’m still sorry though,” he says after a few moments.
“I know. I forgive you,” Spider replies, repeating what he says to Kiri every time she says the same thing. But it means more this time; it’s not just a placating thing. Spider means it, wholeheartedly. Without a doubt.
“There’s something else I need to–”
Jake’s words are cut off by the thumping of many pairs of feet, fast paced and coming close with a speed that makes Spider suddenly anxious. (Has something happened? Is someone hurt? Have the humans dared to come back again?)
But then his siblings round the edge of the healing pod, and his shoulders loosen. Tuk nearly falls over with her enthusiasm and clumsy feet, but Kiri manages to hook her arm around her chest before she does. All eyes land on Spider and Jake, who’re sat staring at them with barely contained amusement.
“Dad,” Tuk whines even before she’s righted again.
“What’re you still doing here?” Lo’ak asks at the same time.
“We’re…talking?” Spider replies uncertainly, glancing at Jake for guidance. He only gets an exasperated look and a shake of the head.
“Well come on then, this is no time for chit chat,” Lo’ak says jokingly, striding over with purpose even when Spider tries to get out more questions before he’s ignored. It doesn’t work, because his brain is unable to mesh the words on his tongue into legible sentences. “Mom’s waiting back at the pod.”
“Hang on a second!” Spider says with a bit more strength than he’d meant to. Lo’ak jolts back, his hands still reaching for his arm. “What are you talking about? Am I missing something?”
“You didn’t tell him?” Neteyam asks, and Spider groans at being ignored.
Jake, who had been unable to speak over them, now rubs his neck sheepishly. Glancing away when his two eldest pin him with a look that’s really similar to their mother’s.
“Well, I didn’t really get a chance,” he admits, and Tuk whines again, practically throwing herself at his side to playfully punch his shoulder. He chuckles, and manages to peel her away before she can actually do damage, but winces at the stern look from Neteyam and Kiri.
“Why not?” Lo’ak asks, partly curious and suspicious.
“We don’t have time to find out ,” Kiri butts in. “Mom’s waiting, and your amazing food won’t keep warm if we talk for too long.”
That get’s Lo’ak’s ass in gear. He grabs Neteyam’s arm, tugs him to Spider’s side and says, briskly, that he needs a piggy back.
“No arguing,” he declares, pointing a finger at both of them when they open their mouths, before swiftly spinning on his heel and striding towards the healing pod. They all blink at his retreating back, stunned by the sudden change in attitude.
But then, Spider notices a small piece of seaweed tangled in the hair at the back of his head, and he has to work to force down his grin. Although it doesn’t help that Tuk spots it too, and starts giggling in that way of hers that sounds like molten light.
Spider hurriedly shushes her just as Lo’ak comes level with Zeyko. Who’s form fills the entrance of the healing pod. Lo’ak doesn’t even flinch at the stare down he’s getting and the fond glint in Zeyko’s gaze has Spider marvelling at how easy it is for his brother to communicate.
“We’re taking Spider to the pod now,” he says bluntly. And after a few moments of consideration, Zeyko just grunts, lifting a hand to pat Lo’ak’s head as if he’s a little kid.
“Of course. He’s talked to him about it already,” Jake mutters, an amused smile working its way up his cheeks.
They watch as Lo’ak nearly skips back to them, his hands flapping insistently for Spider to get up onto Neteyam’s back. Tuk giggles at him, and even Kiri has to hide her smile behind her hand.
Lo’ak doesn’t notice though, as he demands that Spider, “Hurry up and get on Neteyam already. We have places to be.”
“Bossy,” Kiri says with some fondness. Lo’ak sticks out his tongue but continues to flap his hands.
Spider stares at Neteyam for a moment, wondering if he should protest. But his brother shrugs and swivels on his heel. It’s awkward, not only because he doesn’t like being carried like a child, but also because of Zeyko’s small noises every time he moves. As if Spider will tear something by lifting a hand.
He wonders for a moment if he can protest hard enough that he could just walk to the pod. But then he catches sight of Zeyko’s expression. As if he’s able to understand Spider’s thoughts. And that he disapproves of them.
He clambers onto Neteyam’s back, and winds his arms loosely around his neck, clasping them at his collarbones. Places his legs in such a way that they don’t interfere with Neteyam’s balance.
“Let’s go!” Tuk squeals once Spider’s situated, leading the way with such excitement she bounces instead of walks.
After a few moments, Jake matches pace with Neteyam, and Spider grabs some of his remaining courage with both hands.
“You were going to say something?” he asks.
Jake hums, thinks about it, but then shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “It’s fine. It can wait.”
By the emotions darting through his gaze it probably can’t, but Spider knows it might be because the others are with them. That it’s something to be said to Spider only. So he drops it, and sinks into the steady rhythm of Neteyam’s feet. Content with experiencing the walk through the village.
They get strange looks (which he expected), some whispers and mutterings (again, as he expected), and some excited gasps from the few kids that they pass. That’s weird, because they stare at Spider as if he’s something completely new to them. Like a creature from the forest who’s crawled out of the sea.
It makes sense, considering the only humans who have probably been here are Max and Norm. And Spider doesn’t look like them at all. Or maybe they’re gasping at the stripes covering Spider’s arms and legs, faded from time and seawater.
“Relax,” Neteyam says over his shoulder, and Spider immediately loosens his arms a little. Lets his toes drift towards the ground. “They’re only staring because Tuk’s been telling them all about you. They like the fact that you can climb trees better than Lo’ak.”
“And they want to teach you how to make nets,” Tuk tells him gleefully.
“Is this because you told them about your bracelet?” Spider asks, glancing at the twined pieces of rope around her wrist. He’d spent weeks making it when Tuk had turned four. It had taken so long because of how intricate and detailed he wanted to make it, and it had left his fingers red and smarting by the end.
“You might have some of them asking for one,” Lo’ak says with a mischievous sort of smile. Spider retaliates by trying to kick him, but he bounds out of the way.
“The only thing Spider will be doing is resting,” Jake cuts in. “At least until he can walk from the pod to the beach without getting out of breath.”
“That’s easy!” Lo’ak exclaims at the same time that Spider groans.
He’s barely able to make it out to the platform outside the healing pod without gasping for breath. It’ll take him weeks to build up his stamina. And he can already tell that he’s getting bored.
“Seriously?” he complains. “But I’ll die of boredom before we get to that point. There’s no one to talk to in the healing hut. And I don’t think Zeyko can take any more of my rambling about different bow types.”
“What’re you talking about?” Neteyam asks, head turning so that Spider can see at least half of his confused look. The others frown at him. Even Tuk is tilting her head to the side.
“Wha– Well,” Spider says, clearing his throat. “I’ll need to rest, so wouldn’t I be doing that in the…healing pod?”
He trails off at the looks traded between them. The ones that turn into fond yet excited smiles between the kids, and Jake’s exasperated one as he shakes his head again. Spider, still wondering what is going on, can do nothing but hold on as Neteyam keeps walking.
“Just wait,” he says when Spider tries to protest and demand that they let him in on what’s going on. He does so, only because he’d look a bit dumb continually asking when they won’t answer.
And they still don’t when they get to what is obviously their family pod, if the sight of Neytiri minding the cookfire inside is a hint. Spider is let down when they pass the entrance, kept upright when he wobbles by Neteyam’s steady hand on his shoulder.
“You good?” he asks, and Spider nods, staring around him in curiosity.
He hasn’t been here yet, but he recognises many things inside; Tuk’s wooden toruk toy sitting next to the food baskets, Neteyam, Kiri and Lo’ak’s bow sitting next just to his right, the woven rug spread over most of the ground. He stares at it, because the way the light from outside plays against the blue thread illuminates it more than the forest ever could.
It’s like it belonged in this village, even though it was made in the forest.
“What do you think?” Neytiri says as she stands, and Spider nods with a bright smile.
“It looks nice,” he replies. “Cosy. Do you have your own walkway thing?”
He takes the few steps to the entrance on his own to peer outside, not noticing that Neteyam’s hand disappears from his shoulder. The calm sound of the sea reaches his ears easily, and he wonders at how peaceful it is. How amazing to be able to constantly hear something that big and powerful breathe easily, lapping against the edge of your home but not threaten its safety.
“We use that to get out to the ilus,” Tuk says with excitement, pressing against Spider’s side so that she too can look out to the water. “But…they’re not here today.”
“Tsireya was going to take them to the hunting grounds, remember?” Kiri tells her, and Spider glances back in wide eyed fascination. When they lock eyes, she holds onto his with something that he can’t quite describe, and says, “Do you like it?”
There’s a weight to it that wasn’t there when Neytiri asked, so much so that it makes Spider pause and take in the pod for a second time.
The toy, the food baskets (which are new, he realises), the bows sitting in the wooden structure to keep them from the floor, the rug, the seven pallets tucked away at the back of the pod–
Wait.
Seven?
He counts them again, recognising the woven pattern from the looms in Hometree in six of them. His gaze sticks to the odd one out. The one that’s patterned with a blue thread that’s nearly the same colour as the one in the rug, but just a little bit different, a bit brighter. It’s just a bit smaller than the others, so that it could fit someone his height, and then a little bit more.
“What’s going on?” he asks once his brain catches up with the rest of him, already knowing but wanting someone to tell him anyway.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Lo’ak laughs fondly.
“You’re staying here,” Kiri tells him.
“Until I’m healed?”
“And beyond that,” Jake adds, stepping forward so that he’s level with Spider but in a way that he has to turn his head to lock eyes. He notices that he’s being stared at, that his own thoughts are completely vulnerable, but he does nothing to fix it.
“Did you seriously think you wouldn’t have somewhere to live?” Neteyam asks incredulously. Spider can’t nod, can’t stop the way his eyes always stray to the pallets. From the one that’s been made to suit his size, and the bit more he’d add on as he grew. The one placed in between Neteyam’s and Kiri’s.
Because, yeah. A tiny part of him had expected to have to try and find his own pod once he was healed enough to not need daily (or hourly) health checks. Because surely the one that was given to them was only able to handle the six people who arrived as a family unit. And that he’d need to find one far away from the main thoroughfare to not disturb people when nightmares preyed on his sleep every night.
At one point, on the second day when he’d felt exhausted by the amount of people surrounding him, and the poking and prodding, he’d thought that he’d have to catch a ride back to High Camp with Max and Norm once he was healed. That there wouldn’t be any way he’d be able to stay.
The thought had only lasted a few moments, but it had almost hooked its claws into him.
“You’re family, now,” Jake suddenly says, breaking Spider from his thoughts. He can feel the cold breeze against his wet cheeks, and he breaks his stillness to scrub them with the back of his hand.
The angle of his arm means he misses when Jake lifts his hand. But he feels it when his fingers connect with his shoulder.
Every time he’d fallen, every time he’d experienced a vision, it’d been as if he was the one going through it. Like he was experiencing it first hand, so every emotion was a punch to the gut. And every decision he made had a direct impact on what went on around him.
This time? He’s watching from the sidelines. And the weight and warmth of Jake’s hand still rests against his shoulder. He can feel it twitch, as if thinking that taking away the contact will end the vision. There’s hesitation and worry in the jolting of his fingertips. But Spider reaches up his hand, and holds it there.
The warmth burns into his skin.
They stand right where they were before, with the entrance to the pod at their backs, the light of Alpha Centauri slanting along the floor past their toes to reach the edge of the smouldering cookfire.
Which Lo’ak - an older version of him - is trying desperately to flap at.
Spider blinks at him in surprise, because for a second he didn’t recognise him.
“It’s not working!” he shouts, and Spider jolts at the difference in his voice. It’s rounder, more mature, and so much deeper. Filled with a confidence that comes with the years slipping by. “I swear, if you’re lying to me bro I’ll kill you.”
“With what?” Neteyam asks, slipping in from behind Spider. He’s so much taller, but he’s taken to the slim figure of Neytiri, all long lanky limbs and grace. Lo’ak’s broadened out, like Jake. His fingers clumsy around the wooden spoon, shoulders decorated with the traditional, detailed, warrior tattoos of the Metkayina.
Neteyam has a shell tied into his songcord, which hangs at his hip.
They both still look so alike though. Maybe it’s something in their expressions. Or the way they move.
“That doesn’t look like an efficient murder weapon to me,” Neteyam says with a laugh, pointing at the spoon.
“Well maybe if I snap it…” Lo’ak grumbles, flinching back when the fire crackles ominously. “Gah! Where’s Mom when you need her.”
“Out hunting for the food you’re meant to cook.”
Tuk, still giggling as brightly as her younger self had a few seconds ago, bounds in with the same amount of energy to her step. Her hair, still kept short and wild, is threaded with the same shells on Neteyam’s songcord. But the hunting knife glinting at her waist gives away how much she’s grown, taller than Spider now.
She peers at the smoking fire with a critical gaze.
“You forgot to dry out the kindling.”
“Yeah, I know that now, thanks Tuk ,” Lo’ak grumbles louder, shoving at her legs when she laughs again.
“Surely you would have noticed before you lit it?” Kiri asks mildly, carrying in the vegetables and lowering herself down to begin cutting them. She nearly floats, so comfortable in her own skin even though her lips twitch with mirth, fingers nimble and efficient as she works. “Or were you too busy watching Tsireya?”
“My bets on the fact that they’re wet from his drool,” says someone else as they wander past Jake.
It’s him.
He’s a few inches taller, and he’s finally grown into his own body. The blue stripes stretch across the expanse of his back and broad shoulders. The strength in his forearms is obvious in the way they flex around the basket he carries, and the blade of his hunting knife winks in the light.
Spider can’t help but stare at the style of his dreads, how they’re pulled away from his face to show off the blue scattered across his cheeks and forehead and tied in a half bun at the back. The same shells in Tuk’s hair are tied into the few braids at his hairline, and the same confidence in Lo’ak’s voice is intricately woven into his own.
Spider steps forward, and Jake goes with him. Following the older version of himself until they’ve rounded the cookfire and are staring at him head on.
His eyes widen at the tattoos. The ones that were hidden by the long dreads which begin at his shoulders, and wind their way down his arms. They’re most intricate at his hands and fingers, winding around his skin like Zeyko’s.
The mark of a warrior, and a healer.
“Shut up, skxawng,” Lo’ak exclaims, but the older version of himself dances away from his shoving hands. “If you think you can build a fire for your party, then why don’t you.”
“Nah,” he says goodnaturedly, setting the basket next to Kiri before sprawling his legs out on the floor as he sits. “Rather watch you struggle with it.”
“Rather watch who struggle?” Jake asks as he comes through the entrance, and Spider can’t help but glance over at the Jake still holding onto his shoulder. He’s staring, because he’s older but it’s not showing (surprisingly). And as he rounds the cookfire, he ruffles every one of their heads fondly, despite their loud protests.
The movement is so natural, without hesitation, that Spider feels something warm and comforting bubble in his stomach. And he knows then, that he doesn’t need to see more. He squeezes Jake’s hand, because his eyes have gotten all misty, and his grip tight against Spider’s skin.
It loosens, slowly, each finger peeling away until his hand draws back. Spider mourns the loss, but then he’s too distracted by the feeling of something finally, finally, loosening in his chest. Leaving him completely relaxed when they come back to the present time. Like they’d never left, because the others are bickering between each other, their voices and bodies back to how Spider knows them, the shadows of what they will be still there whenever he blinks.
Jake’s hand comes back again though, this time to lead Spider towards the cookfire. And he goes easily, slotting himself in between Lo’ak and Tuk to keep the peace, but sitting in such a way that Neteyam and Kiri could reach for him if they needed.
And as Jake passes to sit next to Kiri, he ruffles their hair as the older him had. He pauses for a fraction of a second above Spider’s head, for a breath, before it’s shaken off quickly. Spider laughs at the way his head jiggles under his hand.
The warmth in his stomach spreads throughout his body, the burning flame of hope destroying the doubt, and the worry and leaving nothing behind. Jake takes his seat next to his mate, mumbling something about their “Noisy children,” but Spider only grins.
Let’s himself fall into the comfort of his family as he takes another step of many away from the loops. Striding into a future he can’t wait to experience.