Chapter Text
Rebuilding is always harder than one expects.
The sea remains as it always has, harsh but fair, soothing old hurts and welcoming the new members born to the survivors. Their people are strong, and even if it’s slow and painful, the Metkayina will restore the village and continue living as their ancestors had.
Strong, firm, kind.
Spider’s mourning garbs remain. He doesn’t think he will ever leave them behind, not when he has lost so much. Thankfully, Tsireya and Lo’ak are understanding and do not push the issue like other Clan leaders might have.
After all, they too know the weight of surviving when the rest of your family is gone.
Nowadays, Spider spends half his time fishing to contribute to the home he shares with Rotxo and the other half chasing those lost loved ones in Eywa’s embrace.
His siblings: Aounung, Neteyam, Rowa.
His parents: Ronal, Jake, Tonowary.
The love of his life: Kiri.
He goes to them looking for comfort, for strength to continue living.
Spider aches to join them, to be able to rest after all the shit he’s been through, but the idea of forcing Lo’ak and Tsireya to bury another sibling is worse than anything he can imagine.
So he endures in silence, as always.
Some days are better than others, but that’s life as far as Spider is concerned. He tries to be happy in the face of his siblings' happiness, in the easy comfort that Rotxo’s friendship provides, and in the way singing the songs of their ancestors seems to heal the bruised hearts of the entire village.
“There you are, I thought I would have to swim all the way to the spirit tree.” Rotxo teases, looking up from where he is weaving a basket. “Did you bring something good?”
Spider sticks his tongue out playfully, “I got some octofin for us and a handful of happy fish* for Eiol and Talaw.”
“Oh, they’re going to love them!” Rotxo grins, “Want me to start lunch while you go to pay your respects for the newborn? Or we could go together if you prefer not to go alone.”
“I’m no longer a child!” Spider laughs, “I can visit my people without a chaperone. No one is going to pick on me anymore, you know?”
“I was more worried about your clumsy feet than some poor soul trying to pick up a fight.” Rotxo hums nonchalantly. “After all, you tend to trip when nervous, and I doubt the new parents will appreciate a hole on their maori.”
“It was one time!” Spider throws the octofin at Rotxo’s head with a huff, trying to keep his embarrassment hidden by forcibly commanding his tail to continue swaying softly.
Rotxo catches the fish and playfully bares his teeth, “At least five.”
“Three at most.”
“I was there for all of them; you can’t lie your way out of this, sunshine-boy.”
Spider grimaces at the childish nickname Aounung had decided to grant him the moment they met. Mocking and mean-spirited. Yet, the translation was cute enough in English that Lo’ak and Tuk had cooed it at him for weeks like the little shits they were.
This time, his embarrassment is evident, and Rotxo laughs loudly.
‘Your face!’ He signs, copying the gesture Kiri made all those years ago.
Seeing it was like a stab to the heart, but he forced himself not to flinch.
His friend meant nothing bad; he just couldn’t understand the pain of losing your mate, and how every reminder of them was like getting your heart out, as he had remained single for as long as Spider had known him— An odity, but a benign one, for not everyone was meant to find their match.
“Your face,” Spider returns, mulishly denying sorrow the ability to take over and ruin the mood.
There was a rapid knocking on the entrance of their home. Together, they turn towards the sound, their matching grumpiness giving way to alarm as they sense the nervousness in the young warrior.
“What is it?” Rotxo barks.
“T-The Olo'eyktan summons both of you to his maori.” The poor thing cringes, as if expecting an explosion. “Right now. It’s urgent.”
He’s not wrong in fearing Spider’s reaction.
Lo’ak doesn’t summon him like this, not since the War ended. His little brother comes himself, often bearing gifts to soothe Spider’s anxieties. Something must have gone wrong for Lo’ak to choose not to do it now.
The walls close on him.
Was someone hurt and Tsireya needed help? Spider tastes smoke, back of his throat itching. The tulkuns should be returning soon; had something happened to their spiritual siblings? Spider hears the crackling of fire and the mourning song that seems never to end. What if the village was in danger? The faces of his parents and siblings flash before his eyes.
He's back to the day the RDA blew up the village, the day home was stolen again for the last time.
The basket with Eywa’s gift hits the ground with an audible thud.
Spider is running the next instant, pushing the young warrior out of his way. A snarl on his lips, fury and hate permeating every move and gesture. He stalks across the village like a palukan, making the unlucky enough to get a glimpse of him startle and yelp in fright.
Tsireya’s blue eyes are full of tears when he arrives at the Clan Leader’s maori.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Spider demanded, looking for injuries. “My sister, tell me how can I help, please.”
Tsireya shakes her head, hand covering her mouth in grief.
“An omaticaya warrior arrived not long ago,” Lo’ak’s voice calls from deeper in the maori. “He carried a summons. There’s to be a council of Clan leaders; they wish Toruk Makto to attend.”
Spider’s muscles tense, freezing him in place.
He turns towards his Olo'eyktan with a heavy heart. There is a grim determination on his brother’s expression; both of them know Lo’ak will go.
Years ago he took the clans and led them to victory. Most of them are younger than they are and most remain friends, dear ones. The omaticaya one, especially. For there was nothing Lo’ak wouldn’t do for his younger sister.
“When are we leaving?” Spider breathes, lungs squeezing painfully.
“At dawn.”
“Go. Tell your goodbyes to Payakan, I shall manage things here.” Spider squares his shoulders. “We will tell the Clan before dinner. And visit the spirit trees after it, let us ask the Great Mother for guidance before leaving.”
“I will leave preparations in your hands, then.” Lo’ak nods, face closed and eyes pained.
He looks so much like Jake did: tired, adrift.
But under that, the fire still burns. Embers right now, but with the right nudge, it could get back to the inferno that had consumed the RDA’s machines and troops for years.
The moment Lo’ak left, Spider could no longer hold Tsireya up. They both tumbled to their knees, gasping and sobbing silently for the peaceful future that this would take from them.
“Don’t go, brother. Stay here.” Tsireya pleads, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. “Help me to make Lo’ak turn them away. It’s not on you to solve all the problems that arise.”
“I doubt we will go to war again,” Spider tries to soothe, even when his own eyes fill with unshed tears. “Yet, there’s no path where we do not answer this summons, my sister. Not if Tukirey is the one asking.”
Tsireya’s beautiful face twists into a snarl, “Curse her!”
Spider’s heart bleeds.
The way love had turned into resentment pained him; the fact the change centered around him made the hurt a hundred times worse, for he had seen how close Tsireya and little Tuk had been once.
“Don’t say that, please, don’t say that.” Spider pleads, eyes closing.
“Why not?” Tsireya demands, angry and frustrated. “Why can’t she leave us alone? Have we not suffered enough?”
“Yes, but so has she.” Spider returns, soft and sad. “Her parents, her siblings. Her home. We were one clan once; we shared the same pain. Let us not repeat the mistakes of our parents… Let us have peace. Whatever Tukirey wants, we will deal with it and return home to you.”
“To us,” Tsireya’s features turn sorrowful, taking a hand to her stomach.
“You’re pregnant,” Spider gasps, half in wonder and half in horror. “Does Lo’ak know?”
He hopes not.
Or Spider would have to deck him and then have the people gaze upon the Olo'eyktan’s bloody face during the announcement later in the night.
Tsireya shakes her head, “I haven’t had the opportunity to tell him yet.”
“Don’t tell him,” Rotxo advises, reminding them of his presence. “It will cloud his mind.”
“He’s right, it would be a distraction he may not be able to afford, depending on what Tukirey wants.” Spider presses their foreheads together. “I promise you, my sister, I shall bring him back to you. No matter what.”
“You must return as well,” Tsireya demands, sounding just like Ronal. “I shall not bury another sibling.”
“I promise,” Spider vows, chastised.
His lips twist into a pained grimace.
They flew together on the same mount; if one were to fall, the other would too. But on the ground, Spider did tend to get between bullets and Lo’ak’s back. In the same way that Lo’ak got between bullets and Spider’s front.
Both of them afraid of history repeating itself.
“Come on, we must do preparations.” Rotxo pulls at their arms, “There’s not much time and a lot to do.”
“At least it's a familiar dance…” Spider says, dark humor shining through.
Tsireya hits his shoulder softly, huffing a laugh.
The people took the news as well as they had expected, which is to say, not well at all. But there is not much anyone can do.
The decision has been taken; they are going.
“You know you don’t have to come along, right?” Lo’ak points out softly, following him to shore. “You could stay here, at home. Our people would feel better if one of us stayed back and I know you would, too. There’s no need to force yourself to go back there.”
“Bro, we can barely stop being codependent enough to live in two separate homes.” Spider snorts, “I would bet my Mother’s spear that you would have a panic attack before you flew over the Ta’unui atolls.”
Spider would, if he were the one leaving Lo’ak behind.
“You’re probably right,” Lo’ak sighs, smiling ruefully.
“I am right,” Spider laughs bitterly, “I know Payakan means well, but you don’t need to listen to everything he says. Wise tulkun or not, he does not know better when it comes to us.”
“It’s not just Payakan, it’s everyone else as well.” Lo’ak admits with a grimace.
“Everyone else can go and suck my—”
“Spider!”
Lo’ak’s shoulders tremble with laughter. Spider offers an impish smile, smug at being able to break the somber mood.
“Come on, brother, let us ask for guidance.” He softens his tone, extending his hand.
Guidance that should come from the Tsahik in normal circumstances. Yet, their situation was anything but normal— Tsireya knew how to heal, Ronal had taught her. But their mother had never intended Tsireya to be her successor.
Tsireya is a kind soul; a tulkun in a Na’vi body.
She lacks the ruthlessness necessary to be Tsahik; the storm that roared inside Ronal, Mo’at, and every other Spiritual Leader Spider had the honor to meet. She is also missing the innate understanding Spider had seen in Kiri and Akari when it came to the Great Mother’s will.
Perhaps because Aounung was always meant to be Olo'eyktan and Akari his mate and complement before they were taken away by the Sky People’s greed and desire to kill anything good.
It had left them floundering even as Lo’ak took control of the leadership on the battlefield.
Kiri made for a great Tsahik when she was alive.
When she died, Spider had stepped up as much as he could to soften the blow against the people’s sense of safety.
He had not been raised as a Tsakarem precisely, but Mo’at had welcomed him in her home when she taught Kiri. Ronal, too, had ensured Spider knew how to heal as the war continued and it became evident she couldn’t take care of all the injured on her own.
Spider had the qualifications, if not the right heart for it.
He cares for the well-being of the people. Of course, he does. But when push comes to shove, he will always put his selfish need to ensure his siblings' safety first.
Case in point, he is going to follow Lo’ak all the way to the forest instead of remaining and preparing for the arrival of the Tulkuns like any sensible Metkayina should.
“I hope the Great Mother can offer us some reassurance that we’re doing the right thing.” Lo’ak takes his hand, squeezing it. “Since I received Tuk’s letter, I have had this awful feeling in my stomach.”
“Could it be that you are just nervous about seeing her again after so long?” Spider’s voice is small, ridden with guilt.
“No.” Lo’ak’s expression hardens, his voice is level and firm. “She made her choices; I made mine. I don’t regret them for a moment. My place is here, with Tsireya. With you and Payakan.”
It shouldn’t be one or the other in Spider’s humble opinion, but he had no right to say anything when it was his fault (always his fault) there was a choice to be made in the first place.
“Yours or mine?” Spider asks, forcing himself to push it all down.
“Mine,” Lo’ak says, pulling both of them into the ocean until the water is at hip height. “Yours is a brat.”
Spider laughs, “You were being mean to her.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were.”
“You’re ridiculous!” Lo’ak chuckles, “Here we go. Hello, lovely. Yes, we’re taking Spider with us, isn’t that cool? I know you like Spider very much.”
Spider obediently leans to scratch the top of the Ilu’s head when it turns to see him with wide black eyes, receiving happy sounds in response.
He averts his eyes as Lo’ak forms tsaheylu, watching the skies with trepidation. Knowing Lo’ak shares his bad feelings about this is not doing him any good. He hopes the visit to the spirit tree will provide some calm.
“Hye, bro.” Lo’ak reclaims his attention, a small frown of concern making an appearance. “Are you ready?”
“Of course.” Spider shakes himself, sitting right behind Lo’ak, hugging him so he will not go flying when they submerge. “I’m just a little on edge about leaving. It’s fine, though. I will follow you wherever you go, always.”
“I know, same here.” Lo’ak pats his hand, trying to soothe him.
And down they go.
Spider closes his eyes, focusing on breathing. Trusting fully that Lo’ak has this on hand and they will arrive at their destination safe and whole.
Connecting with the spirit tree is always something wondrous, no matter how readily Spider comes down here. The feeling of Eywa’s presence around you before it guides you to your loved ones is heartwrenching in the best ways.
It feels like home and love and peace.
“Monkey boy, Lo’ak.” Kiri greets them with a smile, “Come, come. We’ve been expecting you for a while.”
“Hello, Kiri.” Lo’ak returns when Spider fails to do so. “Who is here with you?”
Seeing the love of his life always brings him to tears. Kiri often shifts between how she looked when she died and the day Quaritch took him; the only thing that remains, no matter how she presents herself, is her eyes.
Always full of love for him.
“Neteyam,” Spider answers for his mate, reading the mischief hidden in plain sight.
Lo’ak pauses, breathing shuddering.
No matter how many times that have passed, his reaction to their brother’s name is the same. Spider intertwines their fingers, offering silent comfort, and uses the hold to pull him along.
“Yes, we wanted to see you together.” Kiri doesn’t look back, guiding the way to the Sully tent of their childhood with a clear jump in her steps. “Hurry, hurry. We don’t have much time.”
Yikes. Because that wasn’t ominous at all.
“Do you think she hears what she says?” Lo’ak grumbles.
“Nope,” Spider’s lips twitch upwards.
Kiri’s mysterious ways simply grew now that she resided in Eywa’s embrace. It was rare for her to answer directly, but then the Great Mother was the same, and sharing the translation was the duty of the Tsahik.
“There you are!” Neteyam greets them, face lighting up.
Fuck, he’s painfully young today. Not the young warrior he was when he died, but the child that was his best friend. Possibly because Jake and Neytiri were here not so long ago and he prefers this form to interact with them.
“Hello, ‘teyam.” Spider returns, heart aching. “It’s been a while. Sorry about that, bro. It’s been hectic in the village with all the preparations for the return of our spiritual siblings.”
“It’s fine, I understand.” Neteyam smiles; his eyes are sad but compassionate. “Come, sit, sit. We need to talk and the fire will help you warm you a little. The Great Mother knows you, both, look like you need it.”
“Wow, thanks, bro.” Lo’ak grimaces, turning towards Spider so he can see his hands moving. ‘We don’t look that bad, do we?’
Spider snickers, “Oh, we totally do.”
“You totally do.” Kiri agrees, smiling widely. “But don’t worry, Lo’ak. You are still pretty.”
“Handsome,” Lo’ak argues with a pout.
“Nah, pretty.” Kiri insists, slightly mocking.
“And I?” Spider interrupts before they can start grappling on the floor like children.
“Beautiful,” Kiri says, voice deepening into a growl.
Spider was playing; Kiri was not.
Na’vi don’t blush, but Spider can still feel the heat rush towards his cheeks. He instinctively looks away, trying to hide. It earns him soft cooing from his idiot brothers and Spider slaps Lo’ak’s arm in revenge.
“All of you are awful.” Spider groans, stepping inside the tent.
And immediately shifts into a smaller form, riding the memories of what it felt like to be human and not be welcome in this place. His tail aggressively swung from one side to another, ears flattened against his skull as he braced against a scream or worse.
“Easy,” Lo’ak warns, “There’s only us here, Spider. We’re safe.”
“I know, I know!” Spider snaps, trying to force himself to relax.
Knowing did nothing, though. His fear of Neytiri remained. It made it hard to relax when your subconscious continued to scream that you were in danger and you needed to run as fast as you could.
“Nothing will hurt you here, monkey boy.” Kiri's hand on his arm was like a being touched by fire. “I promise.”
Her expression is fierce.
She had worn this one in life more than Spider would have liked. It didn’t suit her, not really. Kiri was made for wonder and curiosity, not this bitter determination to do whatever was needed.
“I love you,” Spider chokes, because saying ‘thank you’ is not enough.
“I love you, too.” Kiri returns, soft and yearning.
He allows her to guide him to the fire, sitting at Neteyam’s right. Lo’ak follows. Stopping only to playfully pull Neteyam’s braids, before sitting in front of Spider, and at Kiri’s left.
“What wouldn’t I do for you to be able to eat here,” Kiri sighs mournfully. “I miss being able to feed you after a long day.”
Lo’ak pats her shoulder, “We appreciate the sentiment nevertheless, sis.”
Neteyam presses against Spider in the same way Tuk used to do. Spider runs his fingers down his skull, just as he did for Tuk when she was sad and needed comfort.
“What is it you wanted to share with us, Kiri?” Spider asks, slowly returning to his actual height to be able to accommodate Neteyam better.
Only a little annoyed that the obvious manipulation worked so well. But then, at this point is common knowledge in their family that focusing on his siblings does make things clearer for him and allows his fears to pale against his need to protect them.
“It’s about Tuk.” She says, meeting his eyes.
Lo’ak tenses, “What about her?”
“Listen before you start bitching, Lo’ak.” Kiri flicks him with her tail, sharing her irritation. “She’s been trying to find a way to speak to you without being rejected. Be nice to her, ok? If you don’t, I will punch you next time we see each other.”
Spider’s relief is immediate, “It’s not about war, then.”
“Thank you, Great Mother.” Lo’ak sobs, pressing his hands against his face.
Their principal worry has been settled. Leaving in its wake a sparkly sense of freedom and delight, like when you manage to escape a big predator and are now safe behind the natural protections of the reef.
“It isn’t,” Kiri agrees. “But it’s important; it will change things.”
“For the better?” Spider inquires, eyes narrowing.
“If you let it, yes.” She allows in that tone that told Spider it was more Eywa speaking than Kiri.
Spider lowers his eyes in respect for the wisdom.
He won’t push any further, they already know the important parts. There’s no reason to ask for more; having a possible reconciliation with Tuk and no shadow of war hovering over them was more than enough.
“D-Do you think we can fix things with Tuk?” Lo’ak prods softly, the aching yearning obvious in his eyes.
“She misses you,” Neteyam sighs, standing. “And she’s sorry about how she handled the news.”
“Time’s up,” Kiri follows, extending her hand to help Lo’ak up. “You need to go. Don’t worry, everything will be alright.”
Lo’ak nods, giving her a big smile full of gratitude. He looks at Spider as his presence banishes from the tent.
Spide finds himself alone with Kiri in the forest near the mountains where they had made their home during their childhood. She’s wearing her teenage skin and so is he.
He can even feel the weight of the mask over his face.
“Monkey boy, listen carefully.” Kiri bends so they’re eye to eye. “When the time to choose comes, you must not hesitate. Follow what feels right. The time for mourning is over; now you need to heal.”
“Kiri, what—?”
The connection breaks, and Spider is back on Pandora, in need of air. With an aggravated growl, he swims upwards. Gasping as his lungs fill and the pain is washed away.
Dear Eywa, they really stayed for a little too long.
“Fuck, you okay?” Lo’ak demands, cupping his face to examine it.
“Y-Yeah, yeah.” Spider allows the manhandling of his person with grace. “I’m fine, it’s fine.”
Fully aware that he could easily be on the opposite side if Lo’ak had emerged after him and sounded like he had a problem regulating his breathing. In fact, he would be worse.
They would already be on the way back to the village, and there would be a panic attack (or two) involved, making things worse without a doubt.
“What took you so long, bro?” Lo’ak’s eyes were full of concern.
Spider’s, in turn, shone with alarm. “How long have you been out?”
“At least two minutes!” Lo’ak throws his arms up, “I tried to shake you, but nothing was working. What happened?”
“Weird advice by Kiri.” Spider admits, feeling a little sheepish.
Lo’ak’s worry frizzles until there’s only disappointment, “Really?”
“I’m not lying!” Spider protests, a tad offended. “It really was a string of eerie advice.”
“Ah-ha.”
“Bro, I’m really not lying.” Spider moaned, slapping a hand to his face. “But if you don’t believe me, then let’s move on. We need to leave early tomorrow, the sooner we are back at the village the better.”
Lo’ak’s expression turns almost boyish in his joy, “We may be able to finally fix things with Tuk! Can you believe it? I can’t. But by the Great Mother do I wish I could. Eywa, Spider, I have missed my little sister so much.”
“I know,” Spider says softly. “I’m glad for you, Lo’ak.”
“For us, bro.” Lo’ak insists firmly, “There’s no I without you. If Tuk is ready to forgive, then she will not leave you out.”
Spider’s not so sure about that.
Tukirey is a lot like Neytiri, a lot like Spider himself. He knows that once a resentment is formed, they cannot shake it. No matter how illogical or harmful it is for them and everyone around them.
And yet…
Hope dies last.
Spider has lived on hope alone for his entire life. Wishing for impossible things, dreaming and yearning for a happiness that does not belong to him. What’s a little more?
“Should we bring her a gift, then?”