Chapter Text
Five pairs of boots thump across the metal floor, moving as quickly and as quietly as possible, sneaking towards the tarmac that holds their only means of escape.
You grip onto the handles of Jake’s wheelchair tightly, pushing him through the halls behind Norm and Dr. Augustine, while he scopes the area with a pistol in hand. He holds up a fist, pauses for a second, and then gestures them forward around the next corner. Your heart beats wildly within your chest, racing a mile a minute as the adrenaline courses through your veins, fueling you along. This was the most action you had been involved in since, well, ever.
You can't help the thrill of excitement that burns through you. It was almost like being on a real mission with Jake, and you feel like you're witnessing the real him, for the first time in his natural element; amid danger, evading his enemies with military precision. You can't remember technically how many years have passed since his spinal injury, but Jake was right. You can never take the fight out of a Marine.
Once you reach the seal doors, you reach up into the storage rack and grab two exo-packs; one for you and one for Jake, passing it to him before sealing your own over your face. You blow the loose strands of hair out of the way so it can get a proper seal, and then press the buttons to pressurize the mask, waiting for Jake’s next orders.
You are an apprentice of Dr. Grace Augustine, and despite only being 29 years old, you have accomplished more than enough to earn your place here on Pandora. Enough that you're not fixing to let your fellow humans destroy it all for the sake of profit quotas. You studied with your older brother Tommy back at the academy, and you were shipped off before him due to several passionate Thesis that you submitted to Dr. Augustine to apply for her apprenticeship. And one thing you weren't expecting when the transport ship arrived was to see Jake rolling onto the tarmac, instead of Tommy. And although you're still grieving the loss of your older brother, you're thankful you at least had Jake to help you get through it.
And now, here you are, committing treason and assisting several 'fugitives' to escape custody, for the greater good. It was your turn to be there for Jake, and if that meant breaking pretty much every rule that was given to you when you first landed, then that's what you're going to do. You're ready to pay for the consequences because you're not fixing to be an accessory for mass genocide against a race of people who never asked for any of this.
“Go, get the Samson prepped, we’ll be right behind,” Jake nods towards Trudy’s aircraft, and the woman grunts, sprinting towards the craft in question, weapon at the ready.
“Jake, if we don’t-” you start, but Jake cuts your words off.
“Uh-uh, none of that. I told you I’d take you out into the forest one day, and that day has come. You’re gonna love it Sis, everything is just so… so full of life. It’s different to see it in person than on a screen.”
He keeps his voice low, glancing between the heavy machinery, and searching for soldiers. They finally make it to Trudy’s Samson, and he spins around so you can wrap her arms around his waist, hoisting him to the floor of the aircraft.
He grasps something to use as leverage to pull himself up, and just as you and Grace toss his chair into the cargo bay, gunfire blasts from behind, echoing off the metal walls, and making your ears ring. Something shoves you against Grace with so much force it knocks the breath out of both of you, and you catch the sound of Grace's teeth clacking together. Cold washes over you like a bucket of water, and you shakily grab Norm’s hand to pull yourself into the craft as it takes off, the turbines roaring to life. The gunfire continues until they are unquestionably out of range, and you glance around the edge of the bay, watching the figure of the dreaded Colonel Miles Quaritch fade into the distance. A shiver runs down your spine as you swear his gaze finds yours, despite the distance.
Monster. Murderer.
Jake whoops and cheers beside you, slapping your shoulder, but you wince and hiss in response, clutching your abdomen as the cold gives way to searing pain. When you pull your hand away, it's drenched with sticky blood. You gasp, your hands trembling as your vision grows blurry.
“Shit… this is going to ruin my day,” you hear Grace mutter. You slump further against the cold steel wall of the bay, breathing heavily from the exertion of your wild sprint. Your eyes drift up to look across the space between you to see that Grace is also bleeding heavily from her stomach. That must have been what shoved you into Grace. It was the impact of the bullet tearing through your body and straight into Grace’s.
“Get the trauma kit!” Jake shouts to Norm, dragging himself closer to Grace, not noticing you right away. You gulp down a large breath, straining your voice to call out to him.
"Jake..." The words barely come out as a hoarse whisper, and you wheeze, trying once more. Jake's head whips back and forth between the both of you, and he curses under his breath.
"Fuck, just-just hang on!" You're starting to get tunnel vision, and you nod your head, coughing slightly, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. You feel hands pressing down on you, calling out to you, giving you a shake. You grumble, wanting to go to sleep instead.
Jake shakes you once again, calling your name. "...gonna fix you up, okay? You're gonna get to see all kinds of things! Mo'at can do something, and the Na'vi can help you. You're gonna love them, sis. After everything you've taught me, you're gonna fit right in."
“Pinky swear?” You slur, and he chuckles, wrapping his little finger around yours in a pinky promise, your blood making both of your hands slick. You know he's just trying to comfort you.
“Pinky promise.”
Jake’s words echo in your mind as your consciousness fades into black, the cold spreading over you like a blanket, stealing the breath from your lips. You shiver, curling into Jake’s arms, embracing the darkness as it swallows you whole. Someone calls to you from the distance, and you swear it sounds like Tommy. You never thought you'd head him again. He calls your name, as if beckoning you home.
Your rattling breaths fade away into nothing, your body growing still in Jake's arm as he shakes you once, twice, and then stops. He lowers his head until your foreheads are touching, his jaw twitching as he clenches his teeth, biting back his rage and his tears.
There was a time and place to grieve, but right now isn't that time. First Tommy, now you. His one fucking job in this universe was to protect his baby sister, and he failed. If he can't save you, how the hell is he going to save the Na'vi?
He balls his fists, fighting the urge to punch the wall and the floors and everything within reach of his weak, pathetic human body. Instead, he lays you down, pulling the mask from your face so can wipe away the tears that stain your cooling cheeks. Then, he drags himself closer to Grace. Dr. Augustine was the only person on this whole planet who never looked at him with pity in her eyes, even now. Instead, she reaches up and grips his shoulder, offering him a small shred of comfort despite the pain she's obviously in.
Her pale complexion looks even more washed out than normal, and he shouts into his throat comm to get through to Trudy. "Take us to our base. We need to get our link units."
"Roger that, boss."