Chapter Text
Jake is worried about Lo’ak.
It’s been several weeks since Neteyam’s death and his younger son still hasn’t gone to visit his brother in the Spirit Tree. The rest of the family is deep in the midst of their grief, but they have all carved out time to make the pilgrimage to see Neteyam and be reminded that he’s there within Eywa.
Even Kiri – despite Norm and Max’s warnings – has connected to the Tree to see her brother. Each one of her visits includes assorted family members watching carefully to make sure she doesn’t have another one of her episodes underwater, but Jake and Neytiri couldn’t bear the thought of refusing her this comfort.
She lost her brother and she deserves the chance to see him again just like the rest of them.
Visiting the Spirit Tree doesn’t change the fact that Neteyam isn’t with them anymore, but Jake can’t deny there is relief in being able to see him, talk to him, and know that he is safe. It soothes away some of the sharpness of his passing and comforts the part of Jake’s heart that is still aching with grief.
Knowing his boy is only a swim away makes it a bit easier to get up to face every new day.
That’s why he doesn’t understand why Lo’ak – who is clearly missing Neteyam just as much as the rest of them – refuses to go and experience it for himself. Why doesn’t he want to see his big brother? Why isn’t he taking the opportunity to reassure himself that Neteyam hasn’t ceased to exist?
Jake would give anything to be able to see and talk to Tommy again. If he knew that his brother was waiting for him in the Spirit Tree, nothing would be able to keep him away from it.
But I’ve had fifteen years to come to terms with Tommy’s death. It’s not a fair comparison.
The first couple of times either Jake or Neytiri mentioned visiting the Spirit Tree and Lo’ak refused, Jake didn’t think much of it. He hesitated that first time too – afraid that it would be too hard to handle. Afraid that he would fall to pieces upon being reminded of all he had lost.
The idea scared him and for a brief moment, he resisted.
His mate did manage to talk him around and he realized how foolish he was to be afraid the moment he set eyes on his son. But because of that, he understood if Lo’ak just needed time. He understood if his son was struggling with his own fear.
Grief is a process that everyone undertakes differently and the last thing Jake wants to do is push Lo’ak into something he isn’t ready for. If he doesn’t want to visit the Spirit Tree yet, then Jake and Neytiri won’t press it. They are both sure he will go as soon as he is ready.
But the days continue to pass and while every other family member goes to see Neteyam every few days, Lo’ak makes no effort to join them.
After their conversation a week ago, Jake is relieved that his relationship with Lo’ak has gotten much better. It didn’t fix everything of course – there is too much to fix with just a single conversation – but the strain that used to linger in the air between them is gone. It feels almost normal again and Jake holds onto that feeling with both hands.
He had missed his relationship with his son so much. That is made even clearer now that he has suffered the loss of a child. He refuses to let anything come between himself and his remaining kids – including his own failures and shortcomings as a father. He won’t let his fear of losing them push them away ever again.
Because he and Lo’ak are on much better footing now than they were a few weeks ago, it makes Jake even more aware of the fact that his younger son is not okay. Lo’ak’s continued refusal to visit Neteyam feels more and more like a warning flag instead of him simply not being ready.
Jake can’t help but worry – remembering how Lo’ak admitted that he blamed himself for what happened to Neteyam during their conversation. At the time, Jake did his best to rid his son of those toxic thoughts and he thought he was successful. Now, however, he wonders if maybe that seed is still buried in Lo’ak’s heart.
Is he avoiding Neteyam because he is struggling with blaming himself? Does he still feel guilty about what happened?
Jake isn’t the only one who notices the way Lo’ak is avoiding visiting the Spirit Tree.
The whole family watches him every time one or more of them leave to swim out to the cove. Neytiri’s worried eyes linger on their son as she continues to leave him behind day after day to make her own trip out. Jake knows she’s picturing how excited Lo’ak used to be when they would visit Eytukan or Sylwanin and cannot understand why he’s suddenly pulling away.
It’s made more apparent when even Spider – who cannot connect to the Spirit Tree on his own – goes with Kiri or Tuk and passes messages through them to Neteyam. He comes back to the marui full of stories about things Neteyam has said while Lo’ak sits quietly to the side.
No one can bear asking him what’s going on, but the question hangs in each of their eyes.
Heartbreakingly, even Neteyam notices Lo’ak’s absence.
Right after his death, Neteyam didn’t completely understand what happened. He had no memory of his death or even the day leading up to it. His memory stopped the last time he communed with Eywa – the same day Kiri had her episode. The first couple of visits were strange because he was still trying to piece together the situation.
Jake and Neytiri tried to break the truth to him gently, but there was no easy way to do it. Not only was it emotionally taxing for them to explain how he had passed, but it was hard for him to hear as well. They held him close as they relayed the events – doing their best to remain truthful without hurting him more than necessary.
But Neteyam was never one to spare himself pain. He wanted to hear all of it. It was a painful experience, but their son found peace with it much quicker than they were expecting. It also helped that he wasn’t alone, but was instead surrounded by loved ones who had passed over before him. They were his support when the living members of his family couldn’t be there.
The only thing Jake wishes he could change would be to spare Neteyam from the knowledge that the world is moving on without him. As much as Jake loves that he can talk to his son about the things that are happening, there is a touch of tragedy to it too.
He knows that it wouldn’t be fair – that his son deserves to know the truth – but all he wants for his boy is to be able to exist in a state of complete peace. Knowing the truth brought Neteyam pain, even if it was just for a little bit, and if anyone deserves to never have to feel pain again, it is him.
He should be beyond it. He is in Eywa’s embrace and should be allowed to exist without worry for the rest of eternity.
But he can’t.
Every time the family visits, Neteyam’s eyes search for Lo’ak, and every time he realizes that his brother isn’t there, they fill with disappointment. He never says anything about the absence – choosing instead to ask about how Lo’ak is – but Jake can see the questions written across his son’s face.
Why doesn’t he come see me? Have I done something wrong?
It breaks Jake’s heart to see because while he doesn't know the reason why Lo’ak is choosing to stay away, he knows it is not because of something Neteyam did. Lo’ak clearly misses his brother with every fiber of his being. Anyone who knows Lo’ak can see the hole in his life and how much he is being torn apart by it.
Jake understands what his son is going through. It’s a pain that he is intimately familiar with. He recognizes the haunted look in Lo’ak’s eyes because it is the same look he once saw in his own every time he looked in the mirror after losing Tommy. He doesn’t want that for his son and he knows it doesn’t have to be like this.
Neteyam is not gone – not the way Tommy is. Something needs to be done to try and fix this before it’s too late. The more time that passes, the harder it will get for Lo’ak to confront whatever it is that is holding him back and Jake worries that there will be a moment where he will cross the point of no return without even realizing it.
I won’t let anything come between my boys. Not even death.
He doesn’t want to force Lo’ak to do anything he doesn’t want to – or isn’t ready to – do, but Jake needs to at least have a conversation with his son to try and figure out what’s going on inside of Lo’ak’s mind. If they can figure out why he feels the need to avoid Neteyam, they can work on a way to fix it.
Jake is done letting things sit. The last time he let that happen, their relationship started to fall apart and his son believed he blamed him for his brother’s death for days. It will not happen again.
I will be better.
He decides his conversation with Lo’ak can no longer wait one night while the family is getting ready for bed. Everyone other than Lo’ak went to visit the Spirit Tree after dinner and Neytiri’s eyes lingered on their son as they left. She looked over and met Jake’s gaze and he knew they were thinking the same thing.
We can’t leave him like this any longer.
Jake nodded at her briefly – reassuring her that he was planning on addressing it – and she smiled faintly, reaching her hand out to squeeze his. Together, they all went and visited Neteyam, then came back to the marui to find Lo’ak setting up the family’s hammocks. He didn’t ask about his brother and simply nodded when Spider, Kiri, and Tuk filled him in on things they had talked about.
It was painful to watch.
As Jake crawls into his hammock next to his wife, he glances over at where his son sleeps alone. Neteyam and Lo’ak stopped sharing a hammock back when they were ten and eleven, but it’s so easy to remember their small blue bodies curled up together as they slept. Lo’ak was always the one wrapped around Neteyam – unable to sleep without someone to cuddle with.
Jake’s chest tightens and he is reminded of another pair of little boys.
Those boys may be years away in both time and distance, but their presence always hangs in the back of his mind. He still remembers sneaking into bed with Tommy when they were little – especially if they had just moved to a new home. All the stress and anxiety of the day would vanish when he heard his brother’s breathing.
Just knowing Tommy was there had been enough to comfort Jake.
Jake’s eyes move from his son to the space next to Lo’ak’s hammock where Neteyam’s used to hang. Even though they no longer shared one, they were never far apart. Back with the Omatikaya, their hammocks had always hung side-by-side and that hadn’t changed when they joined the Metkayina, even though the boys were at odds with each other.
Brothers don’t stop being brothers just because things get difficult.
Lo’ak glances over at the empty space next to him before rolling over to face Kiri and Tuk. The look of pain on his face makes it clear that his thoughts aren’t far from Jake’s – remembering what used to be and longing for it to return, even when they both know it’s not possible.
I need to talk to him.
Jake decides to pull his son aside sometime the next morning – once the rest of the family has dispersed to their own activities. He doesn’t know what he will be able to do to help his son, but he hopes he can at least find out the reason why Lo’ak has been avoiding his brother. And maybe if he has a reason, he can provide some comfort as well.
Alleviate Lo’ak’s fears, support him, and remind him that he is always loved.
Not just by Jake, but by Neteyam too. Lo’ak doesn’t have to deal with this alone. No matter what he might be thinking or feeling, he always has people around him who are ready to help carry his burdens.
Jake didn’t have anyone to help him after Tommy until he met Neytiri. Hearing her talk about her sister and knowing that she understood his pain was one of the key things that helped Jake bear his own grief. It didn’t make the loss of his brother any less hard – it simply gave Jake the strength he needed to carry it.
Let me help you, kid. You don’t have to do this alone.
Jake curls up against Neytiri and closes his eyes. There is a bit of peace in knowing that hopefully soon, he can get to the bottom of the issue. He doesn’t want his son to have to suffer beneath something that can be fixed a moment longer than necessary.
* * * *
Jake is woken up several hours later by something moving around in the marui.
He has been a light sleeper ever since his time with the Marines and it’s been especially bad these last couple of weeks – the stress and grief make it difficult to fall asleep and the sleep he does manage to get is haunted by nightmares. He often finds himself waking up in the middle of the night just to make sure that the rest of his family is still okay.
This time though, it’s not because of a nightmare.
Jake slowly opens his eyes and peers around their home. It’s still the middle of the night and the room is lit only by the faint glow that comes from the ocean outside. His eyes quickly adjust until he has a clear view of the space and he catches sight of Lo’ak slowly making his way out of the marui.
For a moment Jake wonders if Lo’ak is sneaking out to meet Tsireya or some of the Metkayina boys for some kind of mischief, but that thought quickly fades. It’s still so easy to think of the Lo’ak before Neteyam’s death – the boy who always enjoyed chasing after thrills. But that Lo’ak is gone. This new version of his son doesn’t seem to have much love for that kind of thing anymore.
Old habits die hard.
He has spent so much time worrying about what kind of trouble Lo’ak is getting into that it’s hard to reconcile that boy with this new one. Lo’ak isn’t as bad as he was right after Neteyam’s death – when he seemed to be forcing himself to become his fallen brother – but there is still something lacking from him.
Jake finds himself missing that reckless, stupid spirit that once flourished so brightly inside Lo’ak. He doesn’t ever want his children to be in danger and he used to find himself frustrated with that part of his son – the part they both shared – more often than he would’ve liked.
But that part of Lo’ak was born out of innocence and joy and a complete lack of fear.
It’s not fair that it was taken from him in the way that it was. Jake is so scared that he will never get to see that carefree side of Lo’ak ever again. All he wants for his boy is a good life and with the return of the RDA and the death of Neteyam, it’s getting harder and harder to think that dream is achievable for any of Jake’s kids.
Lo’ak slips out of the marui and Jake watches him through the opening as his son moves to the edge of the platform that hangs over the ocean and sits down. He dangles his legs off the side and gazes off into the distance. From his place in the hammock, all Jake can see is his son’s back, but the way it hunches over tells him everything he needs to know about Lo’ak’s mental state.
Might as well talk to him now. God knows I’m not gonna be able to sleep knowing he’s out there.
Jake detangles himself from Neytiri and slowly climbs out of their hammock – doing his best to make sure he doesn’t jostle it. His wife murmurs something in her sleep and curls tighter into a ball but doesn’t wake up. Jake exhales in relief and quietly exits their home, moving until he’s standing behind Lo’ak.
Lo’ak’s ears twitch as he catches the sound of Jake’s footsteps, but he doesn’t turn around. Jake isn’t sure if it’s because his son knows it’s him or if he just doesn’t care who followed him out. Even though their relationship is on much better footing now than it has been in over a year, Jake still feels a momentary wave of panic.
What if he’s disappointed when he realizes it’s me and not one of the others? What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? What if I make things worse by trying?
The thoughts swirl around in Jake’s head for a moment before he firmly pushes them away. He’s already been down this road and he won’t let his own insecurities get in the way of what his children need – not again. If Lo’ak doesn’t want to talk then Jake will leave him alone, but he can’t let his fear stop him from trying.
He can’t let his fear control him anymore. He has to change things while there is still time left for those changes to make a difference. He owes it to his son and he owes it to himself to learn from his mistakes. He has lost too much recently to ever let a single thing keep him from being the best possible father he can be.
Even if we just sit together in silence, Lo’ak will still know he is not alone.
“Having trouble sleeping?” Jake asks softly.
Lo’ak shrugs – his gaze locked on the horizon. Jake moves forward and sits down next to him, dropping his legs over the side into the water. His knees creak a bit with the movement and he can’t stop the slight huff that escapes him when he settles.
Small, rainbow-colored fish scatter in all directions and he watches them swim away in a flash of bioluminescence.
“Something in particular bothering you?”
Lo’ak shrugs again.
Jake has to bite his lip to keep himself from sighing – patience has never been his strong suit. He glances at his son from the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to the faint line where the sky meets the sea. He knows he won’t get anything out of Lo’ak if he’s impatient.
“You can talk to me about anything,” he says. “I’m always here to listen.”
From his peripheral vision, he can see Lo’ak slowly nod – his gaze dropping to stare at his hands folded in his lap. Jake lets the moment sit. His younger son has never been good about keeping his emotions and thoughts bottled up. Ever since he was young, he has found it difficult not to talk and fill the silence, especially if something is bothering him.
Jake just has to wait until he’s ready.
The night is quiet. Jake stares up at the wide expanse of stars in the dark sky, still amazed at how many there are – even after fifteen years of seeing them. The beauty of Pandora will never stop amazing him. If it’s not the bioluminescent plants of the forest, it’s the glowing sea life of the ocean.
It’s as if everything is a work of art.
“I was thinking,” Lo’ak finally says, breaking the silence. “About Neteyam.”
Jake turns to look at him and his heart aches at the sight of Lo’ak’s face – sorrow written in every crease as he stares hard at his twisting hands. Jake assumed this was what was bothering him but hearing confirmation of it still hurts. It’s a reminder of everything he has also lost and the grief that is still fresh in his own heart.
What comfort can he provide when he too is still broken over the death of his firstborn?
Lo’ak finally faces Jake. His eyes are swimming with unshed tears and the pain in them stabs Jake in the heart. It reminds him all too much of their previous conversation and how awful it had been to watch Lo’ak fall apart. Jake hates that it’s happening again and the urge to do whatever it takes to fix it rises inside of him.
“I miss him, Dad.” Lo’ak’s voice breaks. “I miss him so much.”
“Oh, buddy.”
Jake reaches out and rests a hand on the back of Lo’ak’s neck. His son leans toward him and he angles his body to face him, pulling the kid closer until he’s tucked against Jake’s side. He tilts his face until his cheek rests on top of Lo’ak’s head – squeezing the back of his neck slightly.
“I know,” Jake whispers. “I miss him too.”
They sit there for a couple of minutes. Lo’ak sniffles against Jake’s shoulder and Jake lowers his hand to rub gentle circles across the back of his son’s shoulders. He lets Lo’ak get it all out, wondering if this is only the third time the kid has cried since Neteyam’s death.
He needs to see Neteyam. I can give him all the comfort in the world but it will never be the same as seeing his brother.
Jake takes a deep breath, wanting to bring up the subject without sounding like he’s forcing Lo’ak to do something he doesn’t want to do. He wants to be helpful but he doesn’t want to drive a wedge between them in the process. He wants Lo’ak to know – without a doubt – that Jake just wants to help.
“Do you know what has helped me?” His hand continues to rub soft circles in the space between Lo’ak’s shoulder blades. “Going to see him in the Spirit Tree. I still miss him, but I’m reminded that he’s not completely gone. He’s still there – within Eywa.”
Lo’ak sighs softly and brings an arm up to wipe at his eyes. He stays pressed against Jake’s side but turns his face out toward the ocean. Jake stays quiet – letting his son process everything he’s thinking and feeling.
“I know that I should,” Lo’ak says slowly. “And I know that everyone else has gone to see him and say they feel better. But I just…I don’t know if I can.”
“Why not? What’s holding you back?”
The pause after his question is long enough to make Jake worry that he’s pushed too hard, too fast. Lo’ak has grown stiff in his arms and he’s afraid that the kid is going to pull away and tell him to forget it. He’s worried that Lo’ak is going to bury whatever it is that he’s feeling down deep inside of him until it begins to fester.
He’s afraid that he’s messed everything up.
Jake is about to reassure Lo’ak that he doesn’t have to say anything when his son finally breaks the silence.
“I’m…I’m scared, Dad.”
Jake exhales quietly, trying not to reveal how much that statement hurts him. He hates the thought of his child being scared of anything. It makes him feel like he’s failed at his most basic job as a father.
He slides his hand up into Lo’ak’s braids and gently scratches his son’s scalp – doing his best to soothe him. While it doesn’t fix everything, he can feel the way Lo’ak’s body loosens up just a bit and leans heavier into Jake’s side.
“Scared of what, kid?” Jake asks – his voice low.
“I’m scared that he doesn’t want to see me. I’m scared that he blames me for what happened. I’m scared that maybe…maybe he thinks it’s my fault he’s dead.”
Lo’ak’s voice wavers on the last part and Jake presses his cheek firmly against Lo’ak’s hair. He tightens his hold on his son – holding him close like he can hug the pain out of his child. He and Lo’ak already had a conversation about how what happened was not his fault, but Jake can understand the way doubt can creep in along the edges.
Lo’ak may not think it was his fault anymore, but fear is cruel and powerful. It finds new ways of bringing people down – no matter how hard they try to resist its pull. Jake knows how easy it is to listen to it, to let it whisper its vile thoughts in his head.
Just because Lo’ak knows it’s not his fault doesn’t stop him from fearing that Neteyam thinks it is. And once fear has gotten a hold, it becomes devastatingly hard to shake loose.
“Oh, Lo’ak.” Jake breathes out slowly and closes his eyes. “I promise you that he doesn’t think any of those things. He doesn’t blame you for what happened at all. In fact, he misses you as much as you miss him.”
He thinks about that hope that lingers in Neteyam’s eyes every time the family visits and how it so quickly extinguishes when he realizes that Lo’ak isn’t there. Neteyam has gotten better and better at hiding it, but Jake can still see it.
“He asks about you every time we visit,” he continues. “He always checks to make sure you’re doing okay. That’s not the behavior of someone who blames you for their death, Lo’ak. That’s what someone does when they love you.”
Lo’ak pulls away and Jake lets him go – resisting the urge to pull his son back against his chest and hold him like he used to do when he was a toddler. Lo’ak looks up into Jake’s eyes, his eyebrows creasing with confusion. Jake can see the hope in them, but he can see the fear too.
Like Lo’ak wants nothing more than to believe it’s true but is too afraid to make that final leap.
“Really?” Lo’ak searches Jake’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
Jake brings his hand up to cup the back of Lo’ak’s head. He bends closer to his son’s face – maintaining eye contact so that his son knows how serious he is about what he’s about to say next. He doesn’t want there to be a single chance that Lo’ak misunderstands him.
“I promise,” he says slowly. “All he’s thinking about is how much he misses you and how desperately he wants to see his little brother.”
Relief fills Lo’ak’s eyes. His lips tilt upward in the beginning of a smile and for a moment, Jake thinks that he’s done it. He’s helped. He’s soothed just a bit of his son’s pain and hopefully gave him the encouragement he needs to fight back his fear.
I just want you to be happy, kid.
But then as quickly as that hope appears, it disappears under a wave of doubt.
Lo’ak’s tiny smile fades and his eyes grow dark, darting away to some point behind Jake’s shoulder like he can’t even bear to look him in the eye anymore. Jake is left trying to figure out what happened only to realize the blame was only part of the reason why Lo’ak was scared.
There is more.
“But what if…what if it’s not the same?” Lo’ak looks at Jake again and his eyes are wide and fearful. “What if things have changed between us? I can’t lose him again, Dad. He’s my best friend.”
His voice cracks and he blinks quickly, as if trying to keep himself from crying again.
“He’s been there for as long as I can remember. I don’t know who I am without him. I don’t know if I want to find out. Maybe if I keep waiting – just a bit longer – I’ll figure it out and will be ready to face him.”
The way Lo’ak looks at Jake – like he’s begging for Jake to tell him he’s right and to give him just a taste of hope. He’s a child seeking comfort and is so afraid that he’s not going to get it. Jake swallows, fighting a wave of grief over what has been done to his entire family.
To Neteyam, but to Lo’ak too.
It isn’t just the fear of blame that is keeping Lo’ak away – it’s the fear of change as well.
While Jake doesn’t understand Lo’ak’s feelings exactly, he understands the root of them. He too had a brother he adored – a brother whom he had spent twenty-two years of his life with. Someone who not only was Jake’s best friend but felt like an extension of who he was as a person.
Jake and Tommy, Tommy and Jake. Always a pair. Always together. The Sully twins.
There wasn’t a single moment of their existence that they had spent without each other. Even when they weren’t physically in the same place, there had always been a tie that kept them together no matter how much distance was between them. Through all the anger that settled between them in those last few months, that never changed.
The knowledge that the other was there.
Until he wasn’t.
Learning to live without his twin brother was one of the hardest things Jake ever had to do. He only managed to get through it because of the other people in his life he loved. Grace, Norm, Neytiri, and – after a while – their kids. But coming to terms with it doesn’t change the fact that he desperately wishes he had the chance to talk to Tommy just one more time.
To explain things. To apologize. To say goodbye.
Jake has had fifteen years to live with the reality that he will never get the chance. And it has only made him more aware of how necessary it is to get closure when you can – no matter what fear tries to tell you. You can’t waste the chances you’re given.
He understands where Lo’ak is coming from but he also knows that Lo’ak needs this. He needs to see Neteyam. He needs to get that closure – he needs to put his own grief and his brother’s to rest. He needs to take the opportunity that Jake was never given.
You have the chance to be better.
Jake sighs and pulls Lo’ak back against his side, sliding his arm down and around his shoulders. He stares at the stars and takes a second to gather his thoughts. There are so many things going on inside of him and he’s so afraid of saying the wrong thing. He’s so afraid that he’s not going to be able to stop Lo’ak from making the same mistakes he did.
“Things will be different,” he says honestly. “But different doesn’t always mean worse. Nothing – not even death – will ever be able to change the fact that you two are brothers, you hear me? That is a bond that can’t be broken.”
He gives Lo’ak a little shake – his voice becoming hoarse with emotion.
“Ever since you and Neteyam were born, I have been reminded so much of myself and your Uncle Tommy.” The stars in the sky start to grow blurry and Jake blinks quickly. “There are so many things that I wish I could say to him – so many things I would change if I had the chance. I know what it’s like to live with regret and I don’t want that for you too.”
Jake tightens his hold and closes his eyes. “I’m afraid that the longer you put off going to see him, the easier it will get and one day it will be too late and you will spend the rest of your life wishing you had done something while you still could.”
He lowers his face to rest his chin on top of Lo’ak’s head. His son is completely still in his arms – only his twitching ears let Jake know that he’s still listening. Jake takes a deep breath and does his very best to keep himself together.
Just a little bit more.
“You and Neteyam are family.” His voice is a whisper. “You two need each other now more than ever. Neither of you has to go through this alone, but you’ve got to take that first step, Lo’ak. I know it’s scary – I know it’s hard. But you are one of the bravest people I know.”
Lo’ak’s breath catches and he goes still. For a moment, Jake worries that he said the wrong thing – that insisting on Lo’ak visiting the Spirit Tree backfired and only made Lo’ak angry.
His younger son has never liked being told what to do and wasn’t that exactly what Jake is doing? Would he only resent Jake instead of seeing it for what it is – an attempt to help? An attempt to prevent mistakes he is all too familiar with?
“I am?” Lo’ak says and the amazement in his voice is both beautiful and awful at the same time.
I don’t tell him how good he is enough.
“You sure are,” Jake says firmly. “You always have been. You’re just like your mom in that way, kid. Sometimes I wish you would think through what you’re doing a bit more, but that doesn’t change the fact that you have as much courage as a palulukan.”
There is a shaky exhale against Jake’s skin and then silence. Jake doesn’t try to fill the moment with words – instead, he lets it sit. He can tell that Lo’ak is thinking. He can practically see the little gears in his son’s head turning.
He will have to decide for himself what to do. Jake has done all he can.
“I think you’re right. I need to go see him.”
Jake almost sags with relief.
Words cannot express how happy he is to hear his son say that – to have hope that maybe this will help him. Maybe this will ease a part of his broken heart. There is nothing he wants more in the world than to help his kids find happiness and he truly thinks this is vital to Lo’ak’s.
“I’m happy to hear that.”
“I don’t want to go alone though,” Lo’ak says and his voice is almost a whisper. “Will you go with me? Please?”
The plea is reminiscent of so many other times Lo’ak would ask for something growing up. For a snack when he was hungry, to be carried when he was tired, for a story before going to bed. Jake has never been good at denying his kids what they want – even when it was something simple.
A request like this? When he knows how much it costs Lo’ak to be vulnerable and ask? Jake would have moved Polyphemus from its orbit if that’s what he had wanted. Going with him to provide support is nothing. There is no hesitation in his answer.
“Of course,” he assures Lo’ak. “I’ll always be here for you, baby boy. If you want me to go with you, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Lo’ak relaxes and tucks himself a little bit closer to Jake. “Thanks, Dad.”
Jake leans down and presses a kiss to the top of his son’s head.
Together, they sit in silence and stare at the stars shining brightly in the night sky. They need to go back to bed soon, but it won’t hurt to stay out here just a little bit longer. There is something peaceful about watching the stars burn silently and hearing nothing but the gentle murmur of the sea.
“Do you ever wish you could see Uncle Tommy?” Lo’ak asks. “The way you see Neteyam?”
Jake’s eyes find the glowing orb that he knows is Earth’s sun. He can’t stop the flood of memories that fills his mind of Tommy – the only family he had for most of his time on Earth. The person he’d loved most in the world before he’d met Neytiri and had his kids.
There would never be a moment where he didn’t miss him and wish he could be here too.
Would you be proud of me, Tommy?
There are so many things Jake wishes he could say to his twin brother and it kills him that he will never get the chance to say them. The only comfort he has is how much he sees himself and his brother in Lo’ak and Neteyam. And while he hates the fact that some patterns have repeated, it gives him hope that the cycle can still be fixed.
Lo’ak will say the things to Neteyam that Jake never got to say to Tommy. It’s not quite the same, but it’s enough.
They are my second chance.
“Every day, kid. Every single day.”