Chapter Text
You pressed a trembling hand to your sternum and tried to take a deep breath, wincing at the piercing feeling the action incited in your lungs. You turned over your hands and your vision swam at the sticky red blood coating them. Definitely yours, you weren’t even sure what color Pandora or her inhabitants bled. You tried to stand and a shriek tore its way through your lips – your ankle was definitely sprained or – god, you really fucking hope not – broken. The sound of your yell made the woods around you shiver, and you looked around anxiously. It’s like the greenery was breathing – everything was in constant motion, seemingly reacting to you in particular. You held your breath but kept your eyes open. Alone, on an alien planet, you wish you could say you’ve been in worse situations. You try to list off everything you had been taught from your month at the base compound, you can conjure up the mental image of the Viperwolves you know you're supposed to avoid, the Thanator that you will not survive if encountered. Will not fucking survive.
None of this even matters if you can’t survive this, you must’ve fallen at least fifty feet from the helicopter, hitting branches and foliage on your way down. There’s a deep gash on your leg, but you don’t think it’s close enough to your femoral artery to be a problem, yet, at least. There are bruises and slashes littering your arms, but you figure your main focus should be the thick slice of wood lodged into the soft part of your stomach, just by your ribs. It must’ve impaled you on your fall down. You breathe deeply, trying to settle your racing heart. You’re not military, not really, but you know if you panic you’re dead, and you’re half dead already, so, best not risk it. You fumble blindly for your tracker, it has a map and a compass, but when you feel the square plastic somewhere to your right you find it to be completely busted. Which is fine, it’s totally fine. You just need to move . You can’t stay here. You feel frantically at your respirator, which is thankfully unharmed before you make to stand. You bite your lip not to scream again when you put weight on your ankle and cup a hand around the wood that spears into your stomach when it gushes hot blood at your movement. Fine, it’s totally, completely fine. That’s why they call you Crow. You’re smart. You’re resourceful. You’re not going to die in Pandora’s woods, at least not for the next few hours. You carefully step forward on the soft grass. You think you’re going north, but you can’t see any moss, and Earth rules don’t apply here, anyways. You’re on your own.
----
“You’re the one they call Crow?”
Your head snaps up from where it’s been pressed to your chest, watching your leg bounce in time with the drill beats around you. A woman stares down at you, wearing a lab coat that’s been smeared with dirt on the hems.
You don’t really know what to tell her. Don’t really know what you’re doing here, but you figure it’s better than Earth. “Yes,” you say, and your voice sounds weak. Your mother always hated when you mumbled, she hated it when you put rocks and bottle caps in your pockets, she hated when you bounced your leg. You’re still disappointing her, 4.37 light years away. You sigh, and the woman eyes you and makes a motion with her hand: follow. It kind of makes you feel like a dog, but you get up and trail her dutifully.
“You military?” She asks. Her voice is brassy and curt. You can tell she’s not the kind of person to mince words around.
“Not really, just a part of their science program,” you answer her.
She stops her brief stride abruptly, and you stumble to stop with her. She looks you up and down with a critical eye, calculating and assessing. She’s a real scientist. Not whatever the hell you’re trying to be, and you can tell she sees right through you.
“Looking to get off of Earth?” She asks with a wry smile.
Your ears heat up, feeling a little caught, “ ‘suppose,” you say, “sorry,” you punctuate with an apology. You have a feeling she probably would’ve preferred someone who really knew their stuff.
“Don’t be, I can’t stand these damn jarheads half the time, acting like they know everything.” She smiles at you, warm, or as warm as you're used to seeing. “I’m Doctor Jay, you’ll be in my research team.”
From what you understood, the research team with Doctor Jay was fairly cut and dry. You were researching Pandora’s flora primarily, fauna if you’d survive the encounter. You were sure there was a more insidious reason behind this research, but Doctor Jay and her team seemed honest enough. Relations with the Natives were rocky after the war, but in the years that passed primarily science divisions were tolerated on planet. The team didn’t pester you about the nickname, which you were thankful for, even if they smiled amongst themselves when you shoved samples in your pocket and fluttered away from the group enough times Doctor Jay threatened to leash you. You were used to being on your own, and that’s how you liked to do your research, too. You understood the need for transparency when out in Pandora, though, because however much shit you think you’d find yourself in with a Viperwolf – it was nothing compared to encountering a native.
You knew about the Na’vi, sure, every kid on Earth grew up with grainy pictures of the cobalt giants that roamed Pandora. You were sure, even as a child, the tales of the Na’vi’s animalistic brutality were greatly exaggerated to further paint the indigenous people as savages – propaganda for Earthlings to support military reconnaissance of the planet. But, out in the jungles of Pandora, even while you found yourself defensive and sympathetic of the species, at every break of a branch you’d pray to a God you didn’t believe in it wasn’t one of them stalking you. You were average height for a human, but that was nothing on the Na’vi. They could swing you around like a doll, and you really didn’t want to have an encounter to test that theory. And it was going fine , completely fine .
Until the reconnaissance in the Hallelujah Mountains. Your team with Doctor Jay had managed to avoid the mountain banshees on the way in and collect the flora sample you needed. The mountain banshees had attacked the heli on the way out, though, and in the collision you found yourself being flung out one of the heli doors. Doctor Jay had grabbed your shoe while you flailed in the air, narrowly avoiding mountain banshees tearing your limbs from your body, and when your ankle popped your heart sank. You heard screaming when your foot came loose from the boot, and then you were falling, and then there was nothing but you and the ice-blue sky above you.
——
You willed yourself not to cry. You were not going to cry. Dying on Pandora wouldn’t be that different from dying on Earth, you figured. It would be the same, just, completely different. Because you have no family, no direction, you don’t even have two shoes - but it’s fine. You just have to keep going. You’re only about 15 miles from the compound, give or take, and while your ankle is slowing you down if you're heading in the right direction you should be back at base in three days, easy. God, why couldn’t it be easy? You stumble on a branch and hold your breath at the loud crack it emits. One thing you knew about the Na'vi was that they always saw you before you saw them - or - that could’ve been mountain lions, but regardless, it applies. You’re in enemy territory, and the natives will not be happy to find a human intruding, no matter how weathered you may be. You shake your head, you just have to keep going, the only way you’re going to survive this is if you keep going.
It’s a little over an hour later that you hear it, it’s almost like a sigh. A whisper of air dancing past your ear. Nothing, it’s probably nothing. You can’t stop the way your heart ratchets up a beat, sweat beads cold and dewy at your hairline. Maybe half a mile later you hear it again, the sigh. There’s a breeze, it could just be the way it sounds weaving through the trees. Your shoulders are tight, and your hands hurt from how tightly you’ve been balling them into fists. You can’t shake the feeling you aren’t alone. You stop and breathe deeply, listening. You can’t run in this state, and you definitely can’t outmaneuver whatever is following you. You’re starting to feel lightheaded with the panic of it, you’re easy prey right now, a rabbit caught in a trap. Maybe, maybe, the best way to deal with it is head-on. Your mother, and Doctor Jay, for that matter, we’re endlessly berating you for dancing around things, trying to slip and weave your way through problems instead of addressing them. You have no choice, now.
“Hello?” You whisper into the dense wood. The trees seem to shiver in response to your words. “Hello?” You try again, a little louder, and your voice cracks loudly. You feel tears welling up in your eyes, and you’re considering the likelihood of survival if you just try running for it, or maybe if you stand still enough whatever it is will lose interest. You see movement out of the corner of your eye and hold your breath in a sharp gasp.
It’s a Direhorse, gliding smoothly between the Jurassic leaves hanging from the trees. You let out a shaky breath and laugh weakly. You’re okay, it’s okay.
You close your eyes to collect yourself and feel a hand clasp around your neck. It’s not just a hand, it’s massive , the palm covers your entire throat, long fingers gripping your jaw. Your eyes snap open.
Blue, the arm reaching around you from behind is blue. A deep voice barks something at you, you think it might be the Na’vi language, but you aren’t sure. You’re not even sure if they all speak the same language. The question comes again, unfamiliar words snarled in your ear. The hand on your throat tightens. A sob bubbles up from your stomach and it comes out in a frightened weeping sound before you can stop it.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper frantically. You stare straight ahead, eyes wide, not wanting to catch a glimpse of the Na’vi that could crush your windpipe with ease. And pleasure, probably. You’re not supposed to be here. They don’t want you here. “I’m so sorry,” you say again.
“Where’s your squad?” The Na’vi growls at you in perfect English. Not even accented. He could be American. You blink, reminding yourself of the very real threat you’re facing.
“I don’t - I,” you stammer, trying to explain to him that you mean no harm. But how can you say that, honestly, when you’re human and you’re here? After everything that happened during Pandoran War, you couldn’t fault any Na’vi for automatically labeling you as hostile.
“You seriously expect me to believe you’re out here on your own?” He sounds mad – and impatient.
“Separated!” You blurt out, breathy, you think you might be having a panic attack. You’re hyperventilating, slightly.
“The Helicopter, the - the Mountain Banshees - I fell…” you trail off lamely. You’re too consumed with adrenaline to be more eloquent. The Na’vi behind you heaves a deep exasperated sigh, and you feel his bare stomach expand from where he’s pressed against you. You think your head is cradled between the pocket of his hips, maybe, and you’re once again reminded of the gravity of the situation. David and Goliath, and you don’t even have a stone. He lets go of your throat and steps back from you. You can feel him circling you, hear the soft pad of his bare footsteps against the ground. He stands in front of you and sighs again, and your eyes are glued to his striped blue legs. They’re long and wiry, inhuman in their thinness but they look no less powerful for that.
“You’re no soldier.” He says, it’s a statement, but you shake your head in agreement anyways. You can feel tears leaking warm and soundless down your face, falling onto the foliage below you - what’s taking so long? You’d been told that the Na’vi don’t usually draw out their executions.
“Look at me.” He barks, and you flinch instinctively. You thought, maybe, your fear to look him in the eyes would be taken as a sign of respect. You slowly raise your eyes up his chest and hesitate for a moment before looking into his eyes.
He’s beautiful, truly. One of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. His eyes are amber, yellowish, and narrow in warning the longer you look. You think that terrifying things often are the most beautiful, Black Widows, poisonous frogs, King Cobras. A ten-foot-tall Na’vi is certainly an artful way to face your death. Poetic, almost.
His tail swishes behind him, agitated, and you almost forget they had those. He grunts low in his throat when he catches you staring at it. His eyes travel down your body until he catches sight of the wood impaling you. His eyes widen, and then he groans, running a hand down his face in exasperation. “Shit,” he hisses into his hand.
“I just, I’m just trying to get back to my base. We’re scientists, studying flora - dirt, and stuff. I’m just trying to get back, I promise, I promise I won’t come back,” you’re babbling at him, you know, but maybe if you can get across that you mean no harm he’ll let you live. Or maybe he’ll get annoyed and sink an arrow in your brain before you humiliate yourself to death.
He crosses his long arms over his chest and gives you a look, “You’re not getting far with a wound like that.” His gaze travels down to your feet, to your one shoe. “Fuck,” he curses again.
You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what this guy, this Na’vi wants from you, why you’re standing having a conversation instead of running for your life.
“I’ll go,” you say. You’re just one person, you’re no threat.
“No,” he sighs again. “You gotta come with me.”
——
You can feel the breath wheezing out of you noisily, congealed blood the only thing stopping you from bleeding out from where you’ve been impaled. Your lungs feel like paper bags, pitifully filling and deflating inside your chest. You had begun by following the Na’vi timidly, walking in the great shadow he cast over the forest. He’d fallen in step with you quickly, his long legs easily adjusting pace compared to your one-legged hobble. You weren’t sure how many times you stumbled, started to see double before the giant loped an arm around you and slung you over his back. It made you feel small, like a baby, a weakling - but you reminded yourself that is exactly what you are compared to this Na’vi.
The Na’vi had taken to talking out loud in that perfectly American voice, and you thought maybe he’d gotten bored, or impatient - but he was probably trying to make sure you didn’t fall asleep. That’s what he had said: you’re no soldier . He must know about battlefield wounds - or – the battlefield equivalent of being flung from a helicopter.
“What’s your name?” He asked, clear and confident. You reasoned - this Na’vi knew these woods, understood them. He didn’t carry the anxiety of an alien world unknown - and why should he? This is his house, and you’re a mouse that squeaked through the floorboards.
“Crow,” you answer him softly.
His head turns to the side, and you catch the profile of his strong nose and amber eyes. “Your name is Crow?”
“That’s what they call me,” you amend. The Na’vi shakes his head and huffs out a laugh.
He turns his head again to look you in the eye from where you’ve been decomposing against his back, “I’m Jake,” he tells you. You blink, and he smiles at you - maybe in a way that’s supposed to be friendly, but the sight of his fangs makes you pale and you quickly stare at his back again.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jake.” You try being friendly in return, to Jake. That’s certainly not the name you were expecting him to have and before you can think better of it you ask, “you’re one of them, aren’t you?”
Jake’s narrow ears flicker in reply to your question, but he doesn’t turn to look at you.
“You’re an Avatar, right?”
Jake huffs a sound between his teeth again, but doesn’t answer you, and keeps walking. You swallow nervously, alarm bells making the hair on the back of your neck stand up - you probably shouldn’t have said that. You and Jake don’t speak again.
——
You try not to yell when Jake bumps your bad ankle, and you jostle on his back, stirring you from the light sleep you’d fallen into. Your head is aching, and each breath pulls at the wood impaled in your stomach.
“Hold on,” Jake whispers to you. It’s hard to see with the heavy blanket of darkness that’s settled over the forest, but you lock your legs around his thin torso and dig your fingers into his shoulders. You look around with wonder at the massive tree Jake is scaling, you’ve never seen anything so enormous in your entire life. There are no more trees on Earth and you want to put your hand out and touch the bark, scrape your fingers along the grain of it.
“Wow,” you whisper in awe, and your breath brushes against Jake's narrow ear. He chuffs and keeps climbing. You try to mold yourself against Jake’s back, try to make yourself invisible - this is not your home, and you have a feeling you’re not going to be welcome here.
Jake moves silently through the branches, padding softly and weaving between leaves. Most all the Na’vi you see are sleeping, but some tired and curious eyes follow Jake’s movements in the dark. You close your eyes and press your forehead to the nape of Jake’s neck.
You hear him make a soft sound and pace around a small space and you lift your head blearily. It looks like a small room and Jake loops a hand around you before carefully depositing you on the floor. Your ankle buckles and he guides you down to your knees.
“Stay here, okay?” He whispers into your ear. He sounds anxious, edgy, and your fears are confirmed that you’re not welcome here, but you nod anyway. There’s not much else you can do. You’re hurt and helpless, and entirely at the mercy of the Na’vi stronghold Jake has taken you to. You turn to look at him, but all you see is the swish of his tail as he stalks out into the darkened tree.
You sigh, and will yourself not to groan at the action. You crawl on your hands and knees to the far end of the room, giving you a clear view of the entrance. That’s one of the few things you retained from your brief survival training - always have a clear exit strategy. You can’t outmaneuver, outrun, or outfight any Na’vi that you encounter, but you’ll at least have the peace of mind that you tried to be logical about this.
You hear a quiet coo, followed by a small gurgle somewhere to your right. You look around and your head swims with the action, you're fading fast. You spy a small wooden… cradle, it looks like. You crawl over and heave yourself up to peer inside.
A baby. A little Na’vi baby. The baby’s pupils dilate in its almond amber eyes and the baby giggles, reaching up a striped arm to grab at a lock of your hair.
“Hi,” you whisper incredulously, unable to stop a smile from creeping up on your face. The baby is so little . You forget the Na’vi aren’t born larger than life. They can be weak and vulnerable and naive, just like you. You crook a finger at the baby and it giggles again, cooing at you.
You hear a sharp gasp from behind you, and a growl in that unfamiliar language Jake spoke to you.
Fuck.
You feel a massive hand grab you by the skull and lift you into the air, you barely have time to take in a frightened gasp before you’re slammed into the hard wood of the wall. You hear an animalistic hiss, and you’re thrown into the wall again. There’s a commotion, you think you hear Jake’s voice briefly before the hand is letting go of you and you’re sent careening to the hard floor. You drop heavily and your eyes pull themselves closed. They do not open.